His forehead studded with peroxide-blond stubble, the back of his neck cloaked by a shock of matching curls. Gold chains. Gold rings. Tattoos strangling his throat. He collects exotic cats and machine guns, and even at a distance, the size of his personality looms large. This might read like a description of Joe Exotic—it’s actually Roy Boy Cooper, a tattooer from Gary, Indiana, who’s left an indelible mark on the region since the 1970s.
After his release, one of the first calls he made was to Cliff Raven, a man who’s made so many contributions to tattoo history, it’s difficult to summarize. Raven might be best remembered locally for running the only shop to resist closing after Chicago raised its legal tattoo age to 21, making him a lighthouse for would-be tattooers. That shop continues today as Chicago Tattoo Company. Local lore persists that Cooper was apprenticed by Raven, but Dale Grande, the current owner, who worked with Raven then, says differently.
The original sign featured a lone Americana-style eagle and the description “Items of unusual taste”—clues of what awaited visitors that only those in the know would recognize. Inside were things like bongs and motorcycle saddlebags. Just out of view were two cramped offices for tattooing. And even further back was the living area Cooper and Fritch called home.
Not long after, Fritch and Cooper parted ways. He had taken up with Debra Cooper, who began working in the shop at 16 and became his apprentice, tiger handler, and live-in nanny by 17. At this time, Cooper was nearly twice her age, but to this day, she warmly describes him as her best friend and soulmate—kindred spirits who, over their 15-year marriage, became known as King and Queen of the Badlands.
Cooper may have struggled to finish high school, but when he was interested in something, he learned it quickly, then exhausted it. For instance, Cooper taught himself to fly and got his pilot’s license, gradually buying larger planes that were harder to fly including one that read “Larry Flynt for President.” He’d only fly locally, but Debra recalls frequent Chicago flights where they’d get so close to the Sears Tower, she could see the expressions on visitors’ faces. When he got bored of flying, he abandoned it, but it’s easy to see why a person with this kind of drive and exuberance fascinates people. Simultaneously, this quality could be as draining as it was exciting.
“I could be looking at a beige wall, and he would have me convinced it was blue,” Fritch says. But she also cautions that, unlike Joe Exotic, Cooper could rein himself in before things went too far.
