This is a sad turn of events.
Yes, sad indeed.
I'm sure there are some hanging out here who remember the heyday of 48th street in NYC, with it's block long strip of music stores. It's still there, still music stores, but has mostly been taken over by the Sam Ash corporate leviathan. Back in the '60s and '70s there seemed to be a million stores crammed into the long block between 6th and 7th, or maybe Broadway and 6th ave.
Back in those day's, Sam Ash was just a little nondescript store with it's entrance at the basement of a larger store. The main powers were Manny's Music, and Ponte Music. Other stores that remain in my feeble memory are Terminal Music and Alex Music, but there were many, many others. Later, in the early '70s, Rod Baltimore opened his store there.
My memories mainly concern Ponte's, as I was directed there by a kindly old gentleman who was playing bass saxophone with the Claude Thornhill Orchestra in 1966. I know the year because I still have the receipt for the gold plated Wolf Tayne bari mouthpiece I purchased on my first visit. My Dad drove me there, and Mr. Ponte introduced me to the great Romeo Penque, who just seemed to be hanging out at the store that day. Charles Ponte was a real cool dude. An old curmudgeon of the first order. Later on, he moved the store down to 46th street, right under where Roberto's is now. I was driving myself by that time, and I remember bringing the Selmer horns that I had bought from him, back for routine service. One time, at the end of one of these service visits, Mr. Ponte seemed to be waiting for the tech to finish working on my horn. He then eagerly rushed me to the sales counter and enthused about the homemade wine that he had just finished making, and how I needed to try some before I left. Well, these were my drinking days, and my arm needed not to be twisted. So, he pulled out paper cups, reached under the counter, and pulled out a freshly minted bottle of red, pulled the cork, and we were going to town. For some reason, the sound of the cups hitting the glass counter top was enough to summon all the sales people, and anyone else in the store who was in hip to what was happening. So another bottle would appear from under the counter, and more going to town was embarked upon. The wine was strong, and after the 4th or 5th round of paper cup action, I had to inform Mr. Ponte that I was driving, and that I needed to be able to find my car.
I know that those days are long gone, but it's sad to see that the warmth, and the sense of comraderie that some of the old stores provided seems to be replaced by the cold, impersonal convience of the internet, the sales catalog, and a place like Best Buy. What's next, we'll be buying reeds at Home Depot?
