Musical Records and Record Players

Welcome back. I’ve presented my guitar solo and the warm-up act. I thought you might have some interest in the musical records I played and how I played them.

Records
 
When I was, I’d guess, 6 or 7 years old, my parents acquired a large stack of 78 rpm records, all classical and opera, many featuring Enrico Caruso. I vaguely remember a long drive, returning home after visiting family, and having boxes of the records in our car trunk.
 
I’ve no idea what happened to those records, but I can’t forget how easily the records cracked. Do I have repressed memories of sliding broken records back into their paper sleeves, hoping no one would look? Of course not. I must have found them broken.

Not too many years later, I was introduced to the new long-playing (LP) 33-1/3 rpm vinyl records by a cousin’s husband. After playing a sample of one, he demonstrated the advantage of vinyl by tossing the record to the hard floor, causing me to dive trying to save it.

What a technological advance! A record I could play, scratch or warp with ease, but I’d have to work hard to break.
 

Collecting Records

What’s left of the 45 rpm records.

As a teen or pre-teen in the mid-1950s, I outlined a plan to my mother. I would use a negotiated portion of the money I was given or earned to buy 45 rpm records, which I think cost 75 cents each. Although my mother was Great-Depression frugal and repeatedly warning about money burning holes in pockets, she approved. This was music.

I started with “The Great Pretender” by the Platters and ended 70 or 80 45s later--mostly Elvis, Little Richard, Everly Brothers and Fats Domino, but also hits like Gene Vincent’s “Be Bop-a-LuLa,” Ritchie Valens’ “La Bamba,” Jerry Lee Lewis’s “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On,” Chuck Berry’s “School Days” and…well, others.

In time I was buying LP record albums instead of 45s. That continued selectively through the mid-1960s with a shift to Dylan, the Beatles, folk and jazz. Over the years, many of the records disappeared, broke or warped. If they were playable, the warped rock ’n’ roll records sounded fine. Surprise!

Some LP albums from the guest-room closet.

Record Players

 Just as I never cared much about one car versus another beyond its reliability and gas mileage, I had no interest in the device used to play the records.  

In the 1940s, all tissues were called “Kleenex," and our 78 rpm record player was a “Victrola,” regardless of the actual manufacturer. In the 1950s and 60s, I was satisfied with anything that would play 45s and LPs, sometimes loudly, preferably stacked.

What an education about turnstiles, speakers and peripherals I could have had in the Philippines! Several in our group had shopped in Hong Kong on the way over, investing life savings (at discounted prices) in audio equipment. 
 

Record store turnstile, 2009.

(www.rachelphilipson.com)

I assiduously avoided periodic discussions about the equipment but couldn’t escape “oh, listen to this” sounds that were one Hertz away from frequencies that send elephants and canines on a rampage.  

Some 35 years later, still lacking an audio equipment education, I successfully purchased an all-in-one turnstile, cassette player, CD player, radio for our son for a mid-teen birthday. It was time for him to hear my old records; it was time for him to learn how good music could be.  

He listened politely for a few weeks before going back to his iPod. 

Wrap Up 

And so ends my musical interlude. Thank you for stopping by and listening.

I’ll write again in about a week. 

P.S.

If like my son, you prefer iPods, this link might help: Search Amazon.com for ipod 

If you're searching for albums, these links might help, though searching for the particular artist works for me.

Search Amazon.com Music for classic rock

Search Amazon.com Music for country 

Search Amazon.com Music for classical Search Amazon.com Music for folk Search Amazon.com Music for jazz  

Glassblower and Trumpet Photo Addendum

When I saw the glassblower in Syria in the early 1980s, I immediately thought of Dizzy Gillespie, one of the greatest jazz trumpeters.

Music Time--The Background

Welcome back. In my last blog post on music, I jumped right in there and played a guitar solo for you. I’m sorry; there should have been a warm-up act. 

Warren’s parents at 

a resort hotel, 1950s.

Music-Loving Parents 

I grew up with parents who played no instruments, probably couldn’t read music but loved music. Broadway show tunes, opera and classical were tops, yet they didn’t object to any other music, even something as new as rock ’n’ roll or someone as different as Elvis. “He’s cute,” is the way my mother would have put it.

If my mother wasn’t more-or-less singing, she was more-or-less humming. They loved to dance, any excuse. They encouraged…ok, pushed…my brother and me to take lessons, join the school choir and appreciate all manner of music.

Warren (near center) in combined high school choir. 

(1960 Cohoes High School yearbook, Cohoes, N.Y.

Musical Family

Warren’s great-uncle’s string quartet, 

early 1900s

My mother’s family had professional musicians. Her uncle traveled through Germany with his string quartet before coming to the U.S. around 1920. One of his three daughters taught piano in Brooklyn. 

My mother’s brother-in-law, my uncle, sang classical music and turned down a contract to sing regularly at Radio City Music Hall. Two of his three children, my cousins, trained for opera. Although they moved to other professions, they continued to sing professionally on the side, primarily at churches and synagogues and as oratorio soloists. One eventually did return to full-time music as a cantor and musical director.

One of my mother’s brothers, another uncle, had fun playing accordion. Those two cousins skipped musicals careers and went directly into medicine.

On my father’s side, the closest I can come to anyone with special musical talent is my grandmother. This warm, elegant, soft-spoken, little woman could whistle loudly using two fingers, one from each hand. “How else could I handle eight kids?” (I’d be happy to demonstrate what she taught me.)

Warren’s two-finger-whistling grandmother 

with seven of her brood, late-1940s.

Musical Exposure

When I was heading toward high school, I began an exceedingly hot, 20-year love affair with rock ‘n’ roll. Heading off to college, I worried that we’d break up. What a relief to walk across campus during freshman orientation and come upon a band doing a perfectly acceptable rendition of “Boney Maroney.”

In high school, I was familiar with popular folk music (e.g., Weavers, Kingston Trio), mainly because of my bother. At college, I was exposed to an expanded repertoire of folk and blues (e.g., Huddie Ledbetter, Robert Johnson) and found time for concerts ranging from Joan Baez to Doc Watson.

In one of the early 1960s folk music periodicals, I read about a little known Bob Dylan, who had recently arrived in New York City. Captivated by his music, particularly since it was easy to play, I was blown away the first time I heard the Byrds doing Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man.” Folk rock covered two of my bases.

Though not much of a jazz aficionado, I always slipped in a little--enough to be mesmerized by Paul Desmond’s solos during a Brubeck concert.

Current Musical Settings 

Most of the stations I preset on my car radio are news or talk; however, I’ve got one each for Classic Rock, Classical and Country. I’m amazed that the music I tune to most in the car or at home is Country. 

Country and Western was atop my dislike list when I grew up. But today’s Country…how can I object to songs like “Country Girl (Shake It for Me)”? Or months ago I thought the Wall of Sound was back--minus brass, plus cowboy hat--when I heard “Don’t You Wanna Stay.” Go ahead, Google the YouTube clips or try these links: www.youtube.com/watch?v=7HX4SfnVlP4, www.youtube.com/watch?v=0c4ti6TKzt0  

Wrap Up 

Now that I’ve gotten this far, I realize I left out part of the musical story. I’ll save it for next week.

Piano Photo Addendum

The piano in our basement was in terrible shape. Wanting the space more than an untunable piano, Vicki arranged to have it carried away last winter. When the scheduled pickup was canceled because of a heavy snowfall, she proceeded to dismantle the piano, parceling out the pieces for trash pickup. 
 
Does anyone need a piano soundboard? It’s still down there.

Piano soundboard--perspective view

Piano soundboard--plan view

Music Time--Guitar

Welcome back. In my blog post on reading, I confessed that, during my stay in the Philippines, I did more schmoozing and playing guitar than reading. Schmoozing you know, but I should elaborate on guitar. I won’t begin with guitar, of course; that would be too straightforward.
 
Piano
 
My brother and I started taking piano lessons when we were in grade school. He improved steadily; I didn’t. Our mother finally let me use freshman basketball or switching to trumpet as an excuse to stop. I can’t remember which.

What brought it to a head for me was when a friend’s mother, who had begun taking piano lessons one month earlier, sat down and, with simple chords, played songs anyone could recognize.

I’d been playing for three years; couldn’t play diddly (i.e., anything) without the music in front of me; and since everything I played verged on classical, none of my friends would recognize it anyway--at least not the cooler friends.

Approaching Guitar

 As for trumpet, we dated for about a year, normally chaperoned by a mute. I also tried ukulele, which evolved into a baritone ukulele when I learned the baritone’s four strings are tuned the same as four of the six guitar strings. Clearly, I was prepping for guitar.  

Why guitar? I couldn’t drag a piano to a party to be popular and, if you were at the party, would you stay if I walked in with a trumpet? Plus, I liked folk music, blues, rock ‘n’ roll and anything in between. 

Arriving at Guitar

In my first year of college,a student on my dorm floor convinced me to tag along to a folk music club meeting. I found myself surrounded by guitars, everyone singing. I could do this; I could be popular. It was time. 

Warren’s grandfather, early 1900s.

At home on a college break, I went with my grandfather to a pawn shop in Albany, N.Y. He knew nothing about guitars but everything about selling. After arriving in the U.S. in the early 1900s, he sold umbrellas in New York City.

I’m not sure if my grandfather got the price of the only guitar they had down to $11 or if the salesman got the price up to $11, but I’m sure the guitar wasn’t worth more than $11. 
 

Warren’s grandparents, 50th anniversary!

Playing Guitar  

 Assorted learn-to-play-guitar books showed me how to finger basic chords. Like my old friend’s mother, I needed only chords for most of what I wanted to play.

Although my $11 guitar had character, I was now ready to move up. When my brother, who was driving to New York City for some reason, offered to help, I told him precisely what to buy and probably where to buy it. He returned with a much nicer guitar, the one I lugged everywhere for the next 45 years. 

Those 45 years were almost cut to about 2 years. During my first summer at the Arecibo Observatory, guards would occasionally have evening jam sessions with guitar and guiro. I thought my guitar was a goner when its face started separating from its side. Never fear. A guard took it home and expertly glued it back together.
 
I wish that guard had been around 2 or 3 years ago when the bridge that holds the strings broke. I contemplated paying more than the guitar was worth to repair it, but the only time I’d really played over the past ten years was when I was getting my son interested in guitar.

Noah’s first day at college.

Noah liked the instrument, built on the few chords I taught him, took guitar in high school and still plays well, though probably not often.

Wrap Up

I enjoyed guitar and should play again. Whoa! I’ve an idea.

Warren’s new guitar!

Noah left his electric guitar and amp, or whatever it is, here. I’ll figure out how to plug in everything and...oh, it’ll be great! My wife and the cats will love it!

I could even form a band--The Retirees or The Retired Ones or TRO.  I wonder if the band could use a trumpet player. Thanks for stopping by. I’ll write again in about a week. I’ve got an unusual photo addendum that I'll post earlier.

Reading Photo Addendum

Yep, sometimes the old reading pile can get out of hand.

An office overloaded with reading material.

Reading Time--Books, Magazines, Journals

Welcome back. Read any good books lately? Nope. What book are you reading? None.  

At age 6 or 7, I discovered I was not a pleasure reader. Uncle Caspar brought stacks of 10-cent comic books on every visit. My brother and I would devour them, but my devouring never went much beyond the pictures. Who needed words to know what Plastic Man or Captain Marvel was doing?

All these years since, I should have been reading the same books that might have been on your nightstand or next to your favorite reading chair, or that have sand grains or pine needles or some residual from your vacations. It’s never happened.

I’m retired and it’s time to adjust my reading habits. In my defense, though, let me tell you what I do read besides the news media I mentioned last week.  

Technical Journals and Newsletters
 
For 50 years, to keep abreast of my primary and related fields, I had to read an infinite number of technical journals and journal-like newsletters. OK, maybe it just seemed like it was infinite. There’s at least half a dozen as well as technical updates emailed from more and more sources. These anytime updates make up for brevity with frequency.  

That’s my base, my gotta’ read; what I was reading before or after office hours.

Magazines Plus
 
The handful of magazines I subscribe to--Newsweek, Kiplinger's, American Scientist, Consumer Reports, I review cover to cover. Different groups I belong to send me magazines, which I dutifully thumb through. I recently changed one to the online version where it’s subject to a different psychology. Anything on my reading pile is safe from recycling until reviewed. If it’s online, clicking Delete is sometimes irresistible.

There are also a small number of short, non-technical newsletters. One, for example, is a wellness monthly that’s begun emailing almost daily health tips. Do I have to be that healthy? 

Books

Before college, I read what was assigned in school, no more; and not much was assigned. As an undergraduate in college, I was crushed by technical courses and had too few non-technical courses to make a significant dent in my reading. 

Have I already read these?

Living in the Philippines for two years, I read, yet not enough to earn a pleasure-reader merit badge. Not having television or regular newspapers helped, though I spent more time schmoozing and playing guitar than reading.
 
How abysmal that I have to skip ahead nearly 40 years to reach my next moment of truly substantive reading. Laid up after back surgery, I zipped through a handful of books. Alas, most were on financial planning. I had to get ready to retire, didn’t I?

Rebalancing My Reading Account
 
Where to start my reading transformation? Do I dare cut back on technical reading? That would be a colossal step toward accepting retirement, my don't look back moment.  

I’ve got to admit that I’m not getting to or through journals as fast as I did before retiring. Makeshift bookmarks protrude from the reading pile, and the pile keeps growing.  

You know what I did after retiring? I closed my eyes, held my breath and, instead of clicking my heels, canceled membership in a professional society I’d belonged to for 45 years. That ended one technical newsletter. The world didn’t end; not yet anyway. 
 
If I “unsubscribe” to emailed technical updates, I’ll really be retired, won’t I?

Wrap Up

I’ll do it! I’ll make time and I’ll read for pleasure. I’ll pick one of the top 100 lists and just start reading. Maybe I should go through our shelves first or finish what I haven’t read of, say, Shakespeare. What about current best sellers? Oh, this is going to take time to work out.

I’d read Uncle Caspar’s comic books if my mother hadn’t tossed them all. I think Truman was president, not that he had anything to do it.

Thanks for stopping by. I’ll write again in about a week.
 
P.S.   

With the huge number of free ebooks from Google and e-bookstores, I’m tempted to buy an ebook reader. Project Gutenberg alone offers over 36,000 with no registration or fee (in the U.S.); a small donation is requested: http://www.gutenberg.org/. 

Libraries also offer ebooks, though they may not be compatible with every ebook reader. If you're interested, the September issue of Consumer Reports has a review of ebook readers and tablet computers.

Newspaper Photo Addendum

I had just bought the camera in Hong Kong en route to the Philippines in 1970. We must have been on the ferry traveling from the island back to the airport at Kowloon. I’m glad the camera worked.

A newspaper reader on the ferry in Hong Kong, 1970.

Newspaper Reading Time

Welcome back. In my recent blog update on exercise, I mentioned the newspaper deliveryman. In a sign of the times, fewer newspapers are being delivered on our street. By fewer, I mean the number of newspapers has fallen to the pavement and been washed down the storm drain.

Newspaper--hardcopy.

Newspaper Deliveries

When I began jogging here 15 years ago, if I encountered the delivery person’s vehicle, we traveled at a comparable pace and could monitor each others progress, house by house. 

Mailboxes (black) and 

newspaper delivery 

tubes (white).

Now, several delivery persons later, the delivery car speeds by. Well, sometimes he discovers that he skipped a house and either throws the car into reverse or U-turns around, causing me to execute a nimble evasive maneuver.

The loss of subscribers and wholesale use of plastic newspaper bags are reflected on the street-side mailbox posts, all of which once held white newspaper delivery tubes. I’ll guess half of the tubes are gone. Newspapers are now normally tossed from car window to driveway, tube or no tube.

Whoops! Missed the tube. 

Newspaper on driveway.

Delivery tubes with reflective 

dot indicators on mailboxes

for delivery person.

Delivery tubes must still be helpful where there’s a cluster of mailboxes belonging to a group of houses on a private driveway, away from the street. Stuffing the correct tube would avoid any question of ownership that could arise with a newspaper on the ground.

 

To Subscribe or Not to Subscribe

We never subscribed. Given my schedule before retiring, it would have been pointless unless we were planning to compete in a newspaper recycling contest. I regularly bought the Friday and Sunday editions, but the paper arrived too late in the morning and my evenings were too short. Also, by the end of the day, I wanted that day’s news.

Like many who’ve canceled their subscriptions, I long ago bookmarked a laundry list of Internet news media and related websites to supplement TV and radio news. You probably have your own list or news aggregator. Here’s a sample of about half of my links in case you’d like to share. Some limit the number of views for non-subscribers.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/

http://www.washingtontimes.com/

http://online.wsj.com/home-page

http://www.nytimes.com/

http://www.csmonitor.com/

http://www.guardian.co.uk/

http://www.cnn.com/

http://www.foxnews.com/

http://www.upi.com/

http://www.reuters.com/

http://www.politico.com/

http://www.federalnewsradio.com/

http://www.state.gov/

I don’t check them all daily. For edification, I do try to review them in at least pairs (except for sports scores). It’s always a kick to see what’s featured and how it’s treated on different websites. 

Wrap Up

The chair and newspaper 

await me.

Now that I’m retired, I continue to buy the newspaper twice a week even if there’s less of it. Should I subscribe? Am I ready to admit to myself and to the deliveryman that I have time to sit back, sip my coffee and digest yesterday’s events and analyses? 

Thanks for stopping by. I’ll write more about my reading habits next week. I should have a photo addendum before that.