Revelle Lee learned caning when he was 11 and he has spent nearly eight decades perfecting a craft mostly lost in a modern world.
Through a cluttered garage and down basement steps, that’s the way to a world where no one sees better than a blind man. The room is warm, the ceiling low. Cane pulled from a jungle floor hangs from the walls. The room stretches long to the back, where worn-out chairs look to be crowding each other aside as if hoping to be next for the short, bald man in a white lab coat. His name is Revelle Lee, and some say he is a master.
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