TURNING LEMONS INTO CHAMPAGNE
When does collecting become something more than just having too much shit? Before you run out to ask a collector of vinyl from Urban Outfitters, mind this— imagine everything you collect is a piece of history, a moment frozen in time that will be referred back to for all eternity.
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TURNING LEMONS INTO CHAMPAGNE
Michael Ochs saw an incredible historical document where others saw a disposable photo
Fred Pessaro
Jaan Uhelszki
When does collecting become something more than just having too much shit? Before you run out to ask a collector of vinyl from Urban Outfitters, mind this— imagine everything you collect is a piece of history, a moment frozen in time that will be referred back to for all eternity. So while some might have called Michael Och’s collection of old photos a junk pile, he had the last laugh. And thank God for him.
If the name Ochs rings a bell, it’s because Michael grew up with an older brother named Phil Ochs—the late-’60s/’70s folk singer associated so closely with the counterculture and antiwar movements of the time. The music bug ran through Michael’s veins as well, but he pursued it in different ways, getting his big break one day due to the absentmindedness of another. “After graduating from OSU in 1966 I headed out for western skies, ending up in L.A.,” recalls Ochs. “I had no idea what I’d do for a living, till one night I went to a concert, and when the official photographer didn’t show up, I was offered $50 to shoot the concert. Realizing I could make a living shooting rock ’n’ roll, I immediately had biz cards made up and started hustling.’’
And hustle he did, landing gigs with Columbia Records and many others until family came knocking on the door. “I was hired to shoot the Chambers Brothers, and the shoot was so good, they hired me to shoot more artists like Taj Mahal and many others that I can’t remember,” says Michael with a sly smile. “I was about to shoot the cover for Sopwith Camel’s album when my brother called me to come to NYC and manage him. Going from $50 a session to demanding thousands was a slam dunk. ’’
So Ochs followed Ochs into the world of the music biz, managing his brother for a couple of years and racking up experience points along the way. Soon thereafter, Michael took a job working as a publicist at Columbia. Being exposed to all that media while working in PR made Michael Ochs’ appetite pivot from records to virtually everything around him at the label. But it was photographs that proved to be his one true obsession. “Loving pop music as much as I did, it just felt natural to collect every part of rock history, like the photos, videos, magazines, posters, etc. It was just a fanatical hobby,” Ochs says with a chuckle. “I had no idea that the photos would become more valuable and important than everything else I collected. It was the right time as many photos were being thrown away by the record companies, magazines, even photographers. Being at CBS from 1969 to 1972 gave me incredible access to many photo sources, and almost all of the photos were free to me with all my industry contacts. Most importantly, I had a propensity for predicting the past.”
And so the Michael Ochs Archive began, starting as a way to preserve the past and eventually as a way to keep in touch with writers. But then those photos started to come in handy, adding up to a pretty penny sometimes. “The first time I remember getting money for them was when Dick Clark was doing one of his retro shows, using a number of my photos, and sent me a check for $5,000,” says Ochs. “It was a total eureka moment that turned my hobby into a business. Over the years I also had several musicians come to the archives to see photos of themselves like Mary Wilson, Phil Spector, Michael Jackson, Eric Burdon, Lou Rawls, etc.”
Over time the archive not only expanded, it exploded—including a virtual who’s who of American music, creating an exhaustive document of years past and a virtual museum of popular art and music of the past century. Ochs credits one of his biggest finds to the discovery of James Kriegsmann’s complete works. “Kriegsmann shot every musician from the ’40s through the ’70s,” states Ochs. “They used to say that to make it in showbiz you needed a great manager, a great agent, and a Kriegsmann photo session. After repping James for a decade, he sold me his collection.”
But with all of these artists in his collection, what exactly tickles Michael Ochs’ fancy? “I love classic country like Willie and Wayion, and soul like Sam Cooke and Al Green,” says Ochs emphatically. “And in general, I like ballads more than rockers—must be an age thing."
It’s not an age thing. It’s a taste thing. CREEM loves ’em both. Just like we love that Ochs had the good sense to keep around a bunch of things that others didn’t want. I guess one person’s trash can be every other person’s treasure.