Showing posts with label New Years. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Years. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Ed Wood Wednesdays: The Wood Photo Odyssey, Part One by Greg Dziawer

Bela Lugosi, Dolores Fuller, and Ed Wood on New Year's Eve, 1953.

The famous photo from 1953.
A few days ago, artist and fellow Ed Wood fan Milton Knight posted a historic photograph to a private Facebook forum devoted to Ed. I had doubtless seen this image before, but I'd never thought twice about it. (I now realize I've seriously neglected to study these old photographs.)

This particular black-and-white snapshot depicts Bela Lugosi, Dolores Fuller, and Ed Wood, all dressed to the proverbial nines. Ed looks sharp in a light-colored tie against a light-colored shirt. Dolores has something wonderfully fuzzy draped over her arm. And Bela seems to be dressed as Dracula. I initially replied that it could be from 1953 or '54, maybe from Bela's Silver Slipper Revue in Las Vegas. I was close.

Soon after this image was posted, another version of the photo was posted by a Wood fan who had purchased his copy from Dolores herself at a fan convention. This version included a caption:  "Bela Lugosi, Dolores Fuller and Ed Wood, San Bernardino, California, New Year's Eve, 1953." While most of the caption is printed, the year is handwritten. (A correction, perhaps?) 

While this image had been posted many times online, both with and without the caption, its source had never been properly identified. The fan who had purchased a copy subsequently told me that Dolores "sold many copies" of it. Dolores' penchant for marketing herself and her work in later years is a subject for another time. Suffice it to say that she excelled at it, and it's likely thanks to her that this image survived at all. 

What is the backstory of this photo, you are likely wondering? I had somehow forgotten that this incident was recorded in previous Lugosi biographies that I'd already read, as well as Ed Wood's own posthumously published Hollywood Rat Race.

In Arthur Lennig's The Immortal Count: The Films of Bela Lugosi (1974), we suffer the painful details of this fallow period of Bela's life. Lillian Arch, his wife of 20 years and mother of his only child, left him in the spring of 1953. Ed was acting as Bela's agent at this time. The Hungarian actor made a guest appearance on the July 27, 1953 edition of You Wanted To See It, a live TV series in which host Art Baker fulfilled various mailed-in requests from viewers. After appearing in a six-minute sketch as—what else?—a vampire, Lugosi told Baker that he was working on "a few things," including a film called The Phantom Ghoul and a TV series called Dr. Acula. As most Wood fans know, these were both projects that Eddie initiated but sadly never completed. By October, unfortunately, Bela struggled to find work, selling possessions at public auction and moving to a more modest apartment in Los Angeles.


After Lillian's departure, Bela became depressed, drank, ate poorly, and lost weight. These changes are evident in his gaunt features and skeletal hands in the New Year's Eve photo. It was then, as Lennig tells it, that Bela "was roused from his misery by the indefatigable Ed Wood, who booked Lugosi into a New Year's show in San Bernardino, California, to usher in 1954." The tone of this statement confirms Tim Burton's Ed Wood biopic, reinforcing the theme that Ed rose above his challenging reality.

Robert Cremer's Bela bio Lugosi: The Man Behind the Cape (1976) likewise notes that, at the New Year's Eve show, "sandwiched between films, Lugosi gave a well-received speech, after which he remained to shake hands and sign autographs."

Article about the West Coast Theatre.
By far, the most thorough account of the night was included in Ed Wood's Hollywood Rat Race. Wood used the New Year's Eve show as a parable about redemption and determination. It is up to the reader to decide how much of Wood's story is true and how much is wishful thinking.

In any event, as part of a chapter called "Hate," Wood describes a 71-year-old Bela Lugosi as being "despondent" and "outwardly ready to quit" due to his dire financial circumstances in late 1953. His older films had started playing on television by then, but young viewers watching these classics didn't know whether Lugosi was alive or dead. Wood specifically mentions Maila "Vampira" Nurmi hosting a broadcast of White Zombie (1932) on Los Angeles' KHJ-TV. This incident seems to have been the basis for a memorable scene in Burton's film, with Bela (Martin Landau) and Ed (Johnny Depp) watching Vampira's show from a lumpy couch in Bela's cluttered home.

Desperate to find work for Lugosi, who by then was too frail to appear in stage plays, Wood hit upon the idea of having the legendary actor make a personal appearance where he would interact with his fans directly. The elderly actor, Wood reports, was enthusiastic about this plan. But Lugosi had no real act, in the traditional vaudeville sense, so it was difficult at first to find a proper venue for him. Luckily, Wood had previously done business with a gentlemanly exhibitor named Albert Stetson, who owned several movie theaters in or near Los Angeles at the time. It was Stetson, Wood says, who devised the New Year's Eve program at his San Bernardino location, about 61 miles outside of L.A.

Wood goes on to describe the hoopla preceding the big night, with Lugosi giving numerous interviews, attending various club functions, and even meeting George Blair, the mayor of San Bernardino. The day of the show, Ed and Bela drove out to the theater, braving cold, misty weather along the way. They were accompanied by Dolores Fuller, described by Wood as Lugosi's "lovely assistant." Once he arrived in San Bernardino, Lugosi was immediately corralled into doing yet another radio interview instead of being allowed to relax.

After that ordeal, Bela, Dolores, and Ed all attended a "final cocktail party for the press" held at a nearby hotel. Wood makes a point of saying that Lugosi diligently refrained from drinking that day, even though the actor "had always enjoyed his scotch and room temperature beer." But the party dragged on and on, Wood says, and Lugosi was getting tired. Finally, the actor was allowed to go to his hotel room to put on his "full dress suit" and prepare for the evening. Wood tells us that Bela "demanded solitude even from his friends" before a show.

An ad for Bela Lugosi's New Years show.
According to Hollywood Rat Race, the bill of fare that memorable evening consisted of "five features, several cartoons, and a hundred-dollar bank night drawing." The program, Wood alleges, began at 9:00 that night with a screening of Arabian Nights (1942) with Jon Hall. Bela had not yet arrived. Dolores had been dispatched to retrieve him from the hotel. Attendance was initially sparse to nil but picked up substantially within the first hour until the box office had to display a "Standing Room Only" sign. Wood says that the local police and fire departments were brought in to handle the crowds and traffic generated by the show.

After Arabian Nights and an obscure Terrytoons short called Runaway Mouse (1953) had ended, Lugosi finally pulled up in a limousine, only to be mobbed by autograph seekers. There was no longer any doubt, Wood says, that the audience was there specifically to see the aged actor. "A rerun movie and a gross of cartoons hadn't attracted people from parties on New Year's Eve," Wood writes. "It was the great Lugosi who had come out of hiding after all those years." Finally, at 10:58, Lugosi took the stage and tearfully delivered the following short speech:
My dear friends: I greet you here tonight on a new, great, New Year. May the coming year bring the joy and success deserved. I wish, with all my heart, that I might meet each of you on the mezzanine in a few minutes where I might personally shake your hand and say ... God bless you.
Lugosi's "performance" that night lasted less than a minute by Wood's reckoning. Bela had disregarded the three-minute speech Eddie had written and instead "designed his own speech." The Dracula star then ascended to the mezzanine, where he and Dolores distributed autographed photographs to waiting fans.

This show business fairy tale ends with Albert Stetson sending Ed Wood a letter thanking him for breaking box office records at the venue. The letter, as quoted in Hollywood Rat Race, is effusive in its praise: "Mr. Bela Lugosi's personal appearance at the West Coast Theater [sic] has truly given our theater a wonderful evening."

The now-demolished West Coast Theatre (later the Crest) was an ornate house hailing from the height of the silent era. Despite its auspicious beginnings in 1925, the place was no longer showing first-run features by 1954. The ad for the New Year's show in The San Bernardino Sun (December 30, 1953) lists only two of the five promised features. It was one of the smaller ads on the page, dwarfed by promotions for New Year's floor shows elsewhere as well as for John Wayne's Hondo, admittance to which would cost you $1.25. The West Coast, meanwhile, advertised 50 cents for an entire show. And the ad tells us that the show—with Bela present and presenting "speeches" that could very well have been penned by Ed, alongside an assortment of B and second-run features—ran for an incredible four days.

Acknowledgements
  • Special thanks this week to artist and illustrator Milton Knight for instigating, unwittingly or not, both a whole new Wood Odyssey and a brand new space in my head. Make sure to check out his incredible blog, The World of Knight.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

New Year's resolutions? Sure. Why not?

If nothing else, this post has at least capitalized on your residual affection for Calvin & Hobbes.

This is the time of year when people traditionally make unrealistic promises to themselves that they cannot and do not intend to keep. We get a new calendar and temporarily feel we can press the "reset" button on our lives. Lose 20 pounds? Sure, champ. Learn a foreign language? Whatever you say, sport. Finally get out from under that crushing credit card debt? Stranger things have happened, pally. 

But let's be honest. The surest predictor of future performance is past performance. In 2013, you will all but certainly continue to be whatever it is you were in 2012. If that's a good thing, then relax and enjoy it. Keep up the good work! If that's a bad thing... well, there's always alcohol and television, right? Me, I'm setting a goal which is just vague enough to be attainable. My New Year's resolution is to suck less.

Where are Lazy and Resentful?
That's right. I will admit here and now to you readers that I (often) suck as a human being. I don't take pride in that. In fact, my goal for the new year is to reduce that suckage by some measurable percentage. How does 3% grab ya? One percent seems too skimpy, but five would be pushing it. Three is doable. 

So what are my suckiest traits? Uh, let's see. I'm judgmental, short-tempered, impatient, resentful, self-absorbed, lazy, cowardly, gluttonous, materialistic... wow, this list is a bummer. It also sounds like a list of rejected dwarfs from Snow White, doesn't it? Anyway, I think I'll stop the list of adjectives right there. You get the idea. You'll notice I didn't mention any physical attributes -- health, appearance, etc. 

Frankly, I can't deal with that stuff right now. We'll table that for the time being and get back to it in 2014. 

For now, let's just concentrate on the personality and behavior. Looking back on 2012, it was kind of a momentous year for me. After trying (unsuccessfully) to deal with the anxiety and depression which have ruled my life for decades, I finally got help for myself, and I'm being very good about it, too. You should be proud of me. I'm taking the meds every day and attending therapy once a week. And though it hasn't magically made my life "perfect," it's helped in measurable ways. I sleep easier now, for instance, and get sick less often. Like anyone else, I still experience fear, uncertainty, disappointment, and sadness, but I'm no longer plagued by the panic and depression which once took full possession of my body and mind. When I'm especially weak, I almost miss those feelings. As unpleasant as they were, they at least lent a little drama to what is otherwise a very monotonous, uneventful life.

There's a minute or so just about every morning when I regain consciousness and remember who I am, what I am, and how I live. Usually, that's not a good moment. My normal pattern of thought is something like: "Oh, jesus. Not this bullshit again. You mean I have to live this guy's life another day? Drive his car? Do his job? Eat what he eats? Be afraid of the things he fears? Oh, lord." I get impatient with myself, remember? It was on the list. 

Most mornings, when I look in the bathroom mirror, I want to be able to aim a remote control, press a button, and just change what's there instantly. ("I'm a 50-year-old Chinese lady now? Okay. Let's see what that's like.") I'm not at all pleased with it being 2013 either because this year will mark the twentieth anniversary of my graduation from high school. I feel like I haven't achieved much of anything in the ensuing two decades. I've squandered that time and have nothing to show for it. 

Does that mean I want a home of my own, a family, and a meaningful career? Hell, no! I wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do with any of that shit. I get tired of most things after about 20 minutes. If I had a wife, kids, a corner office, and a mortgage, I would most likely fake my own death and move to the Himalayas. 

What do I really want, then? If I were being truthful, I'd say that I want other people to fail, particularly my former classmates. (Apologies to my former classmates. I'm just being brutally honest.) I want to them to be broke, divorced, imprisoned, hopelessly addicted to smack, or some combination of those. That's a terrible thing to wish for other people, but that's how my brain operates. 

I just can't understand that phrase "I'm happy for you." How can you be happy for someone? Let them be happy for their own damned selves. Frankly, if I either know you or know of you, there's a good likelihood that I hate you... at least a little. It would be nice if my blanket hatred of humanity were replaced by a more selective, sensible hatred of humanity.

Okay, this article has been a lot more negative than I had originally intended. See? That's exactly the kind of thing I'm trying to fix in 2013. Maybe some uptempo music will help. Maestro, if you please...



Huh. How about that! Chubby Checker was doing the "invisible horsey dance" 50 years before "Gangnam Style." I think it's time we paid the man the respect he deserves. Okay, even if I don't achieve any of that other crap I mentioned in this article, I want to be able to do the pony by January 1, 2014. You can hold me to that.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

(today's zomby) BRAND NEW YEAR, SAME OLD ZOMBY!


...and as we all know, the Internet gets absolutely everything it wants. Why else would TRON get a sequel nearly 30 years later? The 'net demanded it, so it happened.

Anyway, readers, how the hell are ya? I hope you're enjoying the new year. For Zomby, things may have already hit a snag in 2012...