The END of an era??
While living in Toledo in the early 90’s, my friend Bill & I were always on the hunt for vinyl. We had heard of a small record store in Detroit called MAYS USED RECORDS and decided to give it a call one afternoon from work. We were calling to get directions & store hours. Immediately the voice on the other end asked “where you coming from?” and once Toledo was replied… “You’ll never make it, I close at 6:00!!”. Our intention was not to go THAT day, but just get the info needed for a future road trip.
When the day arrived to head north to Detroit, we weren’t sure what to expect. Once the small store front was found on the legendary 8 Mile stretch (Eminem) (as I recall not much on a sign out front!) we parked. It wasn’t the “nicest” part of Detroit (such a thing???) and upon entering the small establishment, things looked even worse! The dusty old place with what seemed like a dirt floor was jammed packed with records, LPs in boxes & bins, 45s in mostly Pop-Tart boxes. Behind an old wooden desk, littered with 40oz empty beer bottles, with a butt hangin’ from his chapped lips…sat Bob Mays, owner & manager of this fine establishment. On the desk was a 70’s era 19inch color TV blastin’ a fuzzy but yet watch-able episode of THE GOLDEN GIRLS!! 
As we started sifting through the mess, trying to keep much of the dust off us, several phone calls came in. Bob also dealt in sports cards, as many were NAILED to the shabby walls! One line we heard as Bob fired back to the caller was “Jose Guzman… I got a lot of that asshole!” When a few young neighborhood kids (thugs?)came in asking about baseball cards, Bob sized them up and sent them on their way: “I’m closing in 15min cuz I got Bingo tonite”. Once they were gone, he kindly told us to take our time. I guess he knew we were honorable paying customers.
In any event, we were able to find some special gems for low prices. I think we visited the store 2 or 3 times, always a treat to see Bob and experience the thrill of sifting through his stash.
PRINTED FROM THE DETROIT FREE PRESS:
Legendary record shop to close
Bob Mays' 8 Mile store specialized in rare 45s
January 26, 2007
BY JOHN MONAGHAN
FREE PRESS SPECIAL WRITER
Even with half the discs already removed from the tiny 8 Mile storefront, you still might think record crates are holding up the ceiling at Mays Used Records. While collectors pull buried treasures long hidden beneath stacks of vinyl, they know that time is not on their side.
A small but audible outcry is greeting the closing of the shop next month. And not just among the area hipsters and band members who have been frequenting Bob Mays' place since 1975, but the English, European and Japanese record geeks who make regular visits to sample his mix of rock, funk, jazz and soul.
"Bob is an institution in Detroit. His store will be sadly missed by record collectors from all over the world," said David Thorley, owner of the U.K.-based Web site www.beatstreetrecords, before launching into a story about Bob surprising him with a box of soul 45s found under his bed.
"It's one of those places you thought would always be there," said Willy Wilson, a collector and former WDET-FM (101.9) radio host known for his eclectic taste in records. "It was one of those hidden jewels. You kept it on the down-low, because you'd always find so many good records that you didn't want to share with other people."
You might think that iPods and Ebay have led to the closing of the store, but that isn't the case. Business was steady earlier this month when Mays got the word that his nondescript, 525-square-foot storefront would be razed for parking at a neighboring health clinic.
At 68, Mays said he is too old to look for a new home for the store. Instead, he will set up at shows and keep up his regular contacts from home. He knows he will miss the steady stream of records that come through the door, both in his current location, where he has been for 21 years, and a previous one on the flip side of 8 Mile.
Last Saturday, the store was packed. Mays, bald on top, hair growing long over his ears, looked like a grizzled George Carlin as he sat behind a desk piled high with vinyl.
Born in Kentucky, raised in Hazel Park, Mays first opened up as a coin dealer in the early 1970s. One day someone came in with a box of 78 rpm records. When Mays bought them for two cents apiece and sold them for 10, he knew he was on to something.
The move to record seller was a good one. While the price of coins has stagnated, record prices continue to grow, especially for the rare 45s Bob specializes in.
"Not that long ago, there were only a handful of $100 records," he says. "Now there are stacks of them, at least in the price guides."
Collectors typically appreciate Mays' pricing, with records marked down to about half of their book value. Beatles and Elvis records go down another half because they are so common.
The Temptations' "Psychedelic Shack" and the Supremes' "Where Did Our Love Go?" LPs in good condition? Maybe $3 or $4. The soul LP "The Intruders Are Together" in nearly new condition is marked $55. Mays has thousands of 45s starting at 40 cents apiece. Condition, he says, is everything.
Not everyone loves the store. Jay Garbus of Hamtramck's Record Graveyard said he won't miss the cigarette smell that permeates records purchased at Mays.
British collectors, however, see a visit to the shop as a religious pilgrimage, "heaven," according to Roy Gennard, who has a visit scheduled before Mays must vacate on Feb. 15. "I remember going in there the first time with former Motown artist Frances Nero. Even she was taken aback with all the old 45s Bob had," he said.
Gennard and other regulars are hot for Northern Soul, which loosely describes a decades-old British obsession with Motown-style grooves.
Mays' reputation for unearthing rare records took a literal turn recently when he started digging up records in his backyard. The story goes that, 25 years ago, Mays' German shepherd had dug a deep trench along his fenceline. "I needed fill dirt, so I made a big hole and threw in a bunch of 78s," he remembers. A few of the records, especially the doo-woop titles, have since become collectible.
Once cleaned, some of the reclaimed records have fetched upward of $10 apiece. He can get considerably more for "Life of Ease," the 4 Arcs single he swears he buried multiple copies of -- if he could only find them. "I have dug in seven or eight places since," he said. "I haven't found them yet, but I know they're down there somewhere."
Here's one I was lucky enough to find hidden somewhere amongst the clutter. Detroit's own legend:
Andre Williams-Sweet Little Pussy CatBob..this one's dedicated to you...THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES!!!!!!!!!
Rosco Gordon-Booted
