Exploring the neighborhood’s record-shop history

The Broadway Record Centre ca. 1983 (Image courtesy Darryl Abrahms)

Darryl Abrahms and the original Bomb Shelter Records sign (Image: Todd Matthews)

Eighty five miles separate Capitol Hill from Ashford, Washington, a town situated in the Mount Rainier foothills and populated by roughly 500 residents. For one of those residents, Darryl Abrahms, a Capitol Hill connection is contained in two banker boxes stuffed with photos, promotional materials, and a few dozen record albums dating back more than 40 years, when Abrahms owned a small monopoly of neighborhood record shops — The Record Library, Broadway Record Centre, and Bomb Shelter Records.

The shops were located at 112 Broadway E, across from Dick’s Drive-In in the Broadway Arcade, which was razed years ago and is now the site of M2M Market, Broadway Connection, and the Capitol Hill Light Rail Station.

“There was this culture on Capitol Hill—a lot of people were dressing goth or punk with spikes,” Abrahms (formerly Abratt), 71, recalled during an interview in May at his Ashford home, a small cabin with an upstairs loft-turned-office, where he keeps all the documents and ephemera from his record store days. Abrahms agreed to meet as part of my ongoing interest in exploring Capitol Hill’s music-related history.

“People in the area were music lovers. At that time, there was a severe economic recession. There were days when Broadway seemed desolate with empty shopfronts. Many people found comfort, inspiration, and even joy in listening to music. I’m glad that I was able to contribute to this.”

In January 1982, Abrahms was 29 years old and newly arrived in Seattle from South Africa. He moved into a studio apartment in the Raleigh Scott building on 14th Avenue East and, three months later, opened The Record Library with an inventory of 1,500 albums he rented three at a time to customers who paid 25 to 80 cents per day and a $12 annual membership fee. The shop was wildly popular and drew music lovers from as far away as the Eastside, Olympia, and Vashon Island. In less than six months, Abrahms’ inventory tripled, and he opened a second Record Library location in the University District.

Reporters from The Seattle Times, Seattle P-I, Capitol Hill Times, Seattle Business Journal, and even Seattle University’s Spectator stopped by the shop to interview Abrahms and ask the question on everyone’s mind—was it legal to rent records?

Inside The Record Library ca. 1983 (Image: Darryl Abrahms)

At that time, America was home to more than 100 shops renting records (more than 700 shops operated in Japan). For decades, the Seattle Public Library, hardly a hub for bootleggers, had loaned its vast collection of 20,000 records for free. And not to be overlooked, the University District’s Cellophane Square ran print advertisements reminding people they also rented records.

“I reached out to attorneys who told me there was no law restricting record rentals at that time,” said Abrahms, who owned two record-rental shops in South Africa before he moved to Seattle.

Major record labels claimed home taping “threatened the existence of American music,” costing the record industry nearly $3 billion annually. One Seattle music writer did the math: you could spend $22 recording 12 rented records on six blank cassette tapes or buy those records for a little over $100. “It’s a relatively recent phenomenon, and we’re obviously strongly opposed to it,” a Warner Brothers representative told the same music writer. “The rental dealer realizes a profit while artists, composers, and performers receive nothing.”

One idea was to collect royalties on sales of recording equipment and blank cassette tapes. Instead, the recording industry lobbied Congress to pass federal legislation to crack down on record rentals.

“It was an intimidating situation because I was up against the record industry,” Abrahms explained. “Sometimes, I would go on radio shows to talk about The Record Library. One time, I was on a show with a guy who was a music producer from England. He told me if I tried to do in England what I was doing in Seattle, the record producers would break my hands. But my attitude was, ‘I’ve got to go for it.’”

Darryl Abrahms with employee Debbie Steinhauer (Image — Darryl Abrahms)

The Broadway Arcade ca. 1983 (Image — Darryl Abrahms)

Aiming to diversify business and create a backup plan should Congress ban record rentals, Abrahms opened the Broadway Record Centre in June 1983. “Some of my customers were so beholden to music, they would go without eating sometimes to be able to buy a new album,” Abrahms told me. “Customers who rented records at The Record Library also bought records at the Broadway Record Centre.”

Five months later, Abrahms opened Bomb Shelter Records next door to The Record Library. “One day, I was in the Broadway Record Centre when Bruce Pavitt came in,” Abrahms explained. “He was interested in opening an alternative record store. I wanted to work with him because he was so integrated into the culture. Space was available in the Broadway Arcade, so I opened Bomb Shelter Records, which was a whole different thing. It was very much about alternative music. It sold hardcore punk, skateboards, pins, and accessories.”

Pavitt, who co-founded Sub Pop Records, recalls selling records to Duff McKagan (before he joined Guns N’ Roses), Mark Arm (before he co-founded Mudhoney), and music photographer Charles Peterson. According to Pavitt, the store released an EP by the U-Men, which sold out its 1,000-copy pressing. Pavitt and Russ Battaglia went on to open Fallout Records and Skateboards on E Olive Way.

Abrahms was so ingrained in the neighborhood, he sponsored a local soccer team, Broadway Recordia, whose home turf was Miller Playfield at 19th Ave E and E John.

“We lost every match,” he recalled with a shrug while unrolling a team poster in his Ashford cabin. “I sponsored the team for one season.”

In October 1984, Congress amended the copyright law, essentially quashing the record-rental business model. Abrahms’s Broadway and U-District record shops shuttered four months later, and he moved to the Eastside, where he opened the short-lived Look and Listen Home Entertainment Center in Bellevue. In later years, he worked as a salesman in the Electronics Department at Frederick & Nelson in downtown Seattle and Magnolia Hi-Fi in Bellevue. He also spent 12 years training people to use Intuit’s QuickBooks software.

Inside the Broadway Arcade ca. 1983 (Image — Darryl Abrahms)

The Record Library employees Roberta Kearns and Paul Pelton (Image — Darryl Abrahms)

Inside Bomb Shelter Records ca. 1983 (Image — Darryl Abrahms)

Darryl Abrahms_ office at The Record Library ca. 1983 (Image — Darryl Abrahms)

Abrahms moved to Ashford six years ago. Inspired by the natural surroundings—deer grazed outside his cabin during our meeting—he volunteered for the Washington Trails Association and the Pacific Crest Trail Association, launched a line of gloves for outdoors enthusiasts, and now works as the assistant manager of the Mount Tahoma Trails Association’s Copper Creek Hut.

Abrahms’ cabin includes hints of his record store days. The original sign for The Record Library hangs above the main room. He said someone at Seattle Weekly designed its distinct logo. Rifling through those banker boxes in his home office, Abrahms unpacked old photos of his record stores, a sealed copy of that rare U-Men EP, newsletters sent to his former customers, meticulous business ledgers (a dot-matrix printout of a meeting agenda for March 13, 1984, shows an organizational chart with Pavitt listed as Bomb Shelter Records’ manager and buyer), original signage for Broadway Record Centre and Bomb Shelter Records, and other ephemera.

“When I look back at my record store days, I feel grateful and pleased about the experience,” Abrahms said. “Running The Record Library on Broadway was an exciting adventure and a time of personal creativity and growth. Music has always been a big part of my life, and I was glad I could share my passion with people on Capitol Hill. I am proud of having owned those record shops all those years ago. It was exhilarating to know that I had created a business that was original, innovative, and gave people easier access to the music they loved.

“When I travel through Capitol Hill [these days],” he added, “I get a small rush of adrenaline knowing I had the time of my life living and working there.”

Capitol Hill resident Todd Matthews is a writer, editor, and journalist whose work has appeared in more than two dozen magazines, newspapers, books, and other publications in print and online over the past 25 years.

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