Chuck Marquette has a retail giant to thank for rekindling a love.

Well, at least they get an assist.

While working at Walmart one Black Friday, he watched as bargain records - or vinyl - created quite a stir. When his shift was over, he cashed in on a deal of his own, buying Aerosmith’s Greatest Hits. 

“It was the only decent one left,” Marquette recalls.

And something clicked amidst the vocal beltings of Steve Tyler and guitar wizardry of Joe Perry as Marquette listened. This was a way of listening to music that he knew - he’d had a record collection in his younger days, but had been in a subconscious holding pattern for year’s.

Aerosmith, Walmart and Marquette’s simple transaction changed that. 

He began scouring antique stores and resale shops for more, and would soon be well on his way to rebuilding his collection. He would later find it more cost-effective buying collections, which proved habit-forming and exponential, which provides a challenge.

“You have the leftovers you don’t want,” Marquette said.

So he started selling the excess at a Columbia swap meet- namely the titles in which he had no interest. Things went well, but would accelerate when he started putting higher-demand albums in the mix.

“The response to that was much better,” said Marquette. 

There was one small problem: Winter was approaching and the swap meet, outside. With visions of chipping icicles from his merchandise swimming (or skating?) in his head, he reached out to area antique malls. Today, he sells in three malls, St. Charles Antique Mall, Town Square in Wentzville, and Artichoke Annie’s outside of Columbia. Each is doing well.

“At each booth, you hit a different demographic,” Marquette said.

The Wentzville location benefits from having no record stores in the area, and Artichoke Annie’s no doubt draws a strong collegiate contingent.

“That one’s done great the whole time,” he said. 

He couples that with making the circuit as a vendor at record shows popping up in a four-hour radius from Mexico. 

Sales continued to grow to a point where Marquette parted ways with his full-time employer; he’s been self-employed, operating as Sum A Buck for about a year.

“I’m making better money doing this,” Marquette said, “which certainly doesn’t hurt my feelings.”

There are other benefits: he finds it more rewarding making his own decisions and making his own schedule. It’s an effort that’s worth it, as long as you’re “reasonably responsible” “work steady” and “stay on top of things.”

He’s selling between 600 and 700 records a month, plus compact discs, cassettes - yes, they are back too, record players and stereo equipment.

“I buy quite a bit,” he said.

On a recent Tuesday afternoon he was returning home with a newly bought collection. Wednesday, he was sorting it out.  What doesn’t make the cut is donated, but the remainder sell from $1 to larger price tags for in-demand albums.

“The customer expects a certain amount of quality,” he explains.

As for the Tuesday collection, it was dotted with classic rock (some still sealed), jazz, soul and a smattering of disco.

A music lover since his youth, Marquette recalls music as a common space with he and his family. His mom and dad enjoyed music and the family would play records, sing along, play along and in general, have fun. 

“Music was one of the things where me and my dad really bonded,” Marquette said.

The tradition would continue into his 20s and 30s, with the Marquettes often providing accompaniment with guitars, drums and vocals. Unfortunately his dad’s collection was consumed in a fire.

Not all songs were sing-along worthy, though, as Marquette relays.

Quiet Riot’s “Metal Health” album is one glaring example. The 1983 release included the title hit and the Slade cover “Cum on Feel the Noize”, wrapped in a fairly haunting cover art of a bug-eyed man sealed in a metal mask and straightjacket.

Might not have been the best optics for Mom.

“Just the mention of that will make my mother cringe to this day,” Marquette says with a laugh. “I gave her a complex, I guess.” 

QR joined the ranks of other favorites like 1970s greats Iron Butterfly, Ted Nugent and Deep Purple. As the ‘80s progressed, Marquette’s interests broadened to include Metal Church, Testament, and Metallica, among others, fueled in part from late-night college radio in Columbia. 

“They played a little bit heavier stuff,” he said.

Metal is an in-demand vinyl music format as is prog rock and rare jazz titles.

Speaking of jazz, Marquette sees its merits but has been a little scarred after buying one collection. He admits he doesn’t have time to listen to everything he buys, but if an album is in questionable condition, he plays it to make sure all’s well. That was how it was in this case.

“I had to listen to jazz for two weeks straight,” he says, his voice still conjuring the exhaustion of the exercise. “But I made some money off of that collection.” 

Marquette can wax philosophical on the merits of vinyl and the listening experience it brings, citing dynamic works like Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven”, crafted with vinyl in mind.

“That whole song is a build,” he says, adding it's an effect dulled by the compression of digital media.

He can also talk about music as an insider, as the Mexico native was one part of the local band “Mortal Anguish” and he’d later sign a “minor” record deal as “Wodenson”, a moniker laden with Norse influence.

Like in those days, today, he’s having fun, warehousing tens of thousands of records, just waiting for new owners. He’s glad the trend has returned.

“There’s just something about a record,” he says. “The brain forms more of a connection to it; there’s the tactile sensation of putting a needle on a record.”

Find Sum a Buck on Facebook or any of the stores listed in this story.