Drizzt
Member
`Gentleman of gun world' builds reputation on passion, skill
BY SAM COOK
Knight Ridder Newspapers
SOLON SPRINGS, Wis. - (KRT) - Eric Meitzner turns the small pistol in his hands, examining it silently.
Jim Beaulier has driven an hour from Duluth to Meitzner's gunsmithing shop near Solon Springs with the handgun. It's an old German gun, and Beaulier would like to clean it but can't figure out how to take it apart.
He has come to the right man. Meitzner, 51, has earned a reputation as an excellent gunsmith, and he draws customers from all over northern Minnesota and northwestern Wisconsin.
Meitzner consults a book on German handguns but finds it unhelpful. He carries the gun to a work table in his immaculate shop, lays a fresh paper towel on the work area and hunkers over the gun. In moments, he has solved the puzzle and returns to the counter, where he shows Beaulier how to take the gun apart.
Beaulier, who lives in Berryville, Va., but grew up in Duluth, pays Meitzner $5 for the consultation and departs a happy man.
It's safe to say most gun owners who leave with Meitzner's work in their hands are happy.
"I don't know if people in this area realize what a treasure we have in him," says Pat Kukull, owner of Superior Shooters Supply in Superior. "Whether it's a gun that's 50 years old or 2 years old or 100 years old, there's nothing that stumps him. We have yet to baffle him."
Earlier on this crisp September day, Jim Cronin of Hayward had stopped by to pick up an old .410-gauge shotgun that Meitzner had tuned up.
"Eric has such a reputation in this whole area," says Cronin, 63. "He's just very well-respected and so knowledgeable. At the Hayward Rod and Gun Club, when someone says, `Where do I go?' to get something done, invariably it's Eric."
Meitzner would be pleased with these testimonials to his work, but he likely would not let on. He is modest and unassuming, but he is also passionate about the work he does on guns.
"I'm a craftsman," Meitzner says. "I use that as kind of a generic trade description. And I like to shoot. I've always been fascinated by what makes guns work and all the different kinds."
Dave St. John of Four Corners, south of Superior, Wis., comes in to pick up a deer rifle. He's had Meitzner adjust the trigger pull. St. John tests the trigger and likes what he feels. He pays Meitzner, then stays around to talk about guns and shooting for another 10 or 15 minutes.
Customers often linger, Meitzner says. He enjoys the conversation, but it cuts into his productivity.
"That's the reason I'm open only three days a week," he says.
Meitzner sees customers on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays, and works in solitude the rest of the week.
"Fall is busy, but I never have a slow time," he says. "I average 10 hours a day. When it gets toward fall, sometimes I have to work weekends and longer."
Meitzner opened his spacious shop among the maples in rural Solon Springs 8 years ago. It is a model of orderliness, every tool in its place, not an iron filing or a scrap of wood on any working surface. His machines_six polishers, a milling machine, a lathe, a welder_are spotless.
Rows of books stand straight and tall on shelves: "Wildcat Cartridges I & II," "The Winchester Book,"
"Metals Handbook," and back issues of "The Double Gun Journal," to name a few. To streamline field-testing of guns, he merely opens a hinged section of wall and fires into the woods at targets up to 100 yards away.
Tall, with close-cropped hair and a day's stubble of whiskers, Meitzner wears jeans, a flannel shirt and a knee-length denim apron. He often has an optivisor_headgear with a pair of magnifying lenses_on his head, ready to flip down for close-up work.
When Meitzner speaks, he chooses his words carefully. He is not given to superlatives, unless he is talking about the workmanship of a well-built shotgun or fine rifle.
Meitzner grew up in Superior and watched his grandfather work on guns in a small machine shop.
"When I saw that, it really grabbed me," Meitzner recalls.
While serving with the Marines in Quantico, Va., in 1972, he volunteered at a local gunsmith shop off the base. He eventually worked there full time for 2 years before attending gunsmithing school at Trinidad State Junior College in Trinidad, Colo.
After attending school, Meitzner worked for a couple of years with the late Don Allen, founder of Dakota Arms in Sturgis, S.D. Finally, he was ready to open his own shop.
No formal certification is required to become a gunsmith, and not all gunsmiths do quality work, Meitzner says.
"Anybody can get some business cards made," he says. "I don't know what the reason is, but there's something that compels people to want to be a gunsmith. Mostly, they ruin people's guns. I see them all the time. Every day, I see them."
Meitzner moves around the shop, showing guns he owns or guns he has rebuilt. He can rebuild a stock and forearm for a gun. He can re-barrel a rifle. He once spent 100 hours building and doing the precision checkering on a rifle stock. He is too busy now to spend that kind of time on a single gun, he says. He did the work on that gun, a Mauser .45-70, for a client. When the man died, he left the gun to Meitzner in his will.
Meitzner picks up a Husqvarna 16-gauge double-barrel made in the 1880s to show the detail in its checkered stock. He pulls a British Greener double gun off his rack and admires it.
"A terrific piece of work," he says.
Today's Brownings and Berettas are "extremely nice," Meitzner says, but many modern guns do not measure up to their predecessors.
"It's because of the loss of craftsmanship," he says. "The gun companies used to be owned by people who liked guns, and people who worked on them took pride in it. Now gun companies are part of huge, multinational corporations, and they hire people like any other manufacturer. There's never any handwork done on most guns anymore."
When someone brings a gun to Meitzner, he seems to have an agreement not only with the client but with the gun itself.
"I think gunsmiths have an ethical responsibility not to damage guns or make them worse than they were," he says.
Meitzner doesn't turn away work because he's too busy, but he will occasionally turn down a job if he thinks, for instance, that refinishing a gun might diminish its value.
Kukull, with Superior Shooters Supply, says nobody she has sent to Meitzner has been disappointed.
"To be in the business that long and not step on anybody's toes is amazing," she says. "He's a real gentleman of the gun world."
http://www.bayarea.com/mld/mercurynews/sports/7018860.htm
BY SAM COOK
Knight Ridder Newspapers
SOLON SPRINGS, Wis. - (KRT) - Eric Meitzner turns the small pistol in his hands, examining it silently.
Jim Beaulier has driven an hour from Duluth to Meitzner's gunsmithing shop near Solon Springs with the handgun. It's an old German gun, and Beaulier would like to clean it but can't figure out how to take it apart.
He has come to the right man. Meitzner, 51, has earned a reputation as an excellent gunsmith, and he draws customers from all over northern Minnesota and northwestern Wisconsin.
Meitzner consults a book on German handguns but finds it unhelpful. He carries the gun to a work table in his immaculate shop, lays a fresh paper towel on the work area and hunkers over the gun. In moments, he has solved the puzzle and returns to the counter, where he shows Beaulier how to take the gun apart.
Beaulier, who lives in Berryville, Va., but grew up in Duluth, pays Meitzner $5 for the consultation and departs a happy man.
It's safe to say most gun owners who leave with Meitzner's work in their hands are happy.
"I don't know if people in this area realize what a treasure we have in him," says Pat Kukull, owner of Superior Shooters Supply in Superior. "Whether it's a gun that's 50 years old or 2 years old or 100 years old, there's nothing that stumps him. We have yet to baffle him."
Earlier on this crisp September day, Jim Cronin of Hayward had stopped by to pick up an old .410-gauge shotgun that Meitzner had tuned up.
"Eric has such a reputation in this whole area," says Cronin, 63. "He's just very well-respected and so knowledgeable. At the Hayward Rod and Gun Club, when someone says, `Where do I go?' to get something done, invariably it's Eric."
Meitzner would be pleased with these testimonials to his work, but he likely would not let on. He is modest and unassuming, but he is also passionate about the work he does on guns.
"I'm a craftsman," Meitzner says. "I use that as kind of a generic trade description. And I like to shoot. I've always been fascinated by what makes guns work and all the different kinds."
Dave St. John of Four Corners, south of Superior, Wis., comes in to pick up a deer rifle. He's had Meitzner adjust the trigger pull. St. John tests the trigger and likes what he feels. He pays Meitzner, then stays around to talk about guns and shooting for another 10 or 15 minutes.
Customers often linger, Meitzner says. He enjoys the conversation, but it cuts into his productivity.
"That's the reason I'm open only three days a week," he says.
Meitzner sees customers on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays, and works in solitude the rest of the week.
"Fall is busy, but I never have a slow time," he says. "I average 10 hours a day. When it gets toward fall, sometimes I have to work weekends and longer."
Meitzner opened his spacious shop among the maples in rural Solon Springs 8 years ago. It is a model of orderliness, every tool in its place, not an iron filing or a scrap of wood on any working surface. His machines_six polishers, a milling machine, a lathe, a welder_are spotless.
Rows of books stand straight and tall on shelves: "Wildcat Cartridges I & II," "The Winchester Book,"
"Metals Handbook," and back issues of "The Double Gun Journal," to name a few. To streamline field-testing of guns, he merely opens a hinged section of wall and fires into the woods at targets up to 100 yards away.
Tall, with close-cropped hair and a day's stubble of whiskers, Meitzner wears jeans, a flannel shirt and a knee-length denim apron. He often has an optivisor_headgear with a pair of magnifying lenses_on his head, ready to flip down for close-up work.
When Meitzner speaks, he chooses his words carefully. He is not given to superlatives, unless he is talking about the workmanship of a well-built shotgun or fine rifle.
Meitzner grew up in Superior and watched his grandfather work on guns in a small machine shop.
"When I saw that, it really grabbed me," Meitzner recalls.
While serving with the Marines in Quantico, Va., in 1972, he volunteered at a local gunsmith shop off the base. He eventually worked there full time for 2 years before attending gunsmithing school at Trinidad State Junior College in Trinidad, Colo.
After attending school, Meitzner worked for a couple of years with the late Don Allen, founder of Dakota Arms in Sturgis, S.D. Finally, he was ready to open his own shop.
No formal certification is required to become a gunsmith, and not all gunsmiths do quality work, Meitzner says.
"Anybody can get some business cards made," he says. "I don't know what the reason is, but there's something that compels people to want to be a gunsmith. Mostly, they ruin people's guns. I see them all the time. Every day, I see them."
Meitzner moves around the shop, showing guns he owns or guns he has rebuilt. He can rebuild a stock and forearm for a gun. He can re-barrel a rifle. He once spent 100 hours building and doing the precision checkering on a rifle stock. He is too busy now to spend that kind of time on a single gun, he says. He did the work on that gun, a Mauser .45-70, for a client. When the man died, he left the gun to Meitzner in his will.
Meitzner picks up a Husqvarna 16-gauge double-barrel made in the 1880s to show the detail in its checkered stock. He pulls a British Greener double gun off his rack and admires it.
"A terrific piece of work," he says.
Today's Brownings and Berettas are "extremely nice," Meitzner says, but many modern guns do not measure up to their predecessors.
"It's because of the loss of craftsmanship," he says. "The gun companies used to be owned by people who liked guns, and people who worked on them took pride in it. Now gun companies are part of huge, multinational corporations, and they hire people like any other manufacturer. There's never any handwork done on most guns anymore."
When someone brings a gun to Meitzner, he seems to have an agreement not only with the client but with the gun itself.
"I think gunsmiths have an ethical responsibility not to damage guns or make them worse than they were," he says.
Meitzner doesn't turn away work because he's too busy, but he will occasionally turn down a job if he thinks, for instance, that refinishing a gun might diminish its value.
Kukull, with Superior Shooters Supply, says nobody she has sent to Meitzner has been disappointed.
"To be in the business that long and not step on anybody's toes is amazing," she says. "He's a real gentleman of the gun world."
http://www.bayarea.com/mld/mercurynews/sports/7018860.htm
