Treble-Shooter of North Park : Musicians Seek Him Out When Their Instruments Are in Need of a Fix

SAN DIEGO —  James Moody’s sax was in rough shape, and he had a gig that night. On the advice of a fellow jazzman, he took the instrument to Jay Sleigh, who repaired several leaky valves.

Charles McPherson prefers a bright sound from his alto sax, so Sleigh gave him larger nylon resonators in the center of the pads that cover the air holes. McPherson’s playing cuts through a smoky club like a lighthouse beacon.

When saxophonist Wayne Shorter came through San Diego for a one-night stand, Sleigh did an emergency fix on a bent G-sharp key, which had left the musician without several low notes.

Sleigh works out of a small, immaculate shop behind his home in North Park. It’s a cozy place, with hardwood floors and two cats who laze on the bench while he works. On one wall is a photo of sax hero John Coltrane in full swing.

“I wanted to be a player in my early days,” recalled Sleigh, who has a degree in music education from the legendary Berklee School of Music in Boston. “That’s what makes my job so rewarding, my relationship with all of the musicians.”

The only time he plays now is when he tests his work. He sold his own sax a while ago and seems content to be the guy in the shadows who keeps the greats sounding great.

Since he began repairing flutes and saxophones for a living in the late 1970s, Sleigh estimates that he has done work for dozens of top players, in addition to amateurs and students.

Besides San Diegans Moody and McPherson, both internationally known, Sleigh has worked his magic for Tom Scott, Joe Farrell, Shorter and local stalwarts such as Hollis Gentry, Mark Lessman, Joe Marillo, John Rekevics, Bobby Gordon, Paul Sundfor, Lori Bell and Holly Hofmann.

When it comes to Beethoven and Bach, Sleigh counts the whole flute section of the San Diego Symphony as clients, along with several classical saxophonists. And there are flutists from out of town who send their instruments to him for tuneups.

Musicians sing Sleigh’ praises for his attention to detail.

“There’s a world of difference when your horn is working properly,” Marillo said. “I’m going to record in a couple of weeks, and I

want to get my horn real tight, so I’ll take it in.”

What makes Sleigh special?

“There aren’t many who do this at the level I do it,” he said.

To demonstrate, Sleigh took down a plastic tray of thin, nickel-sized “shims” that look like plastic washers. He picked up a flute and, with a small, plastic “feeler gauge,” checked to see whether a valve was sealing. He found a gap, and explained how he would glue a small section of one of the shims under the pad meant to cover the air hole in question. This would raise the low spot and close off the leak.

A complete sax overhaul costs $325. If that seems like a lot, consider the price of an instrument. A brand-new, top-of-the-line saxophone, either a Selmer or a Yamaha, costs about $2,000, and the best flutes go for $6,000. The legendary Selmer Mark VI saxes played by Coltrane and other jazz giants are no longer made. Used ones fetch $1,500 in San Diego, $3,000 in New York, Sleigh said.

As part of an overhaul, Sleigh replaces all of the pads with ones he has customized. Using a pipe cleaner, he coats the small leather discs with liquid vinyl made for repairing car tops. The vinyl helps the pads stand up to moisture and temperature changes.

Sleigh also installs new felts and corks, the dampers that keep a horn from clicking as it’s played. He removes the keys and files the tone holes flat, so they make a perfect seal with the pads.

To test for leaks, Sleigh inserts a “leak light”--a 12-inch fluorescent tube--into the instrument. He closes each valve and inspects it. Where he can see light, air is escaping, and tone quality won’t be perfect.

New instruments, especially saxes, are mass-produced and often need adjustments. According to Sleigh, no company makes a horn as tight as a Mercedes-Benz.

Although he wanted to be a musician, then an educator, Sleigh veered into his unique specialty when he took a course in instrument repair at Berklee.

After graduation, he got a job as an apprentice repair man at Rayburn Music in Boston. The store was home to Emilio Lyons, a musicians’ hero known as “The Sax Doc.” Sleigh trained under one of Lyons’ associates.

Then he had a shop of his own in Cambridge, Mass., before going to work for three years at Powell, one of the leading flute manufacturers. He went to Los Angeles as a Powell specialist for a Los Angeles music store, then moved to San Diego in 1986, where he opened his repair business.

Over the years, Sleigh has seen all kinds of musicians.

“I’ll get guys who can’t play their way out of a paper bag,” he said. “I’ve got this doctor with a saxophone belt buckle and two Selmers the jazz players would kill for. Or I’ll get some woman whose husband is a lawyer, and she’ll bring in a gold or silver Powell.

“It’s odd, but the guys who play for a living play the most ragged horns.”

There’s a big difference between jazz and classical players in how they care for their instruments, Sleigh said. Classical musicians tend to be fastidious; jazz musicians often let the tools of their trade run down.

There’s a partial excuse for that.

“Classical players need a precise tone quality,” he said. “They can’t let their instruments go the way the jazz people do.”

You half expect Sleigh’s workroom to resonate with great jazz, but most of the time he listens to classical music on the radio. Occasionally, though, he clicks in a CD from an eclectic collection ranging from Ella Fitzgerald to Bill Evans, Stan Getz to Miles Davis, Mike Wofford to Eddie Daniels.

He doesn’t get out to clubs often, but Sleigh quickly offers that Paul Sundfor and John Rekevics are the best local talents.

Sundfor seldom plays the clubs, but is known as a musician’s musician. Rekevics can be heard in jazz spots with several bands, including his own Joy of Sax.

Sleigh doesn’t seem to regret not making a living as a saxophonist.

“I was an aspiring player and interested in mechanical things,” he said. “This seemed like a logical choice.”