Downtown Bloomington, Indiana, had two comic book shops back in 1986. The first, 25th Century Five & Dime, had a slightly more imposing, traditional "comic shop" vibe. It inhabited a basement space on East Kirkwood Avenue, so you had to walk down some concrete steps to get to it, and whenever I visited the shop I felt a bit as if I were entering a dungeon. The guys who ran the store tended to have beards and wear obscure T-shirts, the smell of patchouli oil permeated the low-ceilinged room, and they sold a lot of grown-up stuff I didn't understand and didn't want to study too closely under their watchful eyes. I never felt particularly welcome there (not that the guys were ever rude to me--a just happened to be a shy kid) so, needless to say, I didn't visit too often.1The second, Vintage Books and Comics, was (as its name implies) a shop that sold both comics and used books. Originally an offshoot of the used bookstore Caveat Emptor, Vintage inhabited a space on East 6th Street, just a block north of 25th Century. Vintage was co-owned and managed by Don Wilds (also a co-owner of Caveat Emptor), a well-spoken, well-dressed, congenial man who (as far as I could tell, anyway) had only a passing interest in contemporary comics but was more than happy to talk to you about them, or about science fiction books, movies, and TV shows at any time. Unlike 25th Century, Vintage was a well-lit space that felt in no way oppressive or overwhelming.2 On the contrary, it was a safe, welcoming place for a kid like me to browse for a few hours without feeling like I had someone's eyes staring at the back of my head. Don's laid-back attitude allowed me the time to explore the thousands of issues that were available, which was essential to my early conception of what series I might want to start reading. Long before the Internet became a valuable tool for researching hobbies and connecting with fellow enthusiasts, Vintage provided me with my foundational education in the art of buying comics.
So on a snowy day in January 1986, just four months after my dad had bought me my first Marvel comic book, I convinced my parents to take me to Vintage Books and Comics for the first time. I can't remember how I'd heard about the shop; I didn't have any friends that I knew of who read comics (my friend John, the one superhero fanatic in my circle, whom I mentioned in my first posting, had gone to a different middle school and we'd since lost touch). I think I must have seen an advertisement in our local paper or something. Anyway, this issue of G.I. Joe is the first comic book I bought in a bona fide comic book shop.
Over the next five years, I spent countless hours at Vintage Books and Comics. In 1990 a fire gutted the building Vintage shared with several other businesses, effectively ending its reign as the most important retail space in my life. With this huge gap in my soul where a beloved institution used to reside, I started frequenting 25th Century more often, but never quite got into the groove over there (though, as a more confident seventeen-year-old, I wasn't as intimidated by the shop as I'd been before). Fortunately, Vintage got a second life when it reopened as Vintage Phoenix in the summer of 1991, just after I'd graduated high school. Since I attended college in town, I was able to continue frequenting Vintage Phoenix for another four years. It remains the epitome of a comic book shop in my eyes, and I have yet to find another one that rivals it.
Pointless Footnotes
1 Of course, I'd give my right arm for a shop like 25th Century nowadays. What I found so intimidating as a middle-school kid I would relish as a guy in my 30s. Alas, 25th Century went out of business years ago, and I don't even live in Bloomington anymore.
2 I'm pretty sure my parents appreciated that about Vintage, too, making my subsequent requests to visit the store feasible. I don't think my mom would have been as happy to drop me off at 25th Century for an hour or two.
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