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June 13, 2024
I was still new to Oregon when my youngest son turned eighteen and moved out on his own. No longer having to focus all my attention and energy on my children, I renewed some interests I had neglected for years. I dedicated more time to writing my books, started building models again, and fell in love (again) with comic books and collectibles.
As a kid, I had flirted with being a comic book artist. I even designed my own books starting in elementary school. In 1978, a Battlestar Galactica fanzine published a multi-part strip I called “Cylon Poison.” I was twelve at the time and it was my first taste of being a published author/artist.
My sons didn’t share my interest in comics, so I rarely set foot in a comic book store while raising them. Even so, I still collected and even daydreamed about owning a store one day. Then, I stumbled upon Tony’s Kingdom of Comics and Collectibles, which launched my enthusiasm into overdrive.
Finding Tony’s was an act of Fate. Shortly after I moved to Oregon a friend and I were scouting around the Salem-Keizer area — about an hour to the north of my home in Corvallis — when we stumbled upon the shop in a small strip mall. We loved it immediately. It was an old-school shop run by an old-school nerd of a similar age and interests as ourselves.
The store was small, cramped, but always clean, neat, with well displayed merchandise. The TV was always on — usually playing some classic science fiction or fantasy movie, many of them from the 1980s. Overhead, a plastic Spider-Man clung to the ceiling tiles and Han Solo, encased in carbonite, doubled as the doorway to the back room. Hundreds of long boxes stuffed with comics dating back decades lined the walls and you could probably spend decades browsing through them. Little vignettes involving GI Joe dolls and action figures were posed on top shelves or inside the display cases, revealing the owner’s quirky, sometimes macabre, sense of humor.
Tony was probably who you think of when you think of a comic book store owner. Portly, bearded and balding, a good-natured fountain of knowledge with an occassionally grumpy demeanor. Once, when my friend was buying a high-priced collectible from him and wanted the box it came in, Tony disappeared into his cramped back room to search for it. A lot of crashing and swearing followed. He did return with the box in pristine condition, but was clearly irritated about fetching it. Yet, despite his occasional moodiness, Tony was always more than willing to research or special order an item for you, make recommendations, or just conversate about the genre. Pretty much a one man show, he spent hours pulling together new releases to make sure they got onto the sale racks as quickly as possible. He was also devoted to altruism, running food drives several times a year to benefit the local community food bank.
Something tells me that people like Tony don’t go into the comic book business because they want to get rich. They go into it because they want to spend their days in mythical realms hobnobbing with superheroes. Tony got to do that for seventeen years, but in early 2024 announced that he would close the shop and retire as of June 1, 2024. Tragically, he died from a fall several weeks before that could happen.
The news was shocking and it deeply saddened everyone I talked to — from friends who had shopped with Tony to his competitors in other stores around the Willamette Valley. Within a couple of weeks, Tony’s Kingdom of Comics and Collectibles was just an empty storefront.
During his life, I hope Tony knew how much he and his store meant to the community. The Kingdom of Comics was one of the reasons I became an affiliate with Bookshop.org and started Laughing Boy Books. A brick-and-mortar comic book store was never in the cards for me, but a virtual one was possible — and through it hopefully I will carry on the spirit of lifelong nerds like Tony.
Goodbye, Tony. We will always remember and appreciate you.
June 13, 2024
I was still new to Oregon when my youngest son turned eighteen and moved out on his own. No longer having to focus all my attention and energy on my children, I renewed some interests I had neglected for years. I dedicated more time to writing my books, started building models again, and fell in love (again) with comic books and collectibles.
As a kid, I had flirted with being a comic book artist. I even designed my own books starting in elementary school. In 1978, a Battlestar Galactica fanzine published a multi-part strip I called “Cylon Poison.” I was twelve at the time and it was my first taste of being a published author/artist.
My sons didn’t share my interest in comics, so I rarely set foot in a comic book store while raising them. Even so, I still collected and even daydreamed about owning a store one day. Then, I stumbled upon Tony’s Kingdom of Comics and Collectibles, which launched my enthusiasm into overdrive.
Finding Tony’s was an act of Fate. Shortly after I moved to Oregon a friend and I were scouting around the Salem-Keizer area — about an hour to the north of my home in Corvallis — when we stumbled upon the shop in a small strip mall. We loved it immediately. It was an old-school shop run by an old-school nerd of a similar age and interests as ourselves.
The store was small, cramped, but always clean, neat, with well displayed merchandise. The TV was always on — usually playing some classic science fiction or fantasy movie, many of them from the 1980s. Overhead, a plastic Spider-Man clung to the ceiling tiles and Han Solo, encased in carbonite, doubled as the doorway to the back room. Hundreds of long boxes stuffed with comics dating back decades lined the walls and you could probably spend decades browsing through them. Little vignettes involving GI Joe dolls and action figures were posed on top shelves or inside the display cases, revealing the owner’s quirky, sometimes macabre, sense of humor.
Tony was probably who you think of when you think of a comic book store owner. Portly, bearded and balding, a good-natured fountain of knowledge with an occassionally grumpy demeanor. Once, when my friend was buying a high-priced collectible from him and wanted the box it came in, Tony disappeared into his cramped back room to search for it. A lot of crashing and swearing followed. He did return with the box in pristine condition, but was clearly irritated about fetching it. Yet, despite his occasional moodiness, Tony was always more than willing to research or special order an item for you, make recommendations, or just conversate about the genre. Pretty much a one man show, he spent hours pulling together new releases to make sure they got onto the sale racks as quickly as possible. He was also devoted to altruism, running food drives several times a year to benefit the local community food bank.
Something tells me that people like Tony don’t go into the comic book business because they want to get rich. They go into it because they want to spend their days in mythical realms hobnobbing with superheroes. Tony got to do that for seventeen years, but in early 2024 announced that he would close the shop and retire as of June 1, 2024. Tragically, he died from a fall several weeks before that could happen.
The news was shocking and it deeply saddened everyone I talked to — from friends who had shopped with Tony to his competitors in other stores around the Willamette Valley. Within a couple of weeks, Tony’s Kingdom of Comics and Collectibles was just an empty storefront.
During his life, I hope Tony knew how much he and his store meant to the community. The Kingdom of Comics was one of the reasons I became an affiliate with Bookshop.org and started Laughing Boy Books. A brick-and-mortar comic book store was never in the cards for me, but a virtual one was possible — and through it hopefully I will carry on the spirit of lifelong nerds like Tony.
Goodbye, Tony. We will always remember and appreciate you.