All language subtitles for All.Things.Must.Pass.The.Rise.and.Fall.of.Tower.Records.2015.1080p.BluRay.x265-RARBG_English

Way back when,

when young teenagers had
a collection of 45RPM records,

to me that was kind of exciting.

That was almost better than having

a big collection of CDs,

albums, and everything else.

But imagine, 45 records, 45RPM records

a better quality
and less breakable than the 78

of ten years before,

but with all the music you ever wanted.

And you could carry it around
in a little box.

That's what Tower was about.

Believe me.

It was the music that was meaningful

to young people's lives.

And we were how they got it.

The first record I ever bought was

Bob Wills, New San Antone rose.

It was like 35 cents.

The year was 1941,
and my dad had a drug store

called Tower Drugs.

It was in the Tower Theatre Building.

The drugstore was tiny,

and yet they had everything in there.

He had toys, he had liquor,
he had magazines,

cigarettes, perfume, cosmetics, candy,

heh, you name it.

So we had a soda fountain
in that store as well,

and on the soda fountain
we had the jukebox.

One day, my dad said,
"why don't we sell used records?"

He asked the jukebox operator to bring in

his used records, which he brought in

and sold us the records for three cents

and we turned around
and sold them for a dime.

We sold them out right away,
so my dad said,

"if we can sell used records,

we ought to be able to sell new records."

Went in to San Francisco
where you could buy

all the records wholesale.

200 records cost about

less than a couple a hundred bucks.

So we said, "fine,
we'll spend the 200 dollars,

give us a franchise,"

and bang, we're in the record business.

During that period,
my dad actually broke through

the wall of the drugstore
into the empty space next door,

a little empty storefront, and he said,

"We'll put the record
department back there."

so we decided to call it Tower Record Mart.

He couldn't complain too much because
he was getting some free labour,

but at the same time,
he didn't like the idea

that I should've been in school.

And we realized right off the bat
that this was a big deal.

I went to my dad, I said,
"Well, I want to expand.

I want to go in to this
rack-jobbing business,

expand our jukebox, and get this and that."

All kinds of wonderful things
I wanted to do.

He says, "No way, absolutely, no way.

"Don't bother me."

"You want this thing,

"you buy the record store from me,

and then you do what you want,
but I'm not financing it."

I said, "All right."

He says: "Fine, it's yours tomorrow."

"And here's the deal:

"you have the inventory

and you have the bills that
the company owes. Goodbye."

And overnight,
I was the owner of this thing.

Everything he did influenced me.

It's, how do you say, that one imparts

a whole style of life

just by being close to you

and you pick it up.

He was a skinny guy

who liked to have a lot of fun,

loved music, loved dancing.

There was always music on in our house.

It seems like every evening

my parents were dancing and partying.

I'm sure there was some drinking.

I probably started
when I was five years old.

I would go in to work with him

and sort singles.

It was quite a family affair,
so my mother would be there.

I think she was doing
the bookkeeping at that time.

My father had a fantasy and a dream

and a desire to open up
a supermarket of records.

He then opened a record store
at Watt and El Camino.

It was a tiny little store,

about a thousand square feet, maybe.

My wonderful friend
who had been doing advertising

for the drugstore, Mick Mickelson,

he said, "Well, we're changing your name."

"Tower Record Mart. That's too..."

"We're going to call it Tower Records

and we're going to use
Shell oil company colours."

"And I'm going to design
a letter that'll stand out,

that nobody's ever seen before."

And he literally drew that letter.

You know, in Sacramento there weren't
very many places for kids to hang out.

There was, like downtown, there was places,

so it was, you know,

Tower Books and Records
we're in like this parking lot

surrounded by nothing.

And for kids in high school,
that's what you did.

You know, you went to Tower Records.

It was the beginning of the folk era,

and so we would sit
in the parking lot at Tower

on our little sports cars and play music.

So the guitar guys would come,
and the banjo guys would come,

and we'd play music
in front of the record store

and then you'd go into the record
store and into the listening booths

and listen to as much as you could

because you couldn't afford
to buy any records.

There were make out sessions
in the listening booths,

people had sex in listening booths.

We put really big lights in there

so they'd be as hot as possible

so that you couldn't stay
in there too long.

This store opened in 1961,
I was eleven years old,

it was the only place I knew.

You'd walk down the aisle
and you could just see

from the front of the store
to the back of that aisle,

just these stacks of LPs.

You know, somebody came up
with that terminology,

stack them high and sell them low.

Yeah, the managers
and the employees were young,

they loved music,
they were enjoying themselves.

They were having a lot of fun,
which was a good thing,

because they weren't
getting paid very much.

And that was the beginning
of Tower Records.

I worked for Tower for 37 years.

I started when I was 19 years old,

and it started out
at the Watt Avenue store.

Stan was this kid that was the son

of one of the pharmacists
that worked for my father.

He came to work and he said,
"You got to give the kid a job."

I said, "Okay, put him to work."

I walked out in to the Watts store,

and this guy George Horton
came running up to the counter

and looked at me and goes,
"Who are you?" and I go,

"Oh, uh, I'm the new guy.
My name's Stan, how are you?"

And he says, "Oh, great, you're here.

Charlie and I are going to lunch."

And I went, "Okay."

He says, "Good, everything's $3.88

"except for Frank Sinatra,
Phase four, and Command.

"That's $4.88, see you later.

"We'll be back in an hour."

And there I was, that was my training.

Tower was like the place to work at

because it was so open.

Plus, you could play whatever
you want on the record player,

so you could be an amateur DJ, too,

and it was definitely the place to work.

What happened in the very early '60s,

'63, '64, was a couple of artists

happened on the scene that just
changed the world around.

When the Beach Boys' early album

"Surfin' Safari" came out,

all of a sudden,
the business kind of shifted

from a singles business to a LP business.

Then, of course, throughout the '60s

as the baby boomers kind of came of age

and there started being more and more
potential buyers of these records.

The great thing for the record industry
was that they cost a lot more.

So instead of spending 49 cents

or whatever it was on a single back then,

people were spending $3.99 or $4.99

or $5.99 on an album.

We could literally sell
a thousand copies of a record

over a weekend, or something like that,

which was incredible.

The hits began to sell in quantity,

the kids came in more and more,

they grew up with it,

they widened their taste in music.

By the late '60s, radio began to explore

something besides top 40.

You had these really
free form radio stations.

They were changing the way
that everybody looked at music,

and we just rode that wave.

But as the '60s went on,

you had one LP after another

that was a huge artistic statement.

Sergeant Pepper and Pet Sounds
and on and on and on.

Then suddenly, you started to have

more and more cash coming
in to the record industry.

And that was exactly the time

that Tower Records really started to peak

in that first wave
where Russ had opened his store.

Well, he would talk about it all the time,

how important it was
to have a big inventory,

and how he wanted to open up
a very big store.

The largest store
in the world in a big city.

She was pretty. I wish
I could remember her name.

She was a manicurist at a barbershop
that I used to go to,

and I just accidentally ran into
her in a bar in Sacramento,

sitting there and saying,
"Why don't we take a trip?

Why don't we go to San
Francisco?" and she says, "Yes."

So off to San Francisco we went.

I mean, this was early,
like five o'clock or so

in the afternoon.

An hour and a half later,
we're in San Francisco

having dinner and drinks,
and dinner and drinks,

and dinner and drinks, and a little jazz.

Getting pretty drunk, as a matter of fact.

Later on ending up at a hotel.

And the next morning,

I was hung over, badly,

and had to do something

about trying to get well
to drive back to Sacramento.

So we went down to a drive-in
at Columbus and Bay.

I could get a nice greasy
breakfast and a lot of coffee,

so went in there

and I'm sitting in there
with this awful hangover

and I looked across the street,

and there was this empty building.

And a big sign on it
that said, "For lease."

The only thing that looked
alive on that property

was a telephone booth.

I went over to that telephone booth

and I called the number on the sign,

and I said, "You want to rent this place?"

The guy said, "Love to."

And I made a deal, just like that.

It actually was this huge building,

and the record company people said,

"Where are you going to put the refrigerators
and the washing machines and stoves?"

And he said,
"It's all going to be records."

And they said, "Okay, you know what?
This is such an insane idea,

that you'll be gone in three months.
We're going to back you."

So he basically opened
that whole San Francisco store

on nothing more
than the record company's money.

Luckily, my cousin Ross

was a builder, electrical, carpentry,

and so he volunteered,
"Oh, I'll go down and fix it up.

Put some lighting in there.

Put a new floor in, and paint it."

And that was it.

He went and did it.

There was no way we could, you know, heh,

afford a neon sign or anything like that.

So we opened a store,

and it just takes off like, like a rocket.

I mean, the day the place opened up,

people are swarming in there, literally.

There's a picture around
of me standing there

with these people all over the place.

It was unbelievable.

If you go to San Francisco,

be sure to wear flowers in your hair.

I mean, you know you walked through
the streets of San Francisco

and there were people smoking pot

and having little daisies in their hair

and hanging out,
and the fillmore was packed,

and, you know, it was a change.

People were against the war,
and against segregation,

and there was a lot of
political feeling in the world,

and a lot of it was centered in the change

that was happening in San Francisco

and that's the cauldron
in which Tower Records was born.

So consequently, there were
people pouring into San Francisco

from all over Northern California,

and for that matter, all over the world,

to experience what could be called

the hippie kind of movement, if you will,

but mostly the music movement
that was happening down there.

All the San Francisco bands

and the new music,
and so many of the people

who went in to be entertained
by the music in San Francisco,

wanted to know where that music came from.

They want to know the roots of that music.

What was particularly
unique about that store

was how much music it had.

Customers were so excited,

you could almost see their eyes light up.

Well, I think the inventory
made a big difference,

because they wanted
everything to begin with.

The thing that was amazing to me

was just the sheer...

like, almost seemed like
an unlimited types of music.

Things like spoken word
and comedy and sound effects,

and international and jazz,
trend jazz, big band.

I mean, it was unbelievable.

Tower wasn't just a group of departments,

It was a group of little stores
within one roof.

I mean, there was a jazz store,
there was a classical store,

and you got to know those people,

they got to know your tastes,
you got to know theirs.

That's how you learned about music,

and that's also what
brought you back into the store.

All of a sudden,
it would become fashionable

for those young people to find something

that they want to hold in their hand,

that they want to collect,
that it's hip to collect,

that has music on it.

Well, first, there was the thrill

of being surrounded by music.

80 percent of it
is a complete mystery to you.

So when we came west, we were shocked

at the size of Tower Records, and simply,

how many records there were.

Everybody in a record store
is a little bit of your friend

for twenty minutes or so, you know?

So there was that family aspect
of a real record store.

It started out as a small family

here in Sacramento with just a few of us,

and as time went on, the company
got bigger and bigger and bigger,

it just became a bigger and bigger family.

It was my second year in college

and I didn't like college.
I was moving out of the house

and I decided I needed to get a job.

I wanted to go some place
and make some money.

I applied for the record store
on Watt Avenue.

They weren't hiring girls that year.

They'd already had one
and she hadn't worked out.

So these two gentlemen that
were running the bookstore,

and the bookstore opened in '62,

so it had only been open for three years.

They wouldn't let us wear pants,
either. We had to wear skirts.

So they could, of course,
look up our skirts.

Heidi was a girl that worked for me

in the book division, in the bookstore,

the very first bookstore in Sacramento.

He walks into the store and the
first thing he sees in this bookstore

is this woman in leopard skin underwear

and a mini skirt
hanging desiderata posters,

and that was me.

I showed up, and I wasn't
a weenie, and I worked hard,

and I wasn't going to be put down.

And learned how to swear,
and learned how to drink,

I learned how to do drugs.

[Mark Viducich] I think we were with
some friends one afternoon.

It was late evening/

Honest to god, I think we stole
a couple of records from Tower,

and it wasn't the last one I ever took.

After I started working there, of course,

but it was fun.

First day, I think I went to El Chico,

which was the local bar down the street,

probably spent three hours
at lunch having a few cocktails

and came back to work.

That's pretty much how
it went for a long time.

Mark is crazy. He's totally nuts.

But he could do anything.

Viducich, Sid Vicious.
We called him Sid Vicious

because he was the nastiest
mother on the planet.

You know he could ream your ass
like nobody's business.

I'll go drink whenever the hell I want,

and please don't ever
talk to me that way again.

No, there was nothing like that.

Course it helped that your best friend

was the manager of the store, too.

My dad and Russ are first cousins.

My father actually ran the cafe
at the Tower drugstore.

And so that's where the
connection is with Tower Drugs.

So my father actually ended up
working at Tower Records too.

He did store development
for Russ for many years,

so when we built new stores,
my father, Ross,

was the person who built those stores,

so obviously,
it was easy for me to get a job

working at Tower
when I got out of high school.

I went to work for the book division

as a clerk and then advertising.

So I ran the advertising
for the book division.

Then I went into community relations,

and bringing in authors for book signings.

Virtually everyone in the
company started off as a clerk.

They'd become buyers, they'd become

supervisor types in the store.

They'd become assistant managers
and then they'd become managers,

so they learn everything
they need to learn.

And the entire development of Tower Records

through the entire period
of time it existed

was just that kind of a thing.

As a woman, I just said,

"I'm not even going to think
about being a woman."

There're no excuses, no period stuff.

I mean, I went in to labour
twice behind the counter.

Because I was determined
to be treated as an equal,

because I was the first female hired,

I was the first female vice president,

I was the first female general manager,

I was the first manager,

so I unknowingly had this responsibility

to be kind of the mentor

for these women coming up behind me.

It isn't what we as a company
could teach our employees,

but what other employees
could teach each other.

That family kind of thing
is what made the company grow,

and what made the company successful.

I'm convinced of that.

That's my old Tom Sawyer
theory of management.

Let somebody else paint the fence.

But we had the freedom to do
whatever we wanted,

I mean he literally gave us these
stores with all this product in it,

and said, "Okay, show up, do the job right,

don't screw me over."
And then left us alone.

One key to the success of Tower Records,

particularly in that period,

is we had no dress code.

I really believe that a lot of people

wanted to come to work for us,
young people especially,

so they wouldn't have
to be told how to dress.

[Ken Sockolov] The people
who worked at Tower

were musicians in many cases.

[Dave Grohl] I got a job at Tower Records

because that's the only place
I could get a job

with my fucking haircut.

That is the truth.

I love Tower Records, and I love music,

and I only wanted to work at Tower Records

and be surrounded by these cool
people and all this cool music.

I just imagined that everybody that worked

at Tower was like an aficionado.

They didn't necessarily have
any other kind of skills,

sometimes even people skills,
but they had musical knowledge.

Every music store, whether it was
a place to go buy drumsticks,

or a place to go buy records,

were total snobs, total snobs.

The record store especially was,

had a reputation of being incredibly rude.

And fuck you if you can't take a joke.

So, heh, it was more of
a battlefield to get music,

to get records out of the store
in the earlier days.

When we opened up at Sunset,

that, I feel, really put us on the map.

Larry Carp called Russ, "You got to see
this location. the best thing in the world."

And he goes down there,

and it was a mad man Muntz location,

where you could get a four track
player installed in your car

right at the corner of Sunset and Horn.

It was 4,000 bucks
a month for a land lease.

That meant I had to build a building.

So my cousin Ross
comes to the rescue again,

and he says, "All right, we'll just
build a building on there."

I said, "Okay, do it."

It was the first building we built.

It was a pre-fab building
that's still standing

forty years later, fifty years later,

whatever it is.

It was a concrete slab,

and then these metal girders
that went up and over

filled in with concrete block and glass,

and an orange tile floor.

And some counters, that was it.
I laid the floor

at Tower Sunset, with these two hands.

Ross built that building,
the entire project for $75,000.

Nobody else would do that.

You know, they have the whole process

of getting the store ready,

then getting the racks put together,

and getting the merchandise
put in and so on.

Stan was there from the beginning.

I would come home from working all day,

which really was digging ditches

and laying floors, and getting all sweaty,

but the nice thing was,
record companies would come by

and drop off promos every once in a while,

and when I'd get home,
I'd have some new records.

Well, I just saw
this guy schlepping albums up,

a good twelve steps to his level,

and then it was even farther to mine,

but I just saw him,
and I'm a very friendly guy,

and just went down and said,
"Hi, I'm your neighbour."

And Bob would come down from his apartment

to check out, see if I had any new promos.

He was really nice, he was very open to me,

I didn't know him,
but we became very good friends.

I'll never forget, one day I came home

and my front door was open,

and I thought, "Well, that's odd."

I walk in, and I hear splashing.

Well yeah, I mean it got hot in LA.

When Stan went to work,

Bob'd go in to his apartment and smoke dope

and listen to Stan's records.

But yeah, he came home and I was soaking

in his tub, listening to records.

That did it, I was really pissed.

So I said, "Well Bob, no, but
it's time for you to get a job.

"We need a receiving clerk. Why
don't you be a receiving clerk?"

In November, actually,
they opened the store.

So I had hung around for quite a bit,

he said, "Come in the store and apply,"

and I did, and Charlie Shaw,
the manager at the time,

hired me, immediately.

And then once I got in the door,

I just fell in love
with being in the building.

I had no clue about the record industry,

but it was, to me, right up my alley.

This is like being home
with a bunch of friends,

and much more fun than I'd ever had

in any of my previous jobs.

Again, now here,

we hadn't opened a store
since San Francisco,

and the same thing happened in Los Angeles.

We were in the midst
of a marvellous audience.

I mean you had this variety of people

with all kinds of musical tastes and money.

[Bob Delanoy] I mean,
I knew Sunset was like the focus

of the whole record industry, there.

If you didn't get it in that store,

their whole rest of their marketing crew

thought you were doing a shit job.

But imagine where we were.

We were within walking distance, virtually,

of the entire record industry,
in the LA area.

I think that was a good strategy, I mean,

if you're about music, you go
to where the music's being made.

In Los Angeles,
especially in San Francisco,

so many of the artists
lived in our neighbourhood.

I mean, we were the local record
store for them, so it was great.

I remember David Geffen
coming in to the store one Saturday,

and I was chatting with him, and he says,

"Hey, you got to come listen
to this record."

I go, "Okay." So I hop into his car

and we drive up into
the Hollywood Hills somewhere

to where he was living,

and he took out an acetate test pressing,

he put it on, and he played it,

and it was the Eagles' first record.

You had The Troubadour,
and you had The Roxy,

and you had The Whiskey,

and lots of clubs
that they played coming up,

so those artists would look through Tower

wonder when their records
were going to be there,

and would they have piles,
that kind of thing.

If you loved music,
and having a record collection,

which, I did, it was exciting
to walk through the store.

I went there three or four times a week.

We just drove down Sunset Boulevard...

And we were just
eyeballing everything we could see,

and there was a huge record store.

It was that place where your dreams

meet the listener.

That's where the final connection was made.

That audience you dreamt of

is walking through the door right now.

And you can stand there
and watch that happen.

They are your listeners.

And the place also served

as kind of a lost boys club,

so if you were a young musician,

you came into town
and you didn't know what to do,

the first thing you did
is you went to Tower Records.

Artists who were in California
and in Los Angeles

would go into Tower Records to
find out where their records were.

And if there was a pile of Elton John

and there wasn't a pile of The Eagles,

The Eagles weren't happy, or vice versa.

I mean there were
a couple people that came in

to the store that I was so in awe of,

I couldn't even, you know,
I couldn't even approach them.

Eric Clapton, when he came in,

Jimmy Page, Pete Townshend,
it was a constant flow.

And nobody ever bothered them.

I mean, they had a place there
where they could go

and maybe a few people,
"Oh, look over there.

There's Elton John," or whatever,

but they kind of knew,

that was a place where you could hang

and not really worry
about anybody hassling you.

Tuesday mornings
I would be at Tower Records

at 10:00, 9:00 in LA.

The store'd open at nine
and they'd let me in.

And it was a ritual,
and it was a ritual I loved.

It was, you know, my music centre.

Yeah, I knew where everything was.

And if they didn't have
something in one week,

or the next week,

I told them, I said,
"You need to get this in."

Well Elton was one that used to
come even during business hours.

He'd come in with his limo driver.

His limo driver would
just stand there with bags

and he would come through
with a long, long list,

and go through the record bins, picking out

all the new releases that he had seen.

[Elton John] I mean,
Tower just had everything.

Those people knew their stuff.
They were really on the ball.

They weren't just employees that
happened to work in a music store.

They were devotees of music.

That's what I loved about the Tower.

I could talk about music
to them, and they'd say,

"Have you heard this?"

It was just... they were like friends.

I knew the guys in the store pretty well

because I was so, you know, regular.

There was a little guy... Was it Bob?
Is the little guy Bob?

- No, that's Stan.
- That's Stan.

He was my main man. Yeah, he was great.

And he would go through every single aisle,

every single bin,
and he had an incredible memory

from what records he had,

and he'd get like two to three each.

One for each one of his houses.

It was comfortable
and not intimidating at all.

It was inviting. It was like
going to your favourite cafe.

And eventually we said,
"Elton, we'll open early

for you if you want to come in."

So, we started opening like at 8:00AM.

I can honestly say this
without any exaggeration,

I spent more money in Tower Records

than any other human being.

Once the word's out

that's where the stars are,
it really clicked.

And then it became the place to go in LA.

Did you know

the world's largest record store

in the known world,
and universe, et cetera,

is here in Los Angeles?

It is and it's called Tower Records.

And Tower Records is located
in the heart of Sunset Strip.

At Tower you'll find tens of thousands

of your favourite LPs and tapes,

and you'll find that they're
all super discount priced.

Tower'll always save you money
on the LPs and tapes you buy.

You'll find more rock LPs
than you ever thought existed

and that includes more imported
rock LPs if you need that stuff.

You'll find more jazz, more classics,

easy listening, more country,
more international,

more spoken words, and more words.

More of everything than you've ever seen

in your whole life in one store,

at one time.

And you'll find thousands of 45RPM singles.

In short, the largest record store
in the known world, hmm,

lives up to its name.

Shop Tower Records in the heart
of Sunset Strip tonight,

and every night of the year,
until midnight.

And Tower will have my latest album

"Walls and Bridges",
this afternoon, so go get it!

[Steve Nikkel]
Part of the concept with Tower

was as much social as it was retail,

you know, before social networking

and social media, people went outside.

People would spend hours together
just digging through the bins.

You know, and people would meet
at Tower Records.

I mean, we were a destination.
people would hook up at Tower.

And that kind of captured my...

Wow, this is a really cool place to work.

And then of course,
once I got in the back room,

I really started to see
what went on in that store.

There was drinking going on.

Abso-fucking-lutely, just hammered.

There was a culture that you
could drink as much as you want,

you can do whatever the hell you wanted,
but you know, you had to come to work.

There was a guy who slept in the office

and washed his pits with Comet cleanser.

He'd slept in the office all night,

and had to get up for work
the next day to open up.

Sometimes you could even come to work

say for an hour
and go home with cocktail flu.

But there was a thing about showing up,

manning up, coming to work,

and even if you threw up,
you had to show up.

The rules were don't smoke dope
on the premises.

And certainly don't drink on the premises.

That didn't mean that once in a while
there wasn't a party back there,

but you know,
you do your job during the day,

had a good time doing it,

and you'd go out and play
the way you wanted to at night.

Hell, there were many nights
we just came to work

and never went to bed, for Christ's sakes.

That's not cocktail flu,
that's a lifestyle.

When you hit the late '60s, early '70s,

you start to get to kind of
the hookers and blow era

of the record industry, and this continued

all the way through
the end of the disco era.

Yeah, '70s is when we started doing...

hand truck fuel, yes.

Hand truck fuel is a controlled substance

that you ingest through a small straw

in your nose.

Seems like Tower Records people
always ended up in a bathroom.

Either in a hot tub,
you know, probably drinking,

maybe smoking a little pot or whatever.

We used to do inventories
overnight or we would work late,

doing whatever project we were doing,
and we needed hand truck fuel,

which, by the way, we took paid-outs for.

No one even caught it.

There was hand truck fuel, yeah.

You understood you had a lot of latitude

to do what you wanted,
to manage the way you wanted,

and there wasn't going
to be any real repercussions

if things went terribly wrong,

because the whole thing was an experiment

from day one until the end.

But... the store always got opened.

We always covered the shifts.
No matter what.

It was always a party
atmosphere; it was never work.

[Rudy Danzinger] Russ was the free-
swinging guy, man. He enjoyed life.

He liked to buy drinks for people
after work, especially the girls.

There was nothing more common than
Russ rounding up all the babes

and taking them to the bar, and
you're stuck behind the counter,

the only guy in the store, you know.

My father was always a ladies' man.

He was attracted to many a beautiful woman,

and they were to him.

But he always respected the women,

I mean, when they were working,
it was one thing.

When it was partying,
it was altogether different.

I can remember one night,

it was about five in the morning
and we had been partying,

and for some reason, the alarm
went off at Tower Broadway,

and Bud Martin at the time, he was
the vice president of the company.

He shows up, and we were actually

in the back room still drinking.

Well, he got a little
pissed off that night.

Bud Martin didn't have the same loose feel

for management that Russ did.

Bud was the one that was
that glue, so to speak,

that was able to hold
this thing called Tower,

and this culture that started rolling,

and Russ would have never ever been able

to keep it together
without Bud, no question.

Bud Martin, he was my dad's accountant,

and when Tower opened,
he had a little private office,

so that became our office.

Bud controlled most of all the divisions--

the accounts payable, sales audit,

all those areas. I mean, he was--

when they had a problem, they'd go to Bud.

I was not a financial manager.

I certainly wasn't a CPA.

I had no business school training,

so I had to trust him, and I did.

Bud was at one end of the hall, Mr. No,

and Russ was at the other end
of the hall, Mr. Yes,

and so you could go to Russ and get a yes,

then you had to go down the hall to Mr. No,

and tell him, Mr. Yes had said yes,

and then you had to justify to Bud

why Russ had said yes.

Yeah, it was a constant battle.

Bud became almost like a partner with Russ.

They were yin and yang.

He was the antithesis of Russ Solomon.

Russ was like a very carefree, if you will,

entrepreneur who loved music

and Bud was actually a businessman.

I would make it work

by hiring my people to go out and do it.

He would make it work
because he had to pay for it.

I suppose there was a rather serious

love-hate relationship
going on between Russ and Bud,

because again, Russ would say,
"Spend the money, get it done,"

and then Bud would say,
"No, you can't spend the money."

We would go to lunch every day

and I would get...
at lunch, we would argue.

He was the keeper of the money,

and he didn't let anything go.

And he and Russ would have battles

about Russ wanting to open up a store

and Bud said, "I don't have any money,

and we're going to go to the poor house."

Russ'd say, "Bud, I'm doing it.

Figure out how to get it done."

But if you get two drinks in him,

he would be literally hanging
from the lampshades.

You know what I mean?
Or swinging on the chandelier.

He had a conservative monetary policy

but a liberal social policy.

It was dangerous to go out
with him and get him drunk.

We've been thrown out
of a few restaurants, you know.

It was just that
he was living another life,

dating and things like that,
buying splurges.

Just do, probably just do
normal things you do with money.

You spend it.

Bud loved cars.

He would buy at least
one new car every year.

Sometimes more than one car,

continuously trading them in.

He was also the most random
woman chaser on the planet.

He literally had an extra office
out of his office

where he took women to wink them.

He'd hire them as secretaries.

And I mean, it was so flamboyantly bad

that it had to be a joke.

He was straight laced with a secret life.

I think he was intrigued by the idea

that we could race along too,

because he'd never have done it himself.

So I had to kind of lead the charge.

We use to call it the Russ Bus, yeah.

You know he was so fearless

and he was so enthusiastic

about what he-- I don't think he had a clue

what he was doing, seriously.

Russ just had a special way of living.

He didn't play golf, he didn't go hunting,

Tower Records was what he did.
That's what he...

he breathed that.

You were part of his family.
You were part of

the Tower experience, as it were.

The record companies and NARM

would have conventions
in Los Angeles, mainly.

So, for fun, I would start stealing ties.

I said you're going to feel
much better without this.

You'll be much more comfortable.
What are you doing?

Coming to California,
big shots from New York,

for crying out loud.

You come out here, you put on your suit,

you put on your tie,

you know, and you act like big shots.

I said, "We're here in California.

"We have a lot-- everything's loose.

Take your tie off."

So they walk in and Frannie,
who was his secretary,

would grab the scissors and chop a tie.

And after a while,
it became the stuff of legends.

So it was like, people would walk in

and just give him the tie.

The tie thing just got part
of his reputation, you know.

Don't wear a good tie in there,
or leave it in the car.

[Jim Urie] He never collected
any of my ties,

because I had heard those stories

and of course,
when I became a national guy,

I was going out there.

They had a big plaque on the wall,

must have been this big,

and it was an array of neckties

that had been cut off, right about here.

I would steal the whole tie.
I got a bad rap, you know,

for cutting the ties off. Never cut a tie.

Always stole the whole tie.

Made the guy give me a card, usually,

if they were friendly.

Sometimes they weren't very friendly

when you steal their tie, really.

But they all felt

a lot more comfortable not wearing them.

I think his leadership and his vision

and the way he dealt with his people

really was significant.

If it hadn't been for these people

being able to do these things for me,

we could never have done anything.

We didn't do anything in a formal way.

We did it on the fly.

It was the Russ Bus.

With Tower Records,

you had an idea, a thought,

you either went to Russ or Bud with it,

and flew with it, it was that simple.

That was the fun part.

You never fucking knew

where it was going to take you.

Russ Solomon, because he was Tower Records,

there wasn't all these layers
of management.

You sat down with Russ
and that's how the company ran.

It ran that way for a long time.

You'd grow your people out of the stores,

send them to a new store,

they'd grow a whole crop of new people

that would go to the next store, and so on.

Back then there were few enough people

that we all even went
to all the store openings.

So we'd go to a town for two or three weeks

and literally a team of us
put the stores together.

Obviously, as Tower got
very big, we had a team

whose job that was to do it
separate from the retail,

but this was the retail team, you know,

we'd take our classical buyer,
and our assistant manager,

and our favourite rock buyer,
and a couple managers,

and go camp out for
a couple of weeks in a store.

Bringing the racks in, marking the records,

putting the records in the shelves,

setting everything up so it really helped

make you feel like you were part of a team,

but it also made you feel like
you were personally successful

because you were able to be part of this.

So by 1979,

we were really a West Coast operation.

We'd opened stores all the way from Seattle

to San Diego,

and then we went over to Phoenix and Tempe.

So a couple of guys came over
and visited me,

Hugh Sazaki and Akehana Zowa.

They said they wanted to start
up Tower Records in Japan.

These two gentlemen, Aki and Hugh,

had come to Sacramento, met with Russ,

and Russ would fall for any idea,

and then they went back to Japan,

and then a few weeks later
called up and said,

"Come on over. We want to show you around."

So they sent us a couple of tickets.

We travelled all over Japan,
saw the sights,

saw the existing
record retailers over there.

But one guy up in Sapporo,

which was a little island on
the northern border of Japan,

I think had stolen the name Tower Records,

and literally had a Tower Record store.

We said, "Oh, no."

So we went up and we saw this, and said,

"That's not very nice,
you've stolen our name.

You shouldn't have done that."

But at least, if we open
our wholesale operation here,

will you let us sell you
the imported records,

and you guys run it?

So that's how it started.

Russ was always enthusiastic
about something new.

Everybody else on the record side hated it.

They said, "We're an American
record company,

we sell retail in America."

They didn't know anything about Japan.

Russ didn't have any kind
of attitude like that.

And they had no desire to do it.

They didn't care, it was just
one of Russ' little projects.

I was just a nobody
receiving clerk, and I said,

"Hell, I'll help you out.
Whatever you want to do."

Our job at Tower Broadway was

we would pull the records
out of stock from Broadway,

and ship them to Japan,

and that's when
I first got involved with Russ,

as I was the shipping and receiving clerk

making probably five bucks an hour.

That's how Russ and I became friends.

Nobody else would help him.

This goes on for a few months,

and things are not really
looking all that good.

We don't know what is going wrong,

but sad but true, they didn't
know what they were doing,

and they weren't very good at it.

I think it was a Friday evening,

and probably Russ and I,
I know I was in Russ' office,

and we had been drinking,

had a few cocktails, you know, as you would

wind down after a tough day.

Somehow the subject came up,

"Who am I going to send to Japan?"

and he asked me that question,
"Who am I going to send to Japan?"

And I said, "The only guy to send is me."

And he goes, "What do you mean,
you? You're not a store manager.

You don't know anything about it."

And I said, "Well, I'm the one

who's been doing all this work for Japan."

He goes, "Do you think you can do it?"

I said, "Sure." He goes, "Then go."

You didn't have to go through
a bunch of people

to make a decision at Tower Records.

He was the worst person to send,

I would ever think in my life.

I mean he had the social skills

of a warthog in heat. You kidding me?

But I think the reason that they did,

is he knew a lot
about shipping and receiving.

He'd learned about international shipping.

They needed somebody to know about how
to get the product in and out of there.

I'd only been there two and a half years.

I saw it as an opportunity to do something.

We had no idea what we're doing.

I'll be honest with you, we had not a clue.

But we did it anyhow.

I had literally no idea what to expect.

I'd never been to Japan.
I had to go get a passport.

We had a warehouse in Akasaka,

which is like the Beverly Hills
of Tokyo, for god's sakes.

We had this little warehouse,

and I was supposed
to be there for six months.

That was my deal, you got six months

to go either fix it or close it.

Shibuya was a little like Times Square,

Laginsu was a little like Times Square.

Tokyo was like Times Square.

I mean the place was always lit up

at night time, Tokyo came alive.

Shibuya was a very hip,
more of a younger area

for stores and kids and people to hang out.

The Japanese at that time were very much

into the culture of American music.

So I called Russ, and said,
"Russ, we're not closing

the wholesale operation.

We're going to open up a retail store."

And that set off quite a firestorm

of controversy to say the least.

The push back from stateside was,

"You guys are crazy.
You're not going to do it."

That was probably Bud's first impression.

Bud wanted to be profitable.

He didn't care so much about being big.

If you don't take advantage of a new idea,

if it makes any sense at all,

then you've lost something.

Russ wasn't omnipotent

and he couldn't tell you,
"Here, you go play with this,

it's going to work,
go play with this, it isn't."

This was Russ' company.

Russ loved Japan, he loved the culture.

And he said, "You know, Mark,
I think that's a great idea."

Because he was so cutting edge.
You know, he was so hip.

He was always taking that next step forward

before the forward was there.

I saw this location and loved it.

Called Russ, and I think he was in Japan

within two weeks to look at the location.

It took six to eight months
of legal wrangling to do this,

because it hadn't been done before.

In Japan, in order to open up a
business you had to have a partner.

There was restaurants,
Shakey's Pizza Parlors

and Mcdonald's,
but those were all franchises.

There was no retail establishment in Japan

wholly owned by an American company.

It was something nobody else
had ever done, for Christ sake.

This was a 3,000 year old country
and nobody could ever think

of another American company

opening a retail store
without a Japanese partner.

Getting all of the racking, the records,

the employees, everything in place,

that went without a hitch.
That was no problem.

The hardest part, once again,

was all of the legal manoeuvring

that had to go on just to open the store.

But he did open up the Shibuya store.

Literally, the morning we opened,

we had over 300 or 400 people

standing in line to get in to the store.

People were literally
squashed against the door,

waiting to get in, and they poured in.

You never saw anything like it.

I mean, it was amazing.

I remember, the store was packed

from the moment we opened till we closed.

We did like 65, 70 grand that day.

It was like that for the first month

the store was open. That store was just

a huge success from day one.

The Japanese culture was
really into American music,

and the fact that it was an American import

and not a Japanese pressed...

It wasn't the Eagles pressed in Japan,

it was the Eagles made in the United States

brought to Japan and sold,

and that whole vibe really sold well.

We just happened to literally be

at the right place, at the right time.

You want to call that luck?
Then call it luck.

What would you call it?

Luck. Ha!

We weren't shoving Americana down
Japanese throats, for god's sakes.

It was a culture. It was a music culture.

So he went and found
a second location in Yokohama.

He got it, we put it together,

opened that damn thing,
and it was a success, heh.

All we had to do was open the doors.

People flocked in the joint.

Expansion was obviously, once you do it,

Russ can't wait to do it again.

So then we started finding

these kind of stores all over the country,

one right after another.

And I think Russ, seeing the success it was

globally, or nationally,
or internationally,

I actually think that gave him the impetus

to move to New York.

First met Russ Solomon in the early '80s.

At that point, I was
the New York branch manager

for what is now Sony Music.

It was called CBS Records
at the time, and of course,

everyone knew about Tower Records,

but it was not an East Coast
phenomenon, at that point.

We started with a conversation I was having

at the NARM convention in Florida.

We were talking about, "Gosh, you know,

"I'd love to open
a classical store in New York

because that's the place where
people like classical music."

Russ called up and said,

"Hey guys, I want you
to come to my office."

We go in there, and Russ says,

"How would you like to open the store

"in the middle of the hippest
city in the United States

by a college?"

We had no idea what he was talking about.

And we go down into the bowels
of lower Manhattan

to The Village, 4th and Broadway.

There wasn't even
a particular neighbourhood.

We started calling it The Village,
and it became part of The Village.

But it really wasn't part of The Village.

But you spend enough money
in marketing and things happen.

It was terrible,
it was like I kind of thought,

"What the fuck is he thinking?"

There was a dead dog in the gutter.

I'm in shock. I thought we were...

in the bowels of hell.

And it was really cheap rent.

I mean the whole deal
was like 10 bucks a foot.

Literally, there was nothing else there.

Empty office buildings, empty storefronts.

There was nothing around it.
I can't emphasize that enough.

There was nothing around it at all.

You know, it was like
a massive four storeys,

mezzanines, escalators, you know,

very, very expensive
store to build. Very risky.

We took it, and then we fixed it up.

Everybody thought we were totally crazy.

That nobody would ever go
to Broadway and buy records,

and we open up, and the people
are lined up to get in.

And here is this cavernous store,

half a block footprint, four storeys,

had an elevator, it was so tall.

God knows how much inventory was in there.

It looked fantastic, of course,

the vinyl with the 12-inch artwork.

I mean, it looked great,
and it was everywhere.

Their singles department alone

was probably bigger than any other store

in my whole New York tri-state area.

And it wasn't three years later

when that whole part of town
became vibrant again.

Tower Records opening there
literally revived

those eight or ten
square blocks of Manhattan.

Everybody that worked there
was a character,

but Russ was the face

of the company in every way.

I worked at PolyGram Records in New York.

As happens in any entertainment company

there was a change at the top and so a whole
bunch of us got blown out as a result.

New management coming in. I was
senior vice president of marketing.

And it feels pretty bad to get fired.

And you're on the outside of this business

you've been in your whole life,

and your phone's not ringing.

You worry about your family,
and all these things.

Russ used to have this big Christmas party

in his major markets,

and the one in New York was really big.

Probably 500 people.

And out of the blue I get an invitation

to go to the Christmas party at my home,

and I was, of course happy about that.

I thought, "Do I really want to go

have people looking at me, feeling sorry?"

But I finally decided to go.

And I go in that night,

and you sort of walked in
and walked down some stairs.

When you first walk in
you could see the whole place,

and it was huge, and shoulder to shoulder.

And Russ was like
the Pied Piper in the middle.

Where Russ went,
there were throngs of people.

As Russ made his way around the room,

there was always a throng of people.

Everybody wanted to shake
his hand, touch him.

So, umm...

I, uh...

I finally shook his hand,

said, "Hi, thanks for
inviting me," whatever.

He leaned over to me and he said,

"A couple of us are going out for
dinner afterward. Do you want to go?"

And, uh...

Let me start that again.

"A couple of us are going out
to dinner. Do you want to go?"

And I said, "Well, golly yeah, Russ,
if you really want to have me."

So he told me where and I went.

And it was Russ,
and four other people, and me.

And, uh...

And at that moment in my life,

that meant... a lot.

Because I was down.

And that Russ Solomon would care enough,

and do that personal little touch...

means something to me now,
20 some years later.

He could have used it, I mean,
most guys would have used it

as a business opportunity and grabbed

a couple record company
presidents and whatever,

instead of some out of work guy.

But that's not the way Russ sees life.

The whole magic of Tower as a chain

was that it was a chain
of independent stores.

Book stores as well as the record stores.

So when you walked
into a Tower Record store,

you thought it was
the only one on the planet.

The LA people always thought
the LA store was the first store.

The New Yorkers always thought
the New York store was.

The San Francisco people thought
that their store was.

Because they all had the individual flavour

of the people who ran it
and who worked there,

which made them very unique.

There was no cookie cutter going on at all.

Until we got
into some of the larger markets

on the East Coast, then we started buying

national TV for ads,
so we became a national brand.

But you had to have

the credibility in the larger markets

before you could go into the suburbs.

Probably in about late '70s,

we established our own
advertising department.

That was Chris Hopson who ran it.

Farrace was just working in there

as one of the advertising
people, the assistants.

Farrace also was one of these thinkers.

And he came to me one day and says,

"We ought to have a magazine for Tower.

I've got an idea what to call it: Pulse."

I said, "Great, let's do it."

[Mike Farrace] Working with Chris,

we hammered out this way
that the magazine would exist

and when people advertised in it,

they would get a sale price in the store,

positioning in a rack,

just the things
that really gave it the teeth.

Pulse was another credibility thing for us.

We could not only sell music,

but we could write about it.
We could communicate about it.

I mean, there was nothing and no one,

with the exception of your rock fanzines

and small columns in maybe
a few of the major newspapers,

that were interested
in what you were doing.

There weren't that many people interested

in what 25-year-old kids
were doing with music.

So you made your record,
you gave a few interviews

to music publications,
and some daily newspapers.

That was all there was to do.

It was a very credible music magazine,

and it was a national music magazine

because of all the markets we were in.

And the magazine grew
and it was a really good magazine.

But it was a great idea.

I remember him saying more than once,

"Just don't lose too much money on it."

And try to make something.

It was the first time he really
focused on an idea I had.

You'd listen to the people who had ideas.

The kids in the store,

who I say invented all kinds of ideas.

Everything we ever did was invented

by the kids in the store.

The art on the walls,
the way they displayed things.

Their attitude about what to buy
and what not to buy,

was all things happening
at the store level.

The whole "No music, no life",
came out of Japan.

We adopted it, brought it in, and used it.

So we're using their creativity.

Going, "Wow, this is interesting,"

or "Ah, that's too dark."

And I'm going, "No it's not, it's fun."

No music, no life, in this sort of

Snoopy, Peanuts kind of script.

I'm going, "This is very cool."

It was famous for
the record cover paintings

that was jammed on its walls outside.

But that became prominent.

All of a sudden, that became the norm

for anywhere we had windows.

They'd expect us to put some displays.

You aspired to have your album

part of that big mural out there, you know.

I mean, the board thing was really cool,

and then we took it inside
where we had an art dept.

That was all foam core, it wasn't
just people stapling albums up.

People went to great lengths,

like they'd get that
weird foam cardboard stuff

and make a baby, and then there's

an actual dollar bill
dangling in front of it,

and it looks like water
behind it, you know,

and when you'd see people go
to that much trouble for you,

for your band,

we were just... We were just shocked.

I think that really influenced and enhanced

the experience people had
when they came in the store.

The presentation of music...

was physically exciting.

[Steve Knopper] They branded it, they made

those red and yellow logos and signs.

And turned the idea that this
was your local record store

into a national thing.

[Mike Solomon] Tower was growing
at a faster and faster rate,

was becoming more successful,

and was becoming more known or renowned.

The employees at Tower
felt proud about that.

We helped each other make it work.

We tried to get
the person below us promoted

so that they could move on.

I became a store manager.

I became the regional director,

I became vice president
of operations for the USA,

I became vice president and director

of in-store design and development.

We were really getting
into an expansion mode.

It was quite a transition
from being store-centric

to having to look at the whole picture.

But all those years
weren't wonderful years.

I only remember this
because I was a young guy,

and had to lay some people off
for the first time.

'79, '81, and like '83 were years

where the record companies
were actually laying people off.

Rock and roll, which had been so exciting

just 10 or 15 or 20 years earlier,

kind of got to the point where
it was a little bit stagnant.

The record labels, many of them,

had put all their eggs
into the disco basket.

A lot of radio stations
immediately changed formats

in every big city there were
two or three disco stations

that replaced other formats of radio,

and I think hurt,
as disco didn't sell that well.

There were a lot of layoffs,
record sales went way, way down,

and some in the industry
that were really worried.

It was all disco, and then
disco just one day crashed.

You wound up having these
DJs, to get attention,

take advantage of it.

"Disco sucks, man."

And so there was a recession.

Three things happened
that pulled the music industry

out of its recession, out of its doldrums.

One thing was MTV.

Turn it on, leave it on.

America, see the music you want to see.

I want my MTV.

Artists who'd been somewhat successful

could add a whole new visual
part of their careers.

If you got your video on MTV,

that directly had a huge impact on sales.

Hi, MTV.

I can remember clearly signing off on

video budgets that were $700, $800,000.

It was all important
that we get that thing on MTV

and if we did,
boy we were off to the races.

Call your cable company and say,

"I want my MTV!"

The second thing was Michael
Jackson's Thriller album.

In the record industry, there's
a saying, "Hits save everything."

And so Thriller was
the proverbial rising tide

that lifted all the boats.

So many people went into record stores,

including Tower, tens of
millions of them at a time.

And when they were in there, they'd say,

"Oh, how about also
this Lionel Richie album,

"and how about this Madonna album,

and how about this Springsteen,
and Prince album?"

Then the whole thing started to lift.

And then the third and final thing,

which was much more of a prolonged thing,

was the adoption of the CD.

It's hard to remember now,
because they seem so antiquated,

but CDs for a while were cool.

They were shiny and silver,
and state of the art,

and they sounded perfect.

They sounded pristine,
and that was something

that we couldn't get
from our big, cumbersome LPs.

That was exciting because it was digital,

and as much as I like the sound of LPs,

the ticks and pops when
you were listening to classical

used to just drive me up the wall.

So this thing was coming out, and you'd go,

"Okay, well how do
we explain this to people?"

How do we tell them there's a whole,

not only that there's a whole
new technology out there,

but there's also a reason to buy it,

Because there are enough CDs
out there for you to buy.

But you didn't know

if the people would adopt it or not.

The executives at labels resisted the CD.

They wanted no part of it at all.

They were worried that it'd create piracy.

But Russ persevered through that,

and he was the first, biggest,
best champion of the CD.

It is so clean.

I'm very conscious of high quality sound.

He always said that that was going to be

the saviour of the retail store.

These new, innovative, high end,

super great sounding discs.

Everybody, it turns out,

was getting tired of the LP,

and they were ready to replace
their record collections

on this more expensive product
called the CD.

I mean that was a huge piece
of the record business

was people replacing
their catalogues with CDs.

Look at this cool new thing.

Where can I buy it? Tower Records.

As an experiment, the Tower store

on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles

has installed a bin full of CDs.

They realized
the CD was much more expensive.

And it would push up that price point

up to maybe $15.99 or $16.99,

which was a godsend for the record industry

at that time,
and Tower took advantage of it.

By 1988 though,
cassette sales nearly doubled,

CDs had exploded,
and the market for vinyl LPs

had shrunk by nearly two thirds.

So it was exciting for the record company,

it was exciting for the consumer,

and for the artist.

All of a sudden, you sold you were rich.

All of this flowed from the fact that

the CD was selling so well.

And Tower, of course benefited from that.

They were part of that culture too.

In response to this consumer defection,

a number of major record stores
have removed vinyl albums

from their shelves altogether.

So, is vinyl dead?

Today's popular music

is more diverse than ever before,

and selection is at an all-time high.

But the cost of pre-recorded music

has also reached new levels,

causing customers to be wary

of purchasing unknown artists
and musical styles.

Tower and the record labels
were doing this dance on price

that suppliers and wholesalers often do,

which is sort of:
"Where will the consumer break?"

To combat this problem,

Tower has introduced
their new CD listening stations

in its retail locations worldwide,

and the public's reaction
has been tremendous.

But I think where Russ said and where
Tower Records said, they were just like,

"Every Christmas the records cost
more, and they're selling more."

What's not to like?

Our stores are bigger,
they're better stocked,

they have more knowledgeable people.

Competition will take care of itself.

That's it, Russ,
you can open more stores now.

Russ had a serious amount
of power, for a long time.

There were always a lot of record chains,

but Tower was, I think,
the most powerful one

for a long period of time.

Recently,
Tower Records was again recognized

as US music retailer of the year by NARM,

the National Association
of Recording Merchandisers.

This makes the fourth
time that Tower's received

this prestigious award.

The honour was bestowed
in recognition of Tower's

high profile image, marketing
and merchandising strength,

and fiscal responsibility.

So starting in 1984,
you had Michael Jackson,

and Madonna, and Bruce
Springsteen, and Prince,

and then you had the hair metal bands

and then you had the grunge era,

and then you had Hootie and the Blowfish,

and then you had this entire period

'84 to 2000. It's no coincidence

that hip hop had its booming growth

during this period.

Then you had boy bands and Britney Spears

and Christina Aguilera, and all these acts

that took advantage of teen
pop stuff that was big.

So it was just one bomb exploding

after another in music.

Tower was the centre of it all.

If they're paying by credit card,

the register sets the charge
in a matter of seconds.

You make that kind of money,

you want to hang on to it.

Tower, Tower again, and again.

All the music is stuck

in this completely warped galaxy,

but then Tower goes and gets it back,

and opens stores all over your planet.

Tower Records, more music for less money.

And it was just overwhelmingly big.
Everybody knew the logo.

Everybody knew the red and yellow bag.

When the digital revolution came,

you know the record business jumped on it

with the CD, not realizing that they were

really causing their own demise.

But I definitely think
that Tower was optimistic,

and they felt like
the good times would last

for a good long time.

I mean they expanded during this period.

Well, by the early '90s, we were having

pretty good success
in our foreign operations.

Again, it was driven by Japan,

which was extremely profitable,

maybe more so than the
domestic company in America.

We moved the old Shibuya store

to this new Shibuya store.
It was an eight storey building.

84,000 feet.

Each floor was a segmented store.

And the place was doing
hundreds of hundreds

of thousands of dollars a month.

I mean, it was a huge success.

You couldn't stop them.

It gave us a lot of confidence.

Somebody came from England and said,

"Why don't you have a store in England?"

Howdy, I'm Russ Solomon.

I want to take this opportunity
to welcome all of you

to our little spot in central London,

and I hope you're going
to have a great time tonight

seeing what is tonight,
the marriage of Wembley and Tower.

Two great names in entertainment.

So drink up and have a great time.

I'm doing it.

And then in Japan,
the guy that we sent to Japan

a few years later, makes
a contact with somebody in Taiwan

to make a partnership

for Hong Kong and Taiwan and Singapore.

The company was really getting big.

We were doing
business on a very high level.

But you never escaped this thing that,

wow, it's like,
I'm sitting in an ex-pat bar

at 2:00 in the morning in Taipei,

you know, and I'm from Sacramento.

How cool is this?

Moving to countries outside of Japan

was a risk.

They expanded in Latin America,

in Asia, and all over the place.

Can you give the fans a message tonight?

No music, no life.

We were becoming famous worldwide,

and we enjoyed that.

Why, I suppose it stroked our egos

to a certain point.

It was fucking awesome.

I mean, come on.

I mean, my gosh, it was a mind blower.

It was really fun.

We got to know more about music

going in to Mexico City,
going in to Colombia,

and Buenos Aires, it allowed us to know

a lot more about Latin music.

But we weren't really successful

in any of the other countries we went into.

Therein lies the tale.

You know, sometimes, I guess, one can get

a little too big for their britches.

Like I said, there was this culture

that was growing that wherever we wanted

to put a store,
build it and they will come,

field of dreams bullshit.

There was no due diligence,
for Christ sakes,

done on Buenos Aires or Mexico City.

I said borrow all that damn money.

I'm as guilty about that as anybody else.

I'm stupid for saying yes

to partnerships in Argentina,

even though I didn't
totally believe in them.

Bud did not want
the company to go in to so much debt.

He would succumb to the pressure that Russ

put on him, although he was happy enough,

especially because he was making

a lot of money, personally.

If you look at the music industry

at any given point during that period

from '84 to 2000, you wouldn't really go,

"Oh no, there's choppy
waters on the horizon."

Russ, what about these new technologies

like the mini disc, DCC,
or beaming music and video

right in to my house?

Are my CDs history, and will your inventory

at Tower become obsolete?

There's so many new technologies,

we simply get involved with them.

We get involved with them

at the early part of their development

and we grow with them, or when they die,

we throw them out like DAT.

As for the whole concept
of beaming something

into one's home,
that may come along someday,

that's for sure, but it will come along

over a long period of time,
and we'll be able

to deal with it and change our focus

and change the way we do business

to deal with the situation as it really is.

As far as your CD collection,

and our CD inventory for that matter,

it's going to be around
for a long, long time, believe me.

When you look back on all your mistakes,

and you make them, that's for sure,

it just, it catches up with you,

is what the truth of it is.

You think you're going to be all right,

and when it catches up with you,

then it's too late to do anything about it.

The business had grown significantly.

It was an international business.

Sales were running close to
a billion dollars by that time,

and Bud the accountant was possibly

a little bit over his head.

We had to hire a guy from the outside.

Fellow by the name of Dee Searson.

Because I had complete trust in Bud,

I had also complete trust with Dee.

By the early 1990s, the relationship

between Bud and Russ had
become a little bit strained.

Bud stopped going to the daily lunches.

They were giving him ulcers.

Bud's job became less and less important.

He finally had to leave.

So it was around 1995
that Bud decided to retire.

Russ will, even to this day, will say

that that's one of the things
that went wrong

when Bud was kind of eased out.

I think Bud was that kind of person

they felt as though
something's going to happen.

The company won't, will not be the same.

When Bud left, Dee took over as the CFO.

I'm developing a company
and expanding a company.

He's managing the money,
and it was a surprise to me

that I couldn't use all that money

to open new stores.

Dee was put on a mission to go out

and get money by Tower selling bonds.

Well, it made it easier for Tower

to borrow more money.

Things became much more tense.

We had pressure from creditors,

from bond holders, from banks,

and there was pressure
in the business in general.

A perfect storm of events was developing

in the music industry as a whole.

We'd gone from vinyl
singles, to cassette singles,

to CD singles, but we cut that out

because we felt like, rightfully so,

why were we letting people buy

the best song off an album.

Let's just not make that available,

and they'll have to buy the album.

And at that day and time, it was true.

And eventually, I think people were kind of

crying foul about that.

Like okay, I like a couple
of Britney Spears songs,

but do I really want to buy
her whole record for $18?

You know, it was the peak of that.

There was no need for a whole generation

of kids to even go in a record store

to get their music.

If you haven't got kids
coming into record stores

to buy records, heh, you've lost a lot.

But then a whole bunch
of other things started to happen.

You had all these mass merchants

getting into the music business.

And there were horrible,
horrible price wars.

Everybody and their brother
started selling CDs.

You know Target, Wal-Mart,
all these companies.

And they would sell them at cost.

What that took away from us was
the traffic created by the hits.

If you had a Tower Records in some market,

and a Best Buy moved across the street,

the music consumer would go,
"Hey, here's the Tower

on my right, where I can
buy the CD for 20 bucks,

and here's the Best Buy on the left,

where I could buy the CD for 10 bucks."

Even before Napster,
that was a big problem.

The industry as a whole
didn't respond appropriately

to what was happening.

What they should have done
was make the records cheaper.

They could have, but they didn't.

And I remember vividly
the very first story on,

"What is an mp3?",
you know, that we ever did.

I wasn't depressed
the first time I saw Napster.

Actually, I remember it very clearly,

and I went on and there were
800,000 people on it.

And I thought, "Wow,

this is unbelievable. This is fantastic."

I wasn't thinking that those 800,000 people

were stealing from me, heh.

It was the most amazing

piece of software in history.

There was community in it.

You could look at each
others lists, playlists.

It was just a natural.

Mike Farrace literally had

the first record store online.

But we didn't know what to do with it.

In fact, our store was on AOL.

Talk about lame.

Developing that into retail

wasn't really something
that was on my radar.

But when you realized how easy it was

for people to share files
and just literally

take music for free, that's a problem.

How do you compete with that?

If you could get Coca-Cola
for free from your faucet,

you wouldn't buy a bottle of Coca-Cola.

On one hand, you go, okay,
well what's the big deal?

Singles are cheap,

We don't really need that
much money anyway.

On the other hand, when Napster came out,

the big issue was,
"How do you compete with free?"

On one hand, you have all these people

who are stealing music for free.

On the other hand, we have this $18 CD,

which is our main product.
Not really a balance.

But if you have a single,
if you have a 99-cent single,

or a cheap way of, an alternative way

of selling music, that's a little easier

to compete with free.

And we, of course, saw that later
because iTunes kicked in,

and songs cost 99 cents
and it did very well.

They think music is available
on the computer,

go Google it,

and they think they can
just get it for free.

And that was something that was discussed

at nauseam with Russ and Tower.

He believed that there would
always be people

wanting to buy records
to have a collection,

a library, if you will, of product.

Those people died off and went away,

and the generation that followed

believes that having an iPad,
that's your music collection.

That's what it is today,
and that's the truth.

There's no records.
Go buy a record, are you nuts?

And so that kind of started leaving

the terrestrial retailers behind

because that kind of stuff,

it's just too easy, too convenient.

I mean I still enjoy
going in to a record store,

but I can't tell you the last time I did.

Did the industry push people a little bit

to piracy by forcing them to buy albums

when they only wanted a song?

I can't say that that is true or not true,

but you could certainly make that argument.

And so what became apparent was
the music industry is changing

and we are not able
to adjust to that change.

You could couch that as we're
not adjusting to that change,

or we don't know
how to adjust to that change,

but I think you're doing
all of those things at once.

Right when...

we probably could have changed,

in my mind, it was out of my control.

But my getting sick
didn't help matters any.

In 1998, a couple of things happened.

One, my father had

an eight-way bypass heart operation,

and he was out of the picture
most of that year.

I was appointed CEO.

Russ was kicked up to chairman.

Stanley, Chris Hopson, Dee Searson and I

were equals, then all of a sudden,

I'm kicked up to CEO.

That created some strain and difficulty.

I knew Michael somewhat. I didn't like it.

He didn't come up from--
You know, the one thing

that historically that was
about Tower Records,

is we all started
and came up, and learned it

by living it, and doing it.

And that was pretty much the case

working for Tower before
I went to law school.

When I came back to Tower in 1988,

I came in as a senior vice
president and legal counsel,

and I was immediately tagged

as the boss' son.

There were people
who wanted to sabotage me.

And Mike was good, but the truth of it is,

he wasn't me, in the same sense of

being able to run what we wanted to run.

Russell had a persona about him

that people embrace, Michael didn't.

It was a challenge to...

...get the trust and cooperation

of my executive colleagues.

Another thing started
happening around 2000.

Sales were flattening.

We had had growth from 1960 to 2000.

There was never a year that there was

no steady growth in sales.

This became problematic,

having a large debt
and a large interest payment,

and that's sort of where
Tower started going down.

Everything you've touched worked,

and then it stops.

It was just dumb.

The business plan didn't work.

There was no population to support it.

It's that simple.

You've borrowed all this damn money,

and all of a sudden, you become aware

that you've gone too far.

Everything's working well in Japan,

but because you've lost money

in all these other places,

and the bank is forcing you
to do something,

the bank is forcing you to sell Japan.

Japan was making all kinds of money.

I mean, selling Japan was a terrible loss.

They expanded too much.

That hurt them whether there
had been a Napster or not.

The fact that there was a Napster later

sort of was the death blow.

Well, here's Russ now.

I'm being interviewed.

Bud Martin.

If Bud had not gotten sick and died on me,

for crying out loud,
and I'd have listened to him,

I wouldn't have been in the problems

that I had later on, I'll tell you.

People appreciated what Bud did eventually.

Bud was a cool guy,
and I know when a few drinks,

the old story about him
swinging on chandeliers

at the Red Lion, putting
lampshades on his head

running around, but they felt
like he was the rock

of the company also.

He was the guy that took care of business.

He got older and sicker is all.

He had an illness,
which he had for a long time.

He had not really told
anybody by the early '90s,

but he was suffering from
a debilitating illness,

leukemia, which, unbeknownst to most of us,

he had had for... maybe 15 years.

He had a good life.

It was sad at the end when it ended.

He didn't have much at all to speak of.

It was only a couple of years later

that he passed away.

Anyway, I have a couple
things I want to say about Bud.

I may not get this out right, excuse me.

I wasn't going to do this.

He really taught all of us, us young kids

who are now vice presidents,

to take a look at

what we were doing with our lives

as far as our morality was concerned.

He was a wonderful teacher to us.

He was an incredible sexist pig,

but at the same time he was entirely fair.

So after that, I only have
one thing more to say,

if I can get this out.

Sorry.

Okay. Bud, baby,

this one's for you.

Bud Martin.

Bud, of all people, was making
things possible to do.

You know, after all of those 26 years,

probably the last three years were spent

feeling that the whole idea
of Tower Records

was not going to be around much longer.

At the end, for me,
it was just a matter of when.

When the banks came in,

we knew that things were going to change.

It was, it was...

my father...

when the banks started putting pressure

on the company and insisting that we hire

a restructuring officer to run the company,

my father

became very upset.

The bank broke me that news.

And I said, "I don't think
it's a good idea."

They said, "Well this is your choice,

"you either bring in new management

or we don't loan you the money."

So I say, "Okay, we need the money.

We have to have the money,
or we can't operate at all,

so okay, we'll try to bring
in new management."

Mike goes down to hire this woman,

Betsy Burton. He wants to hire her.

These new bodies
were in. I think it was Betsy.

I didn't even know

what was going on
in the company at the time.

Her idea was to spend all this

marketing money on branding,
and you're just going,

"Why are you going to spend
this money on branding?

We're already established as a brand.

What you need is retail ads.

You need ads
that are going to move product.

You need to move product.
That's the bottom line."

And then she closed down Pulse magazine.

Losing Pulse, firing 30 or 40 employees,

was heartbreaking.

If I ever came close
to wanting to kill somebody,

with my hands, it was her.

We closed our print shop, I believe,

and to lose 30 employees.

We closed our sign shop
and lost 30 employees.

We had to make cuts every place.
We had to fire people.

And that is where you just
had the two feelings of,

"I'm so good, I'm not going
to be gone, I hope."

The restructuring officers
were coming in and saying,

"Look, you got to cut your expenses

because you don't have any money."

In a way, they were saying the same thing

that Bud was saying
for the last four decades.

You know, I had the one side of my mouth

sit with him and try to figure out

growing the company and how
to get out of this mess,

and the other side of my mouth,

deal with these guys that want
to just tear everything down.

For me, I was conflicted.

They don't understand the product,

they don't understand the people
that worked for the company,

they don't understand the systems,

they don't understand anything.

The seeds of failure are built in to it.

And it can't last.

He basically fought
the restructuring officers--

there were numerous of them that came in.

And I remember so vividly
going to the first meeting.

I talked to them, and I say,
"Well now, I'm on the board,

and I've still got the officially

the chairman of the company."

I mean, that's a chairman
without portfolio.

I said, "What do you want me to do?

"Who's going to be the visionary?

"Who's going to think about
what we should be doing

in this industry in the future?"

And this idiot woman says to me,

"We don't need a visionary."

I can't control anything anymore.

So what was I to do?
Just shake my head and walk off.

Betsy had interviewed the group,

and if I remember, most of us individually

who were in senior management,
so we knew what was going on.

And Mike Solomon was promoted to president,

and he had to do what
these bank guys wanted to do,

and so everything just kind of had stopped.

Somebody who was an outsider

was taking it away from us.

I was caught in the middle, really.

We needed to be profitable, basically,

and we needed to pay our debt.
But to do that,

we basically had to cut
the heart out of the company.

In 2004, they got rid of me and Dee

and Mark Viducich.

I guess they decided, I think then,

to liquidate the company.

They didn't say it,

and it took them a few years to do it,

but they were no longer

interested in trying
to either grow the company

or save the company, in my opinion.

They told us and instructed us

what we had to do to cut costs, save money,

increase profits if we could,
or at least decrease losses,

so if we can fire someone making

200,000, we can hire
someone making 100,000.

I was in Mike Solomon's office

with he and a lady we call Betty Boop,

and you know why you're there.

It's not a secret, I told him and Betty,

"You guys are the ones
that shouldn't be here.

"You guys are the people
that should be fired, not me."

Firing people that you
had hired 30 years ago.

People that you know,
were started as clerks

that were now regional managers
or VPs or whatever.

It's just, you know, awful.

Stanley and I were up at Lake Tahoe.

We're having a drink after
doing some gambling at the bar,

and out of the blue,
he says, "Oh Bob, by the way,

we're restructuring the company."

"We need to structure the company

because of growth or whatever,"

and I was just like, stunned.

Because, I mean,
this little private setting.

So, I mean, I was hammering down
some scotches at that point.

The day Heidi fired me, you know,

she called me in one day and she says,

"Rudy, this is hard for me to say,

but I want a divorce."

It was really hard,
and I knew it was hard for her

as it was for me, you know, and so,

I went to Russ, he said, "Now what the fuck

are we going to do with you?" like that.

He never fired anybody in his life,

let alone his whole executive
committee, for Christ sakes.

- It's not who he was.
- He took me out for lunch.

Actually called me and he said,
"Want to go to lunch?"

And I thought, "This is not boding well.

"Russ doesn't call you
and ask you to lunch.

This is not..." You know.
And he was in tears.

I mean, it was as hard for him
as it was for me.

It was probably harder.
I felt worse for him.

Russ and I are cousins, and Mike Solomon,

who was also the CEO at one time,
and I are cousins,

and to see family members
just thrown aside too

was harder than just
losing a 30-year career.

And at the end of 30 years, I got a watch.

Just shortly after I left the company.

In fact, I'm wearing it right now, today.

And it says,

"Bob, thank you, we love
you, Tower Records."

And uh, it was mutual.

I wish probably
that I could say there was more

survivor's guilt, but, um,

there was a lot of relief too.

And then as more layoffs happened...?

No?

Cutting the essential parts of Tower

that made it so successful
was heart wrenching.

That was the heart of the company.

I mean, the company wasn't going to run

without this team.

And sure enough it didn't.

Tonight, the founder of Tower Records

is closing his last retail record store.

It's the end of the line for an icon

that put Sacramento on the map.

One of several chains

closing its doors nationwide.

I was in New York at Fourth and Broadway,

and we had an apartment
in the same building

and I was staying there,
looking at the store

when it closed that night.

Stood across the street and watched, yeah.

What are you going to do? It's over.

They all shut down at once,
and a bunch of people

lost their job at the end.

It was one of the greatest
tragedies of my life,

to be honest with you, when it closed down.

It really, really upset me.

And I missed it.
I missed that routine of going

to buy my records or my CDs or whatever.

It really was this organization,

this camaraderie, this group
that coalesced around Russ

and was able to feed off

and build on Russ' vision.

In the early 70s,
I took a job at Tower Broadway

here in Sacramento, at 16th and Broadway,

and in 1992,

I actually ended up here
at Watt Avenue as the manager.

We have a marquee out
on the front of our store

that we just advertise what's going on

in the store and what's happening.

When we got the word

that the liquidators had won the auction

and it was imminent that
it was going to be the end,

we wanted to put something
up on the marquee.

One of my employees, Dale, came up with:

All things must pass. Thanks, Sacramento.

I went home, and the next day
I came in to work,

they had taken a huge banner

that was like 100-feet long it seemed like,

that said basically going out of business.

And they put that banner up across

the whole top of the exterior
of the building,

covered up our sign that said
"All things must pass",

and you know, it was pretty deflating.

It was like, you know reality
slaps you right in the face.

When they were finally gone,
they took down the sign,

and exposed our message one more time.

It's really sad.

The skeleton is still here.

Ad the parts are still here,
even though they're not working.

And it was filled with records.

And the music was playing.

And the people were
running around and shopping.

But then again, that's the past.

There's no way you can change that.

Let's think about what to do in the future.

Driving though
Shibuya or Shinjuku or Herajuku

or wherever it was,
and I see the Tower Records

fucking logo on a building.

I was like...

You guys have Tower Records? Hell, yeah.

So we went in.

It was fucking Tower Records, man.

Every floor I went to,
there was another different CD,

and there's displays everywhere,

and there's people
shopping and buying music,

listening on listening stations,

and you know, it was amazing.

To see Japan flourish like it does,

I'm really proud of them. I really am.

I'm as happy as can be,

because it just proves that it can be done.

Because they're doing
the same thing we did all along.

Tower was Russ' baby.

He built it, he nurtured it,
he expanded it.

It's very special, it's very unique.

The feeling that they all have for Russ,

for Tower, for each other.

People went to music stores,

they listened to music,
it was an experience

going into a store and browsing

through tens of thousands of records.

It was here, we were part of it,

we all fell in love, and then it went away.

Having a job doesn't have to be tedious,

it doesn't have to be boring,
it doesn't have to be a place

that you hate to go every day.

It certainly wasn't for me, and
probably everybody who worked at Tower.

It was a family,

and that family ideal stuck with everybody

up till the end.

Wasn't a job, it was just a way of life.

I think Tower to me was

a vision of one person

who knew what they wanted
to give to the world,

or offer to the world, and us spending

30 years both following

and trying to refine that vision.

We were part of people's lives

because music was part of people's lives.

It was the music that was meaningful

and we were how they got it.

What's the matter?
Did you run out of questions?

No.