The Magic of the Crow’s Nest
Memories from a legendary record store before the age of digital streaming
When I wax nostalgic about the days when record stores dotted the landscape — the days before smartphones, streaming services, Spotify, Pandora, iTunes, and, in some cases, even the Internet — I tend to wonder if I’ve just become “that old guy.” Particularly when I bring up what I consider to be the greatest record store of all time — Crow’s Nest. A free-standing musical paradise that operated in Crest Hill, IL, about 38 miles southwest of Chicago, from the late 1970s through the early 2000s, this place was magic.
Sure, I may be biased. After all, Crow’s Nest was just a few miles from the home where I grew up on the west side of Joliet, IL. And that growing up just so happened to take place from the late 1970s through the late 1990s. So when I decided I was going to write this story, I posted a call for old photos, memories, stories and whatever people had to offer related to Crow’s Nest on a local Facebook group page. Within 24 hours, the old photos (many of which are included in this story) were piling up fast and hundreds of people had come out of the woodwork to share their memories (see the bottom of this story for a sampling of those memories). More than a week later, alerts continue to pop up on my phone several times per day, with others waxing nostalgic on that thread.
But my point in all of this is NOT to claim that Crow’s Nest was, indeed, the greatest record store of all time. Instead, I use it to illustrate how a layer of equal parts discovery and experience slipped away when music went digital and the majority of record stores went the way of the dinosaur.
There was a time when people had to enter physical record stores when they sought to truly engage with music beyond what was served up on the radio dial. And once you entered, THAT is where the magic really began.
I’ll never forget the day in 1990, when I hopped into my blue Oldsmobile Cutlass. I was 16 and had just passed my driver’s license test a handful of months earlier. I’d cashed my paycheck from Rax, the local restaurant where I worked. In those days, minimum wage was just $3.65 per hour (that’s NOT a typo), so I didn’t have much. But I was prepared to blow the entire thing on three cassette tapes and the gas I’d burn getting across town to Crow’s Nest. In fact, that’s where most of my paychecks went in those days.
Getting your driver’s license while growing up in Joliet, IL in the 1980s and 1990s meant you no longer had to depend on your parents to drive you to Crow’s Nest. And, rather than cramming my exploration of the magical world that awaited inside those doors into the 20 minutes my parents were willing to wait, I now had ALL. THE. TIME. IN. THE. WORLD.
But on this particular day, I was on a mission. My friend Shaun Gladders had just introduced me to Megadeth’s new album Rust In Peace (in study hall at Joliet West High School, of all places). I was immediately riveted, and my mission was to spend every cent I had buying “Rust In Peace” on cassette tape, as well as two of Megadeth’s prior albums, “Peace Sells” and “So Far, So Good, So What.” I spun through the metal turnstile in the doorway and rushed to the “M’s” section.
I snatched all three from the rack, checked out, rushed past the 11 amazing exterior window displays featuring the album artwork of all the newest releases, and into the parking lot. I hopped in the Cutlass, tore the plastic wrapper off each cassette and dropped the first into the battery-operated boom box I had on the passenger seat (because the car didn’t have a tape deck). I cranked the volume as high as it would go and, for the next couple of hours, got lost in that magical world of music, liner notes, photography — everything.
Seriously, a few hours passed before the car even left the parking lot. And I wasn’t the only one. I remember looking around, realizing there were several other people headbanging inside their idle vehicles. This was heaven.
It’s that part of the music experience — where you actually dive into the story, the art, the words, the everything — beyond the sound that comes out of a smartphone. That’s what I miss. And that’s what Crow’s Nest provided, every single time.
What started with a small location at the nearby Hillcrest Shopping Center in the late 1970s had grown into a free-standing, enormous palace of music on Plainfield Road. Every time I walked in, I felt like EVERYTHING ever created in the musical universe could be found inside its four walls.
The ceilings were tall. The aisles of records, cassettes and, eventually, CDs went on for what seemed like forever. And every time you raced through the turnstile, you were on a mission to explore and discover another layer of the music world. It was nothing to spend an hour there, just thumbing through albums. Often times, I’d find myself there for multiple hours, still feeling like I hadn’t made a dent, but ALWAYS walking away inspired.
I remember stumbling across Iron Maiden’s album cover artwork for the first time during a visit to Crow’s Nest in the late 1980s. I was entranced by the band’s mascot, Eddie, and how he changed from album to album. It even inspired me to buy my first rock t-shirt, which featured a drawing of a crazed Eddie in the cockpit of a flying warplane. Before long, I had the Iron Maiden Powerslave poster on my bedroom wall. The artwork served as the entry point. I knew the artwork and the crazy Eddie riding a motorcycle with the tattered British flag before I actually knew their music.
I was equally enamored with Megadeth’s mascot, Vic Rattlehead — a skeleton-like figure who, like Eddie, seemed to transform with every new album.
To this day, I’m convinced Eddie and Vic cemented my love of art. There were days I’d spend my entire visit to Crow’s Nest standing in front of the giant rock t-shirt wall at the back of the store, marveling at the designs.
At the center of the store, a pole rose out of the floor and stretched all the way to the ceiling. Floyd Crow, the owner and namesake of Crow’s Nest, turned it into an actual crow’s nest — like a giant lookout bucket high atop a pirate ship. I think there was even a skeleton dressed as a pirate in said bucket, keeping watch over the store from above. And, beneath that crow’s nest, so many friendships were made. People who came together to work at Crow’s Nest for the love of music and left friends for life.
Customers who walked into the store complete strangers found themselves sharing stories about concerts they’d seen, albums they’d found or obscure bands they’d discovered. Regardless of the genre(s) of music you were into, Crow’s Nest was the hub.
At the front of the store, there were local music zines and local band fliers advertising upcoming shows. While I can’t recall if there were bulletin boards or something a little more organized, I know for a fact Crow’s Nest is how I kept track of what nationally touring acts were coming through the Chicago area. Remember, people didn’t have the Internet. So Crow’s Nest is where I learned about the Clash of the Titans tour with Megadeth, Slayer and Anthrax coming to Alpine Valley, which just so happened to open with a then relatively unknown band named Alice In Chains. It’s where I kept tabs on who was coming to The Metro, Rosemont Horizon, World Music Theater, The Vic, The Riviera, the lineups for the annual Chicago Blues Festival in Grant Park and more.
It was everything. Even the midnight sales/release parties, where fans gathered to be among the first to get their hands on highly anticipated new albums. The ultimate was the in-store meet-and-greets and parking lot concerts with the bands themselves. I have a vague recollection of spotting Dug Pinnick, the frontman and bassist of King’s X (and Joliet native) in the store a few times. But most people from the heyday of Crow’s Nest will tell you the most legendary event of them all was the Iron Maiden in-store appearance in 1982. The band was on tour in support of its Number Of The Beast album and Crow’s Nest rolled out the red carpet to welcome them, covering the sales floor and the exterior window displays in Maiden. They even installed a homemade Eddie on the roof with its arms outstretched the length of the building.
When I went off to college, I lucked into a wonderful little music shop called G-B’s, just a mile or so from the campus of Millikin University in Decatur, IL. It had the amazing community-beyond-the-music vibe that Crow’s Nest had. The midnight sales. The owners who knew you by name. The place where people who loved music hung out.
And when I transferred to Columbia College Chicago, it just so happened Crow’s Nest opened another smaller location a few miles from my dorm. And, while Crow’s Nest and so many other record shops could not overcome the transition to digitally streamed music, G-B’s actually held out long enough to enjoy a bit of the vinyl resurgence over the past decade. But even G-B’s closed up shop for good at the end of 2019.
Today, I’m fortunate to have a tiny record shop just a few blocks from my house in Bentonville, Arkansas. And its larger, parent shop, Block Street Records, just a handful of miles to the south in Fayetteville. I love that I get that feeling — that fire inside the belly, the tingle of discovery and interaction with the music experience — every time I step through the door. My soul smiles each spring, when I find myself in a long line wrapped around the building during the early morning hours of Record Store Day. But I’m saddened, nonetheless, that those moments seem to have become the exception rather than the norm.
Whatever the case, the power of music lives on, regardless of format or geographic boundaries. And one thing that will never change — I’m forever thankful to have walked the floors and experienced the soul of Crow’s Nest. A part of that place is still very much alive inside me.
Below are a few additional photos and a sampling of the comments I received from people when I solicited for memories of Crow’s Nest. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
“I practically lived there, lol.” — Shane Welsh
“I worked there back in the 80’s when I was in HS. I loved it. I was able to work a couple of times when bands came in. David Coverdale from Whitesnake … Metal Church. I still remember the big head from Eddie (Iron Maiden mascot), scared the crap out of me when I had to open a closet and it was the first thing you saw!! Lol” — Sonya Kaye
“I spent most of my money there from 1988 until I moved in ‘97.” — Aaron Stroud
“I burned through sooooooooo many imports there.” — Nicole Ferguson
“One of my first jobs. I worked with so many great people that later became great friends.” — Lisa Rohe
“I remember being amazed by this place when I was a little kid.” — Pat Lowry
“I gotta say, I remember the 80’s jean jackets and all the band patches … just the whole atmosphere there. Friends and I would spend time in Crow’s Nest like it was a mall.” — Chelle Wrona
“I wasted soooooooo much money there. And I’d do it all over again.” — Jim Wickiser
“Bro, I was absolutely terrified of the pirate as a kid but it was my fave place!” — Rachel Darling
“I could spend hours there!” — Jackie Kocjan Zite
“Loved CROW’S NEST! My sister, neighborhood friends and I used to walk there all the time, hang out, grab a weekly top40 list, check the new albums, buy one or two a month! Lots of great memories of spending time at Crow’s Nest!” — Laura Schmitt-Rush
“I remember walking through the turnstile and the light-colored wood on the walls. Remember the wall that had the newly released albums on it and listening to music on the headphones.” — Nan Mihelic
“Man, I lived within walking distance. We would walk over all the time and ask for all the old posters.” — Christopher John
“I used to go there every payday.” — Joseph Crocher
“Late 70s, I walked in Crow’s Nest and asked the salesman to pick out two bands my older brother would get into. It was for his birthday. He was into music a lot back then. Without even a blink, he went over and picked out Hot Tuna and Freddie King. Hot Tuna was good but Freddie King blew the doors off.” — Michael Grimes
“All the t-shirts and posters!!!!” — Randy Bobandy
“My biggest memory was the memorial they had there for John Lennon after he was killed.”— Linda Slobodnik
“I met Queensryche there & got my album signed. I was about 15yrs old….1985-ish. I still have a couple pics. Loved that store!!” — Amy Kwasigroch Balding
“Floyd’s partner at the store in Hillcrest Shopping Center was Blaine Pejskar. I remember Blaine was always playing his guitar at the store. — William Mirenic
“I practically lived there.” — Shane Welsh
“Some great times, great memories (and some hazy memories haha)” — Tim J Ahrens
