By David Perry, dperry@lowellsun.com
FROM STAGE TO WORKBENCH: Bill Whitsett has built a new musical career for himself since his days performing covers in Florida bars. His shop, Whitsett Guitar Works in downtown Lowell, has been named one of Fender's 32 Custom Care Service Centers. SUN / BILL BRIDGEFORD
Eleven years ago, Bill Whitsett was joylessly spitting out Jimmy Buffett covers in bars in south Florida.
"I could drop this right now," he thought, "and it wouldn't make any difference to anybody."
The loss for Parrothead tourists, clamoring for one more round in Margaritaville has been deliverance for North Carolina native Whitsett, and local guitar players.
He headed to school in Michigan, fixed guitars in Brooklyn, then headed north to find his mentor. And in July 2004, he opened Whitsett Guitar Works down a hallway in a refurbished brick building at 181 Market St.
In February, Fender, the revered guitar manufacturer, named Whitsett's shop one of just 32 Custom Care Service Centers across the nation.
"That's just nuts," says Whitsett, 42, who lives with his girlfriend and two children in Lowell. "I mean, I work in a closet in Lowell, dude."
According to Rob Schwarz, director of customer service for Fender Musical Instruments Corp., Whitsett was picked not only for his technical prowess, but because his shop is one of those "well known for treating their customers as the most important people in the world," and that go "above and beyond the call of duty."
"There are a lot of guys who are good at this, but not as many who are good at the service aspect of it," says Whitsett. "When I started doing this, this was a business with no customer service. It was always, well, who's going to do the least amount of damage to my stuff."
This "business stuff" is new to him, and he wasn't always as customer-friendly as he is now, he says. He is stocky, dressed in a dark Martin Guitars pullover, cargo pants and black Converse sneakers. Like the broccoli-shaped beard that bursts from his chin, his big personality jumps out at you. He's given to calling folks "dude" and "bro."
Guitars hang in the L-shaped shop like drying tobacco. There's an acoustic Gibson, neckless, that once belonged to the late Waylon Jennings. In a caramel-colored case lies a 1954 Fender Stratocaster, the 595th ever made. And he once worked on a 1952 Martin D-28, whose mention could leave some players drooling.
"This guy was the only owner, and had it in his basement for 30 years, doing nothing," says Whitsett. "And he wanted to play it again."
Just as important is the kid who came in the day before from a melodic death-metal band that had an upcoming gig in New York, and needed some help.
Whitsett has a saying. "You don't pay until you can play," which means no one coughs up good money until the guitar is repaired to their liking.
And plenty have a chance at satisfaction.
He has each new customer sit down and play, so he can gauge get a sense of their style. Each player and each guitar are unique.
March was Whitsett's second-busiest month since he opened, despite the recession.
"It doesn't cost anything to play guitar. Once you have one, it's free. You don't know how many times I've heard, 'Hey, we're getting the band back together, man,' " he says, chuckling. "You'd better have unemployment insurance, dude," he tells them.
"Hey, they'll get jobs again, and they'll be back."
Most of his customers are "blue-collar guys," says Whitsett, whose favorite player is flat-picker Tony Rice. "But there's surgeons, dentists, lawyers. I don't pay attention to what they do. One local surgeon is a speed-metal freak. Every kind of personality.
"Some of these people who are older now bring in guitars they got as kids. People are very passionate about their guitars. I'm not in psychotherapy because I have a Harley-Davidson. Others have their guitars. Everybody's different, but it touches everybody."
When, more than a decade ago, the last notes of his Buffett repertoire fell silent, Whitsett headed to study guitar-making for four months at the Bryan Galloup School of Lutherie in Big Rapids, Mich.
"I figured, enough, I'll just learn how to build guitars." He is not a luthier by trade, "because I don't actively build guitars."
His first shop in Brooklyn was where he cut his teeth. His real education came alongside Pat DiBurro of Exeter, N.H.
"The certificate is great, but you learn by putting your hands on it."
When a job opened up working for DiBurro in a Haverhill shop, Whitsett snagged it.
"He's one of the most highly regarded guys in the business, and he taught me so much about repair."
Taking in wounded guitars from chain stores allowed Whitsett to doctor a wide breadth of instruments.
"If something strange comes in now, I've probably already done it."
"One of the keys is, I spend a lot of time with manufacturers. I visit Martin twice a year. I need to know how they do what they do so I can do what I do. A lot of guys do what I do. Some are better, some aren't.
"It takes an entire lifetime to build a reputation in this business, and about 10 minutes to get a bad one. You're only as good as the last guitar you fixed."
Whitsett wants to "put this shop on the map. I want people to know there's an alternative to the chain stores, that they'll be treated better and it won't cost you more." He says he's "not the cheapest guy out there," but has lowered some of his prices to fit tough times.
"I want people to be comfortable here. Saturdays, you'll come in and see guys with coffee, hanging around, talking guitars."
Whitsett is happier than a Buffett fan munching a cheeseburger in paradise.
"I always have the coolest job at the party, bro." This story appeared in the Lowel Sun on Saturday, April 11, 2009
He's given them a break.