A young couple strolls into Third Coast Comics; the bespectacled, dreadlocked owner, Terry Gant, welcomes them from his desk like an affable dive bartender. The man courts the two around the room, stopping at the DC Comics section, and enthusiastically details the latest Batman character development: "It's the first time Batman uses a monster truck," he animatedly explains. "He literally drives around and crushes evil."
The shop owner is warm, sociable and emits a hearty gut laugh - a seemingly benevolent human being. Shouldn't he be quizzing them on the back catalog of Batman vehicles? Shouldn't he be lording over his unworthy dilettante customers?
Worst assumption everrr.
"There's no point being elitist about it, because in the end I own a comic book store. Comic books are fun," Gant says. "I feel like I'm unemployed."
Enter the new generation of the Comic Book Guy: Savvy, personable and inexplicably down-to-earth.
And enter his shop, a far cry from the traditional hobby experience that moves toward a categorically more refined, mature and community-friendly design. "We're not even a comic book store," Gant frequently asserts. "We're a bookstore that sells comics."
"A BOOKSTORE THAT SELLS COMICS"
Started three years ago as an online comic business to service the greater Chicago area, Third Coast's brick-and-mortar location opened in July to cater to a burgeoning audience - grown-up collectors with jobs, a preponderance of whom happen to live in the Edgewater and Rogers Park neighborhoods.
"People use online shopping to find out what's out there, then they look for a store to buy it," Gant holds. "I'm able to try to provide an experience while also giving them what they want."
Take a walk on Broadway Street and you just might miss Third Coast - there are no kitschy clouds of POW! or BANG!, nor are there intimidating, bright posters of superheroes defending the store from the unworthy. There's a particularly good reason why: a less-intense form of guerilla marketing where simplicity reigns.
"I left the windows empty for as long as I possibly could so people would constantly come by and have to ask what is coming here," Gant says. "I knew that the paint colors were interesting and going to be an eye catcher."
Gant has decked Third Coast's walls with solid patches of primary colors, an inconspicuous backdrop in comparison to the typical teenage bedroom décor formula of hobby shops that tack on every poster, picture or cut-out possible to overload the fanboy senses. And yet Third Coast's unconventionally simple design still leaves room for geekdom.
"I got the colors from specific books. I took those comics to Home Depot when I was picking up paint," Gant says. He motions toward each of the walls. "That is Captain Marvel red and yellow over there. This is Superman and Spiderman blue, specifically. The gray that I have is from a particular Batman comic."
Perhaps passing comic fanatics have been subconsciously hypnotized by the colors, but the paint isn't the only welcoming aspect of the store's layout. Third Coast seems uncannily spacious, relinquishing the sardine-can shop of old that allowed the pimply clerk to wheeze over your shoulder. The store is also meticulously clean and organized, with each section divided into its most logical classification, whether it is "Marvel," "Independent" or even "Chicks Who Kick Ass." And those comfortable-looking red loveseats by the window - what gives?
"Those chairs are specifically because the knitters were getting excited about us," Gant explains.
Knitters?
"Local knitters heard that we were a knitter-friendly comic book store," Gant says. "So I offered them a place to come knit on the first Tuesday of every month."
ENGAGING THE NEIGHBORS
Aside from the designated knitters' day, a dry-erase board above the checkout counter lists a busy calendar. The display doesn't document Gant's personal agenda, nor does it list upcoming monthly releases; the board instead exhibits a number of upcoming in-store gatherings - surprising for an establishment less than six weeks old. But perhaps not so surprising for one that welcomes knitters.
Networking via Meetup.com and good old word-of-mouth, Gant plays host to numerous events, from your standard Magic: The Gathering Fridays to your not-so-standard Comic Book Meet-up Night, a unique monthly get-together staged beyond regular store hours that manages to overcome its somewhat generic title.
"I've got a courtyard in the back," Gant says, pointing past his sparsely furnished storage room. "The store orders beer and pizza. It's comic book fans coming in and bringing their own comics that they want to tell stories or hear stories about. It's a geek party - it's very lighthearted."
The laid-back event's conversation was recorded as a podcast last week, affectionately dubbed "The Dorkcast." The event might even receive a write-up in Gant and his friends' blog. Such deceptively simple developments - networking, podcasts and blogging - mark a particularly important function of comic book stores that the Internet has helped revolutionize: accessibility, whether it be communicating with fellow fans or even the dreaded Comic Book Guy himself.
DISPELLING THE MYTH
He does exist: His folded arms, perpetual sneer and belly protruding from a tight Fantastic Four tee, towering over every casual fan that trespasses his roost. Gant is no stranger to this beast.
"You're worried about running into Comic Book Guy," Gant says, familiarly referencing the classic Simpsons character. "As in, you have to know your shit, otherwise the guy at the counter won't respect you and you feel uncomfortable and you won't want to come back."
Alongside the dreaded Record Store Clerk, Comic Book Guy single-handedly created an almost inescapable stigma during the '90s for the store over which he presided: Without an impenetrable fortress of obscure knowledge, your money will not be welcome.
Few know this elitism better than recent Third Coast converts. Lauren Burke, a 25-year-old Edgewater resident, had enough trouble commuting to a certain Chicago comic shop to retrieve the latest issue of Buffy the Vampire Slayer; the condescending attitude she faced for pursuing a relatively popular series not in stock that week made the experience even lesser than ideal.
"The girls in there are like, 'Oh my God, are you looking for Buffy? Cause what else would you read?'" she bitterly recalls. "I do read other books."
Gant sharply shoots holes through this method of business. "They should've pointed you to five other books by now. Instead they say to you 'Why else would you be here?' It's like you're invading their territory."
Could Terry Gant possibly slip into such sadism?
"Luckily I have worked in and been in enough comic book stores over the years to A), have seen it and B), have done it," Gant confesses. "The better part is, though, that I got completely out of comic books - in terms of being a retailer or other employee - for nine years. When you get into that real job scenario, you realize there ain't nothing worse than taking yourself too damn seriously."
The fear of Comic Book Guy stands as just one of the trends that crippled the comic industry in the previous decade. Aligned with a devastating craze for comics as mere collectibles and the rise of the Internet, the industry should have been destined for disaster - which makes it all the more incredible that comics remain as popular as ever.
STAYING POWER
So how did an originally kid-oriented, supposedly "low-art" hobby consistently regenerate readers of all ages over generations?
"I think if you remove the word 'comic' and insert the word 'story,' then there's your answer," Gant explains.
Indeed, comics have indelibly penetrated the media and social stratosphere, but the appeal isn't just due to traditional popcorn adaptations like The Dark Knight and Iron Man. Burke, a screenwriter, has followed commercially successful writers such as Joss Whedon (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel) and Brian K. Vaughan (Lost) to their narratives in comic books (which she and others simply refer to as "books") and graphic novels such as Vaughan's Y: The Last Man.
"[Whedon and Vaughan] have more control of their comic books than they do in movies or in television, so you get more of a feel for the writing," Burke says.
Her foray into the pastime piqued her curiosity for the back catalogs of traditional superhero collections such as Catwoman, which revealed to her a wide range of intriguing interpretations from tragic figure to campy cat burglar.
"I think people believe so much - with superheroes, especially - that [the characters] are always written the same way," says Third Coast customer and Edgewater resident John Craig, 25. "But if you actually start to read them for a long period of time you become so aware of the changes between each writer."
"I think people would be surprised by the mature themes in comic books," Burke adds.
Third Coast Comics recognizes the rising prominence of graphic novels and trade paperbacks thanks to film and television as well as underground darlings, and he proudly stocks them in addition to his masked and caped monthly mainstays.
"There's a lot of diversity in the market in terms of what kinds of stories are being told," Gant says. "That's the kind of thing that speaks to different people when they come in."
Gant hopes the exciting assortment of styles will be enough to draw new fans into a medium that has yet to reach its creative peak - a hobby that has gone through a series of ups and downs worthy of its own graphic narrative; a hobby that, in the current landscape, has the ability to create a sense of community and overcome its prior dive into elitism that Gant is already cultivating.
He speaks ecstatically, as if there's some sort of Golden Age ahead.
"The stories being told are going to get broader. They're going to get deeper. I think that we're only going to go up from here."
Third Coast Comics is located at 6234 N. Broadway St. in Edgewater. Visit www.thirdcoastcomics.com for more infortmation.
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