Locked away in a storage unit, Chuck Heuck has piles of Ludwig Drum catalogues dating back to 1916, original letters asking the company to sponsor a young John Bonham because “we think he's going to be great,” and staff shirts and guitars signed by the likes of Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. Rattling around in his mind, Heuck holds a plethora of stories about the bands he's worked with, from Johnny Carson, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and Rascal Flats to Aerosmith, Queen, Robert Plant, Elton John and more.

“At one time or another Ludwig had all the major acts in the world,” Heuck said. “I was fortunate enough to be with a lot of great artists — and some not so great, or not so happy, just because they were in the business for such a long time and they probably abused themselves, because of drugs and alcohol, and they get cranky as they get older.”

Heuck grew up in Chicago, a few blocks from the Ludwig Drum Company. As a kid, he'd peer into the basement windows and watch employees assemble, stack and pack drums. His interest in music struck a high note when the British invasion hit the United States in the mid 1960s, when he was in high school.

In 1970, he was drafted and spent 13 months in South Korea, escaping Vietnam because his brother was already in the war zone, and government policy prevented two brothers from going at the same time. After he left the Army in 1972, he took a year off to cruise around with old buddies. Then, when a friend mentioned Ludwig had a job opening, he added, “but you gotta wear a shirt and tie,” to which Heuck answered, “I don't think that'll be a problem. I've been wearing a uniform for the last two years.”

He began entering orders at Ludwig in October 1972, then moved to sales, which led to travel. In 1981, the Ludwig family sold its company to a band instrument business in Elkhart, Ind., and by the end of the two-year relocation transition to Indiana, Heuck was the only person left in the 250,000 square-foot factory in Chicago. He was also the only person who stayed with the company, moving to Indiana, making him the longest employed Ludwig worker in history.

As a result, he became indispensable to the new owners, because he was the only person who knew about drums and percussion. Still, he sat behind a desk, listening to people scream at him when orders went awry, for three years before transferring into the marketing department, where he could travel more. His manager supervised artist relations, and since Heuck literally had most of the part numbers memorized and knew how to instruct musicians how to convert their old equipment and still keep older components, he earned a reputation among musicians.

“When certain bands did tours, they would call the company for drum heads, sticks, parts, and I always made it a point to volunteer my services because that got me into the shows for free ... and I eventually got to meet the drummers and hang out backstage,” he said.

Bangin' around, among the stars: The hardest

Though it sounds glamorous, setting up kits for musicians wasn't always a walk in the park. At first, Heuck felt self-conscious, wondering what he'd say to icons like Ringo Starr — until he discovered the artists just loved talking about the drums.

“I thought, ‘I could do this, because I know all this stuff,'” Heuck said.

Still, with many musicians, “the demands are high,” he said. “You have to cater to them.”

One of the worst involved an anonymous big-name, older drummer who was playing a high school event for 300-400 people. Heuck set up his equipment, and five minutes before the show, the drummer “stood there shaking his head, saying, ‘The snare drum is not correct,'” Heuck said.

Turns out the guy wanted a vintage Ludwig piece and refused to play without it. It was going to take an hour to obtain it, but the drummer didn't care about the restless kids in the audience. Meanwhile, the drummer's wife demanded Heuck and his crew refuse to give the musician anything to drink, while his two buddies kept saying, “Don't listen to her.”

When all was said and done, Alan White of Yes told Heuck the drummer went through his hissy fit because “all he wanted was a beer,” and other musicians said, “You should've just gone out and got him a six-pack. He would've forgotten all about the snare drum.” But instead, the drama worked: The drummer sat backstage laughing and drinking while Heuck tried to appease the audience. “I think he already had two or three six-packs,” Heuck said. “That was the toughest gig I ever did, with this fella.”

The craziest

Heuck can tell all kinds of stories, but the craziest thing he ever saw was “the lady in red.” He had heard partial stories about a woman who attended almost every Van Halen show, but he didn't run across her until a Chicago show in the stadium where the Bulls and Blackhawks played. Heuck somehow ended up in the locker room, right in front of Michael Jordan's space, which was “huge.”

“I opened the locker, and inside the locker was the lady in red,” Heuck said. “She was waiting for Sammy Hagar to open the locker.”

Meanwhile, Heuck “had the hots” for Valerie Bertinelli, so when he got to open the door for her (even as security pushed him away), he still remembers her looking at him and saying “thank you.”

“You couldn't even imagine the food, the cooks, the wine, the beer, the mixed drinks — and here comes the largest limo I've every seen with Sammy Hagar totally toasted and a couple of attractive young ladies coming out of the limos,” he said. “They all came in different limos. They had big bucks back in the day ... It was a lot of fun.”

Heuck has plenty of other stories and details, like how Robert Plant needed his own room because he meditates for hours before shows and how he helped build a specific kit for Def Leppard's Rick Allen when the drummer learned to play with one arm after his car accident.

Afterlife

Once Heuck called it quits in December 2007, he didn't let the memories die. He still goes through his boxes of memorabilia — stuff Ludwig was tossing when they moved (like old catalogues) that Heuck salvaged. He even has the 1956 and 1957 covers with Buddy Rich on them — those were the only years Ludwig ever featured an artist on the cover.

“I've been offered stupid money for (memorabilia), but I can't sell these. I don't feel it's right,” he said.

His wife of 27 years doesn't mind Heuck's “pack rat” mentality; she recently spent a few days helping him organize and inventory them. In fact, she loves vintage and recycled items too; Heuck said she hasn't bought a new dress or jeans in about a dozen years because she scours second-hand stores.

So, it only made sense when the Heucks bought Alpine Accents in Frisco on Dec. 11, 2007. They didn't mean to purchase a business; they were staying at their place in Breckenridge, which they've owned for 13 years, taking a Thanksgiving ski vacation. But when they saw the “for sale” sign during a leisurely stroll, Heuck spent the rest of his vacation in the shop, talking to the owners.

Now, he and his son, Chad, work in the store, which provides the highest quality consignments in the county; Heuck sells furniture and home accents from designers who need to dump inventory after staging a home, and he obtained more than 170 Western and Native American memorabilia from one man's home in Breckenridge. Ski antiques often sit outside the shop, luring customers in.

Heuck said his son would love to see him retire because he loves working at Alpine Accents, and though Heuck considers it, he's not one to sit around and get bored. But, with his 13-year-old (second) son, his condo in Siesta Key, Fla., which he rents himself, a cottage in Michigan, and a 1965 Corvette he has sitting around, he has plenty to do. And in the meantime, Drum City Guitarland in Wheat Ridge wants him to talk to a bunch of kids, and he still flies back to Chicago for music conventions.

“(Ludwig's) are still the best sounding drums out there,” he said. “The music industry — it's a great business,” he says, as he rings up a Alpine Accent customer's dual-cup pottery for $19.40, treating them as they were just as important as one of his drummers.