Double Digging Horror Stories
Rockadelic
Out Digging 13,993 Posts
Just back from a road trip with my wife. Was looking for antiques more than records so I didn't hit any specific record spots, just antique shops and Flea Markets. We drove mostly back roads and stayed off the Interstate when possible. This past Thursday I was in a little town in Mississippi and stopped into an Antique Shop that was about 400 square feet. Sitting on a chair there was a small pile of about 10 LP's, all sealed. Picked out a New Colony Six on Sentar, Alzo on Bell and Clydie King on Lizard and asked the owner if she had any more(They were a buck a piece). "No" she replied "Those came out of a house here in town that collapsed a few months back. It was filled with records". Of course I asked if she knew what happened to them and she said she had grabbed a small handful and all the rest were taken to the dump and the house was leveled.
I asked if there was anyplace else in town that might have records hoping some of the others might have wound up there. She told me about a large Quonset Hut on the outskirts of town that was like a Flea Market but that they were closing in 30 minutes and it took 20 minutes to get there. We hightailed it there and got there with 15 minutes to dig. I quickly found 4 boxes of 45's still in their original 50's company sleeves and dug in....most of it was pop, Pat Boone, Frank Sinatra, Brook Benton but mixed in was some nice, un-played stuff. I pulled a couple of Ronnie Self "Ain't I'm A Dog", some King and Federal R&B titles, a couple of local things....26 all together at $0.50 each. I found the owner of the building and asked if he had any more.
"The old boy who has those has 10,000's of them. His Daddy was in the KKK and owned the local Juke Box company. I'll call him for you". He called and got an answering machine. I asked if I could get the # and he said no problem. My wife and I went to dinner and after dinner I gave him a call....no answer again but I left a message. I started to look on the Internet if I could find his address, hell, I would go knock on his door. But his name was very common and I didn't have any luck. Just as I was going to give up and leave town he calls me back. "My uncle owned an Amusement company and when my aunt died her attic was filled with those old records. Hold on a second" I waited for a few minutes and he came back to the phone and said "Nope, I don't have any more of them, I think they all got thrown out. I just had the few hundred left that you saw at the Flea Market"
I asked if any other relative might have some and he assured me they didn't. He was apologetic but he didn't realize anyone would want "those old things". I headed out of town feeling like a balloon that just had the air let out...so close but no dice. My wife consoled me and I said that this is the way it goes more often that not, just that two withing hours each other was a tough pill to swallow. We drove about 100 miles and stopped for the night. The next morning at exactly 6:13 AM the juke box dude called me back. "I found one more box of those records if you're still in town" was the message he left on my answering machine. "If not, call me and I can email you what's here and I can send you what you want".
I asked if there was anyplace else in town that might have records hoping some of the others might have wound up there. She told me about a large Quonset Hut on the outskirts of town that was like a Flea Market but that they were closing in 30 minutes and it took 20 minutes to get there. We hightailed it there and got there with 15 minutes to dig. I quickly found 4 boxes of 45's still in their original 50's company sleeves and dug in....most of it was pop, Pat Boone, Frank Sinatra, Brook Benton but mixed in was some nice, un-played stuff. I pulled a couple of Ronnie Self "Ain't I'm A Dog", some King and Federal R&B titles, a couple of local things....26 all together at $0.50 each. I found the owner of the building and asked if he had any more.
"The old boy who has those has 10,000's of them. His Daddy was in the KKK and owned the local Juke Box company. I'll call him for you". He called and got an answering machine. I asked if I could get the # and he said no problem. My wife and I went to dinner and after dinner I gave him a call....no answer again but I left a message. I started to look on the Internet if I could find his address, hell, I would go knock on his door. But his name was very common and I didn't have any luck. Just as I was going to give up and leave town he calls me back. "My uncle owned an Amusement company and when my aunt died her attic was filled with those old records. Hold on a second" I waited for a few minutes and he came back to the phone and said "Nope, I don't have any more of them, I think they all got thrown out. I just had the few hundred left that you saw at the Flea Market"
I asked if any other relative might have some and he assured me they didn't. He was apologetic but he didn't realize anyone would want "those old things". I headed out of town feeling like a balloon that just had the air let out...so close but no dice. My wife consoled me and I said that this is the way it goes more often that not, just that two withing hours each other was a tough pill to swallow. We drove about 100 miles and stopped for the night. The next morning at exactly 6:13 AM the juke box dude called me back. "I found one more box of those records if you're still in town" was the message he left on my answering machine. "If not, call me and I can email you what's here and I can send you what you want".
Comments
IRA, sure, but that's another story.
Love these stories. I feel like you'd do real justice to a TV show about the back roads of America.
I agree. Too bad they get the cricket treatment sometimes.
The next day....
Conversation I had with an at least 75 year old black gentleman who looked like Skip James at a roadside flea market/junk shop outside Baton Rouge.
Me - Excuse me, by any chance do you have any records?
Him - Everybody wants my fucking records. Some guy was here yesterday wanting my records, it was the sixth or seventh time that motherfucker was here. He wants to give me a dollar for my fucking records. I don't have any motherfucking dollar records. I got seven dollar records, I got twenty five dollar records, shiieet, I got hundred dollar records. But this motherfucker comes here wanting to pay a dollar and then leave them a mess all over the floor. Fuck that motherfucker.
Me - I'd be happy to pay your price if they're what I'm looking for, can I take a look at them?
Him - HELL NO you can't take a look at them, I took those motherfuckers home and put them in my garage. I'm tired of motherfuckers coming here wanting to pay a dollar for my records. Fuck them.
Me - Sorry to hear that, I bet you have some good shit.
Him - Hell yes I have ALL that good shit...but I ain't selling them for no motherfucking dollar.