MASTERMIND: Curtis Sullivan

You won't see Curtis Sullivan lunching at Potbelly Deli. It's nothing personal, it's just… well, actually, it is kind of personal… but not because the Vault Of Midnight owner has a beef with the Chicago-based franchise. It's because they're not local.

"They might make a mean sandwich. I wouldn't know," Sullivan explains. "They probably have a great business model and good food but if I want lunch I'm going to Amir's. I want to know the people in the places I go. I go to ABC [Ann Arbor Brewing Company] or Grizzly Peak for dinner. I go to the Blind Pig to drink beer."

It's this hometown focus (and a profound love of comic books) that inspired the 35 year-old to finally leave his job as a corporate opener for Ruby Tuesday ten years ago and set up shop in Ann Arbor's downtown.

"I grew up on Spring Street and have always loved Ann Arbor. I've always loved the downtown," says Sullivan. "Plus I was a big nerd. I've read comics since I was 6 years old and around twenty-five decided, 'Hey, I'm gonna open a comic book store.'"

For some it might seem like a big switch, but Sullivan insists the leap from high volume kitchens to the funny pages wasn't that hard. "I was used to working with purveyors for the restaurant business," Sullivan explains, "it wasn't much different dealing with distributors. Ordering is ordering. And comics don't spoil."

Over nine years and three locations, Vault Of Midnight steadily attracted customers and built a loyal community. But it wasn't easy. "We didn't have capital, so it was a really slow crawl of make some money, add some inventory, reinvest. I probably didn't pay myself for the first four years. I pretty much lived on soup."

The name, Vault Of Midnight, came from the fact that Sullivan and his business partner, best friend since first grade Steve Fodale, focused on independent comic titles first. They loved Captain Midnight, a character from the 1930s, and were huge fans of E.C. Comics like Crypt Of Fear and Tales Of Terror. The name became an homage to both.

It was at their third location, on Liberty Street, across from the post office, that the comic shop finally hit its stride, diversifying its stock and attracting a steady customer base. Sullivan was able to pay himself a salary and running the business became a family affair with his wife Elizabeth lending a hand. The key to their success was their ability to become comic tastemakers.

"I had knowledge of the product," Sullivan explains. "It's kind of like owning a record store. You have to know a lot --pretty much most of what's happened in the last 50 years of comics. Which I did. Customers trusted me when I said something was worth reading."

Over its five year run in the Liberty Street basement space, Vault Of Midnight established itself as a true downtown fixture. But when the building's ownership changed hands, Sullivan's requests for much-needed improvements were ignored. "We started looking for a new place," he explains. "But the clock was ticking because we were on a month-to-month lease."

What Sullivan discovered, however, was a downtown that didn't love him nearly as much as he loved it. "No one wanted us," he explains. "Even though our financials were immaculate they just didn't 'get' what a comic shop was and so they wouldn't rent to us. We tried to rent the Wizzywig location near State Street (now closed) but they told us they didn't want 'our kind of business.'"

Given the critical acceptance of comics in the 1990s as a serious literary form (with occasional reviews in the New York Times book section) and the wild successes of movie adaptations, it seemed odd that Ann Arbor landlords were responding as if it were still the 1950s, when comic books were seen as the scourge of society.

"There's still this weird perception in America that comics are dangerous," Sullivan explains. "Or that it's low brow pulp made for kids who are dumb and can't read 'none too good'. Which is weird, because everyone in the world loves comics except America. Why Desperate Horny Housewives on television is more acceptable than Superman or Batman, I have no idea."

Sullivan doesn't think the downtown he fell in love with in his youth would have rejected Vault Of Midnight so quickly and sees it as symptomatic of a bigger issue. "Downtown isn't about families or people who live here anymore," he argues. "Part of it is an affordability issue. The rents are out of control. But you've also got to look at the way things are run and the events that we have downtown. The Art Fair? I really like the Art Fair but let's be real, who is that for? What is the age of the people attracted to it? Forty plus? Fifty plus? It's for older people outside of Ann Arbor. I don't want to pick on it because it brings in a lot of people and money into the community but I think there's too much focus on that crowd and not enough on younger people. Where are the 18-35 year olds?"

Sullivan remembers a time when downtown Ann Arbor and the neighboring Old West Side boasted businesses and amenities that supported mixed income families. "When I was kid the band shell in West Park was going all summer," Sullivan laments. "Now, there's nothing. No events. And it's partly because the population is aging on the Old West Side. If I were in planning I'd be looking at ways to make things easier for a younger demographic."

How? Sullivan thinks that downtown should be putting focus on locally owned businesses like his own and more mixed use buildings. "I like smart retail/office/living. I think there should be more residential development close to downtown. I don't think it should be so huge that it's out of control but we need more mixed use."

Despite these complaints, Sullivan's profound love of downtown made him determined to stay, to carve out his own little corner of authenticity. Luckily, landlords Steven and Michele Kelly had similar ideas about downtown Ann Arbor. And more importantly, no bias against comic book shops.

"We think it's important to establish a local character for all of downtown," says building owner Steven Kelly. "And we wanted a small business that would draw families downtown. Vault Of Midnight has done that. The only drawback has been that my wife has become addicted to japanese manga comics."

When After Words bookstore closed its doors after operating on Main Street for 26 years, the husband-wife partners were in search of a locally owned business to move in. Sullivan waited all of 48 hours after the bookshop's doors closed before inquiring about the space. He found that he was fifth in line. Still, with the strongest financial history and an obvious love for Ann Arbor's downtown, he quickly became the landlord's first choice.

"I think the fact that the building isn't owned by a property management firm, but rather two individuals, really helped us," Sullivan explains. "They really understood what we wanted to do and they gave us a shot."

Nevertheless, it was a big step for Vault Of Midnight. Not only were they were moving into a space that had more than three times the square footage of their previous location, they were joining the hustle and bustle of Main Street, where they needed to broaden their appeal. Undaunted, Sullivan saw it as an opportunity.

"It was scary but felt good. It was like, time to sink or swim," Sullivan says. "We never had the space or, frankly the knowledge, to really expand things we liked. The move gave us the room to offer more to our customers and create a bigger community."

And that community has developed from 30 regular comic subscribers to 500 (30 percent of the store's sales). By the end of the first year it was clear Sullivan had made the right move, doubling his overall business. "I had set a goal of breaking even in three years and hit the mark in the first year." 

Sullivan's second year has seen another 20 per cent growth and Vault Of Midnight is now considered a top 10 per cent retailer for Diamond Comic Distributors, the biggest distributor in the country. "We order enough that we get calls directly from the publishers. Companies like Dark Horse will actually ask our opinion about comics."

Moving into the new space also allowed Vault Of Midnight to diversify and expand its offerings to include board games and collectibles. With four open gaming nights a week in their downstairs space, pre-release demos and tutorials, the store has attracted yet another large and loyal customer base.

"We focus on board games so that's really opened up family sales," Sullivan says. "It goes back to that thing of knowing your product and knowing what's good… …so if we say 'hey, you should check this out,' our customers will."

These successes have Sullivan looking to expand his business model into other Michigan college campuses in need of a good comic shop and even Chicago's west side. He also toys with starting his own comic book line, noting how comic artists like Jessica Abel, Tristan Eaton, Guy Davis and Matt Madden all once called Ann Arbor home. "I watched High Fidelity again about a year ago and you know at the end of the movie where he puts out the CD for the shoplifting kids, I thought, yeah, I should do something like that." Hopefully without the shoplifting.

No matter where the future takes him, however, Sullivan intends to stay here in Michigan. "We are a true Ann Arbor type store," he says proudly. "Heck, we even got a Prairie Home Companion nod. We ended up in Garrison Keillor's beat poem about Ann Arbor. And that's what we want. To be a real resident here. And for me, who grew up in a broken home, being the classic mega-poor guy, it's really gratifying to have a successful business in my hometown."