Diary of a Columbia House member

RIB’S RAMBLINGS

Imagine being a teenager or young adult and waiting for the mail every month, watching for that large Columbia House Record Club envelope to arrive.

I felt like Ralphie from A Christmas Story anxiously awaiting his Little Orphan Annie Secret Circle letter to get my decoder message.

Imagine the freedom and excitement of ordering 11 albums for free and getting the 12th for a penny.

This was the life of being a Columbia House member. When I filled out my membership form and sent it away with my penny taped to it, I had no idea what future dealings with this company would hold. It was during the onset of cassette tapes as the most popular form of listening to music and I had just installed a cassette playing stereo into the dashboard of my brand new 1980 Mustang.

It was time to fill up on the likes of Steve Miller Band, Pat Benatar and The Beatles.

Oh wait, the Beatles were nowhere to be found on the order form. What gives, Columbia House? After all, I was hoping to fill that little passenger compartment of my new car with the hot guitar licks of Revolution and Back in the USSR. No such luck, kid. Apparently, the Beatles had no deal with Columbia House and their actual albums were not available through the club, as far as I could tell.

I combed over the lists as they arrived each month, hoping for a glimpse of Abbey Road.

No Yesterday and Today. No Revolver, and certainly no White Album.

But you could grab a greatest hits compilations album if you so desired, as long as you were ready to search for it.

Needless to say I wasn’t a happy camper. I hoped against hope that Columbia House would eventually see the error of their ways and get the Beatles original albums under their umbrella. Perhaps they did after I excommunicated myself from their grasp.

I could get all the Tony Bennett that I wanted, but his version of Eleanor Rigby just didn’t cut it for me.

I filled out that first form, ripping the little stamps, licking them and attaching them to the order card.

I grabbed two Pat Benatar albums right off the bat with In the Heat of the Night and Crimes of Passion.

I believe I also ordered Styx Grand Illusion and Steve Miller Band’s Book of Dreams, which I already had on vinyl.

I don't remember the rest necessarily but suffice to say I was able to get myself some Simon and Garfunkel and Eagles and eventually, a Beatles compilation that contained the German version of She Loves You, called Sie Liebt Dich.

I rounded it out by getting a Village People album for my mom because she loved them and she was supplying the penny and the $1.85 shipping and handling cheque. So what could go wrong? All I had to do was buy eight more cassettes at regular price ($15) over the next three years. A piece of cake.

What I didn’t realize is that good old Columbia House employed a negative option billing practice, which meant that every month they sent out a new envelope with the selection of the month.

The catch was, that you had to remember to fill out a form if you didn’t want that selection. If you didn’t mail in the form saying you didn’t want it, they sent it to you and you had to belly up to the bar and pay for it.

How quaint that I received the Best of Diana Ross and the Supremes and the Top Hits of Rickie Lee Jones, which was basically one song — Chuck E’s in Love.

I didn’t want them but got them anyway and was forced to pay for them.

So I got very diligent and started to make sure I filled out the monthly forms, rejecting album after album of acts I wasn’t into.

I managed to fulfill my membership and got out of the Columbia House Record Club by purchasing another six cassettes on top of the two I didn’t want and the 12 that I got initially.

I thought I was free of them until the Columbia House Book Club started sending me envelopes, but that’s a story for a different week.