Book Stores in the 1960's

South Gate Book Store was the first place I bought a regular book.  Not a comic book, mind you.  A real paperback book.  It was Ernest K. Gann's FATE IS THE HUNTER.  I had seen the film, loosely based on the book, at the Vogue Theater and wanted to read the book itself, which I had read was far superior to the movie.

South Gate Book Store was located on Tweedy Blvd.  I would like to show you an image of that store front, but it no longer exists.  In fact the entire block where it was located is gone, replaced by a Lucky Super Market parking lot.  Inside the book is a gold, embossed sticker:

The exact address was 4167 Tweedy.  The LO 9-1265 was the phone number of the store.

After I met Daylin Butler at East LAJC, we would often drive to West Hollywood to the Pickwick Book Shop located there.

On a Friday or Saturday evening, we'd spend at least a couple of hours pouring through the stacks of books carried by the store.  The above photo is what the current location looks like.  About all that is familiar to me now is that the book shop was two stories. 

 

Pickwick Book Shops were located all over Southern California, as the bookmark below indicates:

 

 

When mom moved to San Pedro after I left for Air Force OTS, the Palos Verdes Peninsula Center was quite a bit closer, so I shopped for books there rather than drive to West Hollywood. 

 

Of course, while in college, I'd also buy books at the bookstores at East LA and Cal State Dominguez Hills.  Another chain I used to buy books at, now also defunct, was B. Dalton booksellers.

 

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Records Stores 1960's, Part III

Beside the Long Beach Fwy, on Firestore Blvd., it may now be a Target; but back in the late 1960's/early 1970's, this was a similar type of store called Two Guys.  They had a large record section and reasonable prices. 

Both Mike and I owned cars at this point, so we were no longer tied down to shopping for records at a local drug store or super market or department store, within walking distance or reached by bus.

Soon enough, however, even a store such as Two Guys could no longer compete with stores specifically opened to cater to a younger clientel looking only for top 100 albums. 

These stores looked as if they were for a generation that was entirely unconcerned about merchandising and physical appearance.  One such store opened in Huntington Park, on the other side of the street from Elliot & Craun and down a few blocks.  Bare bones interior with record covers dotting the walls, they carried all of albums from the popular groups.   I remember buying The Association's BIRTHDAY there, another album that I liked every cut.

While we were attending East L.A. Junior College, we met Lida Meek, whom Mike would eventually marry, and her friend from Bell High School, Dennis Madura.  Dennis and I would become friends because of our mutual enjoyment of music.  He owned a Roberts 8-track tape recorder/player.

I buy one, as well, and would take this with me to Air Force OTS and eventually to Minot, making my own 8-track tapes until cassette tapes came to dominate the home-recording market.

Dennis eventually found another of these counter-culture record stores in Downey, and that became a steady destination for us.  Not far from a Carl's burger joint where we would get a hot-fudge brownie sundae, I would often spend hours there, flipping through the bins.  Unlike the virtual silence of Elliot & Craun, or any of the other stores carrying records, these types of outlets always had music playing.  I bought Elton John's first album, having just heard "Your Song" over the speakers.

Another record store opened in West Hollywood, and I would buy a few records there, such as ABBEY ROAD, as an import.

Eventually, beyond these smaller outlets and local record stores, Dennis and I would soon drive up to West Hollywood, to the newly opened, holy grail of record stores for the next few decades to come:  Tower Records.

Especially when I would fly home on leave, Air Force friends in Minot would ask me to purchase a number of albums for them at Tower.

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Record Stores in the mid-1960's, Part II

Probably during the Christmas seasons in 1965-67, Mike and I would become more adventurous and take the bus beyond Huntington Park into downtown LA to do our Christmas shopping.  Our primary destination was The Broadway Department Store, on Broadway.



One year, likely 1965, we were both wow'ed by the pretty young, dark-haired woman who worked at the perfume counter, who spoke English with a lovely, and very romantic, French accent.  This might have been the year I bought dad a collection of colognes called Nine Flags, each fragrance in a small bottle for each of the countries, most of them European, represented by its national flag.  Dad, always old school, had probably never gotten cologne before and did not seem to know what to make of this present when he opened it that Christmas. 

The Nine Flags men’s cologne collection came out in 1965, it was still being sold well into the early 1970s. It was distributed by the Colton company of Boston, Massachusetts and was marketed by Gillette in the United Kingdom.

Each bottle held 2fl oz of cologne and was ball shaped and had a long neck covered with a brushed aluminum screw cap. The name of the cologne is on the bottle part of the cap and on the label on the base.

This ingenious collection was full of international flair and each cologne was named after its own country and scent. Each scent was tinted with a different color. I have also seen these in atomizer bottles, but more commonly in the splash type bottles.

Before Nine Flags, teenagers seemed drawn to Jade East cologne.  That's the fragrance I owned, perhaps the year before, 1964, when it was introduced.










But enough of colognes.  We were often at the Broadway to also buy records, more specifically record albums.  Two albums come to mind when I recall our visits to The Broadway:  Jefferson Airplane's SURREALISTIC PILLOW and Vicki Carr's IT MUST BE HIM.



This was one of those albums, apart from a greatest hits collection, in which I liked every cut.  We Five's YOU WERE ON MY MIND, and the Beach Boys' PET SOUNDS were two others.  And, of course, most Beatles albums.

When we were finished with our shopping during the day on a weekend, we would have lunch at Clifton's Cafeteria, across the street and down the block from The Broadway.  Mike invariably would order spinach, which I thought was absurd to actually, you know, pay for.

Another place we would buy records was at the Sears store on Bullis Road in Lynwood.  Checking google maps, it no longer appears to be there anymore.  A couple of the albums I remember buying there were The Beatles white album and The Mystic Moods Orchestra's MYSTIC MOODS OF LOVE.




Difficult to see the album here.

And, not all that surprisingly, it did have a romantic fragrance when you slid your fingernail down the plastic cover and opened it up.  Well, it was the 60's.

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Record stores in the 1960's, Part I

The above photo is possibly the location of a music store, Elliott & Craun, that was on Pacific Boulevard in Huntington Park, CA.

They primarily sold musical instruments.  But way in the back, in an area that appeared to be added on to the building, they did sell records, mostly 45s and several albums.

The entire area was hawked over by a much older woman (at least she seemed much older than we teenagers, though she might have been in her 40s).  As soon as you flipped through the rows of 45s in the bin, organized alphabetically, she would swoop in and shove the row back in place. 

While record sales, even 45s for only a dollar, must have provided the store with a steady cash flow, I never understood why she seemed to resent our presence and why she seemed extremely relieved whenever we departed her protected realm. 

I cannot recall if she said it to me directly, or I learned of the remark from Mike, but she once responded to a request for a specific record by flatly and arrogantly replying, "We don't carry 'kid' records."  Of course, we were not "kids"; we were teenagers. 

The store did carry charting songs such as Dionne Warwick's "Walk On By", "You'll Never Get To Heaven", and "Reach Out To Me".  However, it might have been because those singles would also be purchased by adults.

As I said, 45s were often 99 cents or one dollar.  Albums were typically $3.99 for monaural and $4.99 for stereo.  The minimum wage when I was a senior in high school was $1.25 an hour, so it took a few hours of work to have enough money to buy one album. 

The first pop album I bought was We Five's YOU WERE ON MY MIND.  I remember the day I brought the record home, slit the plastic covering off the sleeve and took out the record.  Mom had bought us a portable record player with speakers that swung outward or could be detached for greater sound separation.

I put the album on and listened intently.  To this day, I still enjoy every song on that record.  While I remember the day I brought the album home, I cannot recall where I might have purchased it.  Elliot & Craun is a possibility.  However, a Woolworth's across the street and perhaps down a block also started carrying pop 45s and albums, and I might have purchased it there.  I was with my 9th-grade friend, Richard Watson, when he snapped up a few Dave Clark Five 45s there in 1964.  It was he who owned the first U.S.-released Beatles LPs, MEET THE BEATLES and THE BEATLES SECOND ALBUM before anyone else I knew. 

 

In the next few years, actual record stores would open in Huntington Park and Downey, though none in South Gate.  Mike and I would buy albums at the Lucky market near him on Abbott Road and South Atlantic.  And another new Lucky store would open on Firestone Boulevard, only a few blocks away from me. 

I bought THE FANTASTICKS cast recording there, as well as many other albums, since the store was within easy walking distance and the prices were competitive.

There were several Wallich's Music City record stores throughout Southern California by the mid- to late-1960's, and they featured booths where you could actually listen to a record before buying it.  But the store in West Hollywood, at the corner of Sunset and Vine; and another store later in Lakewood; were simply too far away to hike to.  We did not have cars while we were in high school, and our parents frequently voiced the opinion that buying so many records was a waste of money.  We only rarely could get a ride with them to make a record purchase.

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Chapter Two: "I Buy American Records" - Saint Etienne

Records have been a part of my family's life for almost as long as I can remember.  The photograph below of my mom and dad on a couch, before either I or my sister was born has mom holding a Stan Kenton album in her hands.  Dad is holding a King Cole Trio album.  Both appear to be 78's.

That photograph could have been taken as early as 1948.

The Stan Kenton album is titled "Artistry in Rhythm" and was Capitol No. 167 (45' - 48') 10" recording, so that likely helps confirm the photograph could have been from 1948. 

However, The King Cole Trio cover in dad's hands looks to be that of The King Cole Trio Volume 3 which is listed on one internet site as being a Capitol 10" recording from 1950.

In later years, I don't recall either record still being in either of their collections.  Since they might have been 78's, mom or dad might have given them away or tossed them when 33 1/3 RPM's became more widely available and record players no longer played 78 RPM's.

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Chapter One - "When I'm Sixty-Four" - The Beatles

Next month I will be 64. 

 

When I bought the Beatles' album Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band in the early summer of 1967, at the local Save-On drug store on Tweedy Boulevard in South Gate, California, I remember listening to the song, "When I'm Sixty-Four".  I know that I must have briefly imagined when and where I would be at that age. 

 

What I do know now is that I certainly could not have imagined, back then, of actually being that old.  Ever. 

 

And let us not now deny that, when I was still 17 in that impending halcyon Summer of Love, 64 would have been considered old by any one's definition.  Franklin D. Roosevelt, one of the most iconic presidents of the 20th century, and though living with polio most of his adult life, and a heavy smoker to boot, died at 63.  President Kennedy, most people's definition of youthful vim and vigor in the White House, was assassinated at the age of 46.  Not particularly young by most interpretations.

 

Today, at 63, I may not feel old in most of the ways that we now define "old".  If generous, or even a bit delusional, I may not even look old in my mind's eye.  But my much younger self would have thought, meeting up with me now, that I was old.  No doubt about it.

 

For those born between 1949 and 1951, the life expectancy was pegged at just 66.31 years for white males.

 

By no stretch of my youthful imagination could I have anticipated living in Denver, Colorado. 

 

If I thought of Colorado at all, I do know that the regional airline Frontier offered an incredibly low air fare to fly unlimited throughout their entire route system for a month.  Problem was, their nearest approach to California was Las Vegas, Nevada, and I didn't even own a car.  My mom would certainly have not let me drive her boxy 1960, 4-door Rambler.  Though I took driver's training in high school the previous year, I would not even have my driver's license until the fall of 1967, and only then after taking the driver's test twice.

 

The 1960's were a tough decade to live through.  While not on the same level of 1930 through 1945, the years were not kind.  Freedom riders, Free Speech Movement, the Vietnam War, Civil Rights conflicts, and demoralizing political assassinations that never seemed to end.

 

Yet we always remained somewhat optimistic about the future, for all that was occurring around us. 

 

If you avoided the nightly news, television always seemed upbeat.  From Star Trek to the Beverly Hillbillies, it was other worldly or just plain silly.  For most of my time, I studied for school, watched TV, and worked.  And I listened to music.  Bob Dylan and the Beatles alone trumped any other decade, before or since.

 

Of course, despite the Stonewall riots at the end of the decade, gay rights and equality were too far in the future to be of consequence.  I kept my orientation a secret.  I satisfied myself with visits to the Loop Market's magazine stand to pick up copies of soft-core Tomorrow's Man and other such tamely erotic publications.  It would have to be enough for several years to come.

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