New Owner wrote:Well, "too much" can vary from person to person. To me, too much is where you run out of space and out of money but you're still buying phonos, or you have them but you don't use them. To some, too much is a non-existant figure, and to the general population, too much is 1. Personally, I see where all of them are coming from: their beautiful pieces of history, they're far more interesting to own and use than a Technics turntable and state of the art filtering software, and who else is gonna keep them? Some dilettante who stumbled across an Idelia and thought it would make a lovely conversation piece because HGTV said so (I actually used something similar to this, albeit more generic, when we had to I had to write 3 stories with 3 types of irony in English a week or two ago). I feel a phonograph is meant to be treasured and enjoyed, to convey the sounds of a dead past to the very much alive present generations (or some artsy phrase like that

).
Amen!
I don't think anyone's toes were stepped on - at least not mine. The free expression of ideas and subsequent debate is a good thing. I was hoping there was no magic number of phonographs or records that collectors could not exceed, and I'm happy to learn there isn't. I've known collectors who have ruined their finances and their marriages in pursuit of phonographs. In my opinion, they crossed the line into "too much," but that's their choice. And as you say, it varies from person to person.
This reminds me of when I was a hot-blooded 18 year old collector, and discovered a Triumph B with an oak Cygnet horn all set up in the shed of a farm. The elderly man who owned the farm collected music boxes, and looked upon phonographs as one step above junk. Yet, he had kept this Triumph. But it was out in the unheated shed, which leaned slightly, and whose roof didn't inspire much confidence. Boy, how I wanted that Triumph! I would clean it up, protect it from the elements and temperature extremes, and preserve it for future generations (or some artsy phrase like that!

). The old man told me he'd sell it for $500, which in 1972 was crazy money. The following summer, I had almost convinced myself that I might pay it, if I could somehow scrape together the money. The old man could see that I was wavering, so he raised the price to $650. At that point I knew I'd probably never own that phonograph, and it seemed unfair. How could such a beautiful thing fall into the hands of someone who didn't appreciate it? It was something like that beautiful cheerleader who dated the neanderthal who captained our football team. Pearls before swine. And I never had a chance...!
Ultimately, that cheerleader and the neanderthal married - and divorced. The roof of the shed leaked and the oak cygnet fell apart, so the old man sold it to an antique dealer (I had moved out of the area with the love of my life - to whom I'm still married 35 years later!). The neanderthal and the old man seemed to have it made - - yet they ruined it. But ultimately we're talking about old record players, and pretty faces. Neither of them will bring happiness, so why begrudge the big collector his treasures, or the old man his trophy bride? As long as we enjoy what we have, regardless of how little or how much, we're doing fine. God bless us, every one.
George P.