The doorbell rings at the Near West Side studio of photographer Jack Perno and he jumps from his chair and races to the door with the unbridled glee of a kid popping from his bed and running downstairs on Christmas morning. “Yes, yes, yes,” he says, greeting the mailman who is delivering another poster that Perno has purchased, the latest addition to his stash, so to speak, of about 100 other posters in what is one of the finest collections of rock ‘n’ roll posters in the world.
Like all serious collectors-whether of baseball cards, Lionel trains or vintage cars-Perno is passionate and proud and eager to share. He has a successful career as a commercial and artistic photographer (and has done fashion and interiors assignments for this magazine), a happy marriage to photographer Gina Uhlmann, and two boys, 9-year-old Jackson and Teddy, 13. He talks with enthusiasm about his latest work, being shown in European galleries, but he becomes exuberant when the conversation turns to things ’60s: the Man at Ease store in Old Town; the first albums he ever bought (by the Beach Boys and the Kinks); his military draft number (85); bygone clubs such as The Cellar and the Kinetic Playground/Electric Theater; and shooting photos of and for his favorite band, Spirit.
Born in Chicago in 1951, he grew up in the northwest suburbs, played in a “bad” garage band and had hair so long that it cost him a job at McDonald’s. He also has his generation’s ultimate cultural badge: He was at Woodstock, traveling there with three friends. That would be followed by other festivals, more concerts and then school and work and family.
“It was in 1998, maybe 1997, and I was using the Internet to do some research about the draft and I found and bought a framed unused ticket from Woodstock. Then I stumbled on some posters and bought five of them for $75 each,” he says. “At first, I didn’t think these would be important to anyone else. This was my music, my art and all these memories came surging back.”
He discovered very quickly that there was a community of like-minded people, and he eventually became friends with many of what he calls the “vigorous collectors.”
On the table in his studio are half a dozen lavishly illustrated hardcover books about rock ‘n’ roll posters, chronicling their short history; discussing some of the form’s most notable artists; and crediting the late Bill Graham, the most famous rock concert promoter in history, as the person who, along with his colleagues at the Family Dog collective, transformed concert posters into art.
“Bill Graham is singularly responsible for all of it,” adds Perno.
Most buying and selling is now done on Internet sites such as eBay, and prices for the finest pieces can be in the many thousands of dollars. For Perno, collecting is a personal journey. Of those who buy and sell for financial reasons, he says, “They can own the poster, but we own the vibe.”
In a lavish 1987 book, “The Art of Rock: A Spectacular Visual and Oral History,” Graham writes: “These posters are so much more than historical documents or promotional tools for our business; they are art, as the music itself is art, and in many cases they are very fine, high art.”
The small sampling from Perno’s collection that graces these pages should go a long way to convince you that Graham was right. And like all art, these posters have the ability to transport the viewer. It is easy to get lost in the vivid colors, to hear a tune play in your head as the eye deciphers “Jefferson Airplane” in the psychedelic art nouveau lettering.
“[Posters] are the stories of our times,” Perno says as he proudly marches a visitor of similar age and experience through his collection, offering details that only a connoisseur could appreciate. But it is easy to be overwhelmed by this art parade because it is so wild and wonderful, colorful and freewheeling … just as we were, or as we so desperately like to think we were, such a long time ago.
