|I am seen here conversing with Mr. Clowes,|
while Mr. Bagge attends to the paying customers.
Note the eyeball cakes, baked by Karen Sweeney (Gerow).
|More of me and Dan. The wall behind him|
no longer exists, but cut across at about the middle
of the "new releases" rack. Mr. Clowes is seated
in almost the exact spot where the spinner rack
displaying his work is now located.
|This shot would later be used as the author|
photo in the hardback of Bagge's Hey, Buddy!,
but the origin of the photo had been forgotten, so
Diego was inadvertently robbed of a photo credit.
|Some of our beloved regulars, two of which are still in town.|
|The gang checks out original art at prices that none of us could|
afford, but would now be laughably cheap.
|Karen Sweeney talks to Clowes while Marika|
Wendelken mugs for the camera.
|A view that more clearly shows the old back wall. At that point,|
comics were in the left-hand room, and budget records at the right.
|Try as I might, I can't tell what Pete is reading here.|
As well as doing tons of sketches and autographing all manner of comics and album covers, the guests of honor were called upon to autograph local artist/musician/elemental force of nature Deonna Mann. Please note that these shots were taken per her request, and I was not just being a perv.
|Look at that baby face!|
|"P. Bagge wuz here"|
Speaking of Ms. Mann, she also provided a puppet show in honorof our special guests, with music by her musical organization, the Medaglia D'Oro Orchestra. The police pointed out that no permit for such a performance had been issued, but we worked it out.
|Onlookers await the beginning of the performance|
|Dee Goodman (RIP), and her future husband, noted alt-comix|
artist Jeff (now Jess) Johnson.
|Wade Hampton and Jim Stacy, hangin' tough|
|The puppet theater|
I was, however, able to salvage a few photos of the Stompers' set. Their drummer, Richard E. Grant, isn't visible in any of them, but he looks just like this guy, except not horrible:
Anyway, here's what I do have:
|Mr. Jim Stacy serenades the crowd, seemingly oblivious to|
the fireball about to engulf him
|Mr. Stacy wails on the mouth harp, while Mr. Trey Ledford tickles the strings|
|Mr. Wade Hampton lays down his funky bass licks|
The next day, we gathered up our VIPs and carried them to their next stop, Criminal Records in Atlanta. To build up their stamina, they finally dug into Karen's eyeball cakes.