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In Japan they call them "Living National Treasures." They are both men and women and most of them are old, past seventy-five. Kodo Otomaru, a specialist in intricate lacquer decoration, is one individual who holds the title. He is one of seventy or more artists and artisans who receive a substantial annual living stipend from the Japanese government. Considering the reverence for hand skills that has long been an essential element of Oriental ideology, it is surprising to find that the Living National Treasures program is a relatively recent one, funded in 1954 during a time when Japan's principle concern lay in the overwhelmingly expensive and emotional business of rising from the rubble of war. The implementation of this impressive effort, which is intended to protect and encourage ancient and traditional performing arts and hand skills, occurred under General Douglas MacArthur's tenure as supreme commander of the Japanese occupation. Certainly no better means of restoring a tattered national pride could have been found.
Lynton McKenzie had extolled the virtues of this exemplary Japanese program to me for years, lamenting that our own government couldn't seem to realize that every country has a responsibility to nurture stability in the existence of traditional skills. What Lynton and I didn't know in the course of all those discussions is that our government had in fact funded a somewhat similar effort over twenty years ago. Quite naturally, the agency chosen to administer this was the National Endowment for the Arts, (NEA). Funds intended for the encouragement of both established artists and those studying the arts were structured within the Folk Arts Program of the NEA.
Mel Hankla, an enterprising, energetic and affable Kentuckian, discovered the NEA program in 1983 and managed to apply it to one sphere of interest which concerns a very large percentage of the members of our own Association: traditional gunmaking. Mel, who had attended the first Western Kentucky University gunmaking seminar in 1982 and has been a frequent repeater in the program, learned about the NEA grant from WKU folklorist Jay Anderson. Dr. Anderson, who is now on the staff of Utah State University, is well known as a student of surviving traditional skills and has documented such things in a series of useful books such as Time Machines, The World of Living History.
The results - and the implications of Mel's experience - are of exceptional importance to us and precisely the reason we chose to report on them here. At the time Mel applied for a grant from the NEA to study gunmaking, the Folk Arts Program offered two types of grants to individuals: individual apprenticeships and National Heritage Fellowships. The latter is somewhat akin to the Japanese program in purpose but is not a sustaining award. We'll have a closer look at these Fellowships later. The apprenticeship grant which Mel applied for was "available to committed and talented individuals for study with a master artist or artisan." NEA advised that "applicants should be prepared to commit a significant time period...in order to gain mastery of their chosen art.” Grant awards were noted to be “normally small,” averaging $1,500, but larger amounts could be requested. ”Most grant funds,” as the NEA advisory stated, ”should be passed on to the master artist for instructional fees and other expenses.” This requirement, as Mel puts it, left his “cogs al- ready turning.”
Implicit in the use of the term “Folk Arts Program” was the intention of the NEA to support the existence of traditional skills. The use of the term “tradition,” an omnipresent noun in the language of any folklorist, is often defined rather loosely. Tradition actually implies a system of communication in which concepts, ideals, forms, materials and methodology are passed from individual to individual and from generation to generation. The ”folk” aspect of this strongly implies oral tradition and perhaps a rural setting, but the fact of the matter is that every formal apprenticeship depended upon such communication for success whether it took place in a rural or an urban setting. That is one reason that folk art is difficult to define. The five-to-seven-year apprenticeships that were considered necessary to master all the complexity of the gunmaking trade seems counter to the popular notion of folk art, for early gunmaking was a very structured working environment actually embracing five distinct trades: blacksmithing, whitesmithing, foundry work, woodwork and a number of skills associated with silversmithing. ”Tradition” in gunmaking really describes the same intricate blending of basic concepts that serve to define all material culture ranging from a gunlock to a skyscraper. These concepts are the traditions of aesthetics (that is, style), utility, technology and symbolism. The abiding strength of symbolism in American gunmaking is abundantly clear in certain familiar idioms that yet survive such as ”lock, stock and barrel,” ”she don’t go off half-cocked” and ” ’twas only a flash in the pan.”
Since the NEA stressed the acquisition of traditional skills, Mel’s constant concern after being awarded an apprenticeship grant in the spring of 1983, was to gain a sense of traditional gunmaking values for himself. ”Traditionalism played a major role in the grant proposal,” so he spent ”hours of research...thumbing through pictures of early southern guns,” a natural bent for a contemporary southern rifleman and budding gunmaker. Historical design or style, then, satisfied one parameter of a traditional trade. The other aspects of tradition lay in the master whom Mel had chosen for his grant proposal, Hershel House of Morgantown, Kentucky, a man who needs no introduction to these pages. His work has been nationally known for two decades; he has been a full- time gunmaker since 1967. In his own comments on Mel’s NEA project, Hershel made it clear that aside from matters of aesthetics, ”Always my main concern with a gun is for it to be a shooter.” That pragmatic statement reflects the essence of utility, yet another of the concepts of tradition that is part and parcel of the trade. Mel made further comments on utility, shrewdly revealing the inescapable link between aesthetics and use. He had arrived at the conclusion that the special, vibrant ”feel” which a fine longrifle has is not so much a product of creating a certain ”look,” but depends heavily upon the gunmaker “being a ‘shooter’ as well as a ‘builder.’ ” Hershel is well known for his ability in shooting competition and therefore understands what is necessary for a rifle to become an extension of the rifleman and for its components to function efficiently. As Mel notes, the quality of “feel” is hard to describe but [it] is well known to those who use their rifles for more than mantle decoration.”
The other areas of tradition which proved satisfactory to the NEA lay in Hershel’s own application of technology and his attitude – no doubt largely unconscious- about doing a job. Basically a hand worker, he tends to shun most power tools, not from some romantic notion of using old-fashioned tools, but from personal preference. Since he employs manufactured barrels and lock components, in early parlance he likely would have been identified as a “stocker and mounter.” However, his ability at the forge, without doubt, could be applied to the making of barrels and locks from scratch if his customers were willing to pay for the considerable amount of extra time needed for such work. His stockwork is ”from the stick,” however, and his elegant iron mounts reveal about as fine an understanding of black and whitesmithing as most artisans could hope to achieve in this century. In his work, Hershel’s attitude clearly follows that of the early gunmaker. Whether at the forge, filing vise or stocking bench, he is fast, sure and efficient; he wastes no time fussing about. That is a blend of skill and experience that was very well defined by the adjective ”workmanlike” which eighteenth century patrons used to describe sound products of an artisan’s hands.
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Further, symbolism in Hershel’s work lies in one of the most significant signatures of his style and that is the appearance of mellow age and long and careful use, even when the piece is brand new. Even his 1983 shop, which was destroyed last year in a disastrous fire, ”just never was new,” as Mel puts it. ”It was born with good patina just as Hershel’s rifles always seem to have.” Indeed, Hershel’s rifles have all the appearance of having traversed a lifetime of woods-ranging on the saddle and in the hands of a southern longhunter. They make a visual statement that immediately causes us to reflect upon the pragmatic world of that imaginary longhunter and in experiencing that aesthetic the tradition of symbolism is satisfied quite well. In fact, the effect is even heightened by Hershel’s stylistic vocabulary which is a translation of a host of early southern details. His rifles are not copies; they are Hershel’s own statement of the styles which he has encountered and absorbed, precisely in the fashion that an early gunmaker developed his own identifiable style. Considering all of this, it’s not difficult to understand why the NEA grants review panel saw the merit in Mel’s application and chose to award him an apprentice- ship grant which paid for a full 300 hours of Hershel’s time, as well as the purchase cost of the components which would not be made by Hershel himself. Satisfying the primary goal of paying for a master’s time to instruct, the grant made it possible for Mel to observe the complete fabrication of a rifle with the exception of complete lock and barrel making. And, at the end of the grant period the rifle was to be Mel’s.
Mel Hankla’s NEA apprenticeship grant application proved so successful that it was followed by a second proposal submitted by Terry Leeper during the following year. Terry, of course, is the man behind the WKU gunmaking seminar. Using Mel’s grant proposal as a guide, Terry’s 1984 apprenticeship grant application outlined much of the same course of study that Mel had followed. As his application states it, the ”apprenticeship activity” would involve ”studying all aspects of stocking a southern iron mounted rifle of the 1770-90’s period,” including ”the design, forging and finishing of rifle furniture (butt plate, side plate, toe plate, thimbles, nose cap and patch box)” along with the ”layout and forming of rifle blanks...inletting...rifle furniture, application of stock carving and metal engraving techniques” and other such details. Terry also included a forty-hour block of time for instruction in arms restoration. Instruction was intended to “take the form of informal discussions,” and emphasis would “be placed on 18th century technology with little or no regard to mass production techniques. A daily log was kept “to document the activity” and slides taken to ”supplement the written information,” all of which were to be given to the Helm Library at Western Kentucky at the end of the seven-month instruction which ended in July, 1985.
- Like Terry, Mel had kept a similar record and his excitement is evident in his first entry, as he recalls it: “On July 9, 1984, the first page of my journal reads: On this beautiful day, Hershel House and I started to work on what I shall always call ’The Grant Gun...’ ” Mel had his own bench to use in an adjoining room of Hershel’s shop, where he was stocking a flintlock pistol between lengthy periods of observing work on the project rifle. Built on a 48” .60 caliber Getz barrel with a 1-48 twist, the ”Grant Gun” is a pre- Revolutionary-styled iron-mounted rifle with an ”early Virginia flavor.” The lock is a Siler, considerably modified in exterior appearance. In accordance with the planned style, the buttstock architecture is ample, with a wide buttplate. ”The one I forged for Mel’s gun,” Hershel notes, “is 2 1/8 inches in width.” A further description of the rifle is best heard in Hershel’s own words:
“Probably the strongest Virginia characteristics of the rifle are stock architecture and a patch box with its lid being set up in the center of a two-piece box. The style of the trigger guard and sideplate were borrowed somewhat from the brass-barrelled gun at Colonial Williamsburg. The shape of the double-set triggers and the heavy, five-faceted heel of the buttplate are also strong Virginia features.”
The “brass-barrelled gun” to which Hershel refers is a Virginia rifle from the James River section of the southern Shenandoah Valley; it is dated 1771. Details from this rifle and several other Virginia pieces of the same period have made a strong impact on Hershel’s personal style, but never to the point of duplication. In fact, Hershel’s ”translations” more often than not seem more successful than the originals.
“Following tradition,” Hershel observes, ”I used an Aqua Fortis stain and linseed oil for the finish.” He ”also shared with Mel” his ”ability to soften the lines and give the rifle a great deal of warmth.” The results were pleasing to Hershel in terms of both aesthetics and utility: ”Mel’s rifle looks good, holds well, is fast and deadly accurate.” The author can attest to that, for despite a very long pull length, a number of shooters repeatedly rang a hundred-yard gong with Mel’s rifle at an informal offhand match held just before the 1985 WKU seminar.
When Terry Leeper’s grant was approved, it was decided that a rifle much like Mel’s ”Grant Gun” would be made. Instead of iron, however, the furniture was to be brass, much in contrast with Hershel’s usual work. As Hershel recalls it, ”we cast the mounts from iron patterns that I had forged. As I had only limited experience with brass casting, with Terry’s expertise I learned a great deal.” In this instance, the NEA received a double benefit for the funds expended. Not only had the apprentice learned from the master, the master had learned from the apprentice.
Like Mel’s rifle, Terry’s brass-mounted piece shows a good deal of Virginia influence. The mounts are virtually identical in style to the iron-mounted rifle, but the architecture is ”more massive and quite a bit heavier,” as Hershel notes, due to a larger-diameter barrel. The buttstock of Terry’s rifle is shaped with a stepped wrist, another feature of the 1771 brass-barrelled rifle which has found its way into Hershel’s stylistic vocabulary. Also like Mel’s rifle, Terry’s stock is carved with a dramatic sculptured British-type beavertail at the tang, its surface and edges enhanced with leaflike parting-tool cuts. A virtually identical feature is found on a 1780-period Virginia rifle by Frederick Klette.
The soundness of the NEA individual apprenticeship program is amply evident not only in the products of Mel’s and Terry’s grants but in the excitement which both the students and the instructor shared in the experience. Hershel’s own reaction is particularly significant:
“I am usually pushed for time and deadlines which I almost never make. So without this financial assistance I would probably never have been able to share my experience. The grant gave me 300 hours for each project, which allowed time to explain what I was doing and to go into even the smallest of details. A lot of these specifics I had never taken time to explain to myself.”
Mel was left with a powerful sense of purpose through having participated in his grant project. He observes that his own interest in traditional gunmaking, which was considerably advanced with the assistance of the NEA and his apprenticeship with Hershel, constitutes a ”circle” of personal responsibility which ”will only be complete when my gunmaking knowledge is mature enough for me to pass it on. Only then will my obligation to the National Endowment and [to] myself be complete.”
Since the time when the Hankla and Leeper grants were made, the National Endowment for the Arts has changed the implementation of the individual apprenticeships program. Quite rightly, the funds for these grants are now awarded by individual state arts agencies, thereby providing a close- band, grass-roots evaluation of each application. Unfortunately, only twenty states so far have taken up this program, although the NEA would like the apprenticeships to be available nationwide. Currently Alabama, Arkansas, Colorado, Florida, Hawaii, Idaho, Iowa, Kansas, Louisiana, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, New York, North Dakota, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, Texas, West Virginia and Wisconsin are equipped to process apprenticeship grants similar to those received by Mel and Terry. The state agencies generally apply the same guidelines and criteria which NEA formerly used in considering grant applications. Emphasis is laced upon the preservation of regional arts and upon traditional methodology and application, whatever the trade.
The Folk Arts Program has retained full control of the second part of their grants program, the National Heritage Fellowships. Annually awarded to about a dozen individuals in both the performing and producing arts, these Fellowships are a one-time-only award of $5,000 intended to encourage significant contributions to traditional skills. The Fellowships are based upon nominations made directly to the NEA by private individuals; letters of nomination and the necessary accompanying documentation must be sent to NEA by the first of October each year. For further information about the National Heritage Fellowships as well as the state agen-cies offering individual apprenticeship grants, contact the Folk Arts Program, National Endowment for the Arts, 1100 Pennsylvania Avenue, N. W., Washington, D. C. 20506.
While we have yet to reach the plateau of support that Japan has given its Living National Treasures, the experience which Mel, Terry and Hershel have shared is an excellent documentation of just how well the taxpayer’s money can be used in a tangible, useful and lasting fashion. Each of the three men have gained from the apprenticeship grants and each is in a position to pass along their gain to others. Mel and Terry have made direct application of their experiences in their own careers; Mel at Indiana State University and Terry at Western Kentucky. As a natural part of being an instructor, Hershel was given the opportunity to examine his own working habits in an introspective manner that few bench workers bent on making a living can ever afford to do. In Hershel’s case, that is of particular significance due to his powerful influence on a host of other contemporary gunmakers. It is quite remarkable how close his working philosophy is to that of one Japanese stoneware potter, a Living National Treasure for many years. This man, Kei Fujiwara, revealed a basic and internationally central message in the traditional arts when he admitted in an interview that “When I was younger I tried to be a technician and make complicated designs, but now I prefer simple ones. Simple things are the most difficult.”
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