Dick Vivian steps outside his record store, Rooky Ricardo’s Records at 429 Haight, to bask under a ray of early afternoon San Francisco sunshine in June, 2025.

It’s Sunday afternoon and there is a substantial amount of foot traffic lining the wood floor highways inside Rooky Ricardo’s Records. A nameplate next to the cash register reads “I’m kind of a big deal” as The Marvelous Marvelettes harmonize through dusty perched box speakers. One customer meticulously sifts through a box of 45 RPM records labeled “Doo-Wop Classics” in scrabbled black marker. Others fraternize next to listening stations while nibbling on oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, swiping crumbs off the felt slip mats. Amid the bustle rests Dick Vivian, proud owner of Rooky Ricardo’s, sat hands-crossed in his usual spot outlooking Haight Street. Clad in blue jeans and cream canvas sneakers, I plunge into the nearest available chair as my cheeks burn cherry red from the trek up Haight’s hills. “I can tell you’re not a dancer,” Dick tells me. Puzzled, I ask why. “Your indented ass, it’s just not suitable for dancing,” he chirps as muffled record store ambiance roars into laughter.

To Dick, the familiar faces inside Rooky Ricardo’s constitute a familial bond nurtured through a lifetime of laughter in the Bay Area. Dick, who turns 75 in August, grew up an only child with an ear glued to the radio and two feet glued to the dance floor. “The Viv” started collecting records at age 10 and now sports a collection six figures in size. “I became the kid that had the records,” he said.

Dick sits in his trademarked perch within the Victorian cutout of Rooky Ricardo’s, poking jokes at his lifelong friends John (left), K-O (right) and Tad (outside of frame). The quartet spent decades travelling to record shows across the country, adding to their rich collections with each trip. As travel becomes more difficult with age, John, K-O and Tad now coordinate a handful of dates to visit Dick at Rooky Ricardo’s to keep their tradition alive. “We get together to reminisce,” John says.


“Don’t buy another Jack Scott record!” Dick coos as John proudly shows me a mustard-yellow pressing of “My True Love,” Scott’s 1958 hit with Carlton Records. “If you’re a vinyl addict like myself, you need a place to get your fix,” John tells me with a chuckle and crooked smile. After a successful day at Rooky Ricardo’s, John manually inputs each newly purchased 45 into a computer database that organizes his collection by record label, artist and recording year. John’s mountainous collection focuses on independent labels of the 50’s and 60’s, such as Sun and Chess Records. “Each shop has its specialty, mine is old people,” Dick says as John rises from his seat to grab a fresh box of 45s from the wall. “People with one foot in the grave,” John chirps back. A coy grin creeps upon Dick’s face as his eyes wander back out the window.

Tad carefully lifts the needle off a copy of “I. O. U.” by Johnny Maestro at a listening station in the back of Rooky Ricardo’s. Dick says that his current location at 429 Haight will be the final iteration of the shop. His first store opened across the street in 1987 with more than double the square footage and a dedicated dance floor. Although Rooky Ricardo’s began its life at the height of San Francisco’s crack-cocaine epidemic, Dick’s positive relationship with the Black and Hispanic communities of Haight ensured his and the store’s safety. Over time, Dick fostered a community-minded approach to selling records, encouraging patrons to linger for a card game or sweet treat after shopping. Two years ago, San Francisco’s stingy earthquake building code forced Dick to close his original shop and relocate.


“I need a piece of candy, something!” Dick exclaims from across the room as Tad lays the needle to rest and loads up a new record onto the turntable. “I tried counting how many records I had, then I just gave up,” Tad laughs. “Collecting is about the senses,” John adds as he runs his fingers over the grooves of a crimson red Atlantic Records label, “It’s about touch, smell and feel.” I can feel myself getting hooked. The crackle and pop of a fresh record being spun shoots up my spine. Is there room in this record collecting family for one more? “Here, have a cookie,” Dick reaches out a plate of homemade treats. I oblige.

Dick administers a shot of insulin into his stomach before eating lunch. After receiving repeated alerts from his phone, Dick reluctantly succumbs to modern technology and loads a dosage into his syringe to keep his diabetes at bay before enjoying a tasty Mexican meal and Coke Zero labeled “Kylie.” “They didn’t have any with Richard,” he said.


“I’ve got it down to a science,” Dick says as he withdraws the needle from his stomach and returns it to the black zipper pouch on his right. With his diabetes tamed momentarily, Dick has new health problems to address. Just months ago, Dick was diagnosed with early-stage pancreatic cancer. He plans to undergo chemotherapy soon after receiving guidance from his caretaker and roommate, Nick.

Nick Waterhouse (center) looks for Dick’s reaction to a joke he made while looking at an old Vivian family photo. Nick, 39, is a Grammy award-winning singer, songwriter, guitarist and producer who serves as Dick’s caretaker when he’s not playing on the road. While attending San Francisco State University, Nick discovered Rooky Ricardo’s and felt the store call out to him immediately. “Within 20 seconds of walking into my store, (Nick) said ‘This is my new favorite place in life.’ We’ve been best friends ever since,” Dick remembers. Nick agrees, “I’m kind of like Dick’s son.”


“Take a shot, Viv!” Nick yells from behind the cash register after hearing the third notification buzz on Dick’s phone. He apologizes for interrupting our conversation, then resumes in sharing the history of Rooky Ricardo’s as he knows it. While Dick’s approach to the store has never changed, its customer base has. In the early 2000’s, Dick’s unique collection of classic soul music from the peak of Motown’s prowess drew attention from a new generation of DJ’s looking to stand out from the pack, “It’s always been a big magnet,” Nick says. Popular DJ’s like J Dilla, Q-Bert and Breakbeat walked through Rooky Ricardo’s doors in search of Dick’s famed compilation tapes: hand-curated, vinyl-spun, thematically driven catalogs of sonic gold. Once word of Dick’s 150+ compilation tapes reached the DJ community, Rooky Ricardo’s became world famous. “Dick was oblivious to it all,” Nick says. Where traditional record shops promote a heteronormative, macho approach to community, Nick says that Dick’s “very democratic, very welcoming vibe” has allowed Rooky Ricardo’s to rise above the crowd. “He’s always been the sun of the galaxy of this subculture.”

Arthur Lewis, a young business owner of Cherry Waves Barber Shop on Haight, helps Dick tie his shoe. Arthur recently celebrated one year of business at Cherry Waves, located right next door to Rooky Ricardo’s. When Arthur isn’t lining up customers next door, he likes to bring his lunch (usually a quesadilla from Estrella Taqueria down the street) and converse with Dick.


“He has a girlfriend now, which is good,” Dick tells me as Arthur approaches the front door, lunch in hand. Arthur confirms the girlfriend rumors and adds, “We just said ‘I love you,’ so naturally, I’m deciding if it’s time to end the relationship.” Dick’s head bobs with laughter. Arthur dips his quesadilla in sour cream as Dick’s phone buzzes. “Time for a shot,” Dick grumbles. “You’re drunk on the job?” Arthur cracks, “It’s not even two o’clock!”

After two hours of reminiscing with a side of record shopping, it’s time for John, K-O and Tad to check out. “I usually cut them a deal,” Dick says as he mentally calculates their hauls. “For John, full price.”


“I want to keep Dick in business,” John jokes as he fans out $400 in twenties onto the table. Tad and K-O quietly consult each other on their choices, beaming with pride for their new finds. I doze off into a daydream as I inspect Dick’s first location across the street, now a gated-off storefront with markings unidentifiable from my angle. I imagine all the knee-buckling laughter Dick and his family of vinyl addicts shared many moons ago. I wonder how many people in the world are spinning a Rooky Ricardo’s record at this very moment. I ache at the reminder of Dick’s cancer diagnosis. John pulls me back, “Hey, did you know I won $1,500 off B.J. Thomas one time in Vegas? Let me tell you the story.”

“I love you guys!” Dick cheers as John, Tad and K-O wave farewell once, then twice before going their separate ways. Almost instantaneously, two more familiar faces walk through the front door and occupy already-warm seats surrounding the vintage yellow diner table. More laughter, this time from the hearts of Suzanne (A.K.A. Suzie) and Peter. Suzanne, straight off the plane from New York City, met Dick on the dance floor many years ago. “He and I on the dance floor… it was magical,” she said. Peter, a member of the punk rock band The Dwarves, was Dick’s first ever customer back in 1987.

As the newest technology-advanced member of the family, it’s my job to pull up a highlight from Dick’s dancing days on YouTube. Before Dick was San Francisco’s master of records, he danced professionally on KOFY TV-20’s Dance Party, a local network show that gathered the city’s fleet-of-foot for classic dance competition. Peter leaned in from his laid-back position to focus in on my phone just as Dick first appeared on screen. “Keep A Nockin” by Little Richard began to play, the camera widened and Suzie began to commentate. “He was born with that beat,” she exclaimed. “You can teach someone to dance, you can’t teach them rhythm! The twirls he would do… oh my god!” she cried. Dick slowly tapped his fingers to the beat as Peter cracked up with every spin and twirl.

Dick makes a funny face to a friend walking by the window. A true local celebrity, Dick always offers his signature middle and ring finger wave to fans young and old who stroll by his perch. For the most special of passersby, he sings a joyous “Helloooo” through the glass.


Suzie and Peter’s conversation with Dick diverted from lighthearted quips on old dance moves (The “mashed potatoes” and “Philly dog” sounded more like tonight’s dinner menu than dance moves) to questions on Dick’s health. One way or another, Suzie and Peter were filled in on Dick’s diagnosis before arriving at the store. Dick seemed cautious but unbothered, still bouncing his foot to the background hum of doo-wop as they asked questions about his treatments and medication. Like every loving family, they offered their emotional and physical support, but it wasn’t long before the conversation found its way back into rhythm. “We were flying off the ground!” Suzie exclaims.

“You got lucky,” Dick tells me after Suzie and Peter make their exits. I was lucky. In a span of 72 hours, I was welcomed with open arms into one of the most colorful and joyous circles I’ve ever encountered. Before I departed Rooky Ricardo’s, Dick made sure I didn’t leave empty handed. We picked out three of his famous compilation tapes- “Urban Renewal,” “Duet Til You’re Satisfied” and “Next Floor Up”- for me to study and spread The Viv’s wisdom with my magic circle. “It’ll be a gift and you’ll see how talented I am,” he said. When thinking of the time I spent with Dick and his family, I was reminded of the adage that reads, “Your friends are a reflection of your character.” Dick’s character is unmistakable. Charming. Giving. Sincere. Loving. However, the people I met aren’t just Dick’s friends- they are his family. After three long days of laughter, Dick was understandably tired. “Time for me to take a nap,” he said.