From an RCA Victor promotional blurb, mid-1950s:
How This Record Bargain Is Possible
There are certain similarities between RCA Camden Records and paperback reprints of great books. In both instances works of merit are reissued in lower priced editions.
There are also many differences between the two: a paperback book is printed in smaller, less readable type on paper inferior to that used in the original. In the case of RCA Camden the sound characteristics are vastly improved over the original RCA Victor edition. Instead of using inferior material RCA Camden uses the very same compound used in present-day RCA Victor "Red Seal" Records.
The RCA Camdens were dime-store records such as you might find near the checkout stand of your local supermarket, right alongside the "Tops Hi-Fidelity" albums or various made-in-nowhere polka records. RCA never lacked in marketing savvy. As of the mid-fifties 78 RPM albums had gone the way of the dodo. Consumers were snapping up long-playing records and hi-fi players, with 45's having become the choice for pop singles. Thus a quarter-century's worth of lavish back-catalog from gazillions of 78s was going to waste. RCA made the smart decision to eek out a few more shekels from those grand old records before retiring them altogether.
Thus the RCA Camden line, at first mostly reprints of worthy 78 RPM albums. But there was a fly in the ointment: RCA was concerned lest the Camdens wind up competing with full-price LPs from the same orchestras. Mr. Average Joe Consumer might buy a Camden Monteux/SFS recording of the Franck D Minor Symphony, thinking he's gotten a bargain on the new 1950 LP. But what if he discovers that it's a reprint of the 1941 album, taken from 78 RPM originals? That could make for some nasty negative press. An inspired soul hit on the idea of omitting the conductor's credit from the jacket and substituting a code name for the orchestra—all, of course, with the permission of the artists concerned. Mr. Average Joe Consumer would be protected from confusion and RCA would be protected from charges of deceptive merchandizing.
The Boston Symphony under Koussevitzky was the Centennial Symphony Orchestra; Stokowski and the Philadelphians were the Warwick Symphony. A few of the code names were transparent: the Vienna Philharmonic was the Danube Symphony, while the BBC Symphony was the Thames Symphony.
And our own San Francisco Symphony under maître Pierre Monteux: the "World Wide Symphony."
The practice didn't last all that long; by the late 1950s conductor and orchestra received full credit on Camdens. It's the earlier Camdens that are so fascinating to collectors, and so valuable. Given their cheap-jack origin, they weren't valued possessions. Thus many of them have become scarcer than hen's teeth. Add to that the fun of the "hidden" orchestra and conductor, and you've got some seriously desirable puppies indeed. To be sure, the pressings are often atrocious—RCA's assurances notwithstanding—and the artwork is minimal. But code-name Camdens simply ooze cool factor.
I completed my collection of "World Wide Symphony" Camdens quite recently; there are four altogether, two of them the San Francisco Symphony alone and two shared with Koussevitzky and the Boston Symphony.They are: CAL-107 (Franck D Minor Symphony), CAL-110 (Stravinsky Rite of Spring), CAL-156 (Ravel), and CAL-161 (Debussy and Ravel).
Other SFS Camdens include the "Music of France" compilation album CAL 385 and Monteux's iconic 1942 Scheherazade on CAL 451, released with full orchestra/conductor credit and appallingly tacky full-color artwork.
From dime-store el-cheapo to bonafide collector's status. Funny how that can happen.
The "World-Wide Symphony" in all its glory: Monteux and the SFS in early Camdens