From time to time, I've derived vicarious pleasure from reading of
some of the phono-L members' coincidental discovery and acquisition of
a particularly sought-after or scarce phonograph.
In general, most of the membership are in areas that are either more
populated, or nearer to denser metropolitan areas than here in Santa
Fe, NM. Roll back the calendar a few decades, and my region is pretty
sparsely populated, with more ranching than any kind of manufacturing
or other work that would draw a larger population.
Fewer people = fewer manufactured goods, including phonographs. Add
to this the budget for a machine that most New Mexicans had (or
prioritized for music) a century or so ago, and you have relatively
few phonographs to begin with, and most of those in the low-to-middle
cost range. Edison Standards, Victrola IV's, X's and XI's, and low-
end Columbias are inevitably the models that turn up, and usually in
none too good a condition if not out of a collection. Naturally some
desirable machines were brought here later on, but by and large this
hasn't amounted to anything significant, and there isn't much of a
collecting community here.
So opportunities to build a collection are rather limited. That being
said, I started collecting in 1974, when I was 12, and my Victor
8-30X, Edison maroon Gem, Edison early A-250 and a Zonophone Grand
Opera were all acquired here in Santa Fe, current population 72,000.
Not exactly a small town, but outside of Albuquerque, we are
geographically isolated from the big population centers. The
Zonophone was brought here from New England in the '70s, when its past
owner moved here.
To the subject at hand:
Two days ago, a big local consignment shop was having their annual
Fall sale; everything 30% off. This event draws what seems like half
of Santa Fe, and while my wife and I usually attend it, we generally
wait until late in the day to avoid the pressing crowds. Anyway, most
of what the shop sells is vintage furniture, rugs, artwork, etc., some
of it quite nice, but rarely anything of particular interest to a
phonograph collector, so no penalty for arriving when convenient.
We had been browsing around for about a quarter of an hour when the
proprietor let me know that there were "a couple of Victrolas" in the
next room. We continued looking around in the part of the store where
we currently were, and after about ten minutes more, I finally said
that I'd like to take a look and see what the phonographs were. We
headed casually across the distance, through the crowds of people and
things toward the next room. No sooner had I uttered the words "These
machines are going to be examples of the most common models, and
probably overpriced", than I could see the unmistakable silhouette of
Victor XVII or XVIII, just sticking out beyond the wall separating the
rooms.
Quickening my pace (they were still 20 feet away), I prepared my mind
to see a Victor XVII, the alternative possibility being somewhat
beyond my powers of imagination. Still, a Victor XVII would be a
great find although I already own one (courtesy of a very kind tip
from a thoughtful phono-L member, $200, and a 125 mile round-trip to
Albuquerque).
Coming up alongside the curvy machine, I noticed first that the top
curl of the rear corner post was mostly missing -- a clean break from
bashing the machine into a wall or truck bed, no doubt. I also
noticed the fine, expressive trim on the cabinet side and the chevron-
shaped veneer pattern and practically leapt the last couple of feet so
I could see the front of the machine, which left no doubt.
There's something unbelievable about finding a top-end machine in New
Mexico, and even though I have the XVII, and was already well aware of
the differences, I had to see the VV-XVIII on the ID plate with my own
eyes. The 3-digit serial number was also a strange thing to behold on
a New Mexico Victrola. This was a dirty, dusty machine, with some of
its edges and trim scraped up from careless handling, but at a glance,
in generally good and very solid shape except for a few scrapes and
that broken-off upper rear corner piece. Definitely not something out
of someone's phonograph collection, and just as you like to find them
-- clearly untouched for decades.
A quick appraisal of what it had to offer revealed:
Original gold V key;
Gold needle cup, all original casters, all correct knobs, front and
back;
Large, gold crank escutcheon detached and screws missing, but still
sitting on the crank about a half-inch out from the side of the cabinet;
Near perfect felt on the platter;
Almost certainly the original gold Exhibition soundbox, Ser. #87347B,
never rebuilt;
Very, very dirty under the lid and in general (what is this greasy,
black stuff?);
Most of the record storage area filled with (non-Victor) matched
albums full of classical records, and otherwise stuffed to the gills
with sheet music;
Missing the lower key escutcheon and motor lift knob (and that
maddeningly absent corner curl).
Price, $650, minus 30%.
Sold!
It's home now, and I'm having fun cleaning it up and getting more
intimately familiar with its exquisite details, and learning why this
model is so prized. It's going to be quite nice, ultimately, with a
respectable original finish, after a many hours of carefully applied
elbow grease and the appropriate preparations. The fancy work and
doors on the back with their gold-plated hardware, concealing a nice
compartment came as a complete surprise. You never see this view in
the books. The motor is relatively clean (very little of the usual
greasy build-up, just a yellowed film of old hard residue). A couple
drops of oil in all the pertinent places, and a light coat of fresh
grease on the governor worm, and it runs very quietly and evenly.
Even the speed indicator works. The main springs thud something awful
when winding down though, so I'll treat the motor to a proper tear-
down and rebuild when I attend to those noisy springs.
Comparing the total production of the spring-motor XVIII to the number
of Victrolas produced puts it at something like 0.0004 of the total
1906 - 1929 production, and .0009 of the 1906-1920 production total
(Roman numeral model-number era). This equates to less than one-tenth
of one percent of the total production of the early Victrola era, and
less than half of that when considering the total Victrola era, if I
did my math right.
Finally (for those who've had the patience to read this far), the gold-
plated motor lift knob was found in the needle cup, and the broken-off
upper-rear corner was found otherwise undamaged, in a recess of the
cabinet. It proved a seamless fit to the fracture surface. Anyone
got a key escutcheon?
I hope you've enjoyed this story, still fresh from the event and
accurately conveyed, and I wish similarly exciting phonograph
discoveries for those of you who have not yet had the pleasure.
Kindest regards,
Andy Baron
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