Me and my Klipsch

I have always loved music for as long as I can remember. From my first transistor radio, surreptitiously hidden from my folks under my pillow at night in ’65 to my Dad’s “Lloyds Stereo”, which to my young ears sounded like a restaurant, because that was the only place that I had heard more than the one speaker that was on our previous “Victrola”.

From garage bands, to concerts, to scratched records and badly worn 8 tracks I found myself always wanting better. By the third year of my nomadic college career I found myself at Syracuse University. While in a local record shop near campus, one spring morn, I heard some crisp, clean sound like I had never heard before. Despite the store being 20 feet by 75 feet with 15 foot ceilings, two relatively small speakers filled the establishment with awesome sound. They were Heresies. The storeowner informed me that a venue down on Erie Blvd., Erie Sound, was the place to go.

That week I hitched a ride, and walked into a super hi-end audio salon, that also sold grand pianos. Undaunted, I walked up to the 50-something-plaid suit-wearin’-salesman and told him of my quest. By all rights he should have shown this pony-tailed-ripped-jean-sportin-no-money-havin-college-no-goodnick the door. He was either a really nice guy or it was a really slow day. He treated me to a taste of my future, when he indulged me by piping some Ella Fitzgerald through the Klipshorns that were on the floor. My hair stood up on end and my heart was won over, and I was certainly no jazz fan at the time. He gently wiped the drool from my mouth and brought me back to reality informing me that for a mere $450 I could have my own little piece of the Klipsch legend, and that if at any time in the ensuing years I wished to trade up, with full trade-in value, I could eventually work my way up to the magnificent Khorns. I barely had money for food, never mind stereo equipment, but I rationalized that books were an expendable item so the purchase was made.

In the following weeks I must have been an unbearable jackass, raving about the sound from the Heresies, because April fools day, my roommates staged a phony robbery while we were out and my precious Heresies appeared to have been taken. They let me mourn for an hour or so and then invited me upstairs for a beer. Happy-happy-joy-joy as I opened the door they cranked some Supertramp on my setup Heresies! Sound salvation.

Over the next 2 years I left college, moved back to Jersey and out of boredom and a misplaced sense of creativity I rounded the corners and added foam grills to the H’s. I painted them black and began upgrading my audio setup. By ‘78 I was ready to upgrade to the LaScalas. I called Erie Sound and made arrangements. I must say, they were quite benevolent. Do you know that they bought back those H’s, as mutilated as they were, for full value trade-in toward my new LaScalas! Changing the world, one upgrade at a time.

It just so happened that a friend of a friend of some college buddies was having an end of semester party up at Syracuse. This was all I needed to help me entice some road trip cohorts. We loaded the pickup and of course brought my entire setup and a box of albums, since to actually wait until I got back home to hear the setup would require delayed gratification, a concept that was all too foreign to me at the time. So we planned to treat all the party guests to my new Klipsch LaScalas. Only one problem. We neglected to tell them!

So when we pulled into the driveway and began unloading these massive speakers the entire neighborhood was up in arms. Our hosts had become hostile. We had a short confab amongst ourselves and came to the only logical conclusion. We would hijack the party.

I remembered a grass and stone amphitheater in a local park that I had discovered in my years at SU. We gave the hosts our ultimatum/suggestion, grabbed the kegs and announced the move. Mind you, I hadn’t been there in two years I didn’t even know if the amphitheater still existed. It did. We get there, unload, setup, find the electrical hookup and, wonder of wonders, we have “juice”.

The amphitheater consisted of an uncovered sixty foot stone stage, seventy five foot semicircular grass floor area leading to five stone fronted grass floored terraces all lined by the natural hill and pine trees. Just incredible acoustics! On a summer day back in the twenties I’m sure three or four hundred people could enjoy some summer stock or an instrumental ensemble. Of course we’d be having none of that. Armed with 2 kegs and two Lascalas, we cranked up the volume in one of sweetest spots I have ever partied. The sound filled the natural bowl, spilled over into the surrounding park and the small band of Jersey invaders multiplied their numbers until a hundred fifty or so enjoyed the sound. As each group of newcomers came over the hill, the inevitable reactions ensued; “We thought a band was playing!”, Are you with a radio station?”, “Are you giving away tee shirts?”. These refrains I would hear time and time again over the years. Eventually our original hosts were drawn to the park, they brought the chips and dip and it became quite the event, with the amazing LaScalas center stage!

I know that the audiophiles in the house are cringing, what with taking these beautiful pieces of sonic furniture into the elements but, back at home in Jersey, I felt the need to share the legend. Like Woody Allen in Annie Hall, I tried over and again to recreate that SU event. I had a brainstorm that summer when I discovered that my little brother had a friend who lived “near” the local grammar school. We ran a series of extension cords from this friends’ house, through the backyard, through the woods, across the field, to the setup. Well over one hundred yards. We did that “frisbee In the field” thing to “Houses of the Holy” before the police showed up. It was time to get my own place.

By Spring of ’79, in my new place, the upstairs of a two family, we staged our first and only toga party. We had no furniture, so to fill the apartment; we went garbage picking and gathered a bunch of mattresses. The LaScalas had become a budding legend and we packed sixty toga’d guests into our apartment. As I put on Stanley Clarke’s “The Dancer”, a favorite of ours, back in the day, an old friend of mine, John Stec, began to, oddly enough, “do The Stec Dance”. It was a strange amalgam of West Virginia flatfootin’ and the brooms in the “Sorcerer’s Apprentice”. Of course, no one could resist such a performance and we all began to follow suit. A train developed and chugged throughout the apartment, down the stairs, past my irate neighbors, down the block, until the last of all sixty people could no longer hear the music. Two hundred yards away, we all watched as the police surrounded the building, bullhorns drawn, telling my empty apartment and beautiful LaScalas that the party was over.

In my NEW place, an old 20’s style house, with no human neighbors, my Klipschs and I had found the perfect home. The house had an eighteen by twenty four by twelve foot living room with a fireplace at one end and a stage dining room at the other end. The numbers at each party grew from holiday to holiday. Somehow the Klipschs always inspired some mania and their reputation grew.

At one particular party, my cousin, upon watching me duck-walk through the crowd with my stringless-fender-knockoff, to the just released George Thorogood album, pulled me aside and remarked that he didn’t know that I played guitar. In his defense, the combination of the raw sound of GT, and the perfection of the LaScalas fooled even me. I really should have learned to play more than just air guitar. We were never in short supply of audience or performers in the air guitar army inspired by the Klipschs. The pure, powerful sound does something to a crowd. I have witnessed the strangest combination of bikers, preppies, blue and white collar men and women, drop their guard and throw themselves into Buzbee-Berkely-esce proportions of air guitar at the chest thumping Klipsch sound.

For two years my Klipschs and I hosted some of the most awesome parties from house to dancehall. New Years Eve 1981, after renting a local church hall (the house was reaching it’s limits), spending thousands on accoutrements, we were informed, by the monsignor that we would have to leave, immediately! Someone, unassociated with our party, had trashed part of the church. It was only ten o’clock, and I had one hundred fifty paid guests. I realized that there was only one answer. Pack up the LaScalas and head the 15 miles back to the house. We announced the move, asked for the crowd’s cooperation, and do you know that one hundred and fifty people on New Years Eve, drove the fifteen miles to the house without a peep, just to hear the Klipshs. We even gained a number of people who just happened to see this caravan of cars and decided to investigate. I swear, I’ve got testimonials to prove it.

That era ended, Labor Day Weekend, at eight AM the morning after, when I awoke to the dulcet tones of Van Halen One. As I cleared the sleep from my eyes, to hear my name being called by the man in the black shoes, inches from my face, I noticed my dilemma. Somehow, I was naked in a sleeping bag, on my front lawn, all the windows and doors open, the debris of two hundred Klipsh fans scattered about and my LaScalas singing me a wake-up song. The landlord, who lived in California, had chosen this day to have his first visit. It was time for my LaScalas and I to move on.

I eventually met a girl that would become my first wife, and in a last act of bachelor bravado, decided to upgrade once again to the “Holy Grail”, Khorns. AAAhhhhhh!!! (That was angels singing).

Over the years the Klipsch sound had infected quite a few of my crew, so I rang up the gang at Erie Sound and planned another road trip. This time we rented a U-haul trailer and not only traded in the LaScalas for Khorns but, bought seven pairs of Heresies for family and friends, which to this day, twenty years later, sound as brand new.

In the ensuing years as my family grew, my budget shrank and my listening habits changed. My Khorns and I made fewer public appearances. Barring the occasional family function, or hall party, we had but a few adventures.

On a hot summer night in ’88, we rented a generator, hired a roadie, and took the Klipsch show to the Meadowlands Arena. We staked out three or four parking spaces, bought off a security guard and threw Klipsch-sized tailgate party before a Jimmy Page concert. I had built a hinged plywood corner for the Khorns and made the most important modification one can make to ones Klipschs. I ADDED WHEELS! Oooo my achin’ baaack! No more.

For two hours and two hundred yards before the show we entertained questions that I had heard so many times before. “Are you a radio station? I thought there was a band playing! Are you giving away tee shirts?” They always expressed amazement at the clarity and accuracy of the Klipsch sound. A buddy of my brother, made the commitment and bought a pair of Khorns and we did a number of events together over the years. Mind you, I never did this stuff professionally. It was all for the love of music and the urge to share the Klipsch ambiance.

My Khorns outlasted my first marriage and played at both of my weddings, and will make an appearance at my daughter’s wedding this summer. They sound as awesome and clean as that first day in Syracuse, when I fell in love. The company, its’ product, their policy of upgrade and guarantee is extraordinary. In ’88 before my first wedding, I blew a tweeter. (No, that’s not why the marriage ended!) A simple phone call to Arkansas, and at no cost, a replacement was delivered, no questions asked. Never in all my life have I found a company that stands behind their product so fully. Where can you trade-up and get full value for a years old product toward the upgrade purchase? I’ll tell you, nowhere but Klipsch.

Whether it was entering upon that unmistakable sound at a restaurant in New Orleans, or a dance club in Jacksonville, I would never be surprised that it turned out to be Klipsch speakers. Throughout the years, Klipsh has been such a character in my life’s stories, that when I came upon this contest on December 13th, I was compelled to share. All that I shared is true and accurate as nearly as I can remember. As evidenced by the wonderful stories on this site, Klipsch is quite the wonderful phenomenon. Thanks for letting me share. Thank you Mr. Klipsch.