This isn’t a pleasant situation.
Bensonhurst’s only Italian record store has been dealing with shifting neighborhoods, the rise of streaming services, and the challenges of a pandemic. However, it was internal family disputes that ultimately led to its closure.
SAS Italian Records will soon close after nearly six decades of operation, leading to the final sale of its stock of Italian CDs and vinyl.
“It’s heartbreaking. I’m just breaking down here. This store represents my identity,” shared Silvana Conte, the 69-year-old owner-operator whose parents established the shop in 1967 after arriving from Ponza, Italy. “This store was everything for my family, but it’s become a matter of inheritance… and now it’s out of my hands.”
Conte reflected on how decreasing sales and the pandemic had taken a toll, especially following the death of her mother, Rita, on May 12. “We haven’t made much money for a while. I kept it going for my mom,” she explained.
Conte added, “My siblings don’t want this store anymore. My brother is focused on my sister’s rights and sees no point. He doesn’t understand the value because he lives far away.”
For Conte, the store isn’t just a business; it’s a treasure trove of family memories, filled with Italian films, magazines, and personal memorabilia. “I had my first kiss here,” she reminisced. “My grandmother passed away here, too.”
“This place is everything — it captures my family’s history,” she said, with visible emotion.
SAS, named after Silvana and her siblings, Adrian and Silver, once boasted a vast collection of Italian music and films. During its peak, the store used to order around 50 copies of Italian puzzle magazine La Sittimana Enigmistica each week, which frequently sold out in the thriving Italian-American community.
Today, though, Conte noted, “We just ordered five and we’re down to two left at month’s end.” She sighed, observing, “This neighborhood has changed significantly — there are very few Italians left.”
The closure of SAS comes on the heels of the recent shutdown of another longtime local business, Bali Pork.
Conte lamented, “My identity is here, and it feels like it’s disappearing along with this neighborhood. The Italian presence is fading away.”
Staff remarked, “We don’t have many businesses left. The area has shifted so much that we can’t keep up… Local patrons are becoming scarce.”
Another worker expressed concern, saying, “We can’t survive with just holiday customers.”
Conte conveyed a sense of loss about the changing cultural landscape, stating, “This used to be ‘Little Italy,’ but as families move away and lose their language… it feels like it diminishes a little more each year.”
Local customers paid their respects to the beloved store in the past week.
“I’m really going to miss this place; many in the neighborhood will too,” said 63-year-old Sergio Macaruso, who used to ride his Vespa nearby. “It’s another memory fading away.”
Angela Simone, now 72, who grew up in the area, reminisced about her past. “When I first came here from Sicily at 19, I met my husband here,” she shared in Italian. “He said he was going to marry me! He was such a character.”
Conte mentioned that the only hope left for the store would be if “angel” investors stepped in.
“It’s a crucial part of the culture. I wanted to maintain it. People call it a landmark, and I did my best,” Conte reflected. “But after my mom died, that was it.”
“We just can’t keep this going any longer,” she remarked. “We had to face reality.”
