Old Things Considered: On the Road Again

So if the mountains won’t come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must go to the mountains. Okay, so we didn’t exactly go to the mountains last Saturday. No, it was on to Columbia, a favorite Beem Happy Hunting Ground. The place where we find amazing bargains on 78 rpms, Hillside Pottery (originally made in Catonsville – we’re just bringing it home), and various other cool things. The place where the parking is free, the people are friendly, and the food is cheap.

Oh, wait, not that Columbia. . .we’re talking Columbia, Pennsylvania, midway between York and Lancaster, the old town on the river, not the new town on Route 29. No, our Columbia of antiquing choice was up and running long before the planned community between Baltimore and D.C. was a twinkling in Jim Rouse’s  eye.

Anyway, having shopped locally the week before (remember the National Road Yard Sale?), we decided to hit the long, lonesome highway, I-83. We cruised into York and picked up some fresh chicken and veggies at the Central Market, then sojourned eastward.

This is what you need to know about the other Columbia: there are three major established antique malls in town, not to mention a string of smaller shops and a mall-in-progress (more about that later). There is a glassware factory outlet store where, if you pick through the remains, you can (and we have) come up with first-quality stemless Riedel wine glasses for under two bucks. And there’s an old-fashioned drug store with a luncheon counter that reminds me for all the world of Catonsville’s now-defunct Moss’s pharmacy, once a mecca for kids like me who read comic books back in the ‘50s.

The problem with a visit to Columbia is deciding where to spend the afternoon: there are so many enticing choices. Last weekend, we had no doubts. For us, it was all about vintage records at “Partners and Friends,” a great antiquing spot even for those without phonographic addictions. But of course, we are indeed among the addicted, and so we made our way up the narrow staircase and into the section of the multi-dealer mall where the records are stacked. We skipped past the 33s and 45s and made a beeline for the old stuff. We settled in and set about shuffling through the several thousand records in their inventory, pulling out possibilities (Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters for me, Tommy Dorsey and 1920s foxtrots for Ken). We then ordered the stack of candidates for our collection and cross-referenced them with our spread sheet to determine which discs we already own. What, you expect us to remember what’s in our nearly 2,000-title collection without a cheat sheet? We checked for cracks and major dingies and made our way to the front desk with 38 new treasures. At a quarter a pop, we were looking at ten dollars and change. Not bad.

Before heading home, we checked out the fledgling multi-dealer location, where we turned up a Spike Jones record not in our collection (a rarity) and three other interesting labels which I don’t recall at the moment. Two more bucks poorer, we headed home, where, after dinner, we settled in to enjoy our new acquisitions.

Of particular interest, on closer examination,was a Dean Martin demonstration record (I am only two degrees of separation from him, but that’s another story), a Pied Piper rendition of “Remember Me” (not as good as the elusive Bing Crosby version, but better than nothing), and some funky old thing (not Hawaiian) with a lot of ukulele playing in the background. Eddie Vedder, eat your heart out.

And to think we were never more than 68.19 miles from the Catonsville Post Office. . . .