Tall Tales of the Phono Hobby.

[MicaMonster]

My tall tale:

In 2013 after purchasing my first (and only) Smart car (you know, that little blender-motored 2-door plastic death trap sold by Mercedes?) I was driving it home from a family visit, and while descending a hill in Eastern NY.....!all of a sudden!....the transmission wiring harness decided to shut the transmission down. And the car came to a COMPLEAT halt. Now, this couldn't have been more perfect, but it is perfectly true. It came to a halt APPROXIMATELY in front of the entrance doors to a then-unnoticed antique shop. What is a guy to do? Call roadside assistance....or.....HUNT FOR PHONOGRAPHS!?!?!?!?!?!

There was a light on inside. The lady owner said that the shop was CLOSED, as the last day of business was Yesterday, at the end of the summer. And that she was closing her doors for good as her partner had recently shuffled off this mortal coil. I made my intentions clear, and she had no phonographs. BUT had several cases of records! (good, right?). So, jacket in hand (ooooh it was cold), I marched up to the boxes.

Box 1: Decca junk
Box 2: Columbia red label junk
Box 3: misc 40's garbage
Box 4: lots of Cugat and Danny Kaye (ooh, finding this stuff makes me ill to the stomach)
Box 5: All the scratched and broken discs that were not good enough to be in box 1-4

*then* the last box arrived. Paralleling the beauty that can only be found in the most elusive Slovenian folk tales, the final box presented itself as not only the most aged, but also the most crushed. In this moment, there is a mental flurry of cimbalum hammering and gypsy fiddlers hitting an infection of dramatic notes. Please appreciate, dear reader, that this box was UNDER the previous 5 boxes. Bearing what may have been in fact nearly 200 pounds of the worst music ever steam pressed into a flat medium in the history of mankind. Like a worn and tired Atlas, bearing the atmosphere of badly recorded sound.

My tenses tingled.

And they tingled again.

The first box flap opened.....and the name of Eldridge R. Johnson flashed in a banner of gold on black. A stack 5" tall of pre-dog Monarchs, in their original tissue-thin dealer sleeves, all stamped by their original turn of the century dealer in Saratoga Springs. And the crushed box....their original store stock box, with stained and damaged fabric tape barely holding the bottom of the box together.

And the car?

It started and drove home just fine. It didn't leave me stranded. For some reason it corrected itself until I parked in the driveway. Then, it refused to go into Reverse, or any gear for that matter!

-the End-

[VintageTechnologies]

Mica, I've had dreams like that. Reading your story is probably gonna kick my dusty antique store dreams into overdrive.

[MicaMonster]

Mica, I've had dreams like that. Reading your story is probably gonna kick my dusty antique store dreams into overdrive.

The thing is, I have a TON of great stories. When I'm not working, I absolutely adore treasure hunting. Non-photo related stuff usually includes historical books and rare cars.

Was talking with wifey this morning about some of the stuff I had found in my life, unfortunately in the key of regret. I shouldn't have sold ANY OF IT. *sigh*. Anyway: At a local auction, right around the corner from me, I found signature cards of the greater luminaries and political minds of the mid 1860's, all Except Lincoln. Shocked the heck out of everyone in attendance as to what I paid for it, but I guess it takes TWO to accomplish such an embarrassing feat. Attached is a pic. And yes, it was a bargain!

[VintageTechnologies]

Those autographs were an amazing find!

We all have sold stuff that probably should have been kept, but that is what finances other purchases. I have told the story on some other thread about finding 13 Pink Lamberts for $3 each. That does not happen every day. I sold ten of them to Aaron Cramer to finance something else. No terrible regrets, but I miss them.

Speaking of dusty antique shops and fantasy dreams, for years I have had occasional, weird recurring dreams of finding very late undocumented oddball Edison Diamond Disk records that are 12" electrics with colorful labels like the Pathé art labels. I have no idea what the heck brings those on.

[Jerry B.]

Mica, What a great story! Jerry Blais

[tinovanderzwan]

a friend of mine got into an argument with a antique dealer at a antiques fair about a phono he came running to me and said there's this guy trying to sell a fake to me...brass horn and such and he keeps on insisting its the real deal!
i said well if you don't like it don't buy it he said well he wants a real high price for it its highway robery thats whats it is!
me : sigh.. ok i'll come with you
when we got there the guy mentioned had a very nice mammuth with a larger than life round brass horn on it i should have stopped my friend there and then but he was to quick he's a gramophone expert he'll tell you your full of [crap]! he uttered before i could stop him!...the feeling of utter shame came over me here i was having to put my friend into place by the way the dealer was a bit of a rat throwing out profanities you wouldn't believe! even at me and i din't even say a word.. yet!
i thought ok no more mr nice guy this needs a radical approach
i said shut up the both of you! you sir have a beautifull original phonograph and you (my friend) should ask me advice before going into tantrums!.
i simply walked off the scene without saying another word to either.

the incident was never mentioned again

tino

[DGPros]

Speaking of dusty antique shops and fantasy dreams, for years I have had occasional, weird recurring dreams of finding very late undocumented oddball Edison Diamond Disk records that are 12" electrics with colorful labels like the Pathé art labels. I have no idea what the heck brings those on.

Thankfully this wasn't a dream, nor is it electric with a colorful label but I still find myself looking at my "Dream" find, double checking the #'s and reading the passage in The Edison Discography (1926-29) by Raymond R. Wile. This is how it went down. On the 3rd day of an estate sale, yes the 3rd day, I was into my 2nd hour of cherry picking from hundreds of Edison Diamond Discs that were still available at this point. They were going for $2 each, so I was in for the long haul. The records were on racks down a narrow hallway, causing me to step forward whenever anyone wanted to pass, and there were many. To the right of me was a man well over 6 feet tall,(I guess you can say that is the tall tale part ) the thought of him using my head for an arm rest crossed my mind and due to his size I would have obliged. He was going through 78's and showed no interest in the Edison's. After some time had passed "He looked down at me and in a deep Russian accent said, "Is this what you are looking for?" As he lowered it down, I saw the Black and White Edison label and the larger than 10" diameter. In a timid voice I squeaked out a "Thank You" When he saw my face light up, he then handed me a few more records, nothing I was interested in, yet I took them all the same. After a few moments I thanked him again and walked into the other room with my find. I walked out that day with over 200 records but only one 12" DD.

[Panatropia]

My tall tale:

In 2013 after purchasing my first (and only) Smart car (you know, that little blender-motored 2-door plastic death trap sold by Mercedes?) I was driving it home from a family visit, and while descending a hill in Eastern NY.....!all of a sudden!....the transmission wiring harness decided to shut the transmission down. And the car came to a COMPLEAT halt. Now, this couldn't have been more perfect, but it is perfectly true. It came to a halt APPROXIMATELY in front of the entrance doors to a then-unnoticed antique shop. What is a guy to do? Call roadside assistance....or.....HUNT FOR PHONOGRAPHS!?!?!?!?!?!

There was a light on inside. The lady owner said that the shop was CLOSED, as the last day of business was Yesterday, at the end of the summer. And that she was closing her doors for good as her partner had recently shuffled off this mortal coil. I made my intentions clear, and she had no phonographs. BUT had several cases of records! (good, right?). So, jacket in hand (ooooh it was cold), I marched up to the boxes.

Box 1: Decca junk
Box 2: Columbia red label junk
Box 3: misc 40's garbage
Box 4: lots of Cugat and Danny Kaye (ooh, finding this stuff makes me ill to the stomach)
Box 5: All the scratched and broken discs that were not good enough to be in box 1-4

*then* the last box arrived. Paralleling the beauty that can only be found in the most elusive Slovenian folk tales, the final box presented itself as not only the most aged, but also the most crushed. In this moment, there is a mental flurry of cimbalum hammering and gypsy fiddlers hitting an infection of dramatic notes. Please appreciate, dear reader, that this box was UNDER the previous 5 boxes. Bearing what may have been in fact nearly 200 pounds of the worst music ever steam pressed into a flat medium in the history of mankind. Like a worn and tired Atlas, bearing the atmosphere of badly recorded sound.

My tenses tingled.

And they tingled again.

The first box flap opened.....and the name of Eldridge R. Johnson flashed in a banner of gold on black. A stack 5" tall of pre-dog Monarchs, in their original tissue-thin dealer sleeves, all stamped by their original turn of the century dealer in Saratoga Springs. And the crushed box....their original store stock box, with stained and damaged fabric tape barely holding the bottom of the box together.

And the car?

It started and drove home just fine. It didn't leave me stranded. For some reason it corrected itself until I parked in the driveway. Then, it refused to go into Reverse, or any gear for that matter!

-the End-

Next time try a Fiat 500 in your rural peregrinations.....you never know where that one will stop.

[Valecnik]

Speaking of dusty antique shops and fantasy dreams, for years I have had occasional, weird recurring dreams of finding very late undocumented oddball Edison Diamond Disk records that are 12" electrics with colorful labels like the Pathé art labels. I have no idea what the heck brings those on.

Thankfully this wasn't a dream, nor is it electric with a colorful label but I still find myself looking at my "Dream" find, double checking the #'s and reading the passage in The Edison Discography (1926-29) by Raymond R. Wile. This is how it went down. On the 3rd day of an estate sale, yes the 3rd day, I was into my 2nd hour of cherry picking from hundreds of Edison Diamond Discs that were still available at this point. They were going for $2 each, so I was in for the long haul. The records were on racks down a narrow hallway, causing me to step forward whenever anyone wanted to pass, and there were many. To the right of me was a man well over 6 feet tall,(I guess you can say that is the tall tale part ) the thought of him using my head for an arm rest crossed my mind and due to his size I would have obliged. He was going through 78's and showed no interest in the Edison's. After some time had passed "He looked down at me and in a deep Russian accent said, "Is this what you are looking for?" As he lowered it down, I saw the Black and White Edison label and the larger than 10" diameter. In a timid voice I squeaked out a "Thank You" When he saw my face light up, he then handed me a few more records, nothing I was interested in, yet I took them all the same. After a few moments I thanked him again and walked into the other room with my find. I walked out that day with over 200 records but only one 12" DD.

Nice find! Is it documented? It's not totally clear from your post but obviously it exists.

[DGPros]

Other than telling a few friends, this is the first I have shown any pictures or spoken of it. It is in a safe place. I also came across the last electrically recorded LP (3006) on the 1st day of the estate sale. Luck was on my side that week.