Artisan Paul Allers builds cues that would have looked right at home in the expert hands of such pool-playing legends as Minnesota Fats and Willie Mosconni.

“I was tired of buying cues that I didn’t like,” Allers joked about his reasons for picking up the cue-making hobby about four years ago.

What really happened was that a guy stranded Allers with about $4,000 worth of specialized woodworking equipment, which he says forced him “to learn how to do pool cues.” Allers said he was learning the pool-making craft from a man several years ago and as part of the deal was replacing some of the man’s equipment. The old equipment went into Allers’ garage. When his teacher skipped town, he left the machines behind.

So Allers decided to use them.

Allers, who lives in Oak Harbor, makes cues from scratch and repairs old, beloved cues for customers, whether it means replacing a tip or inserting an entirely new shaft.

“Cue owners are very touchy,” he said, emphasizing the care that must be put into reworking his customers’ pool hall weapons of choice.

Allers, who retired from the Navy in 1997 after more than 22 years of service, said it takes about three months to create one of his exquisitely-crafted cues — from the moment he begins lathing and fitting the wood, down to the instant he finally glues on the tip. Even before that, he said, he needs to cure the various types of wood for up to year in a dehumidifier.

It’s a delicate process all around. Allers said the calibrations for some of his cutting tools measure to tenths of millimeters. It can also be a nervewracking process at times, Allers added, whether he’s building a cue from scratch or simply doing custom repairs.

“If it goes wonky in any way,” he said, “you’ve just blown somebody’s favorite pool cue.”

The raw materials Allers works with are almost as gorgeous as his finished products. In the big shop behind his house where he works, it’s easy to find such diverse types of wood as curly and bird’s-eye maple, black and brown ebony, Brazilian cocobolo, Argentinean purple heart, and black and red palm.

“The exotics are very hard to find locally,” Allers said. As for other non-wood materials, he added that he refuses to use ebony (“bad juju,” he claims), though he has incorporated into his cues pieces of elk antler that are found in the wild.

“I salvage a lot of stuff,” said Allers, who also spends his days doing other types of woodwork and glass etching.

The most important thing in creating a pool cue, Allers said, is making sure that everything is flush and smooth — all the pieces must fit together as closely to perfect as possible. He said even on a part of the cue a player might never touch, a sleek surface is essential.

“You just have to be accurate,” he said.

Other than that, the creation of good pool cues would seem to involve a certain, almost indescribable touch for balance and structure, an eye for the intricacies of fine woodwork, as well as an ear for the musical “dink” of a particular tree-grain tapping the little white ball.

“When you hit with a stick,” Allers said, “it should have a specific sound.”

Allers said he builds his cues one at a time. This is the way he prefers it.

“I love what I do,” he said. “I don’t want to get into production.”

The cues run from about $200 up. Allers said the most expensive stick he’s made sold for $450. Considering the expert craftsmanship, this is pretty darn cheap.

Allers also serves as secretary for the North Whidbey Men’s Pool League. He said he prefers the pace of his life as it is, because he sets the schedule according to how he feels, and he works when and if he wants to.

In fact, Allers said, if it were up to him, he’d be shooting pool full-time.

“But there’s not enough money in it,” he added, laughing.