The Tape King of the Flea Market: Stig's Shady Shenanigans

A few weeks ago, I shared my Columbia House/BMG story. Now let me tell you about my friend Stig (not his real name, as I prefer to keep his true identity under wraps) and his ingenious (though slightly mischievous) method of making money back in the day. Stig was a bit of a legend among our group for his creative ways to turn a profit. Just in case you're curious, he was one of my friends during my hustling days. One of his best schemes, during his middle and high school years, involved the good old Columbia House and BMG music clubs. Just like me, Stig had no intention of paying for those “free” tapes.

Picture this: Stig, with his knack for finding loopholes, realized he could exploit the Columbia House and BMG music clubs by ordering multiple sets of tapes under different variations of his name, as well as made-up names. Stig's grandma owned and ran a trailer park with a bunch of vacant lots but full-sized mailboxes. His method was simple: find every postcard in magazines offering those tempting “12 Tapes for a Penny” deals, fill them out with different names, and wait for the magic to happen. Stig didn't just depend on his sister's "Seventeen" magazine; he went to gas stations, pulled out the postcards from the magazines, bought a can of Pepsi and a Slim Jim, and walked out of the store with a stack of music club and magazine subscription cards. A few weeks later, boxes of tapes would arrive at his house and his grandmother's trailer park mailboxes, which were only a few blocks away from Stig's house. Stig was always helping his granny around the trailer park with little tasks for money, so it wasn't unusual for him to be seen around the trailer park in the afternoons after school.

But Stig didn’t just sit on his haul. No, he always had a plan. He had a booth at the local flea market where he sold items left behind by people who moved out of his grandma's trailers. This was the perfect opportunity for him to sell his ill-gotten tapes for $5 to $6 each. His stock was impressive, and he quickly became known at his school as the go-to guy for the latest hits, never offering a discount to his friends. Each week, his classmates would ask what new tapes he had, and his answer was always, "Come on by and see." And they did. People would flock to his booth every weekend, eager to see what new treasures he had in stock.

Stig’s flea market booth thrived for years. He managed to keep the operation running smoothly by continuously ordering more tapes under different aliases and always staying one step ahead of the collection agencies. His parents, blissfully unaware of his entrepreneurial exploits, just thought he had a knack for finding abandoned items to sell.

Stig also had another trick up his sleeve to make even more money from those that couldn't afford his full, yet low price. He would make copies of the tapes onto blank TDK, Maxell, Sony, and Memorex tapes and sell those at a discount. Then, he would re-shrink wrap the original and sell it at his regular full price of $5 to $6. This way, he maximized his profits while keeping his customers happy with both original and discounted copies.

Remember I mentioned he collected magazine subscription cards too? Stig's booth didn’t just consist of left-behind items and music club tapes (and later, CDs); he also sold magazines ranging from Playboy to Good Housekeeping to Highlights for Children, using a magic marker to mark out the name and address where they were delivered. I asked if he ever tried the VHS or Book of the Month clubs to stock his booth, and his answer was no. He said books would mean people would hang out in his booth too long reading, and the VHS club seemed harder to scam for some reason. I joined the Columbia House Movie Club back in the 90s, and I agree, it was definitely more tightly run than the music version.

Stig’s story is a testament to the creativity and resourcefulness of a kid determined to make a little extra cash. While the ethics of his method might be equal or slightly more questionable than my own, there’s no denying the ingenuity behind it. And let’s be honest, those were the days when getting music was an adventure, and each tape came with its own little drama.

Where is Stig today, and what does he do for a living, you ask? He did not inherit his grandmother's Trailer Park, it was leveled and redeveloped as an assisted living facility in the early 2000's. Let's just say he’s an entertainer of sorts, still offering content to those willing to pay and has an impecable gift of helping people avoid trouble when they are in tight spots.

Sort of Stig back in the day

Looking back, it’s amazing how a penny could buy so much...chaos and creativity. Stig turned a simple mail-order scam into a thriving business, and his legacy lives on in the stories we still share. And speaking of creative ventures, thoughtful comments or whatever from my readers are always appreciated!

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The Great Columbia House Scam of My Youth

Long before Napster reared its ugly head and opened the floodgates to music-sharing sites, before iTunes, and before the Feds, RIAA, MPAA, FBI, CIA, or any other acronym-heavy organizations started nosing around our computers, we had Columbia House and BMG music clubs to "devalue" the music industry. When I say "devalue," I mean it in a humorous way, not an offensive one. I believe these companies must have made legitimate profits; otherwise, they wouldn't have lasted as long as they did. Over the years, I came to realize the true value of media but back in the day, free stuff clouded my mind.

I was a creative and somewhat deprived child. My mom's idea of getting that hot new tape all the other kids were listening to was taping it off the radio, which entailed holding an old cassette tape recorder up to a radio speaker—or better yet, the TV and recording it onto a cheap Certron, Laser or of I was lucky Memorex or Sony branded tape. My copy of the "The Sound of Music" soundtrack was one of a kind. Just under Julie Andrews singing "My Favorite Things," you could hear my dad in the background proclaiming, "The Sound of Music is the BEST movie ever made!" and my mom screaming from another room, "Turn that shit down!!!" My bootlegged "Like a Virgin" tape wasn't much better, thanks to Mom's voice chiming in with "Tell that whore to shut up and dress herself up!" during "Dress You Up." Not exactly playlist-worthy recordings.

So, back to devaluing the music industry pre-internet. How did Columbia House or BMG ever make money? Picture it: you're flipping through Seventeen magazine, and out pops a postcard reading, "12 Tapes for a Penny." IN-TER-EST-ING! How many more issues of Seventeen are in the house? Four to six weeks later, four boxes arrive in the mail addressed to variants of my name. Forty-eight tapes, all for free! No more smokers' cough and banging on my door followed by a voice telling me to turn that shit down. Four weeks later, four different bills arrive. Bills? For free tapes? Must be a mistake. We'll just file that under "86." Bill, bill, bill, garbage, garbage, garbage.

Eight weeks later, the novelty of my 48 tapes had long since worn off. Need more tapes...Damn, I can only find two order cards. Six weeks later, 24 more tapes arrive in the mail. Four weeks later, six bills arrive addressed to my clones. My mom asks, "What are all these bills coming to you for?" My reply: "Dunno!" Then came the final notices, times six. Shortly after, a collection agency called North Shore started sending bills and demands for payment. What ever will I do? I know—I’ll fix it so no one will ever find out. Change of address...Family moved to New Hampshire. No one lives there, so who would ever tell?

My parents never caught onto my early life as a mail fraudster, nor do I think they understood why their mail seemed to have been redirected and lost for over six months when the forward request expired. Those were the days when getting music was an adventure, and each tape came with its own little drama. When I shared this story with a friend, he one-upped me with his own Columbia House/BMG Music Club tale, which I’ll be sharing in the future with his permission. Looking back, it’s amazing how a penny could buy so much...chaos and creativity. And speaking of pennies, thoughtful comments or whatever from my readers are always appreciated!