Where to Buy Comics: Frankenstein's Comics and Bill, the All Seeing Retailer

My buddy, Bill (people in the comic book biz call him "Congo Bill") is one of those diehard comic book retailers that has seen it all and heard it all in the funny book biz.  When I want to know where the bodies are buried and what skeletons are in the closets or just hear the latest comic book gossip, I head down to Frankenstein's Comics at 845 Mantua Ave on Rt. 45 in Woodbury, New Jersey. 

Today, we trade rumors and talk of the coming doom.

"The collectible business has always been built on greed," says Bill about half way through our conversation.  I've just sold him a box of old VHS video tapes that was cluttering up my basement.  He bought it for a song, he'll unload it for a song plus a little bit more.  That's the way Bill has always worked, moving product in and out of his store like it was on fire.   "Look at this!  Look at this!" he says excitedly.

Bill shows me a copy of the first comic book guide he ever bought.  It's in pretty good condition for being 34 years old.  "Look up the first Spiderman comic book.  Don't look under amazing, it's under "S" for Spiderman."  I flip through the yellowed pages.  The type print is a crude Courier, like it was typed.  I find the first Spiderman comic, in 1975 you could have a mint copy for only $80.

"You know how much that comic book is worth now?" laughs Bill.  "$44,000!  That's a 55,000% mark up, buddy!  In 30 years, you couldn't get that kind of growth in real estate, precious metals---  Nothing."

Inevitably, our conversation drifts to the pyramid scheme.  The idea that comic book publishers spent the last two decades selling their readers.  "Buy comics and you'll be rich!"  I stifle the urge to confess to Bill I started buying the same way.  Jemm: Son of Saturn was my first "investment" buy.  As the saying goes, that and fifty cents will get you a cup of coffee.

"This is an 80's business now," says Bill.  "It's twenty years later and those fans are buying back their comic books."  I nod, being one of those fans.  I still remember buying the Secret Wars.  I accidentally bought two copies of the issue where Spiderman gets the black costume.  That was a hot commodity for a while.  But these things come and go and no one knows better than Bill.

"Every week I get a guy that calls me up or stops in here with his Spawn #1.  He'll ask me if it's worth anything.  $30?  $40?  I point to the two dollar bin and say, that's where your Spawn #1 goes, pal!"  The heady days of the 1990's are long gone.  Bill and I both watched the publishers, flush with cash, spend ten years trying to squeeze out even more.  Many of those same publishers led lesser retailers, like the piped piper, into some rapid waters to drown in debt and copies of the Death of Superman, Plasm #1 and Deathstrike.  It all came crashing down a few years later, much to Bill's chagrin but not surprise.  Bill just did what he always does.  His orders are tight, just a little extra for the rack.  His back issues are numerous and dirt cheap.  Bill is always willing to deal and at local comic book conventions, like the ones he hosts, it's a buck a comic with bonuses for multiple purchases.  You can't help to walk away with a pile of stuff.  Bill knows how to work the system.

We talk about Marvel raising the cover price of their titles by a buck.  It's suicide in our view.  Like watching a friend drive toward a cliff and step on the accelerator.  Bill and I both know, all you have to do is wait a few weeks, hit the local conventions and you can buy stuff up for half cover easy.  Oh, sure, maybe 3% of the titles are so "hot" you can't get them that soon, but give it time.  Print is dying, fanboys.  I'm sure I've heard that somewhere.

"I'm going to be the last comic book store left," Bill predicts, both happy and sad at the prospect.  "And if this doesn't pay the bills, I'm off to Mexico.  I can do mail order there."  That makes sense to me.  Mexico still has a huge fanbase in comics and not everyone has internet access like they do here.  "I was just at a Pulp Fiction Show," says Bill.  "Ever been?  It's the comic book industry fifteen years from now.  Guys in walkers.  Ancient, ancient fanboys.  One guy there was selling his comic book collection.  I was like, why are you selling it?  He's like, I'm dying of Leukemia.  See?  Can't take it with you.  That's what happens to all the fans eventually.  They realize it's just paper.  I love it, but it's just paper."

I think about the fading lines at the comic book conventions.  How it gets harder and harder to squeeze a dollar out of the room.  The industry is shrinking or going to the web.  I'm just another rat leaving the ship before it sinks.  But not, Bill.  Never Bill.  He's the captain.  And he's going down with the ship.

"This industry is dying, pal.  I'm going to hold on as long as I can, but it's going.  Stop back again.  You know me, I'm always good for a lunch."

"Thanks, Bill."

I get in my car.  Frankenstein's neon Marvel sign is still lit.  The clock is ticking, but the publishers just keep driving.