Legendary.
That’s the best word for Santa Cruz’s Atlantis Fantasyworld, the longest-running comic shop in California and one of the 20 oldest in the country.
Approaching its 50th anniversary, I sat down with owner Joe Ferrara to chronicle how a personal collection grew into a half-century institution—and to understand the quieter values that allowed it to outlast earthquakes, recessions, and the digital revolution while so many brick-and-mortar stores disappeared.
Founded in 1976, Atlantis is stocked with comics, graphic novels, toys, magazines, art books, and collectibles. Its longevity isn’t nostalgia alone.
It’s consistency, care, and an unshakable belief that stories matter.
According to January 2025 retailer reports, there are between 2,000 and 3,000 specialty comic shops in North America. Even broader business directories count fewer than 4,000 stores nationwide—a figure that includes “hybrids” that act primarily as game centers or tournament venues rather than dedicated comic bookstores. No other California shop matches Atlantis’s nearly 50 years under the same ownership—a true survivor in a landscape where many independents have closed.
Early pages and a lifelong calling
Ferrara’s love of comics was born from a childhood obsession that initially worried his mother.
“I loved comics as a kid,” he recalls. “My mom complained to the nuns, ‘He only wants to read comics.’ And God bless them, the nuns of the ’50s didn’t say no. They said, ‘Mrs. Ferrara, he’s reading.’”
What could have been brushed aside became literacy, curiosity, and eventually a life’s work. Comics weren’t a phase. They were a language.
The dual life: harmony and heroes
While Ferrara is widely known as the “Godfather of Santa Cruz Comics”, he also loved music and never hung up his guitar. In the early 1970s, Ferrara was a full-time musician, playing in rock and folk groups up and down the coast. Even after Atlantis opened, the music never stopped—he famously held a weekly singing gig at the Grape Stake (now Café Cruz) for 13 years, and for another 13 years played every Friday at Shadowbrook Restaurant until the pandemic.
To this day, he remains a prolific performer. He plays the first Saturday of each month at the Pono, the second Sunday at the Cats in Los Gatos, and monthly at Dominican Oaks and other retirement communities. He also sings the national anthem for the Santa Cruz Warriors—continuing a tradition that saw him perform the anthem for the San Francisco Giants for 30 years, from 1982 to 2012.
That dual identity shaped Atlantis into something warmer than a retail space. It’s expressive. Human. Alive.
Ferrara’s passion for comics was reignited in college by his roommate Mike Friedrich, who went on to write for Marvel and DC on titles such as Spider-Man and Batman. By the time Ferrara moved to Santa Cruz in 1976, he’d amassed more than 6,000 comics.
The turning point came during a dinner at his mother’s house.
“My mom, between bites, says, ‘He’ll probably open his own store,’” Ferrara remembers. “Bang. That did it. That was like a tuning fork. My body just started vibrating.”
A store opens, a galaxy explodes
Atlantis Fantasyworld opened its doors on November 26, 1976, at 707 Pacific Avenue on Lower Pacific, next to what’s now the card room. In old photos, Ferrara jokes about the original storefront: “You wouldn’t think you’d buy anything legal from this guy.”
On opening day, the innocence of the era was on full display. Ferrara stood behind the counter holding a copy of Spider-Man #1. “I think I sold it for a hundred bucks,” he laughs—it has since sold for over a million dollars.
But the industry was about to wake up. Six months after Atlantis opened, Star Wars hit theaters, and the pop-culture landscape shifted seismically.
“For years, comics had inched from 15 to 20 to 25 cents,” Ferrara says. “But when I opened, a new comic hit the 30-cent mark.”
That price jump signaled a new era. The Star Wars comic adaptation helped transform the medium from a disposable niche hobby into a cultural force, and Atlantis was perfectly positioned at the exact moment imagination went mainstream.
Surviving the big one: the tent years
On October 17, 1989, Ferrara was inside the store when the Loma Prieta earthquake struck downtown Santa Cruz.
“I saw this rolling wave,” he says. “When it hit those bricks around a tree, they shot up like champagne corks.”
While the original wooden Atlantis building held together, downtown collapsed. For the next three years, Atlantis operated out of temporary tent pavilions erected for displaced businesses. They were told they would have buildings in six months. It became three years.
“The first year there was no heat,” Ferrara remembers. “You could see your breath.”
Customers came anyway.
Atlantis was the last of 45 businesses to leave the tents. Those years cemented the store as more than a comic store—it became a symbol of Santa Cruz resilience.
A sanctuary for all ages
In 1992, Atlantis moved into its current home at 1020 Cedar St., a building constructed partly with earthquake recovery funds.
The 1992 rebuild wasn’t a solo effort. Joe’s wife of 37 years, Dottie Ferrara, resigned from her position as a Quality Assurance Representative at Lockheed Missile and Space Co. to become an active partner in designing the new store. She developed the color scheme, created the layout, wrote the staff manual, and worked the counter for four years. “She kept me grounded when my ‘Italian’ got too worked up,” Joe says.
The expanded space allowed Ferrara to implement a quietly radical idea: organizing comics by genre rather than publisher.
Horror. Sci-fi. Crime. Kids. Fantasy.
Stories first. Logos second.
“We do genre-racking like a regular bookstore,” Ferrara explains. “That’s why we’ve moved to the term bookstore—one word.”
By shelving like a traditional bookstore, Ferrara removed gatekeeping. Anyone could walk in and find something that spoke to them.
There’s also something deliberately immersive about the space itself. As you walk toward the back room, the store unfolds like a slow-moving simulation ride. The first time I noticed it, I told Joe it reminded me of Star Tours at Disneyland—one of my favorite rides growing up.
“Yep,” he said. “That’s what we’re going for.”
Atlantis doesn’t simply sell stories. It transitions you into them.
The Lost Boys, and the world that finds its way here
Atlantis holds a unique place in Santa Cruz film history as the comic store featured in The Lost Boys. The original location at 707 Pacific Ave. was transformed by director Joel Schumacher’s crew to create the illusion that the shop sat on the Boardwalk. They built a wall in the gutter, placed Laughing Sal in front of it, and shot at an angle that hid the actual street—even removing a tree from the beach in post-production.
“People still come to town and go to the Boardwalk looking for the store,” Ferrara says. “But we were never there.”
To this day, visitors from around the world make Atlantis a destination. Starting just last July, every time someone visits because of the film, Ferrara places a pin on a world map behind the counter. England is covered. Poland. Australia—visitors from just below Brisbane stopped by the day I visited. Europe outpaces California.
“They go to the Boardwalk. They look for Grandpa’s house,” Ferrara says. “But this is the only place where they can come in and actually talk to someone who was part of it.”
Atlantis even recreated the Vampires Everywhere comic seen in the movie. The original was just a prop—Ferrara had it faithfully reproduced and signs copies for visitors, who often leave visibly moved, having touched something real.
The Lost Boys connection runs deeper than souvenirs. DC Comics published a six-issue sequel series, written by Tim Seeley, based on what was supposed to be the next film. Ferrara invited Seeley to the store’s 40th anniversary, where he signed the first two issues. When Seeley went home and finished writing the series, he included a tribute: in the final issue, the vampires kill Joe Ferrara.
“I’m dead in the comics,” Ferrara grins. When Atlantis sells out of those issues, they’re gone—the series is out of print.
Why this place works
That sense of belonging extends far beyond Santa Cruz. During a recent visit to Current Comics in Monterey, I met a Navy serviceman with newborn twins waiting at home. Exhausted but smiling, he carved out a few quiet minutes to pick up comics he’s loved his entire life.
I felt that same pull. I chase the work of my favorite artist, Liam Sharp, up and down the coast—grabbing an issue at Current, then finding the next chapter back home at Atlantis. It was there, thumbing through those pages in Joe’s store, that a specific memory surfaced. I once performed magic at Liam’s 50th birthday party, and now here I was, standing in an institution approaching that same golden number. It felt right. Great storytellers and legendary shops share the same magic: they endure.
Whether you’re a kid with your first allowance or a veteran stealing a moment of peace, comic shops like Atlantis deliver discovery.
While the global comic book market continues to expand into a multi-billion dollar industry driven by manga and digital access, brick-and-mortar specialty shops like Atlantis navigate distinct pressures. Many diversify with events and tournaments to thrive, but Atlantis has stayed true to its roots as a story-centered bookstore. Its genre-racking and welcoming vibe proves that heartfelt, innovative retail can remain a cultural anchor amid broader industry evolution.
The industry’s standard bearer
Ferrara’s longevity has earned him deep respect across the industry. Paul Levitz, who spent 47 years at DC Comics and served as its president from 2002 to 2009, calls Ferrara a pioneer. Levitz played a central role in shaping modern comics publishing, helping hire influential creators like Alan Moore and building the Direct Market system that made independent comic bookshops financially viable in the first place.
“Joe Ferrara has been a stellar example of the independent comic shop owner almost from the beginning of comic shops in America,” Levitz says. “He’s led the recognition of successful shops, and been a gentle godfather to the growth of our industry.”
That respect is echoed closer to home. Travis Pratt, owner of Current Comics in Monterey and Salinas, considers Ferrara a mentor. “He’s one of the best,” Pratt says. “A living legend.”
Industry admiration has also taken formal shape. Atlantis Fantasyworld won the Eisner Award for Best Comic Shop in 1996, one of the highest honors in comics retail. The award was created by Will Eisner, widely regarded as the father of the graphic novel, to encourage professionalism and elevate standards across the industry.
“His intention was that comic book retailers would become more professional,” Ferrara says. “Not just being like, you know, indoor flea market guys.”
Ferrara’s influence extends beyond retail and into the broader world of cartooning and illustration. Paige Braddock, a nationally recognized cartoonist and Creative Director Emeritus of the Charles M. Schulz Museum and Research Center, sees Atlantis as something more than a store.
“Joe created a space for cartoonists and comic lovers,” Braddock says. “Not just a retail shop but an art space that celebrates creators and fans. His comic shop makes everyone happy the minute they step inside. Part of the magic is the space itself, and part of it is the sheer charisma of Joe himself.”
Beyond comics, Ferrara’s long-standing advocacy for prostate cancer awareness earned him the Bob Clampett Humanitarian Award, which honors individuals who have contributed to the comics community and public good beyond business success. Past recipients include science-fiction author Robert Heinlein, writer Neil Gaiman, and Jeannie Schulz, who has overseen and protected the legacy of her late husband, Peanuts creator Charles M. Schulz.
A life beyond the shelves
The walls of Atlantis serve as a hall of fame, covered in photos that document decades of visits from industry royalty. There’s Noel Neill, the original Lois Lane; Denise Crosby, Star Trek’s Lieutenant Yar; and Mad Magazine legend Sergio Aragonés, who once declared Atlantis “the best comic store in the world.” Then there is Floyd Norman, the first African-American animator Walt Disney ever hired—the man who conceived the hypnotic eyes of Kaa in The Jungle Book.
But Ferrara isn’t just a gatekeeper of these stories; he has literally become part of the lore. When a customer—an artist for Fantasy Flight Games—needed a visual reference for Gimli in a Lord of the Rings board game, they found their model standing right behind the counter. The artist asked to base the character’s likeness on Joe, and the company loved the result so much that it used it to promote the game.
“I’m in a game. It’s wonderful,” Ferrara says. Between his demise in the Lost Boys universe and fighting orcs as a dwarf, Ferrara has become as immortal as the stories he sells.
The blue ribbon
Ferrara’s influence extends well beyond comics. Diagnosed with prostate cancer 21 years ago at 55, he credits early detection with saving his life—and has spent the decades since making sure other men get the same chance.
Inspired by how breast cancer awareness made pink a universal symbol of solidarity, Ferrara worked to bring the same visibility to prostate cancer through the color blue. He convinced Marvel to create special blue-themed variant covers for awareness campaigns—an industry first that amplified life-saving messages nationwide. IDW Publishing followed suit, running ads inside their comics. This pioneering advocacy solidified blue as the cause’s symbol within the medium. At Comic-Con, Bob Clampett’s daughter Ruth presented Ferrara with the award that bears her father’s name.
“I didn’t even know I was getting it,” Ferrara says. “They announced my name, and I just went, ‘Oh my god.’”
His message is simple enough to fit on a single panel.
“Get a baseline PSA,” he says. “Talk to your GP and make them give it to you. Then get one every year and watch for movement. The number itself doesn’t matter—some cancers don’t generate a high PSA. What matters is whether it’s changing. If it doubles in a year, that’s what you’re looking for.”
He pauses.
“Most guys take the car to the mechanic and wait for him to tell them what needs to be done. They think about their health the same way. But you’re in charge of your own health. Don’t wait for someone to tell you. Ask.”
The people behind the counter
Ferrara is quick to credit the people who make Atlantis feel like home. Trisha Wolfe, with 20 years at the store. Nathan Brand, a 15-year veteran. Bambi Lupine, who has been there for nearly two years and is super bright, warm, and welcoming. His son Tim, who you can see in old photos from the store’s early expansions, wearing a Star Trek uniform alongside Joe’s mother as she cut the ribbon to “board the ship.”
Today, Tim remains an essential part of Atlantis behind the scenes. While not often seen at the counter, he works early mornings—typically from 5 to 9am—processing inventory and meticulously cleaning the store, helping preserve the feeling that Atlantis still looks remarkably new after more than three decades in its current space.
The staff reflects the shop’s ethos: everyone belongs here. Atlantis has always been a place where all are welcome—no gatekeeping, no judgment, just a shared love of stories.
“If you hire the right people, you don’t have to worry,” Joe says. “They care.”
‘Everyone leaves feeling better’
As Atlantis approaches its 50th anniversary in November 2026, Ferrara—now 76, a step-grandfather to seven grandkids and six great-grandkids—has no plans to slow down.
“This is the kind of job people get when they retire,” he laughs. “I’m not digging ditches. I come out and say hello to visitors. That’s what docents do.”
The future looks bright. On the night I visited—December 30, the night before New Year’s Eve—a preteen kid walked in alone and bought a couple of comics with his own money. Other customers browsed the discount bins, flipping through back issues the way I used to as a kid living with my single mom in Palm Springs, where the local comic shop was my refuge. Comics kept me out of trouble. They showed me imaginative storytelling when I needed escape. Books and comics are patient. They don’t run out of batteries. They don’t flicker.
Ferrara’s mission statement has never changed.
“Everybody who walks out the door feels better than when they walked in.”
For nearly 50 years, Joe Ferrara has been the docent of our dreams. The doors of Atlantis Fantasyworld remain wide open.
Visit Atlantis Fantasyworld at 1020 Cedar St., Santa Cruz or atlantisfantasyworld.com 831-426-0158.
