Having started collecting records, as opposed to buying records, in 1967 when I was 20 years old, I have lots of memories from many years spent digging in the back rooms of record shops, junk stores, jumble sales, etc. all over the UK,. Most of these memories are mundane and universally familiar to anyone infected by the 7-inch vinyl disease. Here's one recollection that still pains me after 42 years.
In 1972 I was working a permanent 4pm til midnight shift at a local research plant. This meant that I had lots of available daytime to go digging for records. My home in the South Midlands is on a mainline rail route which offers fast access to London, the West Midlands and, on many ocassions, Liverpool, Manchester and further afield. However, most days were spent hunting on home territory, which was at that time very fertile. One regular stop was an exchange store located in an alleyway behind a row of shops. The exchange store bought, sold and exchanged all manner of used goods. It was suspected that the store was a front for a shady character who specialised in fencing stolen goods. No matter; there was always plenty of unsleeved 45s in the place and a twice weekly visit always produced something worthwhile.
One of the shops backing onto the alley sold sheet music and musical instruments. A very outdated kind of place run by a grumpy old square who denied that the shop had ever sold records - despite lots of evidence to the contrary. One day while I was rummaging through the 45 rack in the exchange store, I noticed the grumpy old square emerging from a lock-up at the back of his music shop. In that instance I caught sight of rows of 45rpm records. Knowing the futility of asking to view this hoard, I did contemplate breaking into the lock-up - it would have been very easy to snap the lock; but I reasoned, why risk a criminal record for what would undoubtedly be a heap of easy listening and pop rubbish? This was a serious error.
In those days the majority of UK collectors were nostalgists who paid good money for 'golden oldies'from the fifties. No problem with that; I used my finds and their money to fund my own collection. To cater for this 'oldies' crowd, a host of dealerships had sprung up all over the UK. Most UK cities boasted shops selling 'collectible' records. Sometimes, if a big value collection was in the bag, these shop dealers would send out auction lists to addicts prepared to shell out major amounts of money.
One day, a list dropped through my door, which scrambled my senses - most of you will have had this semi-religious experience. On this list was an incredible number of rare and much-coveted UK issues of classic American Rock'n'Roll and Rockabilly. These records might not mean much to members of this forum, but believe me, even then a small fortune was required to secure gems like the 2 Johnny Carroll UK Brunswick 45s; Webb Pierce 'Teenage Boogie'; Lou Graham 'Wee Willie Brown' on UK Coral, Buddy Holly 'Love Me', Werley Fairburn 'All The Time' on London American. And there was a host of great New Orleans type Rhythm and Blues 45s on London and Vogue, including Big T Tyler's 'King Kong'.
The following day I took a train to where the dealer had his shop. I just had to make sure that this was the real deal and not just some shill designed to raise his profile among serious collectors. It was the real deal. I saw and handled and listened to some of the rare gems, while the dealer kept up a permanent grin that threatened to break is face. Then he dropped the bombshell, which I half expected and dreaded. He had cleaned out the back store of a record shop in my home town. Yes, the very establishment run by the grumpy old square who insisted there were no records on the premises. Of course, the dealer had to take everything, but the 2 Johnny Carroll records would pay for the whole purchase, and the rest was clear profit; even those 50s pop records would sell to the nostalgists and 'golden oldie' night DJs.
Looking back, the feelings I had at that moment must surely be akin to those experienced at the onset of a violent death. Naturally, I never entered a bid for any of those gems.
