What do you say when a genuine legend passes? Tower Records
founder Russ Solomon died at home Sunday night, sipping whiskey and watching
the Academy Awards, an original to the end. He was 92. His passing triggered
the expected nods, from NPR to Rolling Stone, and my Facebook feed is full of posts from my Tower tribe tonight, expressing
sorrow and condolences to Russ's family.
But the recurring theme that stands out above all is one of gratitude.
Truly the stuff of legends, Russ built a billion dollar international company
from a card table in his father's drugstore, and we got to be a part of it. At
one time or another, every single one of us thought, "This is my job—I get paid
to do this." We got to come to work in jeans and t-shirts, listen to music, be
surrounded by books, magazines, movies, and music, and most importantly, we met
each other. We formed our tribe. We were proud of being a band of misfits,
joked about being unemployable anywhere else, and collectively knew more about
music, books, movies, and pop culture than anyone on the planet.
It all came to an end 11 years ago, which on any given day
can feel like a lifetime or a week. But the passing years only strengthen our
bond. I've given up trying to explain what it is that holds us together to
people who've never experienced a job that was anything more than just a job.
Russ had his quirks, and didn’t worry about speaking his
mind. He told me on more than one occasion that a book ad I'd helped design was "absolute shit." Then he followed up with, "But what do I know, kiddo? I'm just
an old man," said with a sparkle in his eye. At one time, my office in the
advertising suite shared a common wall with his office. And I always heard
music playing. The man dearly loved all kinds of music.
The last time I saw Russ was in October of 2015, during our
giant three-day reunion that coincided with the release of the Colin Hanks movie, All Things Must Pass. He was pleased with the movie and touched by the
crowd of former employees who came to Sacramento to relive our glory days,
still insisting that it was us, "the kids in the stores," who made Tower the
success that it was. I thanked him for an amazing 22 years, and he said, "Twenty-two?
Were you twelve when you started?!" That charm and humor plus a passion for
making his stores more than just places to buy CDs and books built an empire.
Tower was more than music...it was an experience, a lifestyle, and it was a
family. Thank you for everything. Rest in peace, Russ.
