A few weeks ago, went down to Morro Bay to pick up a 1950s capiz shell stereo console / cabinet I inherited from my grandmother, who recently went to live in a home. Forgot to write about that trip – went via Amtrak, enjoyable but slow, and also picked up a nursing rocker from my mother – her favorite one, she’s sacrificing for the baba, so sweet. The console originally belonged to my dad, who bought it before he was married. I’ve always loved it, was fascinated by the shells as a child, and it was an honor to be asked to take it over. I also wanted to get all my stereo gear out of reach of the baba, and to (finally) get all of my records out of tacky wooden crates.
The built-in speakers sound pretty bad, not worth saving, wanted to use the cabinets to store LPs, so yesterday started ripping the old speakers out. Like opening King Tut’s tomb – cracked open the wood and the “Hi Fi” lettering hit me square on from gold foil stickers. “Roger Charles III, Custom Construction.”

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The speakers hadn’t seen the light of day for 50 years, and were perfectly preserved. What really amazed me was that the wood inside the cabinets was finished to a polish just like the outside, even though it was never meant to be seen by anyone. They don’t do things like that anymore.
Also had to remove the turntable from the center section (not original), then scour all – starting to smell musty. Let the whole thing dry in the sun all day today – hot. This afternoon, extra long bike ride through Oakland hills, then came back to finish the job as the sun set.

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The inside height of the cabinets was 24.5″, barely enough room for two layers of LPs, so will have to use a plexiglass separator between layers rather than real shelf, as planned. Also didn’t count on the fact that two of my components have rack mount face plates, which makes them too wide for the center area. They had to go on top for now – will probably just run them faceless eventually and put all inside. Also had to take one of the speakers off its stand and put on top of the console, which sucks, since it’ll send vibrations right into the turntable. Argh. Only one solution – buy a house. But no room to do it any other way for now.

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My grandfather cracked the marble in the 60s by dropping a hammer on it after hanging a picture. Shame about that. Anyway, this looks so much better than it did with the wooden crates and all the components all over the damn place. Amy’s psyched about it too, and it’s one tiny corner of the house that’s now partially childproofed – just need some of those inside-door latches.