I worked at the record store for 8 years. Because of its stellar reputation in the record collectors circle (which also includes musicians), every now and then celebrities would visit the store. I was not the type (nor were my co-workers) to be "star-struck" or act stupid when a famous person would darken our door; I figured they put on their pants one leg at a time too, right? I was fortunate enough to meet many people whom I greatly admired (in no particular order):
1. I was in college at North Texas and I came in late from class one day. There was a little boy standing at the counter, which he could barely see over. As I walked behind him, he turned slightly and I noticed that it wasn't a little boy, it was an incredibly short man whose head was even with my boobs (lucky him). I went behind the counter, put my books down and my manager handed me a silver American Express card with the name "Paul Simon".
I thought, "Wow, not only is the poor guy really short, he's named Paul Simon. I'll bet he gets ribbed about that all the time". Then I looked at the guy.
Oh. It IS Paul Simon. Wow, he's really short.
He was very nice and signed some autographs for me and my manager. He and his wife came back some time later to buy records to play at her father's funeral. She was very nice too and very tall, towering over her shorter and much older husband. They're still married, so things must be going well for them. Paul is married to Edie Brickell, singer for a Dallas band called the New Bohemians who had a big hit called "What I Am" back in the 80s. All of the New Bohemians bought records at the store, even the one who just got shot to death by his neighbor.
2. I came back from lunch one day and my manager Chuck told me to check out the guy in the 78 room, but don't bother him. I wandered back toward the hatch in the wall that divided the main store from the 78 room and noticed the shabby looking rat-like man listening to 78s on the record player. I didn't recognize him, so Chuck told me who he was and also told me that he had been in before and was very prickly, so don't ask him for an autograph. OK, whatever.
About 3 hours later, Mr. Shabby Rat-Like came up to the counter and wordlessly laid a stack of 78s on the counter. I mentioned that I'd be happy to give him a discount and all he did was nod his head slightly. I rang up R. Crumb's order, he paid and then he left, all without saying a word to me.
Maybe my ass wasn't big enough for him.
My husband and I went to see the movie "Crumb" at its Dallas premiere and I met the director and Crumb's Cheap Suit Serenaders bandmate Terry Zwigoff. I gave him a card for the store (which he had heard of from Crumb) and he came in the next day and bought some records. He was very nice and although a tad shabby, not the slightest bit rat-like.
3. Chuck handed me a letter with a want list of 78s and a return address of "William Morris Agency" in New York City. Mr. Allen Konigsberg was looking for some rare Dixieland 78s, most of which we happened to have in stock. I thought that name sounded familiar. In the letter, he asked us to call him and let him know which records we had and he gave a number, so I called. A woman answered and I told her who I was and why I was calling. She immediately put Mr. Konigsberg on the phone and my hunch was correct; Woody Allen was very happy to hear from us that we had most of the records on his list and would be happy to ship them to him ASAP. Chuck handled subsequent orders from him.
4. I was sitting at the store one day alone when a white stretch limo pulls up in front. The driver opens the car door and a man wearing sunglasses gets out and walks into the store. I asked if I could help him find anything.
"Where are MY records?" He didn't take off his sunglasses.
I showed him the Vocals section and pointed out HIS divider card. He flipped through HIS records.
"You don't have a copy of 'Reunion'?", he sniffed.
I looked under the fixture where we kept extra LPs.
"Nope. Sorry."
"Shit!" B.J. Thomas then swept out the door and got back into his tacky limo and drove away back into HasBeen Land, from whence he slithered.
5. I was alone at the store one evening (again). A very tall blonde youngish looking man came in with a shorter blonde older looking woman. They were looking at LPs for a bit and then came up to the counter.
"Do you carry styli for record players"? Yes, we did.
They had been to the Mexican flea market across the street from the store and found an old Donnie and Marie record player that still worked, but lacked a stylus. I found a stylus that fit and Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon were very pleased that they would be able to play records on their Donnie and Marie player.
Probably not Sonic Youth records, though.
6. I had worked at the store alone all day and it was 15 minutes until closing. I was bored, tired and wanted to go home and be with my husband. I was getting ready to close a little early since nobody had set foot in the store for the last hour when a short man with a white jacket and a black rooster hair cut came in. I recognized him and secretly groaned because I knew I couldn't throw him out.
"I'm a big fan of yours, but I'm closing in 15 minutes, so you'll have to hurry. I've been here all day by myself".
"Oh, sure, I didn't realize the time, I'll hurry."
Since he was so nice about it, I let Marty Stuart shop for an extra 30 minutes.
Showing posts with label records. Show all posts
Showing posts with label records. Show all posts
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Sunday, February 11, 2007
My Old Job
For 8 years, I worked at the best record store in Dallas. This was when a record store meant "Records", as in vinyl LPs, 45s, etc. We even had a separate room for 78s. We didn't start carrying CDs until 1997. Record collectors are by definition, unusual people, untroubled by new trends, current tastes in popular music and personal hygiene. There are exceptions, but for the most part, I dealt with the smelly ones. Some of the stranger ones are seared on to my memory:
1. The Hudson Family. This family would take the bus down from Michigan every year just to come to the store and buy records, usually 78s. Mom, Dad, little girl and little boy. They would be waiting when I arrived to open the store in the morning and I would have to chase them out at closing time. I remember the little girl, who was about 6 years old at the time, proclaiming to me as I was checking out a customer, "Hey lady, I gotta shit!" Nice. They didn't leave to eat, even when the kids (who were very young) would be crying from hunger. My boss Dorothy would usually go to McDonald's and buy Happy Meals for the kids and chew out the parents for being such assholes. The last time I saw them, as we were totaling up the final bill, Dad said, "Kids, I hope those Happy Meals were good, because we only have enough money for the bus tickets back home. We'll eat again when we get there." Dorothy went absolutely ballistic and threatened to call Child Protective Services unless he put most of those records back and saved enough money to feed his children.
Mrs. Hudson also used to walk around while breastfeeding the little boy in the store, which shouldn't cause any undue alarm; that's what they're FOR, right? But then we meet:
2. Cajun. Never knew his real name, just always called him Cajun. He spoke with exaggerated courtliness, used a carved walking cane and stunk to high heaven. He weighed about 400 lbs., had sparse facial hair and wore overalls and a gimme cap sideways on his head. He was in the store one day when Mrs. Hudson whipped out a tit and started feeding the kid. I noticed him staring and gave him the patented Lisa "Stink Eye", which sent him scurrying to the back of the store. Cajun sidled up to the store manager Chuck, still staring at Mrs. Hudson, and whispered "boy, ya don't see that everyday."
3. Mr. and Mrs. Pop Eye. He was about 5 feet tall, looked like Pop Eye with a beard and he usually came in with his wife, who was about a foot taller and outweighed him by about 200 lbs. She usually sported a black eye or two (he probably stood on a chair to get that high). He bought 45s exclusively. One day I was playing a Sam The Sham Best of LP and when "Wooly Bully" came on, they both started yelling at me to take the record off. I wasn't about to, so I asked what their problem was. Pop Eye said that it was "devil music"....The next time they came in, they had little Jesus pamphlets for me. I politely thanked them, then dropped them into the trash.
4. Phil Donohue. No, not THAT Phil Donohue, this idiot just looked like him. He used to come in and look at jazz LPs and tell me to "TURN IT DOWN!!" whatever I was playing, if it wasn't jazz. I would immediately turn it up, which would send him into paroxysms of anger, amusing me greatly. I caught him switching price tags one day and banned him from the store.
5. The drunk guy who came in with his 2 floozies to stock up his juke box. "Spend mah money for me!" he slurred at me, waving his arms around, "Ah gotta whole jukebox ta fill up!" I told him I could do that, but tomorrow when he sobered up, he wasn't getting his money back. "Ah ain't gunna brang 'em back! Spend mah money!!" So....I spent about $2500 for him. He had a real nice jukebox when I got done. Sure enough, the next day, here he comes, obviously hung over and wanting his money back. No dice, but he had a killer jukebox, so he should have been happy.
6. The rich guy who was a big wig at Texas Instruments and liked to come in and spend loads of money. He would buy anything I recommended, which always happened to be the extremely rare stuff in the front glass case. He never asked for his money back. He was a bit of a prick, though, and I secretly groaned when I saw him coming through the door, because I don't like dealing with pricks, no matter how much money they spend. My manager Chuck had purchased a rare, though unfortunately cracked, Robert Johnson 78 and had a special round wooden frame made to display it in. Rich guy noticed it one day and asked how much? Not for sale.
In a smarmy, prickish tone of voice, he said "Everything has a price. How much is it?"
I called Chuck, who said to tell him $5000 just to shut him up. So I told the guy $5 grand and he said, "I'll take it, and these other ones you picked out for me (about $600 worth of stuff). How do I get it out of that frame?"
Why did he want a cracked, rare 78 that available on various LPs out of the frame? He wanted to PLAY it. I told him, NO!! you do NOT want to play that, you'll ruin it! He said in the same smarmy voice "It's mine now, I'll do what I want with it." Prick.......but I got something out of him.....
A friend of Chuck's used to do stereo equipment repair and also sold high-end stereo equipment. Rich guy brought up a turn table and said to give to Chuck's pal to fix. I assumed he meant the same guy, so I gave it to Chuck's pal. Turns out it was meant for another friend, but the pal fixed it and rich guy ended up buying $100k worth of equipment and I got a very nice SOTA turntable for free out of the deal. Very nice....
7. Several Dallas cops used to come in and buy every copy of Johnny Reb's racist 45s we had. Made me glad I wasn't black or Mexican while living in Dallas....
8. An LBJ look-alike who came in regularly, always wearing the same polyester disco shirt which pictures of trees on it and obviously was never washed. Two things always happened when "LBJ" came in the store: my co-worker Steve and I would look at each other and chant in stereo, "Ah shall not seek and Ah will not accept the nomination of mah party fo another term as yore Prezident", and Dorothy would follow the guy around the store spraying Lysol in his wake, all the while scowling at him furiously. LBJ was completely oblivious to all of this.
9. The effeminate little weirdo who always came in for his Joni James and Judy Garland LPs. He was extremely annoying and mistakenly assumed that any of us gave a shit about his very existence. He would call after he left the store so we knew that he got home OK. He got married at one point to a girl who (this seems to be a re-occurring theme) outweighed him by 200 lbs. and brought in their honeymoon scrapbook (it was about 9 inches thick, which is more than he could say) to show us. No thanks, I just had lunch.
I thought I left him behind when I started working somewhere else, but to my dismay, he started working at my fave CD store in Dallas. I walked in one day and hear "Hiiiiiiiiii, Liiiiiiiisssssssaaaaaaaa!!!!! Did you miiiiiiisssssss meeeeeeeee?" Sure, like I miss an axe in my head. He also assaulted me at every record show in Austin, even when I was pointedly rude to him.
"Hiiiiiiiii, Liiiiiiisssssssaaaaaa!"
"FUCK OFF!"
"Ooohhhh, Liiiiiiiissssssssaaaaaaaa, you're suuuuuuuch a jooooooooker!"
"FUCK OFF OR I'LL KILL YOU!"
"Ooooohhhh, Liiiiiissssssssaaaaaaaa, you're ssssoooooo fuuuuuuunnnnyyyyy!!!!!".
10. One day, there was a big news story about a guy who killed his wife and kids and himself. Apparently, he had been abusive to them and wife had threatened to leave and take the kids, and the guy freaked out and killed them all then blew his head off. A sad story. We were discussing this in the store that Saturday when 2 teenage girls come in. They ask if we have a 45 of "Love Hurts" by Nazareth. I get it for them and they ask if I can play it for them. We had a little headphone player so people could try out records, but someone was using it, so I put it on the overhead system. As soon as the singing starts, the girls cling to each other and start WAILING. Everyone in the store is staring at them and I ask them to please keep it down. I'm thinking, "oh, they've got broken hearts, puppy love, etc". One of the girls stutters out that they want the record for their brother's funeral. It was their brother who had killed his family and then himself. Cue Twilight Zone theme.......
1. The Hudson Family. This family would take the bus down from Michigan every year just to come to the store and buy records, usually 78s. Mom, Dad, little girl and little boy. They would be waiting when I arrived to open the store in the morning and I would have to chase them out at closing time. I remember the little girl, who was about 6 years old at the time, proclaiming to me as I was checking out a customer, "Hey lady, I gotta shit!" Nice. They didn't leave to eat, even when the kids (who were very young) would be crying from hunger. My boss Dorothy would usually go to McDonald's and buy Happy Meals for the kids and chew out the parents for being such assholes. The last time I saw them, as we were totaling up the final bill, Dad said, "Kids, I hope those Happy Meals were good, because we only have enough money for the bus tickets back home. We'll eat again when we get there." Dorothy went absolutely ballistic and threatened to call Child Protective Services unless he put most of those records back and saved enough money to feed his children.
Mrs. Hudson also used to walk around while breastfeeding the little boy in the store, which shouldn't cause any undue alarm; that's what they're FOR, right? But then we meet:
2. Cajun. Never knew his real name, just always called him Cajun. He spoke with exaggerated courtliness, used a carved walking cane and stunk to high heaven. He weighed about 400 lbs., had sparse facial hair and wore overalls and a gimme cap sideways on his head. He was in the store one day when Mrs. Hudson whipped out a tit and started feeding the kid. I noticed him staring and gave him the patented Lisa "Stink Eye", which sent him scurrying to the back of the store. Cajun sidled up to the store manager Chuck, still staring at Mrs. Hudson, and whispered "boy, ya don't see that everyday."
3. Mr. and Mrs. Pop Eye. He was about 5 feet tall, looked like Pop Eye with a beard and he usually came in with his wife, who was about a foot taller and outweighed him by about 200 lbs. She usually sported a black eye or two (he probably stood on a chair to get that high). He bought 45s exclusively. One day I was playing a Sam The Sham Best of LP and when "Wooly Bully" came on, they both started yelling at me to take the record off. I wasn't about to, so I asked what their problem was. Pop Eye said that it was "devil music"....The next time they came in, they had little Jesus pamphlets for me. I politely thanked them, then dropped them into the trash.
4. Phil Donohue. No, not THAT Phil Donohue, this idiot just looked like him. He used to come in and look at jazz LPs and tell me to "TURN IT DOWN!!" whatever I was playing, if it wasn't jazz. I would immediately turn it up, which would send him into paroxysms of anger, amusing me greatly. I caught him switching price tags one day and banned him from the store.
5. The drunk guy who came in with his 2 floozies to stock up his juke box. "Spend mah money for me!" he slurred at me, waving his arms around, "Ah gotta whole jukebox ta fill up!" I told him I could do that, but tomorrow when he sobered up, he wasn't getting his money back. "Ah ain't gunna brang 'em back! Spend mah money!!" So....I spent about $2500 for him. He had a real nice jukebox when I got done. Sure enough, the next day, here he comes, obviously hung over and wanting his money back. No dice, but he had a killer jukebox, so he should have been happy.
6. The rich guy who was a big wig at Texas Instruments and liked to come in and spend loads of money. He would buy anything I recommended, which always happened to be the extremely rare stuff in the front glass case. He never asked for his money back. He was a bit of a prick, though, and I secretly groaned when I saw him coming through the door, because I don't like dealing with pricks, no matter how much money they spend. My manager Chuck had purchased a rare, though unfortunately cracked, Robert Johnson 78 and had a special round wooden frame made to display it in. Rich guy noticed it one day and asked how much? Not for sale.
In a smarmy, prickish tone of voice, he said "Everything has a price. How much is it?"
I called Chuck, who said to tell him $5000 just to shut him up. So I told the guy $5 grand and he said, "I'll take it, and these other ones you picked out for me (about $600 worth of stuff). How do I get it out of that frame?"
Why did he want a cracked, rare 78 that available on various LPs out of the frame? He wanted to PLAY it. I told him, NO!! you do NOT want to play that, you'll ruin it! He said in the same smarmy voice "It's mine now, I'll do what I want with it." Prick.......but I got something out of him.....
A friend of Chuck's used to do stereo equipment repair and also sold high-end stereo equipment. Rich guy brought up a turn table and said to give to Chuck's pal to fix. I assumed he meant the same guy, so I gave it to Chuck's pal. Turns out it was meant for another friend, but the pal fixed it and rich guy ended up buying $100k worth of equipment and I got a very nice SOTA turntable for free out of the deal. Very nice....
7. Several Dallas cops used to come in and buy every copy of Johnny Reb's racist 45s we had. Made me glad I wasn't black or Mexican while living in Dallas....
8. An LBJ look-alike who came in regularly, always wearing the same polyester disco shirt which pictures of trees on it and obviously was never washed. Two things always happened when "LBJ" came in the store: my co-worker Steve and I would look at each other and chant in stereo, "Ah shall not seek and Ah will not accept the nomination of mah party fo another term as yore Prezident", and Dorothy would follow the guy around the store spraying Lysol in his wake, all the while scowling at him furiously. LBJ was completely oblivious to all of this.
9. The effeminate little weirdo who always came in for his Joni James and Judy Garland LPs. He was extremely annoying and mistakenly assumed that any of us gave a shit about his very existence. He would call after he left the store so we knew that he got home OK. He got married at one point to a girl who (this seems to be a re-occurring theme) outweighed him by 200 lbs. and brought in their honeymoon scrapbook (it was about 9 inches thick, which is more than he could say) to show us. No thanks, I just had lunch.
I thought I left him behind when I started working somewhere else, but to my dismay, he started working at my fave CD store in Dallas. I walked in one day and hear "Hiiiiiiiiii, Liiiiiiiisssssssaaaaaaaa!!!!! Did you miiiiiiisssssss meeeeeeeee?" Sure, like I miss an axe in my head. He also assaulted me at every record show in Austin, even when I was pointedly rude to him.
"Hiiiiiiiii, Liiiiiiisssssssaaaaaa!"
"FUCK OFF!"
"Ooohhhh, Liiiiiiiissssssssaaaaaaaa, you're suuuuuuuch a jooooooooker!"
"FUCK OFF OR I'LL KILL YOU!"
"Ooooohhhh, Liiiiiissssssssaaaaaaaa, you're ssssoooooo fuuuuuuunnnnyyyyy!!!!!".
10. One day, there was a big news story about a guy who killed his wife and kids and himself. Apparently, he had been abusive to them and wife had threatened to leave and take the kids, and the guy freaked out and killed them all then blew his head off. A sad story. We were discussing this in the store that Saturday when 2 teenage girls come in. They ask if we have a 45 of "Love Hurts" by Nazareth. I get it for them and they ask if I can play it for them. We had a little headphone player so people could try out records, but someone was using it, so I put it on the overhead system. As soon as the singing starts, the girls cling to each other and start WAILING. Everyone in the store is staring at them and I ask them to please keep it down. I'm thinking, "oh, they've got broken hearts, puppy love, etc". One of the girls stutters out that they want the record for their brother's funeral. It was their brother who had killed his family and then himself. Cue Twilight Zone theme.......
