Is There Life After Tower Records?

I know it's not like a near-native San Franciscan to go shambling around Fisherman's Wharf but that's exactly what I was doing the other day. It's fascinating to see the tourists going about all gaping, and gobsmacked at the sights, sounds and smells. But stunned I was to see a few fellows wandering about, carrying sandwich boards bearing the message: "Out of Business Sale at Tower Records!"

A wave of sadness washed over me.

Tower Records, a symbol of my not-so-innocent youth, and tabernacle of joy for me in the early days of my San Francisco life, was really closing -- and for good. It was death by Internet online marketing, and bludgeoning by discount store juggernauts. Tower founder, 81-year-old Russ Solomon, boasted just a few years ago, "The Web will never take the place of stores." Brave words but it was also a reckless invitation to hubris.

Solomon entered bankruptcy in 2004 but still did not tread carefully enough. He opened his first store in Sacramento 46 years ago. In 1968, that watershed year, he saw the lot at Columbus & Bay, and decided that was the spot for a big Tower Records store. San Francisco cultural history was born. Poet Rod McKuen used to make appearances there. The fans would line up for miles all around Fisherman's Wharf. In Los Angeles, Rod immortalized the store on the Sunset Strip with his poem, Is There Life After Tower Records? Rod described music fans driving from all over the Southland to "browse, meditate, and worship at the L.A. shrine."

When I arrived here in 1970, Tower was the place to go. It was a destination, a place to explore, and at which to marvel. Miles of aisles of all sorts of music -- a massive inventory. I recall being so impressed that a record shop was open 24 hours a day -- which it was. Of course it was. After a night of sodden partying, and debauchery, of wine, women, and herbs, it might be absolutely necessary to find an album by Dave Mason or Steve Miller or Ravi Shankar to cap the evening, to accompany the rising sun. I guess you had to be there to understand such a craving. You could always count on Tower being open. It was the connection for the music junkie. Just last November, Donovan made an appearance at Tower. He had his beautiful Gibson Hummingbird guitar with him, and serenaded a long string of hits to about 40 fans, who sang along on Mellow Yellow at the top of their aging counterculture voices. For a half-hour or so, all was right with the world.

At one time, there were 200 Tower stores worldwide -- and not all that long ago. In the mid-1990s, sales had exceeded a billion dollars. But as fast as you can say "download," the assets spiraled downward, as the online music biz skyrocketed. Not only that, chain bookstores started selling music, and monstrous retailers such as Wal-Mart began to sell CDs for a song. Music specialty stores got buried. Russ Solomon wasn't the kind of fellow to change his style. He simply continued to open new stores, bless 'em. Tower opened a classical music outlet here, across Columbus Avenue. I found it a refuge when I was in trouble. There were in-store listening posts where you could don headphones, and tune in privately, unmolested. One day I found a CD with Renée Fleming singing Purcell's "When I Am Laid In Earth" from Dido and Aeneas. Between the sadly exquisite phrases, I silently thanked Tower Records for restoring some peace in my heart, and I'm grateful to Mr. Solomon for providing all the fun over the years in that great supermarket for the senses at Columbus & Bay.

Bruce Bellingham, the Arts & Entertainment Editor of the Marina Times & Northside, is the author of Bellingham by the Bay, which is no longer available at Tower Records.