Los Angeles — Ginacue and the Art of Inlay

Ernie Gutierrez brought a different visual language to the custom cue.

By the early 1960s, the custom cue was beginning to attract attention beyond the poolroom. A player might buy one for its feel, but its appearance could become part of its reputation.

Ernie Gutierrez helped move the craft in that direction. He had learned woodworking in Colombia before moving to the San Fernando Valley in 1957. He played pool, made cues for himself, and began spending time in local rooms. When The Hustler appeared in 1961 and interest in pocket billiards grew, Gutierrez saw an opportunity. He founded Ginacue shortly after his daughter Gina was born.

More Than Decoration

Gutierrez became known for cues that could carry intricate inlays and rich materials without losing their identity as playing instruments. His designs used contrasting woods and carefully arranged details, with some exceptional examples incorporating precious metals and stones.

A 1968 cue made for actor Dean Martin, for example, included gold and gemstones. Such cues were not typical working instruments; they were special commissions that showed how far a maker could push the craft when the customer wanted something extraordinary.

Gutierrez also worked in automotive and aerospace design, bringing experience from other forms of technical work to the cue shop. Yet his cues were not simply mechanical objects with decoration added afterward. The visual pattern and the construction had to work together.

A West Coast Signature

Ginacue helped establish a more elaborate visual tradition in American cue-making. It would be wrong to say that all West Coast cues followed Gutierrez's style, or that every player wanted a cue covered in inlay. Some players preferred plain wood and familiar construction. Others wanted a cue that made an impression before the first ball was struck.

Gutierrez's influence was clear enough that his work was widely copied. In a 1994 Los Angeles Times profile, billiards historian Victor Stein contrasted Balabushka's relatively restrained cues with Gutierrez's elaborate artistry, while recognizing both as important makers.

The comparison tells us something useful about the craft. There was no single road to a great cue. One maker could earn a reputation through restraint; another through complexity.

A piece of wood can be quiet.

Or it can tell the whole room who made it.