Valley Music, original location 1952-2008
Valley Music has been a mainstay in El Cajon since September of 1952, when Smokey Rogers and my father, "Cactus" Soldi formed a partnership and opened the shop on what was once the main roadway through town, Highway 80, connecting San Diego to all points east.
Fresh from the breakup with Tex Williams, the Western Caravan needed a place to play, so they opened the Bostonia Ballroom in Bostonia, California. But, as everyone knows, a musician needs a day job to support their passion....Playing music. Both businesses flourished, possibly because Smokey and the Western Caravan were local celebrities. Early on, I remember going to the store, which was the only Music Store east of San Diego, and seeing it filled with Fenders, Martins, Gibsons, and Gretsch guitars, Rogers drum kits, accordions and all the accessories a musician could possibly want or need. Local musicians flocked there and "hung" out daily, talking and jamming. Occasionally, I remember when Dad (Cactus) sold a guitar to Audie Murphy for his son. For those of you who do not know, Audie Murphy, turned Hollywood actor, was the most decorated soldier of WWII, and starred in his own story...To Hell and Back!
This picture was taken on the stage of the Bostonia Ballroom, about 1960, left to right, Larry "Pedro" DePaul, Cactus Soldi, Johnny Weiss, Joquin Murphy, unknown, Myron Sutton, Dean Eaker, in the front is Smokey Rogers.
Times were a lot different back then, especially for kids! You could actually play outside without the fear someone would "snatch" you up! Most Moms were stay at home housewives. You could drink water out of the hose on a hot summer day, more likely you were encouraged to (and we didn't die from it). Cars were huge "boats" that had no seat belts, (the cars back then were made out of metal, not tin foil like today). You could pretty much take out a street sign and not leave too much of a mark on your car! You didn't have to lock the doors at night because no one would dream of breaking in and stealing your stuff! When you got into a scuffle, the lady up the street could pretty much tell you to "knock it off and go home" without fearing a lawsuit.
That's when the Bostonia Ballroom was the place to be on the weekends! When the house band (The Western Caravan) wasn't playing there, the likes of Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two, Bob Wills, George Jones, or Jim Reeves would be headlining on Saturday night. People would come from all around for the shows and pay $1.50 or $1.75 a head to get in. Sailors would come by twos and threes in taxi cabs, dressed in their "blues", most of whom were from somewhere east of the Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Georgia and looking for a little piece of "home" in a place where they knew no-one but their fellow sailors. It wasn't like it is today, communications are so inexpensive now that we take it for granted. Back then, a call home was an event that cost a pretty penny. You made a list of all the things you needed to say because the time between calls were sometimes few and far between! A lot of these boys were "adopted" by my Mom and Dad, and during the week, when they had nothing to do, they would hop a bus to El Cajon and take the hour long ride to "hang out" at the music store and talk about home. In the late fifties, my Mother, "Ginger" sold tickets at the door, and my Dad "Cactus" played fiddle on the stage, and I used to baby-sit my little brother upstairs in the apartment occupied by Smokey's parents. After he would go to sleep, I would sometimes sneak down the stairs, hide in the utility room and look out through the end of the bar where I could see the stage and watch some of the performers, ready to scamper back up the stairs before anyone could see! Or go down the long hall to the back of the apartment that ran the width of the Ballroom on the street side and sneak out the back door that opened onto the roof. I could peer down into the patio and watch the sailors trying to pick up girls. Oh yeah, I was sailor crazy...that was the prey of the day for a young girl.
