I Think I Can Manage is a weekly column by retailer Steven Bates, who runs Bookery Fantasy, a million dollar retail operation in Fairborn, Ohio.  This week Bates talks about the alchemy involved in running Bookery Fantasy.

 

Specialty store retailers share a unique blend of qualities that include a streak of independence, a heaping of entrepreneurial spirit, and a boatload of Peter Pan syndrome.  Grown men (and a few women) who sell comic books, games, action figures, trading cards, and related ephemera walk to the beat of a different drummer.  Though they come to the industry from a variety of backgrounds, most of the ones I've encountered in the past 18 years fit the profile: they refuse to settle for a 9-to-5 existence, revel in the freedom of blazing their own path, and seem either incapable or unwilling to 'grow up.'  And those are the good qualities.

 

Despite being kindred spirits, hobby store retailers are also a diverse and eclectic group, comprised of individuals with many different personalities and personal visions, and the stores they build and the customers they serve reflect upon and reveal them.  Whether they be Goth, geek, hippie, yuppie, Genghis Khan or Gandhi, each retailer brings to the business a package (in some cases, baggage) that sets them apart from their counterpart across town.  This partially explains why communities can support a number of different stores, as clientele -- 'regulars' -- gravitate toward a place with an atmosphere and ambiance that best suits them.

 

Bookery Fantasy is very different from other shops in the greater Dayton area (notice that I said 'different,' not 'better).  Our approach to comic book and games retailing has largely been modeled after mainstream outlets like video stores, book stores, and jewelry stores.  Our motto is 'retailing is retailing is retailing.'  Though we deal in products which we feel are more interesting than shoes or lumber, the same principles that drive those industries can be applied to our business.  This attitude affects the way we order, the way we display, and the way we sell our merchandise.  It also sets the tone for interaction with the customer; a few weeks ago I wrote about how specialty stores are like Cheers.  Customer service has been a big part of why we've been successful, while some local competitors have failed.

 

But the real secret to the Bookery's success is something else entirely, something magical, alchemical, like 'lightning captured in a bottle.'  Like most great mysteries, its origins are quiet, and known only to a few, spoken of in hushed whispers in darkened alleyways.  Until now, that is.  The secret is ...

 

Tim.

 

'Tim?'  'Tim!?!'  'TIM?'  What kind of secret is that, you ask?  Is it code?  An acronym for 'Totally Intelligent Marketing'?  A genie conjured up from a lamp?  What or who is this 'Tim'?

 

Tim Cottrill opened Bookery Fantasy in 1984, a science fiction-centric offspring of his parents' store.  Within a few years time, it had evolved into the area's largest science fiction and fantasy bookstore.  Comics were a sideline, then, and Tim dabbled in everything from TV Guides and D & D hardcovers to rare, out-of-print paperbacks and hardbacks.  Tim's expertise in the SF and fantasy fields inspired his first reference book, Science Fiction and Fantasy Serials and Sequels, published by Garland Press in 1986 (years later, Tim would also author the first official price guide and reference book on pulp magazines).

 

The Bookery was in its third year when I was hired, first as a sales clerk, then later promoted to Manager.  Tim and I were, and are, complete opposites.  He was a list-maker, very organized and detail-oriented, with a head full of facts and figures.  I was less ... tidy, more impulsive, and more visually attenuated.  He was quiet, and introverted; I was loud and obnoxious.  In other words, he was Felix, I was Oscar.  Though we indeed made an 'odd couple,' we hit it off immediately, each of us benefiting from the other's friendship and influence.  As the business grew, our divergent personalities sometimes came into conflict, but we always had enough mutual respect to resolve our differences for the sake of the store.

 

In time, Tim's role in the Bookery shifted away from the daily operations of the business, and he began to concentrate more on the collectibles: comic books, paperbacks, pulps, movie posters, and signed hardcover novels.  While I dealt with the general public, Tim toiled quietly in the background, content to let me hog the limelight so he could get some real work done.  Eventually, most of our customers came to assume that I was the owner, and Tim slipped even further into the shadows.  But there was always a bit of an entourage, a small but loyal group of collectors who appreciate Tim's wealth of knowledge, opinions on the industry, and sense of humor.  To them, Tim is more than just a dealer.  He's a friend.

 

Today, Tim still keeps a low profile, focusing on collectibles, laboring over payroll and bookkeeping, and writing a sequel to his reference book on pulps.  In July, Bookery's Guide to Pulps and Related Magazines will be released, just in time for PulpCon.  No doubt Tim will already be busy working on a third volume.

 

Like Neil Simon's Odd Couple, Tim and I have a relationship that sees beyond our differences.  He's still a little bit Felix, and I'm still a little bit Oscar, but sometime in the past 18 years, I've become a tad bit ... tidier, and Tim has learned how to make piles.  Like the best of unions, his strengths have compensated for my weaknesses, and vice versa.  Together, we've built a business that showcases not only our personalities and personal interests, it reflects our friendship. 

 

I see nothing odd about that.