Use the comments section below to share your
Rory stories and memories.
You may also use the ‘Guest Book’ page if you
do not have a story or memory to share at this
time.
NOTE:
Please use this space to remember the man and
not speculate or start rumors regarding the shop,
we are open and will remain open - That’s the way
Rory would have wanted it.
-JL-
Rory always felt like part of our family,Two of my children worked with him in the 80’s,and the connection was maintained. He was a special person of great generosity of spirit and will be missed by many.
I don’t think I ever really met Rory but the comic shop he created was a place of comfort for me during my short time at the University. I will be eternally thankful for good memories he gave me and the haven his shop provided.
Rory was one of the best. I remember one Bay Area Artist who had done some work for local role playing game back in the late 80’s, ripped him off to go buy drugs and when the scumbag was caught with his goods by the police, Rory didn’t press charges. A true gentleman with a heart of gold.
I put up a brief memoir here, which is perhaps notable because I knew Rory primarily as a customer in my store (and a friend) more than as a proprietor in his store.
Reposted from the Austin Books blog:
Sad news reached me Monday evening as I heard my friend and mentor, Rory Root, had passed away. ‘Sad’ actually doesn’t quite fit the bill. I still feel like I was punched in the chest.
Rory Root was the owner of Comic Relief in Berkeley, CA, and good will ambassador for the entire comic book industry. If you ever spent time on the online forums, you’ve read his posts, always positive and championing the art form. If you have ever trekked to any of the West Coast conventions, you saw Rory with his ever present fedora, cane and stein of coffee (later tea), surrounded by the largest and most diverse set-up in the room. If you ever spent time with me discussing stocking strategies or genre racking, you no doubt heard me mention his name with reverence.
I first heard of Rory and Comic Relief from former Austin Bookster Mark Finn and friend Weldon Adams when they returned in 1997 from working in Berkeley. They spoke of this almost mythic man and his amazing store filled with out-of-print and hard-to-find treasures. They told stories of his involvement in the Direct Line Group (DLG), DC Retailer Representative Program (RRP), San Diego Comic-Con (SDCC) and other tales that made a young retailer dream of the ‘big time’. Surely they couldn’t all be true. They were.
I got to meet Rory at the Dallas DC RRP in 2002. I approached him feeling that I needed to mention Mark and Weldon as an ‘in’. I didn’t, but it gave us something to discuss as we started our six-year friendship. He accepted me immediately and began to tell me stories of ‘the twins’ time in Berkeley. Of how they all went out to eat “Texas Style” barbecue (in California, mind you), the long talks of the market differences between the two states, movies and science-fiction novels. It didn’t take long for me to feel like I knew him well.
Over the next few years, I’d email or call Rory on various occasions when I needed advice. He always made the time. Eventually, I learned that I could even predict future trends in Austin by studying the current patterns in his store. (I laugh as I remember the tiny trade paperback section that we had at that time – when his business was pushing 50% collected material.) He was a trailblazer.
For the last four years, I’d stop by his booth at SDCC for the ever-necessary updates and to say ‘hello’. I’d often stand outside the convention center with him while he smoked (which he later quit) or find a seat by him at any of the retailer seminars just to see if I could squeeze out extra bits of retail and sales knowledge. He was so proud when Comic Relief moved to the new location on Shattuck that he kept showing everyone “baby pictures” of the new store. It was also during this time that he ushered me through our difficult employee problems. After all, he’d been there before.
After falling short of the Eisner Spirit of Retailing Award in both 2006 and 2007, I received calls from Rory to discuss my presentations. He went over the specifics of the videos and notebooks while, I think, actually just trying to make me feel better. It worked. He reminded me how far we’d come as a store and our place on the larger stage of this industry. That’s all it took to make me want to enter again.
My last opportunity to interact with Rory was at the DC RRP this past February. This time it was being held in Austin. I had the opportunity to share REAL Texas barbecue with him — something that delighted him to no end. In fact, his flight was to arrive later than the bbq tour was scheduled to start so he called me a week in advance to arrange a ride to join the festivities. I happily agreed to pick up both he and his store manager, Todd Martinez, at the airport (actually unnecessary as the tour bus was able to pick them up). That call was a joyful celebration of food, drink and the opportunity for us to again spend time with our retail friends. We spoke for hours about all of the cool places to visit in Austin, the likely DC programming and my anxiety over dozens of retailers visiting my store (still in the midst of remodeling). On the final day of the RRP, I offered to take Rory and Todd to the airport. On the way, we stopped by Austin Books to give Todd a tour. While there, Rory started holding court and selling books to customers and even my staff. He had a small group of people gather around him while he talked about the best in comics. His passion for this medium was clear and evident. That’s how I’ll remember him.
I’m better for having known him and I miss him already.
–Brad Bankston
Austin Books & Comics
I’m not sure that if you had asked Rory whether I was a friend or not that he would have thought of me as a friend. We didn’t really hang out together. In fact, there were years that went by without me seeing or hearing from him. However I thought of him as my friend.
I met him over comic book long boxes at The Best of Both Worlds (wow, I think that’s what it was called. As I write this I’m not completely sure.) Anyway, it was a comic book store that lived on Telegraph Ave. in Berkeley. I was new to California. Having just moved back from Illinois in 1980. It was a pretty low point in my life. I had flunked out of SIU. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or what I could do. I felt alone and I felt like a failure. Rory was the first person who seemed to notice me. I went to his comic book store (I’m pretty sure he didn’t own that store, but in my mind it was his) to pick up my X-Men, Spiderman and Fantastic Four comics. He would invariably talk me into buying some other title I had not heard of before. I would almost always love it. So my comic book buying soon busted my budget. However I enjoyed them so much.
We would often talk about comics, that turned into talking about science fiction, that turned into talking about local politics etc. etc. We tended to agree with each other on most things except we always seemed to get there from very different routes. And the times we didn’t agree the conversations were even more fun.
I can’t really think of anything particular to mention about him except that I will always be thankful for his easy friendship and for all the stories that I read that I would never have read if he hadn’t pointed them out to me. Things like: Bone, Zot, Why I Hate Saturn, Love and Rockets or Optic Nerve. I will miss him very much
I had the pleasure of meeting Rorys mom and his sister last year at a APE after party at the shop and was takin by how cool a family he had.It was a an honor and a thrill to meet them after i had known Rory for nearly the whole time ive been professional in comics field .. I have been a cartoonist for 30 years and its a roller coaster of feast and famine, Rory was always there for me and my family when we were in rough times. And would buy our stuff wether he needed it or not. He is a true patron of the arts in the best and kindest way and i owe my bro Rory much in this life and the after. I lost my mother Barbara Bode Falcon last year and this year isnt so good either for friends and family in our circle. Listen to your dreams and he will be there when you need him he may not be here in the flesh but his love and energy is there for you always when you want it. Love and respect to the family Rory loved so much. If there is a badge of honor for greatness in the arts and just being a all around great person Rory is wearin that puppy right now.. cant say anymore it hurts too much.. your pal always , Mark Bode
I don’t know if I can listen to this right now but some day:
http://www.morethanweimagine.com/podcasts/IRC23.mp3
Rory Root was my friend. Yes, he was a comics visionary and an inveterate gamer, but the most important thing to me was that he was my friend. Sure, he loved comics and books and games, but that wasn’t all. He was so much more than that.
Memories of him clamor for attention - which to choose? The times we went to a Mexican restaurant in Oakland (now long gone), so we could tease my sister about her flirtation with the waiter? We planned our trips - once or twice a week at that point - around the waiter’s schedule, then he and I gleefully dissected their every interaction. She squirmed and blushed and protested - until we got home afterwards, and the three of us would set a date for the next time.
Maybe I should write about his affection for cats, like Pia, the cat he’d rescued from a Berkeley pet store to be our first Comic Relief mascot and who became queen of the place for 16 years. Rory was just like the Chinese emperor in the story, the one who would cut off his sleeve rather than disturb the cat sleeping on it. He adored his cat
Oolong for every one of the twenty-three years she had him, but there was plenty of love left in his heart for Shelby, the stray that adopted him.
Or perhaps it’s the way I waited for his first taste of chopped liver every year at Passover; I could always count on him to tell me if it was right, or if I’d overcooked it again. Other people would be polite or tactful: Rory would be honest. He knew it was a trait I cherished.
In that same spirit, I’ll be honest here: Rory and I didn’t always get along easily, especially during the time I worked with him (and later, for him) in my teens and twenties. He drove me absolutely crazy sometimes, and I know he felt the same way about me. We’re both - we were both - opinionated people, perfectionist to a fault, often sure of ourselves when we have least reason to be. We both like - liked - to have the last word, and we both had plenty to say on any given
topic. And stubborn . . . well, he was stubborn. Me, I was just a little obstinate. Yeah, yeah, that’s it, just a little obstinate. (I can hear his voice saying that last sentence, the smile in his voice
even coloring the accent he’d put on.) Anyway, it’s not surprising that we would clash, with so much in common. It didn’t really matter, though. No matter how annoyed we were with each other, we always knew that it had nothing to do with our friendship. Nearly all of our visits and conversations ended with expressed affection on both sides, whether or not we’d been passionately “debating” a topic ten minutes
earlier. (Actually, come to think of it, we hardly fought at all in the last ten years - maybe we both grew up a little?) He knew I loved him, and he loved me. I’ll always be glad of that.
Rory introduced me to more than I can possibly list: new people, new foods, new games, new music, new books . . . there were always new
books. I’m reasonably well-read, but I could never keep up with Rory. Actually, I remember how thrilled I was, four or five years ago, when
I actually discovered a new book series before him. I lent it to him, of course; he laughed to see me puffing up with pride, but there was affection and understanding under the amusement.
In Rory’s memory, I will drink hot tea (his favorite beverage, carried everywhere in an enormous mug) and wine (which he always supplied for festive occasions). I’ll eat . . . what? Maybe a blueberry ring, like the one he always brought to the shop on Christmas Day; or Indian
food, from his favorite Indian restaurant in Berkeley; or perhaps just some dark chocolate and sharp cheeses, his favorites among the many
foods he loved.
For 33 years, Rory has been part of my life. At Thanksgiving, at Passover, at the store, at home . . . and now, as another dear friend put it, there’s “a Rory-sized empty space.” I miss you, dear friend. While I’m listening to your Celtic music, or watching (yes, finally!) your favorite TV show The Wire, I offer this - these halting words of
my own, and then some, written by someone a lot more eloquent than me:
Dirge Without Music
(Edna St. Vincent Millay)
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, - but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love, -
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
He couldn’t (I think it was congenital), absolutely couldn’t throw anything out.
I got a call at the store once asking me how to salvage burned lentil soup.
“You can’t fix it, Rory, throw it out.”
“I’ve tried adding lots of spices, and it didn’t work.”
“No, nothing will work. Throw it out.”
“Maybe if I diluted it, and added more stuff and made it a bigger batch…?”
“Then you’ll have a big batch of less-burned, but still burned, lentil soup. Throw it out, Rory.”
And so it went–lentil soup as a metaphor for life…
First and foremost i wish to thank all of you for sharing your own personal stories re. Rory. I have enjoyed reading every single post. My brother was defintely a force to be reckoned with. I personaly wish to thank Kathleen Hunt from the bottom of my selfish Heart. I could not have handled calling all the people or fielding the phone calls that you so graciously did while Rory was in the hospital, and even after his death. I know how very close you were, and i was not very sympathetic of your own feelings. Of this I am very very very sorry. A lot of the times we went thru were so very painful and sudden and so very unexpected. My emotions were so RAW. They still are.I need to see you!
On a different note MOM is recovering fine but in pain. And the nurses know she used to be an R.N. also, so when they come on shift and tell her ’so I hear you are a retired registered nurse’ she now replies yes Soooo that means you have to take better care of me huh? Ha Ha
Everyones musings on Rory are a real joy and comfort to read. And Brad,He LOVED that barbeque!! He spent hours on the phone to make sure that everyone at the airport got to go. You all know he loved great food. I had stayed up until 4:47 am this morning writing a very lengthy letter but I typed a wrong email addy and thought i should get my ass to bed Roger and I had spent a very long emotional day at Rorys house and then stopped by the store to give Jonathan some photos.Hey Jonathan I don’t see the one of Rory at the age of nine.Hehehe.
Sisters, you never know what they might do next.
On a more serious note Rory called me at 11:20 sat nite stating he was going in for emergency surgery he could only talk for a min. That was the last time we talked.He didn’t suffer any pain and never regained consciousness.I am so very thankful for all the friends who came to visit Rory, having the conversations helped take my mind off things. I will miss him. He was after all my only Big brother and therefore I was supposed to get his advice, since we had, in previous years lost our two older brothers. And I must say he filled that role beautifuly. He was always so smart,witty, kinda charming, funny as hell. He was such a nerd in high school, I’m glad he made it back to the bay area so he could bloom. I’m glad he has so many friends and peers that could appreciate his immense knowledge. So many times when we talked I would have to get him to slow down and explain just who a certain writer or artist was or did so i could try and share in his enthusiasum. He was so very unique, I loved talking with him late into the wee hours of the morn. RDR I will miss you the rest of my life………………………….
It was back in 2002, a casual chat in front of a Comic Shop. A chat on comics, graphic novels in special, the art of comic in the us and in europe. A small talk that made a lasting impression on me and is part of my good memories from my stay in Berkeley.
I didn’t know the man, nor his name until I came across this site. I happend to be Rory Root.
Thank you Rory for having shared your thoughts.
- André L., Switzerland
I stopped by the store recently, to browse - I’ve gone in many times just to hang out, and then come out with something cool. If Rory was around, that was always a bonus - it was a pleasure to have conversation with him. The time would fly as we jumped from one topic to another.
I was taken aback and saddened by the news. What a nice, kind fellow, and a friend of writers - certainly he was encouraging to this writer. I know he was an eminent bookseller - but I’ll leave the industry accolades to others and just say that for me, whose first childhood allowance money went for comics, it was amazing to walk in to Comic Relief for the first time, in my adulthood. It was like coming home.
My condolences to Rory’s family.
My dear Rory. I really don’t know where to begin; after thirty-three years I took for granted that you’d always be there, always be part of my life. There are so many memories crowding for attention – far too many to mention here, but all so important to me.
Years ago, after my beloved guinea pig died, I called you crying and asked what I should do with his remains. You came over, told me you’d “take care of him”, and whisked him and his towel away. You never would tell me exactly what you did with him (although I suspect a handy rubbish bin figured prominently), but I felt better anyway. You were always there for me like that – when I really needed it, you made me feel better.
For a brief time I lived two blocks from you and frequently tromped down the hill to land on your doorstep, where you would welcome me in and give me tea – always the tea, buckets and buckets of tea. We would chat about BBC America, music we loved, and why neither of us could ever manage to clean our houses. Sometimes we’d walk the neighborhood, even trying to break into an empty house that looked so lovely we just had to see the inside.
And then all the advice you gave me over the years, from what new things to read to what to do about my dating-life (“stop dating guys you meet in comic book stores” always seemed to top the list). I rarely listened to your advice, usually didn’t like getting it, but will miss it now immensely. Not that you ever listened to my advice either. If I only had a nickel for every time I asked you to please stop smoking, only to be met with a sweet smile and a “yes dear”. Will you forgive me now if I’m a bit angry at you for not having listened to me, to everyone, who told you to take care of yourself?
It is only because I will miss your calls telling me to turn on the radio to hear a great program. I will miss fighting over the leftover mashed-potatoes at Passover and Thanksgiving (I will let you in on a secret: I can’t possibly eat them all myself). I will miss your presence at the July 4th BBQs. I will miss your smile. I will miss our bickering over silly things like band names and TV shows. In all the ways that truly count, you were part of my family. And I will just plain miss you. Do miss you. Good-bye my sweet, maddening, funny, complex, brilliant friend.
Rory was a great supporter not just of our books, but all books. A true literary gentleman who just liked to have pictures with his words. And a guy who thought a lot about how to get stuff out there, who worked with libraries to increase their understanding and assortment of graphic works. I remember his many good suggestions, and regret I made wise use of so few of them.
I just listened to the I Read Comics podcast interview with Rory. Maybe the policy came in after my time (very likely, we’re talking early 1990s here), or maybe I was special (aren’t we all?), but I’m pretty sure I sat down to read something in the store at least once or twice and didn’t get chastised for it.
I’m so sorry Rory didn’t get a chance to meet my son.
FOR RORY
To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of honest critics, and endure the betrayal of false friends. To appreciate beauty. To find the best in others. To leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition. To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived…………
This Is To Have Succeeded.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
I never met the man, nor have I ever been to his store (despite knowing it by reputation)… but, I have to say, I wish I had known him and wish I had frequented his store.
Now if a stranger can say that about you, you must have been something extra-special.
Memories of Rory Root
I am so saddened to hear of Rory’s passing. Floods of wonderful memories have come rushing back. I’d forgotten how much Rory had been a part of my life . . .
1. 1980 My introduction to Comic collecting and SF Cons
When I first met my husband, Patrick, I told him I “didn’t like science fiction,” but it didn’t take long to discover I was an avid fan - I just thought SF was “Godzilla destroys Tokyo.” Patrick quickly introduced me to fandom at “Octo-Con” in Santa Rosa and the comic book shops he visited weekly in Berkeley. That is where we first met Rory. In no time I was buying my own comics, fantasy art, etc. and finding my own niche in the world of fandom.
2. Friday night comic runs to Best of Two Worlds in Berkeley.
We fell into a routine of Patrick picking me up after work on Friday nights at MacArthur BART and going directly to Comics and Comix and Best of Two Worlds stores for our supply of new releases. We would hang out and talk with the staff. As our friendships grew, we gravitated to talking mostly with Rory. He always had a recommendation to read something new, or a movie to see, or an artist/writer etc. who was coming to the store. On a slow Friday, we could entice him to join us for dinner at Blake’s . . . we’d hang out in the store as long as it took to get “quiet” so he would join us. Friends with Rory felt like being invited to the “inner circle” and became a very big part of our life.
3. The Prisoner rebroadcasts on KTEH
When KTEH began rebroadcasts of The Prisoner, fan groups started to form to watch together. We couldn’t get the station on our TV in Oakland, so we were delighted that my mother, Rae, who lived in San Francisco (and was also a “fan”) had reception. So a party was born . . . Rory and about 8-10 of us would descend on my Mom, bringing snack foods and drinks, to watch each new episode. Only one problem . . . the only TV in my mother’s house was in her small bedroom upstairs because she was on disability and spent most of her time in bed. So, there we all were, climbing in bed with her, where I would snuggle up to her like the child I was, others draped across the bed, more on the floor around the bed, all watching intently. Excited discussion at the end of each show. My mother loved it all . . . Warm fuzzies all around.
4. Saturday morning breakfast
For years, my regular routine on Saturday morning was to go out on my own to do errands (grocery shop; cleaners; payless, etc.) while Patrick slept in. On many of those Saturday mornings, I would pick up Rory so we could go out to breakfast (Fat Apples, IHOP, other local restaurants) and we’d get a chance to talk one-on-one. This was our “alone time together;” a time I treasured. Rory was the most intelligent and eclectic (next to my husband) person I knew. Conversations were magical.
5. 1986 - The Birthday Bash
In November 1986, Patrick was turning 40. His birthday was the same day as our friend, Bill Hutchinson (40), and a couple days before Rory’s (29). So I decided to throw all three a party and called it the “Birthday Bash!” It was held at my Mom, Rae’s big house in San Francisco and about 50 friends of the three “birthday boys” came to celebrate in style. Their surprise present from me was a Belly Dancer who performed in the large foyer of Rae’s house, with Patrick, Rory & Bill standing together, smiling broadly and a big crowd standing around the many doorways and stairway to watch. She enjoyed the boys and the crowd so much, she stayed for the rest of the party.
I’d ordered a birthday cake from Safeway but the clerk had mis-read my instructions for the greeting on the cake, so it read:
Happy Birthday
Bash, Patrick,
Bill & Rory.
As if “Bash” was one of the fellas. I left it for all to see.
6. 1988 Move to other side of the tunnel - to Lafayette
The one thing you can count on in life is change. When Patrick and I moved to the other side of the tunnel, to Lafayette where I now worked, we just didn’t get down into Oakland/Berkeley with our usual frequency. We saw our fan friends at cons, and Patrick would make periodic comic runs to Rory’s Comic Relief bookstore. (I always thought it was rude of Robin Williams, et. al. to call their TV specials “Comic Relief” without giving credit to Rory!) For reasons I could never figure out, most of our friends just didn’t want to drive to our side of the tunnel, so we gradually began to have less and less frequent contact. I’ve always been sad about that . . . but life moves on . . . new friends are made . . . new interests and activities . . . etc., etc., etc. . . . . . . . . .
As others have said on this memory page, Rory was special, extraordinary, visionary and passionate. When he liked someone, he’d say they were “good people.”
Rory, my friend, we will miss you forever - you were “good people.”
HUGS
Pamela
MEMORIES OF RORY
I have known Rory a long time, all the way back to the Best of Both Worlds days before he opened Comic Relief. In fact when he was just getting the store together he and his crew came over to our place and dug through my collection gathering books for the store and Rory would teach them how to grade, “bag and tag” them.
My wife Pamela and I would swing by the shop late and wait for him to close up and all of us hit Telegraph Ave for dinner. She would also go out to Breakfast Saturday Mornings while I slept in.
Rory and My birthday are only a few days apart. One year Pamela tossed a party for both of us and a good friend and teacher of mine Bill Hutchinson (who shares my birthday. Anyway we confiscated my Mother-in-laws house in San Francisco for the Party and invited all of our fan and video friends. Pamela hired a belly dancer to perform for the 3 of us. (unfortunately the pictures of the party are buried in storage
until we move.)
I lived across the street from Rory when we both lived on 27th St. I was invited to one of Rory’s infamous poker games but I was so lousy and played so poorly that I went home broke and was never invited back.
I did help Rory put together Petunia-Con, the first (and to my knowledge the only con dedicated to Cerebus)
Patrick McManus The man of Many Hats (aka Redbeard)
Though he wasn’t the easiest guy to work for, he gave me a chance when I needed it and allowed me to work (my first office job) at a cultural institution I still love. An institution that was his (and Mike’s) own creation, and a place that changed my course forever.
I met Rory almost exactly 28 years ago when he came to my home to ask for my permission to take my daughter Treesa to her Senior Prom. This was a very big deal for Tree and for me. I wasn’t quite sure of what to make of this big blonde man who strolled so easily into our home. His infectious smile soon won me over and he received permission. That was the beginning of rory’s being a part of my family’s life.
Later he introdouced Treesa to charlie an d as they say the rest is history. Rory remained their very good friend for all these years.
Rory has been a part of our extended family for all the past 28 years. When he came to visit at my mom’s, “Noni’s house” he was always on his best behaviour. He and my mother would have lively discussions about just about everything but they did love to talk food and Rory enjoyed many of her {real” italian food. He loved just about every thing she cooked but he loved her desserts the most. Rory and i talked mostly about my classroom in particualr and education in general and we talked about families and traditions and values. He even got along with my somewhat red neck brother. He just seemed to mess with everyone he met.
In all the years I knew him I never heard him say a bad word about anyone, that is other than politics.
As we both grew older we shared some of the same physical difficulties but even when he was in pain he still met me with that wonderful smile and a warm hug.
I will miss you dear Rory. May the Lord Bless and Keep You in His Grace.
I was out of the country when my friend texted me the news, and I’m so sad to hear of Rory’s passing. What a light he was in so many lives, always willing to take a risk on a new book or encourage a local artist, always listening and sharing his immense love - and encyclopedic knowledge - of comics. He was one of the few retailers to take a chance on preordering my first book, for which I will be forever grateful. But even more than that, Rory was just such a warm and caring person, and a joy to be around. I truly looked forward to seeing him every year at San Diego (and giving him my money - I think I can safely say he also got more of that than any other comics retailer, and we weren’t even in the same city!)
My defining memory of Rory was before I even met him in person: I think I was moaning about my incipient 35th birthday on the Warren Ellis Forum (ah, it seems so long ago now) and he suggested I look on the bright side: at 35, I’d be able to run for President! It probably means nothing to anyone else, but it cheered me up immensely and it was just, I dunno, such a Rory moment. Here was somebody who I’d never even met, and yet he made you feel as though you had been heard, and seen, and recognized. Others have talked about how he always seemed to remember your taste and have recommendations for you. Looking over people’s remembrances, I’m kind of boggled by HOW MANY people he must have been keeping track of. What an incredible gift the man had. It was so subtle that you took it for granted, but he was always paying attention. He really cared.
I’m relieved to hear that he wasn’t in pain at the end. But I am so sad for the loss to his family, friends and the whole comics industry. Rory was a rare and wonderful and gentle man. I don’t know what we’re gonna do without him.
Long time comic store owner Buddy Saunders wrote this in his recent newsletter:
Rory was a longtime friend and someone I very much liked and respected both as a person and as a source of wisdom within our industry. Everyone who knew Rory felt about him pretty much as I do. There are too few Rory Roots in this little comic business world, and the loss of anyone as vital as Rory will be sorely missed. Yes, Rory is gone, but his spirit lingers wherever comics are seen and enjoyed.
San Jose store owner Dan Shahin has some nice comments and a nice pencil drawing (!!) of Rory here:
http://www.hijinxcomics.com/
Scroll down about halfway.
Currently 61 posts here, on Rory’s passing:
http://blog.newsarama.com/2008/05/19/retailer-rory-root-ill/
this is truly the end of an era. rory, you and your store have been in my life for over 20 years. i learned a lot about myself inside those walls buried in aisles of books practically falling off the shelf. that store is one of the most beautiful things i know and you are to credit for creating such a diamond in the rough of university avenue (and later shattuck).
you are missed.
It seems like every day there is a reminder that, as I get older, the days fly by faster and the people and things from our past leave sooner.
I met Rory back around 1981 at Best of Two Worlds comics in Berkeley where I often shopped. Not long after that, John Barrett of Comics and Comix asked me if I would be interested in running a store in my home town of Santa Rosa.
Never ones to be beaten to the punch, Bob Beerbohm and Rory made me a better offer and that week they pulled up with a huge truck of comics, merchandise and racks and the Santa Rosa location of Best of Two Worlds was open for business.
Having only been a dealer at conventions, running a store was new to me and I could not have done it, if it wasn’t for Rory. He would call me daily or I would call him, and his advice was invaluable and he was the best mentor one could have. We did not get much chance to actually work together except at conventions or my weekly drive down to Berkeley to pick up the new comics. He and I would always walk down Telegraph and get coffee and talk about business and what was working well in the store and what was not and generally shoot the breeze. His enthusiasm was always infectious and I would leave Berkeley with new comics and happy about my job. At the time, I was also working at Eclipse Comics in production, paste up, and as an office assistant for Cat Yronwode and Dean Mullaney. Rory used to love to come up and talk with them. One time Cat referred to me as her “secretary,” in her column in the CBG. Rory teased me about that mercilessly for weeks.
We had a slight falling out a couple years later which was caused by in store politics more than personality conflicts. We still talked at conventions and on my visits to Berkeley long after I had stopped working for the company. When he opened Comic Relief, it was obvious he was doing what he was meant to. We had not spoken in quite a while.
I remember when his health first started to decline and he was using a cane, I saw him at a convention and asked him how he was doing and he told me, “Growing old sucks.” I remember feeling a little sad and worried about seeing this mountain of a guy, who used to be all over the convention floors, staying at his booth more than usual. The last time him and I really spoke was at a signing he and Ron Turner had put on at the store with Junko. He gave my wife a nice discount on graphic novels she would be using for the high school English class she teaches. That was Rory just being Rory.
My favorite Rory memories are: 1) A several hour long discussion about the future of the industry and comic retail with Rory, Diana Schutz, Cat, Dean, and a few others at Petunia Con right before we all joined 25 more industry people and creators at Victoria Station for a wonderful evening of food, drink, and talk. 2) Rory joining my girlfriend, her friends, and myself for a barbeque at the Russian River. 3) Partying with Rory, Dave Sim, Gerhard, and more people than I can remember after a con. 4) Working until early morning with Rory, Bob and the Bo2W crew at the SR store on the in-house newsletter, so it would be done in time for San Diego. 5) Looking at Simon and Kirby romance comics with Rory, Diana, and Cat at a Creation Con in Berkeley. 6) Cat had received all of Will Eisners original art for the Spirit including the Wally Wood Spirit in Outer Space pages. She was brokering the sale of it for Will. When Rory got the chance to see it, he was like a child at the candy shop.7) How Rory could talk and talk about any subject you can think of.
Recently I was telling my Daughter how I just don’t really have any desire to go to most conventions anymore, as they have turned into a media circus and are just not the small (well kind of) intimate shows they used to be. You just do not see as many familiar faces as you once did. The energy is different as well. Knowing Rory will not be at the Comic Relief table just drives that point home.
I will, as always, make my pilgrimage to Comic Relief with friends or the kids from the group home I am a counselor at. I will smile fondly of days gone when I make my purchases.
I think that if we could peek into a magical looking glass and see what is going on in heaven, we would see Rory, with a cup of Joe in hand talking and holding court with Jack Kirby, Rick Griffin, Will Eisner, Jane Oliver, Dori Seda and more than I can count. He would be speaking of the things he loved—comics and the people who make them.
God bless you Rory Root.
I met Rory once, very briefly, when he was in town for a trade show. He stopped by my shop with some other retailers for a few minutes. After looking around he complimented me on the place and gave me a couple of really good tips for improvements. Such a warm hearted man. May God Bless his family and his shop.
I was one of those who would occasionally walk in to Comic Relief and, if Rory was not there, maybe walk out with one or two things that caught my eye, but if Rory happened to be there, walk out with a boxful. But I wasn’t a stranger, Rory and I have been friends for a long time. (Had. Damn!) The thing is that I trusted his judgment of what I would like and what would be interesting, far more than anyone else. And if he didn’t have something I happened to want, he knew who did and freely referred me to them. A visit to his house was informative, he had a lot of books. And by a lot, I mean more than most would probably imagine. I don’t doubt he read every one and knew every one. I have too many memories to recount… most of them good. I remember many things about Rory, but the one thing I remember most, is when at a party or gathering, after sitting with him for a few minutes talking about whatever, he would look at you and say, “how are you?”. And it was a simple question, but he meant it. He really wanted to know, it was never about him, he was truly larger than life, he was the real deal. Damn.
I’m so saddened by Rory’s passing. I met Rory in 1979 when I started working at Best of Two Worlds on Telegraph Avenue. Rory worked next door at The Music Faucet, and was a regular visitor to the neighboring comic store. He always encouraged me to borrow records from his store, and to never be a stranger. I loved comics then, but Rory REALLY loved comics, and he showed such passion for them even before he thought to open a store and make his living from it. After 1980, I saw him occasionally at new comic pick-ups at Borden’s, or at local comic shows. He always had a friendly smile to offer, and would always ask how things were going for me. Rory will be missed as a very important part of the comic book landscape here in the bay area, but more importantly (at least to me), he was a terrific guy he loved to share his love for comics with anyone.
I knew Rory through one of his many intellectual loves outside comics: games.
I met Rory in April of 2001, days after I moved to the Bay Area. His ready smile and wit made an immediate impression. He became my first close friend in the area, and introduced me to many more. I recall our first conversation, and how his eyes lit up when I asked if he knew any hobby gamers.
Kind is the word that most springs to mind when I think of Rory. He always took the time to know other people’s lives in a caring way. For years I took that for granted until I saw how he went out of his way to make my now fiancé feel welcome among our friends
I learned about Rory’s passing just yesterday.. i had been away from berkelely when it occurred and hadnt found time to make my typical wednesday afternoon visit to the shop in a few weeks.
Time is the thing. It struck hard yesterday as a few weeks turned into almost 10 years.
Rory, his spirit, and his passion for his work and his bliss was one of the few things in bezerkely that I considered “good”.
I’ll miss the guy, but what he left will endure and the many he treated “nice” and “informed” will pass it on. Thats a nice legacy.
Best to all.
I was fortunate enough to meet and work with Rory at last year’s San Diego Comic-Con.
During those 4 days I got to witness up close all of the man’s wonderful qualities as mentioned in the above posts.
He was extremely knowledgeable, helpful, funny, and very patient with me and my barrage of questions.
It is always an inspiration to meet people like Rory who truly love their work, and above all, love the people & art that inspired them. It was a pleasure to have known him.
My heartfelt condolences to Rory’s family and friends.
Paul McGuckin
Sales Rep
Wow. I’m shocked, still. I’m angry. I’m frustrated. Tomorrow I and A-1 Comics celebrate 20 years of being in business. But I cannot get excited, because for all the satisfaction and joy that brings there is an unfillable hole in the Comic Universe.
Rory is gone. Younger than myself and gone? How can that be? He was a rock in the biz, he had an opinion about everything-and was not afraid to share it,he would take chances, he would win, he would lose, he was never satisfied. He was polarizing and , occasionally, compromising. He was passionate to a fault and commited to the end to the store, the people and the business he loved. He chose a path and stayed the course. He was a mentor to me and to countless others.
He was an ambassador ,a guerilla, an activist on many different levels. He knew his stuff!
So, No, I can’t belive it, even a month later, Rory is gone.
My condolences to his family and friends, to his co-workers, to us. We have lost an incredible spirit, a very unique person. What we have lost the Heavens have gained.
God Bless Rory, Remember us on your journey.
Mutants overflowed the halls of Comic Relief, there to pay final respects to our Professor Xavier. Some stepped forward to share tales of the Rory Root they had known – stories that spanned months, years and decades of his too-short 51 years of life. We were all there for the same reason: this man’s memory was too big to be left unobserved or unshared.
Each speaker cataloged Rory’s vast curiosity, and as the stories were told, the complexity of Rory Root grew. Comics fan extraordinaire, he knew the medium in all its variety – forward and backward, contemporary and deeply historic; comics books through comic strips; underground/mainstream, zine/graphic novel, American/European. He’d begun his career as a Gamer. He loved technology. He was a business man, with vision and passion for his work, shrewd as he needed to be, at times difficult and demanding. And he was generous, especially with his time and knowledge, driven by a compulsive passion to share his rapturous love of the vast comics world with everyone he met. Articulate and garrulous, Rory could go on at length on many subjects. From an altitude of 30,000 feet, he could zero in on a single tree, then rise again to see it’s place within the forest.
He was “painfully shy”, said someone at his Saturday night memorial celebration, and I, for one, was taken briefly aback by this. Rory, shy? Rory who knew and touched so very many people? Who never hesitated to engage and share with others? If ever there had been an extroverted soul, Rory must have been it. Then I wondered if perhaps this revelation hadn’t revealed (so to speak) what the old man meant when he muttered in his dying breath, “Rosebud”. Was this Rory’s super power? That through his love of comics, Rory was able to overcome his shyness, rising majestically, and engaging each of us with a presence not to be forgotten.
It was Rory’s ability to relate to every one he met as a unique, valued individual that was his greatest Power. That was the soul of each story told at Comic Relief Saturday night: of a man who connected with us all, and did so generously and genuinely. Each of us came away inspired from the time we had spent with Rory, whether for a lifetime or only a few hours.
Rory’s was a spirit too big to be contained, and bless him for that! His energy overflowed his big body, and touched us all. We we’re blessed to have known him, and we knew it. And we all came out Saturday night, to the shrine he’d built to comics on Berkeley’s Shattuck Avenue, to thank him and to mourn, together and alone, his untimely passing.
It has been 1 year today and still missing my older, wiser, funnier,clever, smart-ass brother.
Try to remember the good times!
I’m reminded of a conversation I had with Rory four or five years ago in front of the old store.
Rory: (Lights match) “I might have…”
(lights cigarette, inhales and exhales) “…emphasyma.”
Jim: “Rory, do you know what you just did?”
Rory: “…”
He was a master of many things, including denal.
In 1980, I came to work for Bob Beerbohm at the Best of Two Worlds. I was 25, best friends w/ Mark Stichman, and had no skills to speak of, despite nearly 4 years of college education. Rory had just broken up w/ Tree, and was heading into the world he would find solace in. Rory was good-looking, smart, obsessed with Comics and Indiana-Jones hats, and one of the best people I knew. He had a big, broken heart, and he did his best- over the years I knew him- to fill that void with the Art, Business, and Soul of that representation of our common humanity known as Comic Art.
Rory was a friend and benefactor over the years: not only did he give me the anchor of friendship, wisdom and patronage over time, he put out a big hand of friendship, one which I should have grasped harder, and hung onto. The simple truth is, that, we were all too absorbed in our own lives to see that he was being pulled down into the unhealthy habits that would kill him-smoking, no exercise, overindulgence, and the feeling that he was essentially alone in this world. And we, his friends and comrades, were afraid or unable to help him. God knows I was, and how many else of us saw a determination in him to Die Young, but didn’t have the guts to tell him?
He was one of Nature’s Noblemen, and had his faults like the rest of us. But, Gods-Dammit, I wish he’d lived long enough to see bratty Grandchildren, and a retirement-ceremony in which he was given credit for longevity in the Comic-Biz and perseverance in the face of his personal trials. Rory, you had Stones. Kindly save a seat for me next to you at the “Forbidden Cartoons” show in Valhalla, but also save me a few Twizzlers this time, OK?
-Mills