[fire crackles]
>> There you have it, primal
fire.
It's been my passion ever since
I first saw it, and I'll
probably do it 'til the day I
die.
Man your sledgehammers.
[hammer on metal bangs]
>> You know the phrase, "strike
while the iron's hot?"
[hammer on metal bangs]
With two of his sons by his
side, Kent Knapp lives by that
phrase.
>> So what were gonna do here is
something they call the three
man hammer team.
This is something that they
would have done for the
blacksmith to save his arm and
not have to do all the work
himself.
>> The craft of blacksmithing
is more than 3,000 years old,
but the automobile and the
assembly line have made it
nearly obsolete.
>> Up until the Henry Ford time,
you couldn't survive without the
blacksmith.
>> Milwaukee has a storied
history of blacksmithing.
>> We had a lot of German
immigrants, and iron work to
Germans was one of their fortes.
>> Even though the need for a
smith is no longer high,
Kent has forged a strong
reputation.
>> When somebody's working on
one of these old mansions in
town, they'll come to me for
restoration, for duplication,
for new pieces.
>> He's hoping to pass that
knowledge on to the next
generation.
>> Having the boys in here
learning the craft and passing
it on to them is very important
to me.
>> Blacksmithing is a big part
of Kent's identity.
>> This one was my very first
tattoo and I got that right
after I opened the shop.
And I figured, you know, I
better brand myself and make
sure that I stick with this.
[radio plays]
>> But there's more to him than
that.
>> The other arm is for music.
My other side of my brain you
know.
I actually was first and
foremost a musician.
>> Kent plays bass in a local
band called the Carpetbaggers.
He started back in high school.
>> That's me at 17 years old,
and that was my band back then,
Jimmy and the Flamethrowers.
>> It was music that led to
blacksmithing.
>> When I was about 17, 18
I started going to this club
that had an open blues jam where
you could sit in with the band
and learn how to play with the
band.
It turned out the guy who ran
the open jam was a blues
drummer, and he was also the
blacksmith that was up in
Cedarburg at the time.
I went up to his shop in
Cedarburg.
When I walked in it was like
stepping back in time 120 years.
I was just enamored with what he
could do to take an iron bar and
turn it into something so
graceful and flowing.
So I started working with him on
the spot.
>> A music career took Kent away
from the state, but after nine
years he returned to Milwaukee
and went back to blacksmithing
with his mentor.
>> I bought all his tools and
kind of stepped into the deep
end, as it were.
* Take me down
>> Kent says he can't go too
long without making something,
either music or ironwork.
>> My teacher always told me,
he said, look, you can play
bass.
And if you can do that, you can
do this.
There's kind of a rhythm to it.
It's always kind of a, you get
into the groove, it's a lot like
music.
* Wasted with all my--
There's a lot of Zen that goes
along with this.
It's just coming through me.
Just letting go, and letting
it happen.
And, you know, there's teamwork
too when the boys are here
working with me.
They have to understand what I'm
doing and what they're doing and
how they fit together, a lot
like the rhythm section in a
band would.
>> Kent expects this rhythm
section to keep pounding out
the hits.
>> I mean, these are all pieces
that will be cared for and
they'll be there past my life,
past their life.
It's cool to leave a legacy.
The thing about music is
outside of an album,
what you play is momentary
and then it dissipates
whereas iron will last a
couple hundred years.
[hammer on metal bangs]
>> We want to know, what's your
Wisconsin Life?
This week Lisa from Milwaukee
sent us "Toddling in 'Tosa."