RIP: Carl Tupper

On a night like this
I can’t get any sleep,
The air is so cold outside
And the snow’s so deep.
Build a fire, throw on logs
And listen to its hiss.

Of course we’ve all read the old Chinese proverb “May you live in interesting time.”  If I never read those word again it’ll be too soon.  It’s become something of a cliché.  Or perhaps a lazy way for a writer to try to get the point across.  But saying all that I want to say that I hope this year will prove less interesting than the last one.

An aside that unfortunately finds itself in this column even though I wish it didn’t.  Three days into the new year and things became “interesting.”  Making a left turn I didn’t realize that I had a green light but not a green arrow.  The two cars in front of me just kept going through the turn without slowing down and I followed behind them.  The truck coming towards me through the light didn’t need an arrow, just the green light he had.

I didn’t see it until I heard the horn and looked up and literally the truck was within inches of me.  Suddenly I heard the sound of the impact and felt the car being pushed to the side and out of the traffic lane.  Basically I bounced off the front bumper of the truck and continued to the side of the lane I had hoped to turn into and pulled off onto the grass.

I have a Camry and the other vehicle was an Avalanche.

Both my passenger doors were crushed inward and the panel above my back tire was bent down and dangerously close to the tire itself.   The Avalanche had a scratched front bumper and the plastic beneath the bumper on the left side was loose.  No one was hurt, which looking back on it was the important thing.  The driver in the Avalanche had passengers, but no one was injured.  We did the insurance thing and waited for the police to come give me a ticket and than went on our way.

Much worse was parts of 2010.  The year was bracketed by deaths.

My 2010 started out badly.  The start of February I was in my car on my lunch hour checking my email.  That’s how I learned the son of two of my best friends had been killed in Afghanistan.  He was a Marine and was proudly serving his country.  I remember his birth, I remember watching him grow as a boy into a young man.

That was the start of the year.

At the end of the year I was on Facebook and saw that Carl Tupper had died.  Carl was the owner and founder of BSI Comics.  Carl retired after Katrina and except for a brief appearance at the first NOLA Con I haven’t seen him.  But there are some people that you can never forget and make a lifelong impression on you.  Carl was one of them.

Reading the comments online about Carl I was struck by how many lives he touched.  I didn’t have the opportunity to know Carl as a young boy growing up.   I first met him after I moved to the New Orleans area from Atlanta.  I was already out of school and working, but still collecting comics.  It was shortly after the birth of the direct sales market.   Comic book shops were just starting to come into their own.  Before most shops dealt with mainly back issues and all but ignored the new comics.  Once the direct sales market started comic shops started dealing with the new comics and comic book day took on a new meaning as fans would arrive at their shop on the day the comics were shipped to get their newest issue as soon as possible.  Shops started doing pull lists and holding comics for their customers so you no long had to travel all over the city when you missed the newest issue at your local 7-11.   (When I was growing up I remember having to visit multiple convenience stores to make sure I found all my comics.)

Carl was there at the start.  I remember when I visited his shop he had all the new comics on the wall in bags behind his counter.  You had to ask him for what comic you wanted and than he pulled it from the longbox and sold it to you.   But half the fun of going to the shop was Carl himself.

Carl always acted the tough guy, making a snide comment, but he had a heart of gold.  Carl ruled his shop from his wheelchair.   I’m not really sure how much a fan of the comics Carl was, I never really talked the particulars of an issue with him.  But he knew what was going on and who the creators were and the business side and I would talk that with him for hours sometimes.  I don’t know how many days off I would blow in his shop, just standing around looking at comics and talking with Carl.  It was a great way to spend time.

When I self published Diebold Carl purchased copies and helped to push it in his shop.  When I was inbetween jobs and doing some cleaning work Carl hired me to strip and wax the floors of his shop.  I think I did the floors in his new shop and his old shop before he moved.  I remember visiting Carl at his new shop not long after he opened.  And after he had to fix the front of the shop because one of his customers missed to brakes and kept going forward in the parking lot till he went through the front of Carl’s new shop.

I remember talking to Carl about my Dad not long after he first was diagnosed with cancer.  And no matter how many years later, whenever I’d walk into Carl’s shop, it didn’t matter how long inbetween my visits Carl would always ask about my Dad.

When I was working for Service Merchandise and getting promoted and moving around I would talk to Carl about what was expected of me and what I wanted.  He always had time to listen and comment and offer advice.

You read about all the bad shops and the horror stories of some of the people that run some of these comic shops, but Carl gave exception to those stories.   It didn’t matter who you were.  When you walked into Carl’s shop you were going to be insulted and than made to feel at home.
At the first NOLA Con Ronnie presented Carl with the first New Orlean’s Comic Shop Retailer Award, or something along those words, I’m not really sure what it was called.  But what it stood for was the feelings that so many people had for Carl and the store he ran for so many years.  Just about every local person that was working in the industry or trying to that was there had stories of how Carl had helped or encouraged them.  It was a great way to express how much he meant to so many people and I’m glad that Ronnie did it.

So I hope Ronnie doesn’t mind me borrowing this picture from him from the con.  That’s Ronnie and his Dad (who I could write a page just like this about) and Carl.