Sic transit gloria Torontonis.  (Or something of the sort.  I don’t claim to remember much of the Latin I took at school.)  Dragon Lady Comics, where I shopped regularly for more than twenty-five years, is no more.  It closed on the first of February 2012.  I went in on the last day, for auld lang’s syne, though it wasn’t my usual day for picking up comics.

I have it on good authority—i.e. John Biernat, the owner of the store—that I also shopped at Dragon Lady Comics on the very first day it was open.  It could be true:  certainly, he opened the store just around the time I was browsing the stock of every comics shop I could find in search of back issues.  I dare say I was working my way along the stores on Queen Street that day.  I probably also dropped into the Silver Snail, and Bakka Books, and any second-hand bookstores I spotted.  At that time, though, I frequented a midtown store for the purchase of my regular weekly comics, since it was closer to where I lived.

In the summer of 1985, I moved downtown to the Annex.  I needed to find a new, reasonably local place for comics; and Dragon Lady became my shop of choice.  After all, it was a mere hour’s walk away.  Over time, I bought pretty well all the back issues I’d been hunting, for the stock was extensive and varied.  Indeed, one day, I went in as usual and was told, in hushed tones, that Kurt Busiek had phoned long distance in search of some utterly obscure item that he had been told Dragon Lady was the one store that might stock.

I would say that, at the time, the one disadvantage of shopping at Dragon Lady was the fact that the store did not initially take VISA.  For several years, therefore, I had to make a special trip to the bank every Friday in order to get out cash in order to pay for my comics.  Even when, eventually, the staff did persuade the owner that accepting credit cards would increase sales, there was a long time when they still had to phone in every purchase for approval.  I heard my credit card number read aloud so many times that I eventually had it off by heart.

I went to Dragon Lady on Saturdays.  In fact, I had a little routine, walking over to Yonge Street, heading south via Sam the Record Man and the World’s Biggest Bookstore, stopping in at the food department in Eaton’s to pick up something tasty for Sunday tea, shopping for imported British food at Marks & Spencer in the Eaton Centre, quite often eating pastrami on rye at Druxy’s Deli in the Food Court while reading one of the books I’d just bought, and then—just before the Eaton Centre closed at 6 p.m.—heading west on Queen Street to Dragon Lady, which didn’t close until 6:30.

Most of those stores are gone now, closed or moved.  Now Dragon Lady is also gone.

College Street, looking west towards Dragon Lady Comics.

Well, long before that sad day, it had already moved.  Its new home was on College Street, where the rent was lower.  It was still about an hour’s walk away; but south-west rather than due south, which totally disrupted the routine to which I had become accust­omed—and I’ve always been a creature of habit.  However, one of those habits had become buying my comics at Dragon Lady.  Being a regular customer at a comic shop doesn’t just involve the purchase and perusal of thin multi-coloured magazines with exciting stories told in pictures and word balloons.  You also stick around, sometimes for an hour or more, having a chat with whoever’s manning the cash register.  Over the years, I saw staff come and go; but they were always a friendly and know­ledge­able bunch.  I remember one day when we got talking, and the store stayed open till about 8:30 because the conversation was just too fascinating to end!

The move to College in 1996 brought a change in Dragon Lady’s hours of operation.  At first, it stayed open on Saturday till midnight.  From my perspective this was very convenient.  It meant that I could follow my old routine in the afternoon, go home and have dinner, and then head off to Dragon Lady to get my comics.  True, it did mean a lot of walking; and there were certainly times when I got to reading the Saturday newspaper before I ate, and headed off to College Street very late.  However, Toronto is one of those cities that’s alive late at night; and I was walking for most of the time along such major roads as Bloor, Bathurst, and College; so I never felt at all nervous.  Toronto’s a very safe city for pedestrians, at least downtown.

Eager anticipation, every Saturday….

…as I headed into Dragon Lady Comics.

Mind you, I shared a duplex with my parents; and my mother would have conniption fits when I got home well after midnight.  She’d come to the head of the stairs when she heard me open the front door, and expostulate about the lateness of the hour and how worried she’d been.  I just ignored her.  From my perspective, the real problem with the walk was the fact that, on the whole, I didn’t pass a lot of stores that I wanted to shop at.  As a result, I tended more and more to take the TTC—especially on a cold winter’s evening, or the dog heat of summer, or when it was raining.  In short, I increasingly tended to go by public transit; and that, of course, meant that I was getting less exercise.  Don’t get me wrong:  I’m not really blaming Dragon Lady’s move to College Street for the fact that my waistline disappeared some while ago.  I know perfectly well that I’m far too fond of fried foods and dessert, not to mention the fact that “middle-aged” and “spread” go together far too well.  But I don’t think it exactly helped!

The new store was rather larger than the old one, not to mention brighter and cleaner looking.  (The old store had had the usual grungy look that, as a long-time collector, I generally associate with comic book stores.) Taking advantage of the increased space, the owner expanded to include “paper memorabilia” of various sorts, such as back issues of Life, McLean’s, and Vogue; and these occupied the front half of the store.  Casual drop-ins browsed the bins up front, and might or might not buy a “birthday issue” or the like.  Regulars headed for the back.

Often enough, since I went in late, there’d be no one actually at the cash register by the door; and I’d head for the back office to get the week’s comics, which would have been pulled for me on Wednesday.  Then I’d sort them out on the long boxes, put back anything I didn’t want, and look through the rack in case something had been missed.  For many years, this would then be followed by a long natter—on books, television, politics, and (of course) comics.  Well, not every week:  sometimes a new part-time staff member would have been left in charge of the store; and sometimes the place was just too busy.

Yes, there was a time—and not all that long ago, really—when comics were booming, back issues were in demand, prices were high, and the store was full.  This would be especially true when there was a street festival on College:  you could hardly get in the place for the tourists.  Most of whom never actually bought anything.  (But that’s another matter.)

The back of the store was devoted to comics… …with the usual long boxes full of back issues, bookcase of graphic novels, and rack for current titles.
The comics rack!	Collectors’ items displayed on the walls.

After a couple of years, it was decided that keeping the store open till midnight was not worth the bother:  there just weren’t enough people dropping in at that hour, barring the handful of regular Saturday night owls.  So the store closed at eleven.  Still, this was late enough to fit my routine; and I hardly noticed the change.  It was another matter when, eventually, it was decided to close at eight.

This may seem quite late enough (and was certainly later than the regular hours at the old Queen Street location).  However, if I went shopping in the afternoon, I would come in tired.  When you live downtown and don’t have a car, you walk everywhere.  You also have to tote around an ever heavier load of purchases, whether groceries, books, or Christmas presents.  It just kills your feet.  Sometimes, in the spring or fall, I might have been gardening, instead.  In that case, it would be my back that would be the bit killing me.  (Oh, yeah, also I was getting fatter and older:  I don’t suppose that helped.)  Anyway, I’d be wanting a mug of mocha, and a chance to sit down for a bit.  Then, I’d stiffen up.

If I was too tired and too stiff, I certainly didn’t feel like heading out for a long walk over to buy comics.  Usually this meant public transit; but, all too often, I’d get on the phone instead, call Dragon Lady, and tell whoever answered that I’d pick things up the following week.

Customers looking at the graphic novels.

Of course, that would mean that I’d have two weeks’ worth of comics all at once.  Un embarras de richesse, especially with all the special events, tie-in mini-series, and spin-offs that Marvel and DC have landed on us in recent years.  Naturally, I’d want to get all the titles in which my favourites appeared; nor would I want to miss part of a long continuing story:  the Powers That Be know what they’re doing; and their methods work!  With ever more to read (and the occasional two-week stack to slog through), I’d find myself falling behind.  It only got worse after I got a computer that let me go on the Internet, since that got me involved in a lot of other fan-oriented activities.  Christmas would be a particularly difficult time, since there was so much to do preparing for the holiday—and some years I’d visit my sister, resulting in a three-week stack of comics waiting for me when I got back.

An ever-increasing backlog of unread comics is the sort of thing that leads a lot of people to decide after a while that they’ll drop the habit.  Somehow, though, I never lost interest.  (Just the time to read.)  Sooner or later, I’d always work my way up to date, though I might be reading two or three issues back to back.  And, of course, my weekly—or near weekly—hour or so chatting with the staff at Dragon Lady also played its part in keeping me collecting.

I remember Dave MacPhearson and John King, each of whom was in charge of the store for years.  When the Death of Superman story appeared (and sold out more or less instantly), there were no copies on the rack that Saturday.  As I browsed for other titles that had come in that week, a couple of people came in asking for it, since it was unavailable at other comics stores, as well.  They were sent away empty handed.  Yet, when I went to pay, a copy was surreptitiously slipped out from under the counter for me.  They always did take care of their regulars—and this was before I had a pull list with the store.

Joe Kilmartin at the front desk

More recently, it’s been Joe Kilmartin.  When he started at Dragon Lady, he was simply the latest of many part-time sales staff.  (Minimum wage means turnover.)  However, we got to know each other through long talks about comics and television, fan fiction plot bunnies, and superhero figurines he was planning to rebuild.  Shortly before the recession, he became the interim manager—“interim” being a euphemism for a more-than-full-time job with a lot more respons­ibility but no extra pay.

One time, I left home with just enough time to get to the store by TTC—or so I thought—only to find myself trapped in the subway system.  At first, I didn’t realize that the trains weren’t running.  Then, when I heard an announcement that they’d laid on replacement transport, I headed upstairs and was directed to the bus bay.  Only no bus came.  Eventually, one by one, the waiting people traipsed back down, only to be told by a ticket collector that the trains had started again.  Indeed, we found that there was already a northbound train at the platform.  However, it took a good twenty minutes before there were any trains going south; and then we were stopped for another ten minutes just two stations on.  The reason they gave for all this was “a personal injury at track level”, which, rightly or wrongly, I interpret to mean a jumper.  Anyway, I spent the whole trip wondering whether it was even worth while continuing, or whether it would be more sensible just to go home.  I was all too well aware that, by the time I would get to Dragon Lady, it would be an hour past closing time.  Sure enough, when I finally arrived, the store was locked up.  Nevertheless, Joe was still there and opened up for me.  He said that, since I hadn’t phoned to say I wasn’t coming, he’d figured something must have delayed me.  Of course, he had been in the back room, working late as usual, putting things on eBay.  Nevertheless, it’s a kindness I’ve never forgotten.

A customer pays at the cash.

The recession hit Dragon Lady hard.  After all, when times are tough, people have to start tightening their budgets; and, since they still have to pay the rent and buy food, it’s life’s little luxuries that get cut.  I dare say even some of the regulars trimmed back the number of comics they bought; but the section of the store that got hit really hard was the memorabilia, which had relied a lot on impulse purchasing.  Joe had less time to chat; and he often looked very tired, especially as staff had to be cut, and cut again, and his hours became horrendous.

Joe Kilmartin in the back office of Dragon Lady Comics.

All too often, when I came in, Joe would warn me not to get too close because he’d come down with yet another cold.  Overwork and worry make you susceptible; and, in retail, you meet everyone and their germs.  I’m pretty sure that, several times in the last couple of years, I took home more than comics from a trip to Dragon Lady.

Now, when I came in, Joe would usually be at the back of the store in the office, working on the computer.  After all, people might not be dropping in to buy here in Toronto, but there’s still a collectors’ market worldwide.  Sometimes he could afford to take a few minutes off.  All too often, though, he was snowed under.  In that case, instead of having a long, leisurely chat (punctuated by occasional interruptions for Joe to serve other customers), I would simply take my stack of comics out to the store for sorting, go through the rack, and then head up front to pay.  There might be someone working part-time; and, if they stayed on for more than a few weeks, I’d get to know them, too; but there was always quick turnover in staff, for people naturally moved on if they found a job that was full time or paid more than minimum wage.  I’d pop back to say good-bye to Joe before heading home, of course; but it wasn’t the same.

When the store closed, all the stock was packed up and shipped to a warehouse for storage.

For a while, Dragon Lady just managed to make ends meet.  Having the rent put up in 2011, though, was the final blow.  So, after more than thirty years, the store was finally forced to close.

In December, when I was first told, things were still up in the air.  It wasn’t decided yet whether the owner would move to a new location.  Nor had Joe made up his mind whether, if so, he’d go with the store.  He considered getting a job elsewhere, or maybe starting up on his own.  As I visited my sister over Christmas, therefore, I was uncertain what I was going to do.  Maybe this was the time to stop collecting altogether?  After some twenty-five years, it would be hard to get used to a new store and new people.  I’ve never been one to like change.

In the end, John Biernat decided to close Dragon Lady Comics, warehousing the stock to sell over the internet.  Joe became the manager of a new shop, the Comics Lounge and Gallery.  I get the impression that a lot of the old Dragon Lady regulars are staying with him.  It’s going to be a subscription service; so, basically, my pull list is just moving down the street.  Yes, that’s right:  the Comics Lounge is not even a block away, at 587A College Street, on the second floor.  It shares space with the Toronto Cartoonists Workshop and Guerilla Printing.  This means that my routine will hardly change.  The continuity is a great relief.

Dragon Lady is gone, though; and, after thirty-three years in business, that’s a pity.

— Greer Watson
5 February 2012  

All photographs were taken by Greer Watson.  Copyright © Greer Watson, 2012.
The banner at the head of the page is derived from the store sign for Dragon Lady Comics.
The background graphics come from and/or were made at GRSites.com.

All original material on this webpage copyright © Greer Watson 2012.