I wasn’t sure what was in the long black box I spied on the floor under the auction table. I assumed it was a musical instrument, because they come up for bids pretty often.
I usually admired the artistry of the instruments but never took the time to bid on one. But I always checked them out during the previews. This time, as I approached the box, I stooped, flipped down the fasteners and opened the lid. Inside was a vintage alto saxophone whose shine had been dulled but whose beauty was as awesome as the day it was made. I was taken by it because it showed some age. It obviously had been played, and I hoped, loved.
The last time I’d had that reaction to a saxophone was at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival in Washington, DC, last year. I first saw the alto sax propped up on a stand; it belonged to a musician with the 1960s group The Monitors. I heard him play, and later listened as Ernie Fields Jr. blew his heart out in a performance with Fred Wesley and the New J.B.’s on another stage.
The saxophone at auction had the same mystique. I’ve loved saxophones since forever; they make a sound that is so deep, so powerful, so piercing and sometimes so sad that they can move me to either cry or rejoice. It’s like listening to someone speaking intimately to just me. And no one could make it speak and me listen like Johnny Hodges, John Coltrane and Charlie “Bird” Parker.
I’ve always wanted to learn to play, but never took the time to do so. I feel the same way about the piano – in the right hands. I’ve taken piano lessons but still can’t quite seem to master it well enough to please myself. I accompanied a student sax player on the piano (we performed “Willow Weep for Me”) some years ago when I was on a fellowship in the Knight-Wallace Fellows program at the University of Michigan. She had taken sax lessons and me piano lessons, and we played at the end-of-the-year program.
The sax at auction was ensconsed inside a case lined in deep bluish velvet, as if it were asleep, waiting to be awakened and held again. On two sides were small boxes that held the black mouthpiece and its attachment. I just had to handle the sax, so I took it ever so gently out of its case. It had pearl-inlay keys, and most of its original lacquer was long gone.
I turned the sax over, searching for a name of the maker. Inscribed on one side was Buescher of Elhart, Ind, a name that I realized was also on the outside of the case. The patent date was 1914, which I knew was not necessarily the date of manufacture.
I had stumbled on the maker of one of the country’s finest saxophones, from what I learned later. Gus Buescher founded his company around 1894/1895 after working for a company that made band instruments. While there, he had made improvements to the saxophone (which had been invented 50 years earlier by Adolphe Sax in Belgium).
Buescher left that company and started making band instruments on his own. He made the True Tone at the turn of the 20th century after reorganizing his company under a new name. Buescher became better known for its saxophones, according to Wikipedia. Here’s a video on the site saxophone.org of instruments being made at the plant in 1924.
According to bueschersaxophones.com, the bell makes the Buescher’s alto sax different from other instruments. It is positioned lower and the rim is wider (none of which I noticed). This, the site said, offered an even deeper and marked sound.
The sax at auction was plain compared to some I saw on the web with engravings on the bell, with some in rebuilt form selling for up to $2,100 on one site. Here’s a price guide of Buescher saxophones.
I wasn’t around when the sax sold, but I’m sure the lucky bidder went home happy.
