by Jeffrey Miller
On October 7, Rocket Video, the last great independent video rental store in the city of Los Angeles, closed its doors for good. I was Rocket’s manager. The store had been in business for 30 years, and I’d been working there for 15.
During our final weeks, long-time customers were coming in distraught, some of them even in tears. Many seemed to be searching for some exotic answer for why we were closing, but the reasons for Rocket’s demise were what you’d expect: new technologies, Netflix, a bad economy, and fewer customers. The owners of Rocket Video felt they were investing a lot and getting very little return.
I first came to Rocket Video in the late 1990s. I’d completed my Master’s Degree in “film and video” at American University in Washington, D.C. and moved to Los Angeles, leaving behind my family, my girlfriend, and a full-time library job. I moved into a place with two friends from AU.
It was a tough time. I couldn’t find work, and the only friends I had were my school chums. They were getting tired of me. My funds were low and my credit cards maxed out. Then a friend suggested I try getting a job at Rocket Video.
The application process wasn’t all that easy. Everyone had to go through interviews and a written test. One part of the test was a multiple-choice section that focused on everyday filing skills, but the other was a list of 30 directors. The test taker had to cite as many films as possible made by each director. (Documentarian D.A. Pennebaker was probably the hardest.) In any case, I was enough of a film buff to pass, and the owners of Rocket gave me some part-time hours. It was a start.
All of us employees bonded quickly. In fact, my new friends were so cool that my formerly exasperated AU friends now warmed to me again and sought out the company of my new colleagues. I also managed to find a full-time job dubbing commercials at Video Monitoring Services. This was followed by a few years at Passport Productions, where I wrote documentaries on film history.
Even when I had full-time jobs, though, I never stopped working part-time at Rocket. It was a cool place to be, and there was always something going on. People told me they were impressed with my knowledge of film, and some customers would come in just to ask me questions.
About a decade ago, during an entertainment industry slump, I got laid off at Passport Productions. At the same time, Rocket’s manager left, and I got an offer to take his place. I took the job, thinking I’d stay for another year or two. I wound up staying 10. I guess I liked it.
Over the years, I learned a lot of lessons. One was that you can’t please everyone. For every person who loved our selection, someone else didn’t. I came to rely simply on my own judgment when ordering titles or making deals.
I also learned that people can be difficult—very difficult. They complain. They shoplift. They say abusive things. I had an unexpected phone altercation with a patriot who’d made a pro-war documentary about ongoing military campaigns. My refusal to order a copy of the DVD sent him into a diatribe about DVD distribution. When I told him I was in no mood for a lecture, he threatened to come to the store and kill me. In the end, he made do with posting on Yelp that Rocket Video did not love America.
Another lesson: people go pretty crazy over late fees. Sometimes, customers would sneak in an overdue movie and place it on the shelf, claiming it’d been there all along. People even threatened to beat up our video clerks over extra fees. It’s amazing what someone will do to avoid paying three more dollars.
I think many of our customers forgot we were running a business and had to make money somehow, that rentals couldn’t just be free. Still, even customers who complained incessantly would keep coming back, because we had a selection like no other. They’d cancel their accounts, then sheepishly re-open them.
If Rocket Video had some difficult customers, the many kind and wonderful customers made up for them. We employees got Christmas presents, cards, and gifts of booze. We got invited to birthday parties, plays, and special events. Some customers would bring us baked goods or fresh fruit. Many came in daily just to chat with us. Rocket was a community. It was a place for movie buffs to meet and shoot the shit about what they loved.
A lot of celebrities were among the regulars, and they were often the nicest customers we had. Some even became personal friends. They appreciated being left alone to browse the racks, but sometimes they, too, stuck around just to talk. That’s how I found myself talking with William H. Macy about the lighting in The Mad Ghoul, a horror film produced by Universal in 1943.
You never knew who was going to drop in. Charlize Theron, Vince Vaughn, Wim Wenders, Morissey, Will Ferrell, Angelina Jolie, Billy Bob Thornton, Marilyn Manson, Drew Barrymore, Leonard Cohen, Sylvester Stallone, Keenen Ivory Wayans, Buck Henry, Peter Bogdanovich, Madonna, Janet Jackson, and even the late Michael Jackson—all walked through the doors of Rocket Video.
My favorite was Faye Dunaway. Certainly, she could be a little demanding. The first time I encountered her, she bounded through the doors of the store and yelled, “Quick, I need Reservoir Dogs right now! I’m double parked on La Brea!” Another time, when we called to tell her a certain title had come in, she was livid. “What are you doing calling me?” she yelled into the receiver. “I am trying to write! Don’t you know I have to answer my own phone?”
But she was also generous and gracious. In 2010, when Rocket Video moved from a building near Pink’s to a building further south on La Brea, it was Faye Dunaway who cut the ribbon to celebrate. She praised me for my film knowledge and said if she ever won another award she’d thank Rocket Video and Jeff Miller in her acceptance speech. I still have her number in my cell phone, even if I’d never be foolish enough to call it.
Soon after taking over as manager of Rocket, I started putting together in-store events. These usually took place on Thursday evenings, and they’d spotlight actors, directors, writers, or other industry professionals. We wanted to make Rocket a real hangout, with chairs, books, and places to get comfortable. Our first guest was my buddy Steve Stoliar, who’d written a book called Raised Eyebrows about his time working as a secretary to Groucho Marx during the last few years Groucho’s life. The audience was mostly our friends, but it was large enough to call the night a success. Eventually, these became popular enough that people would call us to put them on.
You never knew what was going to happen at our events, and unexpected guests were common. When special effects master Ray Harryhausen was the star of the evening, so many fellow Hollywood legends showed up to pay him tribute that the guest of honor compared it to an episode of “This Is Your Life.”
My favorite night was a celebration of The Incredible Hulk, the TV series that ran from 1978 to 1982. The Hulk had an immense effect on my life. It was what inspired me to get interested first in comic books, then real books, and later in writing and film more broadly. Our main guest was Kenny Johnson, creator of the show. He brought along director and producer Chuck Bowman. I invited, as a surprise guest, the actress Mariette Hartley, who won an Emmy for her appearance on the Hulk. Then Lou Ferrigno, the Hulk himself, walked in, and the crowd went wild. After the main event concluded, I gave a tearful speech about how special the show was to me.
There were many other great moments. Shelly Winters made her final public appearance at Rocket. Peter Falk made one of his last appearances there, just a few months before a series of surgeries triggered a sudden onset of dementia. Falk was funny and charming and unforgettable, and he apparently liked the cookies in our makeshift “green room,” because he scooped them all up to take home with him. Our final guest before we shut up shop for good was actress Nancy Kwan, star of Flower Drum Song and The World of Suzie Wong. That was the last of dozens and dozens of special events.
And now, after 30 years of business, it’s all over.
During the first several decades of motion pictures, a movie would run, then disappear. Maybe there would be a reissue a decade later, maybe not. Other than that, old movies vanished. Television changed that. Video stores changed it even more. We could reconnect with our cultural history, and the impact was remarkable. Video stores like ours had films that nobody else—not Netflix, not Amazon, and certainly not Blockbuster—ever did. We were guardians of film history. But now those pieces of history have been sold off for parts. Suddenly, we seem to be going in reverse, back toward that age when movies appeared and then vanished.
Hollywood is a tough place. Landmarks get demolished. The Brown Derby is gone. The Tail o’ the Pup hot dog stand is in some warehouse in Torrance. In traffic, drivers swerve manically and cut you off, as if to signal they have to get there before you. In a culture so inward-looking and self-centered, focused only on the next big thing, we easily forget the paths and paving stones that led us to where we are. Film history is important to Los Angeles. A sense of community is scarce. Rocket Video offered both those things. I don’t know if Angelenos will miss a place like Rocket right away, but I think they will eventually. I know I already do.
Jeffrey Miller is a writer, film historian, and former video store manager who lives in Los Angeles.
*Photo courtesy of Mike Ambs.
Your article does not mention Amoeba, which has been a resource of mine for the past 5 years.
A great tribute Jeffrey. Let’s hope that Cinefile and Vidiots can hold on as long as possible – there’s absolutely no substitute for them. People are only just beginning to realize that by trading in their local bookstores for Amazon.com, they’ve given near-monopoly power to a company that is big-footing (in ugly ways) the publishing companies, state legislatures, and even their own workers. Now Netflix is going down that same road.
Places like Rocket Video disappeared because they are unnecessary. Years ago, they had secrets — access to films and opinions you couldn’t get anywhere else. Now, those secrets are a Google away.
People mourn a place like Rocket Video because they are mourning the passing of a part of their life, not because the video store really matters.
The same sense of community can be found if you look for it. You can join a meetup group and discuss films with people, for example. If anything, what this article decries is democracy — the notion that esoteric films are now easily available and the people can do for themselves what used to be done by the gatekeepers, like film critics and film store clerks.
I had forgotten what it was like to work in an independent video store. The community, the informal encounters with movie stars, the wrangling over late fees (a lot of that), the fun, and, of course, all the movies you could watch. It wasn’t just movies, there was the music we played, the art and vintage posters that hung on our walls, and those great, sometimes quirky, special events. Even when the Hollywood Video closed near my house – a sad, stale comparison to the two indies I worked at – it was a loss. Personally, I always got a lot of enjoyment perusing the stacks (ordering movies online is depressing). I ordered my first Red Box video last weekend and the entire experience was truly sad (not at all helped by the fact that the best Red Box could offer me was Tron Legacy). Rocket Video was never close to me and sadly I never set foot in it, but I knew about it and was glad knowing it was there. I’m not happy to hear it’s now closed. Thank you for your reflections.
Jeffrey,
Great article, but don’t leave us hanging: what are you going to do next?
I’m sorry to hear that you are closing. However, Eddie Brandt’s Saturday Matinee, also independent and also in the city of Los Angeles (North Hollywood), has an incomparable collection.
My ex-wife and I lived in the area when we first discovered Rocket in the 90′s. Last week as I was driving, I saw the the store was closed and it saddened me greatly. Although now living in Burbank, I missed the people and that amazing selection of videos at rocket. It was the only place I could find many titles, and the people working there were the best; I wish I could remember all of their names and thank them here.
Rocket will be missed.
A great article..Too bad Jeffrey could not have gotten some of the celebs to back him,save that amazing collection and open another store..It was so sad seeing all the films on sale, broken up ,all the collections..FIlms that could be a part of a FIlm Museum or Film School Archives..Where else could you find shelves abd shelves of PLAYS, tapes of acting teachers classes, talks on acting and theatre and with directors, playwrights and poets..Sylvia Plath reading her own poetry and interviews with her mother..Where else..Before they closed I bought out the rest of the Shakespeare movies as I collect them..where else could I get Peter Brooks’ Hamlet?? And Olivier playing Doc in Inge’s ‘Come Back Little Sheba’…..And acting teacher Alvina Krause teaching..someone my generation has heard so much about and could only read about but now can actually watch a film of her in action, teaching..I will miss Rocket Video..It deserved a reprieve, a better location (parking was difficult at the last store)and to continue a long life..Sad no one could help save it..Jeffrey, if you do try to open another,and you sound like you would love to still be collecting and talking about films and having your wonderful events.. please let us all know and we will be there!
Annie
A lovely piece, but we should remember that a place like Rocket Video could only make it in a city like L.A. The distribution channels that put Rocket Video out of business have opened up once-rare movies to people who live in the smallest of towns.
What sad news for Los Angeles. I want to thank everyone who worked at Rocket Video, which is one of the first places I discovered on moving to this city and was for a long time my neighborhood video store. I always enjoyed our chats at the checkout counters, which often involved the new movies we’d seen, what new (and weird) rentals the customers were clamoring for, and what classics you insisted that I needed to rent right now. I almost always followed your advice, and was glad I did. Thank you again!
I never went to Rocket Video, but I am disturbed by the comment that it was unnecessary. There is more to the public square than a concrete slab, and venues such as Rocket provide a public service by giving all of us an easy method of congregating. The best parts of DVDs are the extras that continue to illustrate the creative process of a film we enjoy. The communal activities produced by Rocket were real-life extras that enriched the lives of fans and scholars. Claiming we don’t need places such as Rocket is both insulting and anti-social. The author is correct when he states that the community will miss businesses such as Rocket. All of us, that is, except the pseudo-experts who never venture out of the room in their parent’s homes except to attend Comic-Con and bluster about Democracy.
Great article….and as a former video store employee (4 years at a Blockbuster-like chain, 1 year at an independent Suncoast-like store and then 2 at Dave’s Video: The Laser Place in Studio City which closed a few years ago) brings back a lot of memories. Not to mention I also used to live close to Rocket so went there quite a bit.
Also had to take a written test to get hired at Dave’s. Totally forgot about that until I read this.
Very moving piece. Thanks Jeffrey. Yeah, your in-store events sound awesome! Wish I had moved to LA earlier to enjoy them.
For every advance in technology, something is replaced. Sometimes it is necessary, usually for the better. But not necessarily good.
Unfortunately, we’re part of the generation who watched Netflix online… where convenience and no penalty rule. We’re just imperfect beings when laziness or forgetfulness overtake us sometimes. Netflix just found the right pitch, appealing to our weaknesses.
Cool article Jeff.
That comment by that guy “Joe” kind of sums of why attitudes have changed. Nerds like him find a place like Rocket unnecessary, he can get his movies on line BUT NOT ONLY MOVIES, his social life and friends he meets on line, no reason to leave his parents house. As we loose places like Rocket and get more weirdo’s like “Joe”, it’s going to be an even colder and duller world out there.
Thanks for the cool article, Jeff and your great events.
~Ariane
Rocket Video employee (’87-91)
Excellent article, Jeff! Thank you for all your years of service to the community.
Rocket Video was more than just a store. More than just another Starbucks or Gap or Restoration Hardware. It was a community resource. This is, after all, an industry town. Rocket was the place we all turned to keep in touch with our history.
I can’t believe some of the callous comments to your post. It make me want to drop by next time one of these people is at a friend’s funeral and say, “Why so sad? Life goes on. After all, you’ve got other friends.” I didn’t interpret your article as railing against progress or denying that things change. I thought you appropriately mourning the passing of a good friend.
Rest in peace, Rocket Video.
Dear Jeff,
That was a lovely piece. As Kevin Miller pointed out, whoever it was who said video stores are unnecessary simply doesn’t get it. It’s like calling up Peter Bogdanovich and saying, “Hey, who cares about the last picture show. You can always catch movies on Netflix or whatever the new digital flavor of the month is.” Your Faye Dunaway story made me laugh out loud. I can just see her calling up the customer service line at Netflix and yelling at them now that your store is closed. Best of luck with your future adventures.
Please know that we all appreciated your good work all these years and we will all mourn the passing of Rocket together.
Very nicely written article. Though I never lived near nor visited Rocket, it sounds like a really cool place.
Though I see most movies in theatres, I used to fill gaps by visiting some of the now long-gone local chain video stores. Rather than pay Netflix, now I use an often overlooked resource: the city and county libraries, Browse their online catalogs, and if something you want isn’t at your branch, phone the branch that holds it and they’ll ship it to your local library.
They sure don’t hold the wonderful kinds of events Rocket had, nor bring a community of like-minded movie buffs together in the same way, but libraries are great (and I might add, well worth donating your used books, CDs, audio books, DVDs, and VHSs to–the ones they don’t add to their collections are often sold by “Friends of the Library” groups, with the profit going back into library programs or collections).
I am sorry to see Rocket go. I am from Austin and we are lucky to have 2 great video stores here with awesome collections. It is always sad to see community assets fade away. Good luck in your future endeavors.
I loved Rocket Video. I remember that when The Beatles Anthology was going to be released (on VHS tape!) I would haunt the store on a daily basis – poking my head in to see if it was among the “New Arrivals” yet. Finally, one day, the woman behind the counter saw me and called me over to the counter. She had put the first volume aside for me. I had never asked for it to be reserved. I thought that it was such a kind thing to do! I also worked in three indie video stores way back when (Videoactive in Silverlake, Vidots in Santa Monica and Le Video in San Francisco). The people who worked at these places were some of the most well-informed sources for film history you could ever meet. Yes, you can find good essays and discussions and forums online – maybe even find a group that meets to talk about films – but there is something lost when the human interaction in a brick-and-mortar store is consigned to the dust heap of history. I’ll miss you. Thanks for everything…
Jeff,
Fantastic summation of the place and the people that had such a huge impact on my life.
Thank you,
Jay
[former 'Rocket Guy]
It is really nice writing and sad to let your store being closed. Would there be any way that we can hold the archives of old films like other historical importances at Smithonian museum? I am still looking for the videos of ‘Hannibal’ starring Howard Keel and ‘Female Slave of Cartage’ starring Steve Reeves.
this is one of the saddest essays I’ve ever read.
What a great article, I am so glad you wrote it. My heart broke when I found out Rocket was closing. I was sad when it moved out of its location across from Pinks, but was relived to know it wasn’t going far. You see I live around the corner from the store and would frequent Rocket when I was lonely or bored, to me this silly video store became kind of a refuge. I discovered so many films and tv shows that I had forgotten or missed out on. I went to see comics, to see legends talk, and of course to rent movies there. There was something about being in a place that appreciated the art of film and being able to have a casual chat with a stranger or the staff about a particular piece of work. Even my dog loved Rocket, she would always get excited when we would go in, especially when she got a treat from behind the counter.
I know Rocket was a business, but it was so much more than that, it was part of the neighborhood, a gathering place, in this cold town it was a warm spot. I only wish the owners had given someone the chance to buy the store, to preserve the collection and retain the legacy. I already miss Rocket immensely, and Jeff I wish you the best of luck where ever your path may lead.
My two all-time favorite stores, Spudic’s Movie Empire and Rocket Video, are now closed. I’m very sad. People are lazy nowadays. They feel like it’s a chore to have to drive to a store for something they want. They’d rather click a button and go to their mailbox a few days later. Vhs forever!
In response to “Dave,” who argues both that Rocket Video was unnecessary and that community can be found again “if you look for it,” I would like to argue that community that comes from the business of living is tighter, and sweeter, than community that develops by choice. This is a strange distinction, one that’s not often made; but it’s important. Our world has been slowly but inexorably moving toward an almost complete individualism, so that the basic unit of life in the modern world is not the community nor even the family but rather the individual. If one can live alone, getting nothing from anyone else, and, now that there’s Google et al, one certainly can; then one has nothing to *give* to anyone else either. And to be of use –to people you know– is something so precious, we ought to have thought a little harder before we gave it up so easily. Rocket Video, and, really, all businesses whose specific model is to create community, hoping along the way to make enough money to keep going of course, has been replaced by checkers at Vons, er, Netflix, who don’t know us and never will and whose primary usefulness is to shareholders far away whom they also will never know.
As a born and raised LA person I am always sad when a fun and important place like Rocket Video closes its doors). It seems to me that in the case of Rocket one of the studios in town might have considered becoming a financial patron, which would have been less than pocket change for them. They could have gotten the publicity plus being able to use the store to keep tabs on “the word on the street” about movies past, present, and in consideration.
I also miss the countless neighborhood video stores that used to be everywhere in town, where you could walk to and hang out, chat with clerks who knew what they were talking about, and maybe even meet a nice woman who also didn’t have a date that night and was looking for a good movie.