Gibson Inc. has a proud tradition of building fine musical instruments. In fact, some of the finest acoustic instruments of the 20^th century were built on Parson Street in Kalamazoo, Michigan – in a historic old factory that now houses the Heritage Guitar Company.

Noted musicians from around the world visited the plant on Kalamazoo’s North Side during nearly seven decades of operation, until Gibson closed the local facility in 1984 and moved its operations to Nashville, Tennesee. Among them: country music greats Roy Acuff, Gene Autry, Bill Monroe, Ernest Tubb, Johnny Cash and Charlie Daniels; virtuoso guitarists Chet Atkins, Les Paul, Johnny Smith and B.B. King; and rock superstars Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, George Harrison and Peter Frampton.

Gibson still makes quality instruments. There’s no doubt about that – unless, of course, you consider the metal tailpiece that has inexplicably torn and broken off my 1994-issue A-5 mandolin twice since I bought it.

Could the fact that Gibson now makes all its mandolins, resonator guitars and banjos in a shopping mall have anything to do with this?

I don’t know, but I asked a Gibson executive about that a few weeks ago when I toured the operation at Opry Mills in Nashville – a mega shopping arena located a hundred yards or so from the Grand Ole Opry House on the former site of the Opryland theme park.

He didn’t have a suitable answer. In fact, he claimed to have never heard about Gibson instruments having such a problem – even though I know others who have encountered the same defect.

The tour was arranged by a friend who owns and operates a communication company in Music City. He knows the Gibson executive, who graciously agreed to take us behind-the-scenes in the workshop. It was thrilling to watch seasoned craftsmen carve out wooden instruments and to observe the many steps that are taken as an instrument evolves from a shapeless block of wood to a finished piece of art, boxed and ready to load on the shipping dock.

It just seemed strange to me that a company with such a proud tradition of craftsmanship would risk its credibility by manufacturing its expensive instruments at "Shopryland." It probably seemed like a good concept – building classic Gibsons behind large windows that allow shoppers to view the work. But I wonder how well the workers can concentrate with people pushing their noses up to the glass a foot away from their dust-covered workbenches.

In the Gibson store outside the workshop, instruments, t-shirts, calendars and assorted other items are on sale – along with numerous post cards featuring historic photos of the Kalamazoo Gibson plant. There’s even a large black-and-white poster of the familiar Gibson smokestack that still towers over Parson Street. The company seems to want to maintain a strong link with the vintage years, while still capitalizing on the present age of American consumerism.

There are some things about modern-day marketing that I’ll never understand.