Oct 222012
As a graphic designer, I got a kick out of this bit of obsession. See the full story below:
What’s the furthest you’ve gone for a bit of memorabilia?
As a graphic designer, I got a kick out of this bit of obsession. See the full story below:
What’s the furthest you’ve gone for a bit of memorabilia?
That’s some wild commitment! My closest experience probably dates back to 6th grade, when I practiced forging Pete Rose’s signature so I could sell “signed” Pete Rose baseball cards to 4th and 5th graders. At the time I had no idea how appropriate my chosen field of crime would be.
I, too, am not immune to a good bit of memorabilia. For a long time, I’ve been collecting set lists from the shows I’ve attended. And I’ve driven quite a distance to see a favorite author read.
Speaking of which: I think I’ve told this story but not to the level of depravity that I now confess. Summer, 1986, I have graduated from college and from a final English class, “The 20th Century English Novel.” I go to England to visit my relatives for a nice summer holiday, but little do they know that while we are traveling to fair Plymouth, I really want to use the excuse to go to Lyme Regis, setting for, among others, John Fowles’ “The French Lieutenant’s Woman.” I drag my poor Midlands cousin there – she thinks I have other family from there – and locate a nice fossil shop (Lyme Regis abounds in fossils). While I’m chatting with the owner about my love of TFLW and John Fowles, she tells me that he lives nearby and often can be found curating at the local museum. A visit to a museum seems so…common…I track him down at his home. I can remember it now: the elegance, the gravel driveway, the door knocker, which I used to try to gain admittance. That not working, I hear a party ’round the back and decide perhaps he is entertaining guests and I could meet him then. It was then that finally some small iota of sense descended, I realized that I was being a stalker, and that I needed to leave the poor man to his guests. I slunk up the driveway and found my way to the little museum, where I purchased and stamped a postcard and left it for him with a note in an addressed brown paper bag. He must have had this sort of nonsense happen all the time because a few weeks later, I received the card with the message, “Best wishes, John Fowles.”
The collection of set lists seems to be a long-standing practice among rock fans. I’ve never done that. It seems like a cool memento to gather, but I’ve never pulled the trigger. I know Tvox was (and I bet still is) a great collector of set lists.
While living on the Upper West Side, I walked about ten blocks to get Les Paul to sign my Les Paul. I never put any finish or anything over the top of the signature to preserve it but it is still in tact, even though I regularly play the guitar.
My brother got Paul Westerberg to sign my Thinline Tele. I never put a finish on that signature either and now it has completely disappeared because the finish on the guitar is so thick.
And for a fairly brief spell, I used to collect drum sticks for my brother who is a drummer, but was too young to get into clubs at the time.
I don’t collect set lists, but have one from a Smithereens club show in London. I was there with 2 friends visiting one’s brother who lived in Surrey. We found the show listed in a local paper and went to pretty interesting club under the motorway. We were standing up front and Pat DiNizio even yelled out “We come all the way over to play London and I can’t get away from you fucks from Philly!”. The set list was taped to the floor near DiNizio’s mike so I pulled it up after they left stage. I probably have it somewhere.
Looking closely at that poster, it is rather disappointing that Lennon changed the horse’s name from “Zanthus” to “Henry.”
Check this out, Slim Jade:
http://www.lsdgraphics.com/asp_scripts/print_image.asp?WebsiteID=23473&GalleryID=43952&MediaID=2802863&Print=0