Oh it all started innocently enough in the summer of 2000…with a posting that I read on SOTW by Paul Coats. Paul was selling a 1922 silver plated, Buescher bass saxophone, with a gold-washed bell. I happened to be the first person to see his post, and I immediately contacted Paul to see if he could send me some photos. Within a few hours I had the first photos of the horn that would eventually be nicknamed “Baby”.
This was among the first of 5 or 6 photos I received of the bass. I was smitten…By the horn, silly; Paul’s not quite my type. He’s the nicest man you would ever want to meet, but just not my type. (Something his wife of 25+ years was very happy to know I’m sure.)
I had never actually corresponded with Paul before, but I had always read his posts on SOTW, and at the time he was also a columnist there. (You can now find his articles archived off the home page of the Sax Gourmet.) He seemed like a nice, honest, knowledgeable, trust-worthy type of guy. Within a few hours of seeing the first bass saxophone pictures he sent, I knew that I had to get that Buescher. I emailed Paul and told him that I would like to talk to him about buying the horn. We made arrangements to talk on the phone a few days later.
It was August 2000, and I was living in Fredericton, New Brunswick at the time. I looked at the map, and tried to figure out where New Orleans was in relation to where I lived. And more importantly, what would be the best way to get this bass saxophone from Louisiana to New Brunswick. Before talking to Paul, I checked into bus, train, plane, and automobile possibilities. They all seemed like incredibly risky, logistical nightmares. Then when Paul and I did talk a few days later, he made it clear that the bass was a fairly fragile instrument, and that its original case was not very sturdy. Both he and I went away from our hour-long conversation thinking about all the possibilities about getting the sax shipped up to me.
After considering all the possibilities, the only thing that made real sense, was for me to fly down to New Orleans and bring the horn home with me. I had recently read an article on the Nuclear Whales website, where they described the experience of their founder, Don Stevens, as he flew back to California with his “new” contrabass as a paying passenger, in the seat beside him. I phoned Paul and we talked it all out. He thought it was a brilliant idea. This way he could spend time with me, and teach me some of the nuances of bass saxophones, and then we could then pack the horn up together for its flight to Canada. Paul and I checked our schedules, and we decided that October would be the best month for me to come to New Orleans and pick up the horn.
I contacted my travel agent Rita, from Carlson Wagonlit, who I had worked with for years already. I talked to her about my specific needs for this trip. She told me honestly that she had never booked a ticket for a saxophone before, so she would have to do some checking into it with the airlines with regards to their policies. I told her about the Nuclear Whales, and gave her the link to the website, so that she could point it out to whoever she was talking to if necessary. After all, I was not asking for anything for free: the saxophone was going to be a paying passenger.
Fredericton, at the time, did not have any direct flight connections to the US. I would have had to connect through Toronto or Montreal before getting into the States. So the best connections (and most inexpensive) actually turned out to be through Bangor, Maine. With Delta Airlines I had to change planes only once, at their hub in Cincinnati, and then go directly to the Louis Armstrong Airport in New Orleans. The only catch Rita told me, was that to ensure my seat for the horn back from New Orleans, I would have to buy 2 return tickets from Bangor. And this she said, was the most important part: Do not let them cancel your 2nd ticket returning from New Orleans, because the seat was empty on the flight there. Make sure you get 2 boarding passes for both legs of your flight there. (Remember this just 11 months before 9-11. I think that if I had tried to do this just a year later, the airlines would not have been so accommodating towards a musician and a bass saxophone.)
OK, so the tickets are bought. It’s now the end of August. I’m waiting patiently for 2 months before I can fly down and get the horn. Paul and I email regularly, and we make plans for the days I’m going to spend down in his neck of the woods. He sends directions for making a base out of an office chair for the custom-made stand (which is included in the sale) that he made for the bass. I send him a picture of myself so that he can recognize me when he sees me. He sends some pictures of Wayne Shell and him with the 2 Buescher basses that the Bayou Sax Ensemble owned at the time.
(The gold-plated one that Wayne is holding is the one they bought from Vintage Sax, and that they’re keeping. The silver-plate is the one that they bought from the high school, restored, and are now selling to me.)
The emails flow, plans crystallize, and the time seems to fly. Next thing you know, it’s October, and I’m on my way to Bangor Airport to catch a flight to New Orleans.
When I got to the Louis Armstrong Airport, Paul and Wayne were there to pick me up. They timed their arrival so that they could just drive into the passenger pick up area get me. Paul had told me that he would put the Bayou Sax Ensemble magnetic decals on the side of his red, Jeep Wagoneer, so that I’d know I had the right car. A man of his word, he had done just that, and I had no problems finding my 2 new bass saxophone playing friends.
Because I had arrived around the supper hour, the guys decided to take me out to dinner at a rib and steak place before taking me to my hotel downtown. By this time I’d had a really long travel day, and hadn’t really eaten much. Also, because Bangor was a 4 hour drive from Fredericton, and my flight out was in the late AM, I had had to get up really early. There was also a 2 hour time difference involved. My body felt like it was 2 hours later than it actually was in Louisiana. So all of this to say…I was bagged, but I was having a great time. We were in the restaurant for a couple of hours, and I had a few drinks. As we were leaving, the absurdity of all of this really hit me. Here I am: a Canadian citizen who has left her country and is now in the US. I am a woman, traveling by myself to New Orleans…A city that has among the highest murder rates in the US. I have a bank draft made out for thousands of dollars in US funds (which at that time was nearly $2 to every $1 Canadian) in the name of a man I do not personally know. This man that I don’t know, and his friend, who I also don’t know, picked me up at the New Orleans airport. I voluntarily got into their car and let myself be driven around the city. I have put my life entirely in their hands for the next 2 days. Wow! Talk about violating every personal safety rule ever taught!
Blame it on the liquor, but on the way out to the car, I started to giggle, and pointed out how crazy this was. Paul just laughed, and said, “Yeah, but it’s OK, because you met me on the Internet.” This just resulted in all 3 of us bursting into fits of belly laughter. When we all composed ourselves, we got into the Jeep, and headed downtown where they dropped me off at my hotel.
This photo of the 3 of us was taken in the lobby by one of the desk clerks in the Travel Lodge. (Where I ended up staying after the first hotel did the usual sleazy hotel overbooking thing, and didn’t have a room for me despite giving me a confirmation number for my late check-in.)
The rest of the “how Helen bought her bass saxophone” story has been up on my site since its creation in December 2000, so if you haven’t yet read it, and you’re interested, you can check it out there.
Something interesting that Paul told me, was that a number of people wanted to buy the bass from him. I just happened to be the first person to contact him, and the first to commit. Paul actually had a waiting list of people in case I backed out. Number 2 on the list was none other than Eugene Rousseau. Paul thought that he might have wanted it for one of his students. Well whatever the case, I didn’t back out, and that 1922 restored Buescher Tru Tone now resides in Canada.
