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I will admit that you have to be a record nerd to like this kind of thing. I have been such a kook my entire life; I often dream of record stores, and I wish I had the records I have found in those dreams.
The photo above comes from an unknown Memphis record store in 1954, as shot by Ernest C. Withers, a talented photojournalist who chronicled life in the city during those changing times. (See this Flashbak article for more on him and the recent book of his photos, Revolution in Black and White: Photographs of the Civil Rights Era.)
The store in the photo appears to be a lively place, complete with a couple of men who are either touting records (and probably playing them) through a portable PA system. The gentleman at right holds the EP version of Stan Kenton's LP, Sketches on Standards.
To their right is a Columbia record stand that appears to be filled with everything but Columbia's product. I spy Clef, Capitol, RCA Victor, and Grand Award, with a strong emphasis on the music of Charlie Parker and Erroll Garner.
In the upper center of the photo is a display for the Magnificent Obsession soundtrack, which has appeared on this blog. Over to the left we have the Can-Can original cast LP next to a display of the Munsel-Peerce-Merrill-Pinza Lucia di Lammermoor highlights record.
On the right in the foreground is a small news stand with the major black-oriented magazines of the day plus a newspaper that I believe is the Tri-State Defender. Tucked behind the periodicals is a stand-up pushing Bing Crosby's Musical Autobiography box set, which another display above and slightly to the left insists is the "most important record album ever released." I would have voted for Weasels Ripped My Flesh, but then again I own three copies of the Bing set (two LP versions and the EP box) and only one of the Zappa.
I'd also like to draw your attention to the promo poster below the record counter, which tells us about baseball immortal Willie Mays' sole venture into the musical realm: "Say Hey" (his catchphrase) as recorded with the Treniers and Quincy Jones' orchestra. Happily, 67 years later Mays and Jones are still with us.
But my favorite display is the set of streamers advertising the Webcor line of phonographs. It depicts my own first record player, the "126 Midge," which the manufacturer proclaimed "the world's smallest portable fono" (opting for a fancy continental spelling of "phono"). I was the world's smallest record collector, so it was a perfect match!
Finally, note that on the wall behind the counter are racks of 78s, which the clerk could play for customers on demand. She appears to be doing so for the fellow on her left. This demo must have created quite a racket with the Stan Kenton spiel going on simultaneously, but that's one of the things that made record stores great.
Back soon with more music.