In the early 1980s, Cat Fox felt like something was missing after a year studying management and aviation at Central Washington University. She was disillusioned. She took a long drive in her VW bus along the winding roads of Eastern Washington to clear her head and had an epiphany. “I thought I liked partying, I liked hanging out with musicians, and I liked working with wood,” Fox recalls. “So my only choices were to be a groupie, which I thought would be short-lived, or build guitars.”
Fox stopped in the first big city she reached, Missoula, Montana, and went into a guitar shop. There she asked the repairman how he learned his trade. He told her that he had attended Minnesota State College Southeast in Red Wing, so Fox applied, was accepted, and immediately transferred. After graduating, she apprenticed with renowned guitar maker William Cumpiano, author of the groundbreaking book Guitar making: tradition and technology, before opening her own shop, Sound Guitar Repair, in Seattle in 1989.
Fox recently relocated to South Hero, Vermont, to be with her husband, retired guitar maker Rick Davis of Running Dog Guitars. It took her a few years to settle in, but her business is thriving again. With decades of experience, Fox has built a trusted name among musicians – her clients over the years have included the Everly Brothers, Roseanne Cash and Bill Frisell.
I recently spoke with Fox via Zoom from her shop about her education, memorable repair jobs, and her recent move to New England. She’s always smiling and always ready with a laugh, and her kindness shines as brightly as her impeccable work.
What was it like being a student at Red Wing?
Actually, it was great. Red Wing was very supportive. We had a really good professor and the class was about a third women and two thirds men, all ages. We all got along really well.
How did you come to train with William Cumpiano?
My friend at Red Wing and I sent out a ton of resumes and cover letters. I only got one response. It basically said, “Dear Cat, there’s no future in guitars. Go into computers.” I wish I had kept that and framed it, but I just threw it away. So there was a little bit of sexism in the industry.
My friend got a lot of responses, but ended up working at Elderly Instruments, where they needed another repairman. So I said, “Do you think I could send something to the people who responded positively to you?” And he said, “Yeah, go ahead.” So I wrote a letter to William Cumpiano and asked him if he would take me on as an apprentice in place of my friend. He said, “No guarantees. I’d have to meet you and see your work.” And I thought, “Of course he’ll like me, and my work is pretty good.” So I just packed up my Volkswagen and drove to Massachusetts, where I’d never been before.
That’s trust. How did it turn out?
I was with him for six years – two of those years I was his apprentice and then I became his repairman. I also built guitars that were sold under his name, but I didn’t get any credit for that. There’s a little blurb in the front of his book that says, “Thank you, Cat Fox, for all your help.” But as much as I had to “smile and nod, girls, smile and nod,” I learned a lot from it; I met a lot of people and it was really great. When I decided to go to Seattle, I was pretty confident that I could open a shop and do just fine.
Where does the name of your company, Sound Guitar, come from?
So there is the Puget Sound, Sound (puts his hand to his ears), and also “sound” as in “soundhole.” It’s always funny when people say, “That’s a two-way pun,” and I reply, “Actually, three-way.”
Do you mainly repair guitars or do you also build them?
I did a lot of building in Bill’s shop. Sound Guitar Repair basically started as a repair shop and stayed that way for many years. And then Rick (Davis), my husband, came to Seattle and we moved to the Fremont area and opened a really big shop. It was 1,600 square feet and we had a full build studio. We had benches for the students and I had my repair studio there. It was kind of a full service where you could commission a guitar, learn how to build it, or get your Martin repaired.
How is your business doing after moving to Vermont?
When I first came here six years ago, Adam Buchwald from Circle Strings and Iris Guitars helped me a lot. He’s just awesome. He gave me all the work I could do right away when I got to town. I hadn’t even set up shop yet, so I’m very grateful to Adam. But of course, as time went on, he hired people himself. I do very little of Adam’s work now, but people still send me stuff from all over the United States, and every local has discovered me too. I get people from upstate New York, Canada, and all over Vermont. A guy from Boston just drove me here. Yay! I can’t complain.
I love that you say your store is a “no-kill shelter for vintage guitars.” Unfortunately, we hear more and more about people damaging their guitars during air transport, so your motto is absolutely true.
Well, that’s basically what I’ve been doing my whole career. Did your Martin get hit by a truck? I can revive him!
What was the most difficult repair you have ever done?
Actually, the guy with the Martin. He drove over it with his own truck! He loaded up his truck and put it on the wheel well, then he forgot about it and backed over it. It just sat in his closet for 20 years because he couldn’t handle it. But finally he brought it in and we put it back together for him. That was the hardest repair I’ve ever done. I’ve done some really complicated repairs, but putting a Martin back together from splinters… Luckily, all the splinters were there.
Do you work on both electric and acoustic instruments?
I do pretty much everything with frets and I also work on ouds because I’ve become a favorite of the Turkish and Egyptian communities in Seattle. There’s an old man named Maurice Rouman, master of the oud, as it says on his business card, and he brought me ouds like bouquets of flowers. He had three in each hand and came in and said, “Madame, I have many, many ouds for you.”
Wow. So this has to be a different repair process because of the rounded back.
It is So different. There are no frets and the construction is typically unrefined. So Maurice Rouman, this little 90-year-old, half-blind Egyptian, taught me everything I know about repairing ouds.
Is there a type or brand of instrument you would like to work with but haven’t yet?
I’ve worked on pretty much everything – even three Lloyd Loar mandolins (1920s Gibsons). They’re the pinnacle of everything.
Were you nervous about working on it?
Oh my God, yeah. I have this thing, it’s as expensive as your house, right? So I thought, what do I do with it? Take it home and sleep with it? What if my house gets broken into? What if I put it under my bed and something happens? So I carried them around and was just stressed. But I fixed them all and everything was fine. Those were probably the most famous instruments I worked on and the most nerve-racking. I also fixed these legendary black (Gibson) Everly Brothers guitars. That was a big deal too.
Which guitars of other musicians have you enjoyed working on?
I worked on Richard Shindell’s guitar, he’s one of my absolute favorites. Another one was Cris Williamson. I grew up listening to their music, and then about 20 years ago I answered the phone in Seattle and this woman said, “Hello, this is Cris Williamson,” and I said, “Shut up!” (laughs) Her guitar had been damaged by the airline. That’s how I met Cris Williamson, who is as amazing as you could hope for. Rosanne Cash – I got to fix her guitar. It was amazing; she’s just so down to earth. Those are some of my idols; I got to actually work on their stuff and that was so exciting.
Are you nervous in general or only when it comes to these expensive and/or famous instruments?
Not really. There are guitars I work on regularly that are worth $20,000, which is not an insignificant amount – if I dropped a chisel on it or something.
Have you ever done this before?
No comment (laughs). To be a really good repairman, you have to learn how to fix your mistakes.
Can you tell me how to fix one of these so-called errors?
I once worked on a guitar that was signed by Janis Ian. It was pretty dirty and I tried to clean it very carefully around the signature. In the process I removed the J from the Janis so it said “anis Ian” (laughs). I went to my local art store and bought all the gold Sharpies, then practiced my J so I could make one that was as similar to Janis Ian’s as possible. For some reason the client never noticed.
So you have to be good at fixing your mistakes. Can you think of another model that can guide you?
Another motto is something like “fake it until you make it,” but not quite. Sometimes you want to at least give the impression of competence. And then once the customer is out the door, you call your guitar-making friends. I have a large network of people whose advice I trust, and I talk to them a lot on the phone. And it works both ways. It’s nice to know there are other people, because there are a lot of guitars out there and they all have something different going on. You get confronted with a 1949 Gibson and think, “Does this one have the top that goes over the joint so you can’t take the neck off?” And you think, “Damn. I didn’t charge enough for that!”
Do you attend workshops and conferences to stay up to date on the latest guitar building and repair techniques?
I used to attend every conference, but now that I’m slowing down, so to speak, I’ve stopped doing so.
Are you really relaxing?
Yes. I’m 63 and I’m getting a little bit of arthritis. My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be. Eventually my work will start to decline and I hope to God I realize that before I get bad because one of my biggest fears is people saying, “Cat used to be good.” I don’t want that – I want to stop at a good point.
