For eleven months in 1946 and 1947, a Detroit company called Sav-Way Industries made the most beautiful records in America. Tom Saffady’s idea was simple and slightly mad: print full-color illustrations, seal them in clear vinyl over an aluminum core, and sell music you could hang on the wall. The Vogue picture record was born gorgeous and died broke — Sav-Way was in receivership by August 1947, roughly seventy-four titles into the catalog — which is precisely why collectors have chased them ever since.
This is R774, from trumpeter Sonny Dunham and his orchestra. One side carries “Desert Fantasy,” a swing treatment of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade, illustrated with a moonlit oasis and a veiled dancer straight off a paperback cover. Flip it and “Save Me a Dream” — co-written, improbably, by Milton Berle — gives you a wind-blown blonde in full 1940s pin-up glory. Nobody ever bought a Vogue for the fidelity. They bought it for exactly this.
The record presents beautifully: bright, saturated color with only the faint lamination lines that are part of every Vogue’s construction. It has not been play-tested, and honestly, it shouldn’t have to work for a living. It comes paired with a chalkware “His Master’s Voice” display stand — Nipper and his gramophone, embossed lettering, ready for a shelf. A note in the interest of candor: the stand is unmarked, later-production, vintage-style — not original Victor store advertising, and we won’t pretend otherwise. It has a chip to one top corner and honest wear, all photographed. What it does, it does perfectly: it holds a seventy-nine-year-old picture record at attention, with the world’s most famous dog listening in.
One record, one stand, one finished piece of American pop history. Set it down and you’re done decorating.
From the Shaker Collection.
— The Memory Shop
For eleven months in 1946 and 1947, a Detroit company called Sav-Way Industries made the most beautiful records in America. Tom Saffady’s idea was simple and slightly mad: print full-color illustrations, seal them in clear vinyl over an aluminum core, and sell music you could hang on the wall. The Vogue picture record was born gorgeous and died broke — Sav-Way was in receivership by August 1947, roughly seventy-four titles into the catalog — which is precisely why collectors have chased them ever since.
This is R774, from trumpeter Sonny Dunham and his orchestra. One side carries “Desert Fantasy,” a swing treatment of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade, illustrated with a moonlit oasis and a veiled dancer straight off a paperback cover. Flip it and “Save Me a Dream” — co-written, improbably, by Milton Berle — gives you a wind-blown blonde in full 1940s pin-up glory. Nobody ever bought a Vogue for the fidelity. They bought it for exactly this.
The record presents beautifully: bright, saturated color with only the faint lamination lines that are part of every Vogue’s construction. It has not been play-tested, and honestly, it shouldn’t have to work for a living. It comes paired with a chalkware “His Master’s Voice” display stand — Nipper and his gramophone, embossed lettering, ready for a shelf. A note in the interest of candor: the stand is unmarked, later-production, vintage-style — not original Victor store advertising, and we won’t pretend otherwise. It has a chip to one top corner and honest wear, all photographed. What it does, it does perfectly: it holds a seventy-nine-year-old picture record at attention, with the world’s most famous dog listening in.
One record, one stand, one finished piece of American pop history. Set it down and you’re done decorating.
From the Shaker Collection.
— The Memory Shop
