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Every Saturday for years, drummers would come to see Sam D’Amico. Sometimes they were looking for a drumhead or a hard-to-find stick. Other times they were looking for a bite to eat and a few laughs. No matter the reason — from heartfelt advice to a makeshift lunch table made out of snare drums — they knew a visit to the Sam D’Amico Music Center would be exactly what the doctor ordered and they’d leave feeling the good vibrations.
Last weekend, the store at 1530 Moyamensing Ave. was crowded with drummers, drum sets, cymbal heads, a guitar and just as many autographed photos of percussion legends as there were varieties of drumsticks. But this weekend was different. The sign out front read "Retirement Sale Everything on Sale" and the people inside gathered for one of the last times 76-year-old D’Amico would sign receipts and sell merchandise. As for the retail space now open only Saturdays, Mondays and by appointment until all of its contents are sold — though it was once open 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. Mondays to Saturdays and 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sundays — seems it also will close as no buyers have shown interest.
Sal Spera, who’s frequented the business since 1978 when he was just 12 years old, compared the Music Center to "going to see your uncle who owns the music store." Spera, of Broad and Dickinson streets, declared D’Amico and his shop "the foundation of drumming in Philadelphia."
The store owner stood in the back near his office and just smiled with a sad look in his eyes as he listened to his patrons reminisce. To him, staying in business for 33 years can be credited to a simple yet oftentimes overlooked mantra. "To me it was never work," he said of the store he personally opened and closed six days a week. "To be successful in life, you have to love what you’re doing. Don’t worry about money; as long as you can pay your bills, you don’t have to worry about money."
The once-pro drummer who played for many bands including The Sam D’Amico Trio at clubs like the Capri Lounge and Palumbo’s taught lessons for 25 years before opening the shop that would expand to three storefronts along Moyamensing said he’d been considering retirement for the last two years. Six months ago, he started telling customers he would close at year’s end.
"I love the business a great deal, but it’s very difficult to get started in the morning," he said. "I’m tired during the day and it’s time. It’s time."
Still, he kept his work ethic intact, ensuring each musician that passed through his doors wouldn’t leave without satisfaction.
"It was for the love," he said. "I always put myself in [the drummers’] place. If they wanted a stick, they really wanted a stick. I’d get it for them, give them good service, give them the right price and hopefully they’ll come back and you’ll start some sort of a relationship. If you treat people fair, they’ll come back."
Spera talked with cousin Jim McCloskey, a drummer for local band The Business, Saturday at the store, passing stories back and forth of the countless times they turned to D’Amico in the last 30 years. When Spera, 42, said, "I’ll tell you what you got in here: Just as many life lessons as you did drum lessons. That’s just the way it is," tears formed in the eyes of the man who served as an instrumental part of so many drummers’ lives.
Back in his office, with walls crammed with memorabilia, D’Amico sat behind his desk, hands folded, and told a story. Drums, he said, were there from an early age. Growing up at 15th and Wharton streets, D’Amico picked up his first sticks when he was 12 and two years later he was playing professionally at weddings and parties with local bands. He attended Southeast Catholic High School, the now-shuttered 20th Century School of Music at 15th and Spruce streets and La Salle University, during which time he was making weekly bus trips to New York City for lessons from the finest drummers of the time, like the legendary Jim Chapin and Jerry Gilgore. It was then D’Amico knew he wanted to teach, opening up his Packer Park home for lessons in the 1950s. Hundreds of kids flocked to D’Amico’s, where he taught all band instruments for about 15 years before switching to strictly drums. At night, he performed with bands throughout the city. Finally, Rita, his wife of 51 years, asked him to change direction, find something solid.
Giving up music wasn’t an option. So, he opened the Music Center in the same area he called home, hired staff and went into business on a whim and with gusto.
"One of the greatest satisfactions in this world is when a youngster comes to you, doesn’t know how to hold a drumstick and, after two or three years, he calls you on the phone and says, ‘I’m playing tonight.’ That’s a great feeling," D’Amico said.
It’s the people he’ll miss most, he said, adding he’s had contact with just about every professional drummer the city has produced.
Back in the store, Spera, The Business’ Danny Vanore and McCloskey offered insight into why they — as well as drummers from as far as New York and many professionals coming through town — never strayed from D’Amico’s.
"Sam understood children," Spera said. "He’s the guy who would talk to the parents. He’d say, ‘Let me talk to your father,’ ask, ‘How old is he?’ ‘How long has he been showing interest?’ and he’d say, ‘Listen, don’t go crazy, he might hate it in six months.’
"Even the pros that would come through, they were impressed because it was like coming to somebody’s house," he continued.
None of them want D’Amico to retire, but all understand his health and relaxation time come first.
"It’s going to be weird without this place," McCloskey 36, of 12th and Mercy streets, said.
Vanore, of Fifth and Queen streets, offered one last story: In ’93, when The Business was tapped for "Star Search" — where it ultimately lost — D’Amico asked him to stop by before heading to the competition.
"He said, ‘Come back’ and waved me in," Vanore said, pointing to the office, "and he sits down, closes the door, says ‘I want you to know, I think this is it,’ and he’s got tears in his eyes, [and] says ‘Do this with me in mind.’
"It always sticks in my head, and I walked out of here feeling like I could lift a house up, that’s the kind of guy he is."
