More Tales from the Last Record Store

On the outskirts of Gillette, Wyoming in the 1980s was a record store in a trailer.   It was straight out of a David Lynch movie.   You go into the store and of course you are the only patron.  The owner sits behind a makeshift desk reading a newspaper.  He's obviously happy to see you, but it playing it cool.  You may be the only customer he has seen all day.  Which is not surprising.   In the old adage that success in retail is based on location, this store is about 10 miles south of a small Wyoming town where the only businesses around it are oil supply vendors.  And its not like there was much traffic going by of people shopping.  Rather, most folks like me probably passed the record store on the way to work in the coal mines which were 50 miles out of town (I worked there for two summers), or to the oil fields.  In short, this was the worst location imaginable for a record store.   Unless you were weird about music like me.  Then, the voyage necessary to go to the store took on mythic proportions like some kind of quest.

The name of the store was appropriately called "The Last Record Store."  In 2014 that name might suggest connotations that record stores are dying out and that this store may be one of the few remaining. But in the 1980s, record stores with a decent location were still a going concern.  Kids like me still bought vinyl and cassettes, and waited patiently for the new release of Devo or the Cars to make their way out to Wyoming.  I remember the Last Record store probably stocked more Ramones and Dead Kennedys then another other record store in Wyoming, Montana, and probably the Dakotas thrown in.  You had to go to Denver to find one of those mega record stores.   The Last Record store could have easily been called the "only" record store--or the last stop of any retail business (other than a gas station) for hundreds of miles .

The first record I bought at the Last Record store was the Ramone's "End of the Century."   I think that was their foray into pop which might have been produced by Phil Specter:

I may have bought my Germs and Agent Orange albums there as well.   I remember the owner raising his eyebrows when I asked to order "Tales of Topographic Oceans."  But he obliged.   I never knew his name until I googled it recently and found his obituary:

GILLETTE - Celebration of Life and gathering for Robert "Library Bob" Parkin, 53, will be at 7 p.m. Thursday, June 28, 2007 at the Walker Funeral Home Chapel.

The family requests that you do not wear black but make this a tribute and share a story.

He died on June 14, 2007 at his home in Gillette.

He was born on July 20, 1953, the son of John and Mae (Berkley) Parkin in Wanaque, N.J.

He was raised and educated and graduated high school in Clifton, N.J. After graduating high school, Bob was inducted into the United Sates Army and served a four-year term in Vietnam. After his honorable discharge from the service, he traveled to Colorado and attended Colorado Mountain College in Leadville, where he met the love of his life, Sally Crookston.

They were married on Aug. 16, 1980 in Rock Springs. They moved to Gillette and owned and operated The Last Record Store for numerous years. He then became employed with the Campbell County Public Library maintenance department where he had worked for the last 23 years. He was recently promoted to the Campbell County Court House Maintenance Department as a supervisor.

They were blessed with two sons; John Conner "JC" and Alex Parkin.

Bob was a Little League Coach, a Babe Ruth Baseball manager, an outdoor enthusiast and took his family camping in the Big Horn Mountains every summer. He was also a motorcycle freak and both his sons were raised on dirt bikes. He had a way of making people feel accepted being he was very non judgmental.

He was a great cook and was an instant celebrity among anyone who ever ate at his table. He was a vivid story teller and had a talent for bringing Yankee Stadium, the Nam jungles, or a great blues concert alive to the listeners of his life.

He believed in picking up hitch hikers and buying them dinner, simply on the basis that they seemed to be a little worse off than he was at the time.

He was a magnificently compassionate and loving human being, a wonderful father and friend.

Survivors include his wife and two sons, all of Gillette; his mother, Mae Turneau of New Jersey, his sister, Shirley Parkin of Clifton, N.J., his mother-in-law and her husband of Gillette, Wyoming, and one nephew.

He was preceded in death by his father, John Parkin and his father-in-law.

A memorial has been established and memorials may be sent in care of Walker Funeral Home, 410 Medical Arts Court, Gillette, 82716.