Randy ‘the record man’ Stinson of iconic Salt Lake City record shop dies at 83

Randy Stinson, founder of the iconic Salt Lake City vinyl record shop named after him and remembered by his family as a “walking Rolodex of music,” died on Dec. 14, 2024, of natural causes at the age of 83.

Randy opened Randy’s Record Shop in October 1978 and ran it for four decades before retiring in 2018, when his son Sam took over. The Travel Channel once named the shop as one of “eight must-visit American Record Stores” alongside other greats, like Amoeba Music in Los Angeles.

Sam said his family is planning a celebration of life for his father in January. The family also is establishing a memorial fund to help cover his care and funeral expenses.

Randy was a Vietnam War veteran who always had a deep love for music.

While he served from 1967 to 1969, his brother would send him new releases like The Beatles’ White Album or the latest from Jimi Hendrix and Cream. Soldiers drawn to the music, Randy later remembered, would line the hallway outside his room to listen in.

But the first record Randy ever bought was a 1959 recording of “Sleepwalk” by Santo & Johnny. By the time he opened the store in 1978 after his service, he had “at least 60,000 records” in his personal collection — which became his store inventory.

“When he started, he thought he would build up a massive, really cool record collection,” Sam said of his father’s intent in opening the store.

His collection had previously had other uses.

In the 1960s, Randy would call the radio request line at KNAK and invite listeners to his home to listen to records from his and his brother’s collection, according to Utah historian Michael Evans. That “hobby” would become Randy’s Record Room, a show on the station where he played “oldies” via a phone feed from his house. The door from Randy’s home studio, covered in music stickers, was on display at the record store, Evans said.

By the mid-1970s, Randy was making hundreds of music lovers happy by sharing his massive collection at the Bongo Lounge. That was decades before the days of Spotify, Sam said, when people had to go out and search for music recorded on physical media — and his dad was a “hub” for that.

Twice a week, Randy would host “oldies nights,” Sam said, where people could request songs they hadn’t heard for five, 10 or even 15 years. The bartender would have two phones — one to pipe the music through and the other to take call-in requests.

Connecting people with music, through the store or his own collection, was Randy’s favorite part of all of it. “Whatever culture that Randy brought to the city and the local community, it was just a place for music lovers,” Sam said.

The local record community has blossomed from that culture. Dustin Hansen, owner of Graywhale record shops in Taylorsville and Ogden, said Randy was “the record man.”

“When you talk about a record store in Utah, it’s Randy’s Records, because it’s been an institution for so long,” Hansen said. “That’s Randy’s legacy. That’s Randy as a whole. Everyone knows that.”

Hansen remembers going to Randy’s shop because it was the “only place I’d find really good country records.” The store’s retro atmosphere has stuck with him, too.

“The long-standing warehouse full of dollar bin records. The constant flow of good, used products that comes in the door. You can go in there every day, if you’re a regular, and go find something new,” Hansen said. “Randy really was the face of record stores in Utah for so long.”

Hansen’s simplest memory of Randy is him smiling, in his store, amongst the records and wearing his blue apron. But he has a more tangible memory too. Years ago, Hansen found an old record player and took it to Randy’s shop for repairs.

“He refurbished it, got it all set up for me [with] a new stylus and new cartridge and stuff on it,” Hansen said.

It’s the same record player Hansen uses daily at home. “I have a little piece of Randy’s handiwork in my house forever,” Hansen said.

Sam said his father often stayed busy with the store, peddling music to treasure seekers and soul searchers, but there was always one thing he made time for.

“If somebody had passed away and the family needed that person’s favorite song for a funeral, he would make sure that they would have it. He would go find a copy,” Sam said.

Randy lived through the evolution of the music world: the rise and fall of CDs, 8-track tapes, cassettes and a few waves of the vinyl revival — first in 2010 and another in the last few years, alongside the popularization of music streaming platforms. But he stayed loyal to vinyl. His dad was a particular proponent of analog records, Sam said, and the warmth they had.

“He was very set on keeping that place afloat,” Sam said of the store. “He could be a stubborn man, but that place wouldn’t be there if he wasn’t, that’s for sure.”

In 2018, at his retirement, Randy said, ”The people who hate vinyl don’t understand it at all. First, you get to own something. If you have whatever it is you put on your phone, you don’t really own anything.”

Randy loved jazz and often spun artists like Thelonious Monk, Jutta Hipp, Oscar Peterson, John Coltrane and The Horace Silver Quintet. The last record Sam remembers his dad describing as his favorite was “Song for My Father” by the quintet, a 1965 release.

Randy was living in an assisted living facility because he had dementia, Sam said, and in the last several years, he also couldn’t hear as well.

Still, the last time he saw his father, Sam played music for him. He’d started taking a portable speaker to the facility when his dad stopped getting out of bed.

“I was playing a record by Oscar Peterson and Ben Webster and in between every song, he told me how good each song [was]. … It was just that one particular album” that sparked Randy’s exclamations.

The album, “Ben Webster Meets Oscar Peterson” was recorded in 1959 — the same year Randy bought his first record.

Randy was also a huge Bob Dylan fan, Sam said, and the record he remembers listening to multiple times with his dad is “Blood on the Tracks.” That’s why it’s Sam’s favorite Dylan record.

“He inspired me,” Sam said, “to really use music as something wonderful in my life.”