It was conveniently located near a head shop, to make that part of town almost notorious.
Forty years on, the head shop is long gone and Val Camilletti is struggling to keep her doors open.
Digital music publishing has all but killed the record store, where a kid could hang out, discover some new artist, and expand their horizons beyond the confines of the suburbs.
The 45 is long gone. The CD is almost extinct. As for vinyl, well, that's another story.
Young people who were raised on CDs are discovering the unique sound that comes from a vinyl record. They're buying those old albums, in a nod to nostalgia perhaps, but also to experience music in a different way.
Then there are those who might have visited Val's Halla in their youth and have harbored a desire for some particular LP since those long ago days. If they find that album somewhere, in all its black plastic glory, they snap it up and add it to a collection that is as much a record of their life as any diary.
If you still have a spot in your heart for vinyl, for the old record store and the owner who possessed a wealth of knowledge about bands and music genres, you'd want to help support Ms. Camilletti.
At present, friends are trying to raise funds to help her keep her doors open, to pay the bills and perhaps improve her web presence.
Not everyone can get to Oak Park, Illinois, to browse her inventory. But anyone with a computer can click through a selection that was impressive then, and is extensive now.
Nostalgia among the baby boomers is a growing business, and Ms. Camilletti didn't survive this long without having a good business sense. But there is another aspect to this nostalgia thing, and that is the chance to introduce yet another generation to a sound that they just won't get from those earbuds stuffed into their heads, the sound that requires a turntable and speakers.
It's an experience worth preserving.
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