Power of Tower

Looking back on 10 years of the music mall.

Ten years ago this March, retail behemoth Tower Records brought its notions of late-night shopping, extensive stock and savvy consumerism to South Street.

"It was a concept no one was used to," says neighbor Tom Sheehy, former J.C. Dobbs publicist turned independent. "It made Philly — not just South Street — a better market. You finally knew what a good record store was."

If you — the South Street habitu and consumer — have lost track of Tower-time, imagine how it feels to corporate owner Russ Solomon.

"Ten years already?" says Solomon from Tower's Sacramento headquarters. "I didn't even know that. I'm gonna have to fight with my landlords." A now-laughing Solomon started Tower Records as a single shop in California in 1941. By 1960, it had become an influential model of chain-store consumerism — a model he's not happy he spawned.

"The sad truth is that we became the example that spawned diverse operators from Borders to Best Buys. And I regret it — they're competitors. Ha Ha."

Before the South Street location became a big-time record shop, the space was the Ripley Music Hall, a live venue/dance club (once run by Stephen Starr) that hosted U2, Kid Creole and Teardrop Explodes. Along with the Gap, it was one of the first chains amidst the raucous independents of Zipperhead and XOG.

"I was one of the original people who protested building it when I was living on Sixth and Pemberton," says producer George Manney, one-time Tower South Street buyer, now Tower Northeast manager. "I didn't want commercialism and tourism."

Though it signaled a coming of corporate hell to the bohemian neighborhood, it also brought more laser and plastic than 10 Star Trek conventions.

"Ten years later, I think it's helped the area," says Manney, "[Philadelphia's] musicians and its indie labels."

While Manney made a deal with the devil, the Rolling Hayseeds' Rich Kaufmann, who started his Tower career on South Street, believes it wasn't so much a change in the neighborhood as it was an absorption.

"Local people looked at it as negative," says Kaufmann, now manager of Tower in King of Prussia. "It was the beginning of the corporate trend. But every Tower molds to its surroundings. For instance, [the King of Prussia] store is a little more vanilla. White bread with a less urban crowd."

In the 10 years of Tower, changes on South Street have been monumental. By 1990, many of the adult businesses and bar/restaurants had given way to tchotchke shops, sneaker salons and lots of kids.

"People don't like catering to a younger or an urban crowd," says Tower South Street manager Bill Duffy. He has been at the South Street location three years. But these are the people you want to educate further and turn them into customers. If you're buying rap now, perhaps we can turn you on to older R? like the O'Jays and Teddy Pendergrass. Or turn Spacehog fans on to Gary Glitter and classic rock.""

Another change within

the 10 years has been the empowerment of independent labels, such as the struggle of a small label like Alternative Tentacles to stay afloat next to a major label like Atlantic. Duffy believes that his store proves Tower is the biggest independent around.

"We sell the Kenny Gs of the world but we pride ourselves in the catalog of the Coltranes," says Duffy.

"We've opened people's eyes that a huge chain can have an indie feel."

Third Street Jazz & Rock's buyer/manager Mike Hoffman, while impressed with Tower's size, doesn't see much beyond that. "I don't think the majority of their customers are independent music buyers." While lacking the dusty intimacy of Third Street Jazz or the Philadelphia Record Exchange, Duffy believes that Tower's relationship to the indie world is reciprocal. "Record Exchange thrives because if it's really independent and we don't have it, we send them there. We feed each other. And the customer feels like they're really underground."

Solomon believes his company's independent-minded attitudes have changed the retail industry. "I think we've made it possible for small unusual records and interesting independent labels to get into bigger stores for greater visibility."

But Tower, like other big chains, has been accused of cozying up to record labels.

"The labels and distribution companies cater to the large stores by giving them buying, positioning and price points, which they do not do for mom-and-pops," says Hoffman.

Rich Kaufmann agrees. "The companies approach every major retailer the same way. When a big record hits, you're looking for the best positioning. And money still speaks. I think the Spice Girls proved that."

It is simply a construct of big business versus the "little guy" — the big guy can buy direct because he has that power.

"If there's a Sam Goody that exists near [no other record store] they do fine. If a Tower or Virgin or HMV opens next door, they're done," says Duffy.

It's surprising to find that few in the retail record biz believe Tower has really offered up much competition to mid-level stores or independents catering to a specific crowd. Hoffman recognizes Tower's size but little else. "They've never affected us. We have a knowledgeable staff and people like to come here. Tower has not been known to have lots of service-oriented employees. I don't mean to be cutting. They have it. If you can find it, great."

Studio 4 manager Mark Schultz was a clerk at Chestnut Street's Record Town and Strawberries from 1989 until '91 — Tower's prime time. He never noticed the difference.

"Mid-level places like Strawberries and Record Town prey on a walk-in crowd," says Schultz, "the secretary and the suit thinking 'Wow, I really need that new Hootie. I'll run out at lunch and get it.' Tower preys on a more serious clientele. Tower's real effect was on the lifestyle buying of South Street — people looking for music seriously but who were also down there to eat, drink and maybe buy somewhere else."

Harold Lipsius, legendary owner of Universal Distributors who services every record store in the area, believes that Tower's greatness (after its ability to stock classical product) is its level of excitement.

"I don't think they've affected stores or the business as much as people think. They just have a deeper spread. Going to Tower is more of an expedition. A dig. They don't get people who would 'normally' buy something in their own neighborhood."

Sony field marketing rep Ken Lamb should know better than anyone about Tower's power and influence. Not only did he manage and buy for The Wall from 1991-95, he currently services both Tower South Street and Walnut Street's new music beachhead, HMV.

"Tower is more of a destination. An event," says Lamb. "HMV is coming up in similar fashion. The Wall is a mall stop that really takes care of clientele. They have really good marketing, lifetime guarantees, good service... but I don't think anybody's been hurt. I think they feed off each other."

"Competition was mounting at the beginning of the '90s," says Duffy. "In the short run, Circuit City and Best Buy killed us with their underpricing. But in the long run they helped us. You get the Live album for $9.99, but you can't find it, and no one will help you. They're not in it for the music."

And in it for the music is where Tower's 10th anniversary celebration begins.

As George Manney reminisces about hanging out with Alice Cooper and Harry Connick eating "greasy Greek pizza next door," and Bill Duffy recalls the time the Tower sign fell, Rich Kaufmann is jaunty about playing the Tower Anniversary Block Party, May 2-4. Scheduled to play on May 2 are local acts the Omega Men, June Rich and the Rolling Hayseeds. The next two days will be given over to nationally signed acts — tentatively scheduled are Shonen Knife, Teddy Pendergrass and the Wilmington, DE, Mass Choir.

"I played here when I was in Electric Love Muffin," says Kaufmann about one of Philly's finest indie acts. "I'm playing here again with the Rolling Hayseeds. It's kind of a nice circle."