Exclusive Company Founder James Giombetti aka Mr. G Has Died

Founder of The Exclusive Company, James Giombetti aka Mr. G, has died, according to a Nov. 13 death notice from Vallés Funeral Home in Opa Locka, Florida.

With the catchphrase, “Say it with me!” Mr. G was the name and voice behind the chain of Wisconsin music stores he started with a West Bend location in 1956. An Oshkosh store, which served as headquarters, opened in 1957. With seven current locations in Appleton, Green Bay, Greenfield, Oshkosh, West Bend, Janesville and Milwaukee, Giombetti’s vision served generations of music fans from the end of the of 78rpm era through the home taping boom and compact discs and the current trend of digital downloads. His stores survived the threat of several big box chains over the years.

If Giombetti’s voice was familiar from his radio ads announcing sales or special midnight album release events, his image was less so. Never one to play to the camera, music buyers of a certain age will recall glimpses of Mr. G—dapper in in a white suit—as a cross between Leon Redbone and Rocky Rococo.

In what may seem as a quaint nod to the past, The Exclusive Company stores continue to serve as cultural outposts where listeners can catch up on artists, hang gig flyers and pick up current and deep catalog releases. Some of the stores even carry stereo equipment to play the music—the stores served as convenient one-stops as well as an entry point for music junkies for decades. (Case in point: in 1979, I walked into the Oshkosh store and purchased my first three albums, Labour of Lust by Nick Lowe, Decade by Neil Young and Greatest Hits Volume II. There would be many more to follow. Later, my bands would consign our releases for sale at the Exclusive Company stores.)

Also, of note, Giombetti offered employment to musicians, promoters and independent label impresarios across the state. Terry Hackbarth, who worked at the Milwaukee store recalls, “If you looked up the word eccentric in the dictionary you would see a photo of Mr. G—if he allowed photos of himself taken. Our manager meetings with him were endurance tests that could be both inspiring and exhausting at the same time. He could, and usually would, talk as long as he wanted in an almost free form style, eventually coming back to his original point when you would least expect it. He encouraged autonomy and individualism when most places of work would be the total opposite.”

Hackbarth even got to see The Rolling Stones with Mr. G one surreal evening. “He just sat there like a school kid with a huge smile on his face repeatedly just saying in his very distinct voice THE ROLLING STONES.”

Today Justin Perkins makes his living as a mastering engineer, working on music that he first heard working at the Oshkosh location, from The Replacements and Die Kreuzen to En Vogue and Ol’ Dirty Bastard. He remembered his old boss in a Facebook post.

"Growing up in the Midwest in a relatively small town before the Internet, I’d say The Exclusive Company was like a Mecca for music fans. The equivalent of something like Amoeba Records for those in San Francisco and LA.

"Mr. G’s impact on the Wisconsin music scene and community is so profound it can’t even be measured. Before social networking, it was a place to meet and chat with like-minded people and discover new music. Especially true if you were too young to hang out at bars and nightclubs. I don’t think I’d be doing what I’m lucky enough to be doing today without Mr. G and The Exclusive Company.

"His trust in the employees and store managers to do what they felt was right for their particular store made each location unique as well. Midnight sales for certain new releases, in-store concerts, parking lot shows, a huge jazz and classical section in the basement, a metal room, special orders, etc.

"I was lucky enough to work at the Oshkosh, WI store for a year or two in the early 2000s where his main office was for many years. Quite often, he’d call down to what was probably the original rotary telephone and ask, “how’s traffic?” As in, how busy was the store that afternoon or evening. He couldn’t wait until the end of the day to find out and there were absolutely no computers in sight during this era. He was there pretty much every day as I recall. Seven days a week. Always working, always present. Always pleasant."