Of Coming to Comics, and Buying Prowess

Doug: Just a quick narrative from me, and then it's back to you.

Yesterday's post on the June 1976 spinner rack offerings veered into a discussion on age and finances. Grumpy old Osvaldo lamented seeing some young bucks recently in his LCS, and armed with a large line of credit. That cranky Balkan Edo then told said teens to get off his lawn. So of course, I smelled a post...

This weekend, leave us some comments on your birth year, when you think you got your first comic (what it was would be a bonus), how you came into any finances necessary to purchase comics, maybe "the one that got away", the first time you went to an actual comic book store, etc. We've probably shared all of this in passing before (and shoot, the way my memory goes, maybe Karen or I wrote this post three years passed!), but it's always a fun topic to come back to and to get these thoughts in one place.

Thanks!

Buy Yourself Some Bronze Age Love

Doug:  Here's a simple question, with all BABers living in the same fantasy land:  Let's just suppose that either Karen or I won the lottery (which we didn't), and allowed every one of our readers to go to their local comic shop or a convention nearby and pick out one item -- on us.  What would you get?  To complicate your thinking just a bit, this is your LCS; it's not a mail-order offer.  Nope -- you go to the LCS or a convention that is closest to you and pick out one item.  Again, what would you get?  Money is no object, because, hypothetically (don't anyone try to send us a bill!) we're going to reimburse you.

Doug:  So what's that one thing you'd love to have, have always stayed away from due to price, but now in this fantasyland you could finally own?  Does your LCS have a great stock of back issues?  Is there a hardcover or omnibus you've wanted?  How about statues?  What's the nearest convention to you like?  Is it a megacon like New York, Chicago, or San Diego?  Or is it a smaller, mom-and-pop show in a hotel ballroom or civic center?  The sky's the limit today, friends, based on your circumstances -- wish away!

Doug:  Below is something I wanted many years ago, when the Warner Bros. Studio Stores were still around.  It's a very large print, painted of course by Alex Ross of the Legion of Super-Heroes (I believe Karen ran this image previously in a post she penned).  Framed, matted -- wow.  I'd love to have this!  And I know that I've seen these at the Chicago Comicon in past years, so I meet my own criteria for today's post.  Pricey, this is!  And, in the event that I could not get hold of this beauty, I'd probably purchase myself the set of bootlegs of the 1966 Marvel Super-Heroes cartoons -- someone please tell me why these never received the DVD treatment?

Unabashed Retailer Recommendations/Endorsements

Doug:  About a week ago we had a request in the "So, Whatcha Buying?" post for a wide-open opportunity for our readers to recommend buying points to each other.  Today's query is pretty simple, then:  Where do you buy your "fix", whether it be comics, books, or toys?  Are there good experiences out there with eBay or other online auctions/retailers?  Are there instances when you felt like you got burned?  Overall, would you recommend the online shopping experience, or do you prefer a physical space to converse with sellers, examine your potential purchase, etc?

Doug:  In the interest of keeping this a friendly space, I think we'd rather hear more good news than complaining.  Obviously if you really, really got taken with no recovery of your loss, then share; but I'd rather spend my time reading about good places to buy/shop than bad.  And, since we are a mobile society, don't hesitate to praise that LCS in your neck of the woods -- who knows, the BAB World Tour may be coming to a town near you in the not-so-distant future!  And yeah, I made that last part up...

Comic Shop Memories

Karen: My very first "real" job was at my small town's comic shop. The phrase "shotgun shack" is an apt description; the space was about 8 feet wide and 25 feet long. With the long boxes stacked along either wall, the actual walking space from end to end was no more than 3 feet wide. It was cramped, with dim lighting and cracks in the walls. Yet, it was an honest to goodness real comic book shop, something I had never even imagined existed until Mr. Markgraf opened his store. (None of these pictures are of his shop -I simply added them for flavor.)

I was a regular customer from the age of 11 up. When I hit my teens, I struggled to find a job. I applied at all the usual places (the new mall was a popular site for teen job-seekers) but nothing came my way. Then, Mr. Markgraf asked me one day if I'd be interested in working in the shop part-time. As Mary Jane said to Peter Parker, "You just hit the jackpot!"

When I look back on it now I am amazed that my parents let me do it, as the days that I worked, I was the only person in the shop! But it really was a different world back then. Hiring me gave the owners a chance to have a few days off each week and even go on trips. I started out working two days a week but it moved up to three and sometimes four at a time. I'd also sometimes come in on Wednesdays and assist with putting the new comics out. Being alone in the shop usually wasn't scary though. Well, except for the time a guy I'd never seen before lurched through the door and asked me, "Are you alone in here?" That was a wee bit disturbing.

I knew I had a good thing going. I could read as many comics as I liked, for free. This was the early 80s and the independent market had come alive, so I was reading all sorts of stuff. It was here that I was first exposed to Elfquest and Nexus (back when Nexus was in a magazine format). Mr. Markgraf was a smart guy; he probably knew he'd get back a fair amount of what he paid me. At least I got a discount.

My friends enjoyed coming by, too. Most of them weren't comics fans but they were all geeks of one sort or another, and it had higher prestige with them than working at Hot Dog on a Stick. One of my friends did read comics and sometimes she and I would sit behind the register with a big stack of books to peruse.

Now don't think I didn't help the customers; I did. I offered suggestions, found back issues, and generally chatted them up. For the most part, it was fun meeting other fans. But there were always those customers that I dreaded seeing. There were the ones who you could smell as soon as they opened the door. In that confined space, especially in the summertime, and without an air conditioner, it was nearly lethal. There was the the shambling mess of man who had an ever-present crust of snot around his nose, who loved to share his knowledge. For hours. There was the uber nerd who would come in and start arguments with me over comics history. Even when I dug a book out to prove him wrong, he'd insist he was right.

Perhaps the worst though was the sheriff's deputy who was always trying to pick me up. Seriously, I was a teen-ager and this man must have been in late thirties. He'd come in, all puffed up in his uniform, with his pomaded hair and talk about some criminal he'd caught or some other exploit. A couple of times he pulled out his revolver to show me. He would ask if I was seeing anyone and I was smart enough to say yes. It didn't really deter him though.

But despite those things, it is a job I look back on fondly. When I go into comic shops now, I always scan them with my past in mind. I'm often awed at how much space some shops now have, or the great displays they put up. I always note the level of cleanliness, or lack thereof; whether the shop focuses on new product or has a strong back issue inventory; and of course, how they treat their customers. I've been in far too many stores where the employees never even acknowledge your presence. But that type of store seems to be disappearing. Most of the shops I have patronized in the last ten years make an effort to welcome their customers. There's been a lot of diversification, just to survive, and many shops are a combination of comic, game, and toy store. But one thing hasn't changed: the role of the shop as a place for comic geeks to get together and express their love -or hate! -for their hobby. I hear many of the same discussions now as I did then; oh sure, the names may change, but it's still pretty much the same. It's oddly reassuring.

With the decline of bookstores, I wonder if the comic shop is not far behind. Here in Phoenix, our biggest comic seller, Atomic Comics, went out of business suddenly last summer. All four stores closed. But thankfully a number of other stores appear to be going strong. I would really hate to see them disappear. Comic shops are like a safe haven, a clubhouse for comics fans where they can be themselves and find like-minded people. I suppose if they did disappear there would still be conventions, but it's not the same as having a place to go week after week in your own community. Long live the LCS!