Last October, my older brother Connor and I took a road trip to Grayson County to visit Wayne Henderson, a world-famous luthier stationed in Rugby, Virginia. I needed to follow up with Wayne about our April 2024 interview — he welcomed me to his workshop after I met him at last year’s Legends of Grayson Old-Time Weekend. With interview release forms and my Boston Red Sox hat in hand, Connor and I set out on this last hoorah before I left Virginia for Georgia.
We stayed in a friend’s farmhouse in the heart of Grayson, where it is quiet enough to hear donkeys and cows echoing off the orange and red mountains. I forgot to pack a lighter for the fire pit, but my brother had flint and steel in his bag. We spent a good twenty minutes getting sparks to turn to flame for a fire that lasted us hours into the night, fueled by good music and memories of our past together. We knew we didn’t have to get up too early — Wayne has a policy of not having guests before noon, so he can work in his shop into the early morning hours.
Ian interviews Wayne at his workshop in Grayson County. Photo courtesy of Ian Moriarty Wayne’s workshop in Grayson County. Photo courtesy of Ian Moriarty
On Sunday we drove about an hour to Wayne’s place in Rugby. We were taken aback by the destruction we saw from Hurricane Helene. Roads were washed away, trees were in the river, and it was easy to see that the County of Grayson would face certain hardships in its aftermath.
We pulled into Wayne’s driveway, large enough for a lively jam’s worth of people, and knocked on the Red Sox logo pasted on his shop door. The absence of power tool sounds made me think maybe we should try the house instead, where we found him watching TV with his granddaughter. He quickly jumped up and walked over to the shop, grabbing a beautiful sunburst Henderson out of its case. He sat down on a stool and told us he had just finished making it the day before, and it would soon be sent to its lucky recipient in Colorado.
Wayne played a few tunes for us, including “Black Berry Blossom” and “Billy in the Low Ground,” which make one think their eyes and ears may not be working in sync. It sounds like there are at least three musicians, yet Wayne barely even looks like he’s playing. After a few minutes of picking, Wayne lifted the guitar my way and asked if I played.
This was an offer I could never refuse: to play a brand-new Henderson guitar, probably only played by its creator, and in front of the man himself, per his request. I’m no master of guitar — I have yet to learn the bluegrass and old-time sounds — and I quickly caught myself wishing I had practiced before the trip down. I started to play The Beatles’ “Blackbird,” but I grew distracted. It wasn’t nerves, but the vibrance and sheer volume of sound resonating from the instrument that pulled my attention. I quite possibly missed a note or two, but because of the artwork I held, it was just about the best I’d ever heard a guitar sound while in my hands.
As I finished another song, a man in his 30s entered the shop. He gave me a kind word of encouragement and asked if it was my guitar. I responded as anyone would: “I wish!”
It was a reasonable question, as most come to the shop to pick up their guitars rather than risk shipping something of such value. I handed him the guitar, and he quickly commented on the volume and ring of it while playing a smooth bluegrass tune. We soon learned he had met Wayne some twenty years ago and was now — at last — first on the list for his own Henderson. (The waitlist for a Henderson is at least a decade long, and even Eric Clapton had to wait his turn.) We watched Wayne work on his instrument as we talked and learned how Wayne got started building instruments.
“Albert Hash was a sort of local hero of the community. He was pretty known for making fiddles. My dad said, ‘I bet Albert can probably tell you what kind of glue to use [to build a guitar], I’ll take you over to see him.’ . . .
Albert got a fiddle out of a drawer, it was covered up with other stuff in there. He made it in 1953 and it was just the most beautiful thing you ever saw. It had a parrot’s head carved on for the scroll at the end, all kinds of carvings. He took a toothbrush handle to get the red plastic out to make eyeballs for the carrot. It was an inspiration, the thought that somebody’s hands could make something like that. You wouldn’t have believed it.”
Wayne Henderson, interviewed by Ian Moriarty on April 4, 2024
Connor asked Wayne how long it takes for him now to make a guitar, from start to finish. Wayne replied, “About a week.” I was almost certain Wayne misheard, as one week is extremely fast by hand, but after seeing him attach the bracing for the backside of a guitar in minutes, there was no doubt. Maybe that’s part of the secret. He’s been doing it for so long that he knows exactly how to do it and doesn’t waste a second with a mistake, an ill-advised step, or an ounce of doubt.
We were also sure to talk baseball, as he, my brother, and I were all wearing Boston Red Sox hats. We discussed the World Series, which Wayne said was between his two least favorite teams: the Los Angeles Dodgers and the New York Yankees. (The main reason Wayne is a Red Sox fan stems from his hatred of the Yankees.) He did tell us of a silver lining, however, saying, “At least I get to watch one of them lose each night!” Later, when he was on the phone, he used the same line again and shot a wink our way while delivering it.
His daughter Jayne, a wonderful luthier in her own right (the two completed a Virginia Folklife Apprenticeship in 2013), and her daughter, Matilda, soon joined us in the shop. As Jayne entered, she told her dad that the auction was already at $26,000. Wayne explained he was auctioning off a guitar for hurricane relief in the surrounding area and that the auction had just opened that morning. The winning bid was for $59,000. Money doesn’t determine worth, but this sum shows how much value a Henderson holds for many people.
Wayne apprenticed his daughter Jayne, right, in guitar-making as part of our 2012–2013 Folklife Apprenticeship Program. Photo by Pat Jarrett/Virginia Humanities Three generations of Hendersons — Wayne, Jayne, and her daughter Matilda, center — prepare to perform at the 2024 Legends of Grayson Old Time Weekend. Photo by Pat Jarrett/Virginia Humanities
Wayne’s most prized Hendersons are, without a doubt, Jayne and Matilda. Matilda ran around the shop with a huge smile before making her way outside into the crisp mountain air. Wayne was shortly called outside by Matilda and he came back with a huge smile. He told us she was rolling down the hill outside the shop and that the hill gets going pretty fast, which he knew from personal experience. Once, he decided to roll down the hill with Matilda, which he said “just about tickled her to death,” but that one time for someone his age was plenty!
Soon after, Wayne got to work on the other gentleman’s guitar. His work was swift, smooth, and focused while continuing the conversation. I peppered him with woodworking questions as I am just a beginner. While looking at the guitars in his wood room, it was hard not to be amazed at the lovely woods that covered the walls and floor. Looking from one side of the room to the other, it was almost as if you could see the wood being shaped into guitar parts, from robust chunks to fine and carefully crafted pieces of the finest wood.
I noticed a pile of spare pieces of wood in a trash barrel. When I asked about them, Wayne explained they were leftover from carving guitar necks. I asked if he used them for anything after they were cut, and he told me there’s always something to do with them and that once in a while, a friend comes and picks a few pieces up. I said — joking yet hopeful — that I could find something to do with one if he ever needs a piece taken off his hands, and moved on in conversation, thinking nothing would come of the joke.
After a moment, Wayne finished a step of the build process and walked over to his wood room, to the pile of leftover mahogany and loaded up his arms before turning to me. He reached out his hands, and I said, “Is this all for me?!” Wayne replied “Yep! That’s some beautiful mahogany, should keep you busy whittling for a while.”
“My dad or I told Albert about trying to make a guitar, and it falling apart. Albert said, ‘I’ll find you something here.’ And he found an old mahogany door. He had it laying over in the corner of his shop, covered up. He dusted it off and sawed a big flat piece off of it. He said, ‘This is mahogany. That’s the same thing a Martin [guitar] is made out of of.’ That drove me wild. He told also told me how tobend wood over a hot pipe.”
Wayne Henderson, interviewed by Ian Moriarty on April 4, 2024
When I wasn’t expecting to even get one piece, Wayne handed me nine. I expressed my gratitude and tried to hold in my excitement as my mind wandered over the possibilities of artistic creation and significance that I had just been given with this arm-full of mahogany. Wood cut and gifted by Wayne Henderson himself, wood that was once part of that signature Henderson guitar head and neck. Wood that was given in encouragement by one of the best luthiers in the world.
I will carve some of it, and I will leave some pieces just as they are, with marks from Wayne’s pencils, the outline of his guitars, and the memory of sitting in his shop with Connor, picking, talking, and feeling right at home.
Ian Moriarty is a recent graduate from James Madison University and native to Charlottesville, Virginia. He currently resides in Atlanta, Georgia, and is pursuing a career in communications.
