Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 199: Ed Wood's Warm Angora Wishes and Rubber Octopus Dreams (2024)

Warm Angora Wishes is an anthology inspired by the works of Ed Wood.

Boy, the Ed Wood books just keep coming, huh? 

There was a time when Rudolph Grey pretty much had the market cornered with Nightmare of Ecstasy: The Life and Art of Edward D. Wood, Jr. (1992). Apart from the crude but heartfelt 33-page chapbook Edward D. Wood, Jr.: A Man and His Films (1981) by Randy Simon and Harold Benjamin, Grey's quirky oral history was the first major volume dedicated to the director of Glen or Glenda (1953) and Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957). There had been numerous magazine and newspaper articles about Eddie, plus coverage of Eddie's movies in books like The Golden Turkey Awards (1980) and Cult Movies (1981), but nothing like this!

The latest Wood book.

In addition to including quotes from many of Wood's professional and personal associates, Nightmare covered Eddie's life from beginning to end—from his childhood in Poughkeepsie in the 1920s and '30s to his ultimate descent into alcoholism and pornography in the 1960s and '70s. Previous to this book, articles about Ed Wood tended to focus on his 1950s heyday and the creation of his most famous films. Rudolph Grey showed there was a lot more to the story... and it wasn't all angora sweaters and plywood tombstones. 

Nightmare of Ecstasy hit the market just before the internet gained mainstream popularity. I'd say that, more than any other factor, the 'net has accounted for the deluge of Wood books that we've seen in recent years. For one thing, information is a lot easier to find and share, giving fans access to films, books, and vintage articles that they wouldn't have had previously. Ed Wood fanatics, like so many people with extremely niche interests, also have instant access to each other nowadays, allowing them to compare notes, share information, and collaborate in ways that would have been impossible in decades past. Think back to the pre-internet days when fans really only had things like conventions and newsletters to keep in touch.

In 2024, we have another brand-new Wood-inspired book to dissect: Ed Wood's Warm Angora Wishes and Rubber Octopus Dreams, edited by prolific monster author Kurt McCoy and published by Arcane Shadows Press. I think the clunky name is a reference to Robin Leach's catchphrase from the 1980s syndicated series Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous: "Champagne wishes and caviar dreams!" In any event, that title is a mouthful, so I think I'll just refer to the book as Warm Angora Wishes from now on. The book's editor responds:

For the record, that title was not my choice. The original title was Ed Wood’s Haunted Worlds, which was a clear homage to the [1996] documentary The Haunted World of Edward D Wood Jr. Others thought that the title similarity might prove problematic, and I had to defer to their judgment. The title selection was overseen by our publisher, Brad Braddock, who is really responsible for pulling this thing together. The book wouldn’t exist without the vast amounts of labor he invested in assembling it. 

I can’t say that I like that title or am happy about being sidelined for the selection process—but truthfully, I was too close to the project and too heavily invested in it to be objective. Health issues have kept me from being as active in the production side as I may have wanted anyway. An awful lot got dumped in Brad’s lap more or less at the last minute, but he handled it all effectively and professionally. I’m truly indebted to him for picking up my slack—on top of the usual work of being the publisher.

Thanks for the clarification Kurt.

But what is this thing, exactly? Warm Angora Wishes is chiefly an anthology of short fiction inspired by the work of Edward D. Wood, Jr. I say "chiefly" because the first—and longest—piece in the book is nonfiction and only tangentially about Ed. Mostly, though, the book contains stories that draw directly from Eddie's film work, largely Plan 9 and Glenda, plus Night of the Ghouls (1959), Bride of the Monster (1955), and a few others. In a way, Warm Angora Wishes feels like an attempt to create an Extended Ed Wood Cinematic Universe, connecting the films from Eddie's Golden Age so that they form a larger narrative.

In examining the contents of this book, I have concluded that there is no way to summarize or review Warm Angora Wishes in one blog post. Therefore, I have made the cataclysmic decision to cover this book the same way I have covered the Ed Wood anthologies in the past: one story at a time. Over the course of the next few weeks, I'll be making my way through this volume chapter by chapter and posting my reflections here. If you so choose, you may join me on this journey.

P.S. Here is how the book describes itself on its own back cover. This may convince you to read my upcoming reviews or to keep your distance from them. Either way, I thought it was only sporting to include it.

Bringing to life new webs of fiction.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 193: The mystery of Henry Kekoanui (UPDATED!)

This actor appeared in Ed Wood's The Sinister Urge and nothing else that we know of.

Do you know what an artesian well is? It's a naturally-occurring site where pressurized water rises to the surface of its own accord, without human intervention. In other words, it's a well you don't have to pump. Rudolph Grey's book Nightmare of Ecstasy: The Life and Art of Edward D. Wood, Jr. (1992) is a lot like that—the literary equivalent of an artesian well. Turn to just about any page in it, and interesting little details will bubble to the surface on their own. I've had my copy for about 30 years, and I'm still finding new things in it.

There's an entire section in the book, for instance, about the making of The Sinister Urge (1960). This was Ed Wood's final "mainstream" film as a writer-director before he descended permanently into the world of softcore and hardcore pornography. Since Sinister deals with the so-called "smut racket" and even includes a flash of nudity, it's tempting to think of it as a transitional film in Eddie's career, i.e. a signpost to where his career was heading.

On page 101 of Nightmare of Ecstasy, you'll find a small gallery of images—Grey fancifully calls it a "quartet"—from The Sinister Urge. What caught my attention recently was the photo in the upper left-hand corner, a publicity still of someone identified as Henry Kekoanui. It's a striking image. The dark-haired, mustachioed man is shirtless and has an intense look in his eyes, like he's about to strike. Imagine Gomez Addams as a 1950s bad guy wrestler. Henry's arms and upper body are muscular, but his midsection is a bit paunchy. He's being photographed in some strange, eerie void where a dramatic shadow looms over him. And he seems to be carrying something, perhaps a garment, in his left hand.

The 2022 Ed-Vent Calendar, Day 10: Eddie and Nurse Beulah

Ed Wood, minus his dentures, in September 1978.

Believe me when I say that no planning whatsoever went into this series. I just decided spontaneously on December 1 to write a short article per day about Ed Wood until Christmas. I didn't even think about the fact that the 44th anniversary of Eddie's death would fall somewhere in the middle of it. How sad that, during a time when Christians look forward to the birth of Jesus, we must pause to reflect on the death of Ed Wood. But that's the hand we've been dealt.

Is there anything left to say about that tragic day in December 1978 when Eddie—recently evicted from his Yucca Flats hovel and downing vodka shots at an alarming rate—died in the bedroom of his friend, actor Peter Coe? Well, yes. There's a minor supporting character in this story who has long intrigued me: an elderly nurse named Beulah Ames. She was apparently the first person to discover Ed Wood's dead body on the afternoon of December 10, 1978. In Nightmare of Ecstasy (1992), she's mentioned by both Peter Coe and Kathy Wood. Here's the relevant passage:

All the mentions of Beulah Ames in Nightmare of Ecstasy.

Who was Beulah Ames and how did she come to be in this apartment on December 10, 1978? Was she a neighbor? A friend of Peter Coe's? Admittedly, I'm intrigued by Beulah for two main reasons. First, obviously, is her wonderfully old-fashioned first name. You don't see too many Beulahs walking the streets these days. Second, there's the highly dramatic quote attributed to her: "Ooooooooooh! My God! Eddie's dead!" Now, maybe Peter Coe is exaggerating here. He was an actor, after all. But maybe Beulah Ames really did say something like this 44 years ago today.

Either way, Beulah remains one of the many mysterious figures in the Ed Wood saga. Perhaps as a result of posting this article, I will hear from someone with the lowdown on this aged nurse and her connection to either Peter Coe or Eddie. One can only hope.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 112: Ed Wood's death certificate

It's time to think about Ed Wood's death again.

December 10 is a date well known to Ed Wood's fans, since that's the anniversary of Eddie's untimely passing in 1978. Evicted from his grungy apartment at 6383 Yucca St. in Los Angeles, just weeks before Christmas, Ed and Kathy Wood hastily relocated to actor Peter Coe's apartment less than ten miles away at 5635 Laurel Canyon Blvd. in Valley Village, where Eddie expired in a back bedroom on a Sunday afternoon as the others were watching the Rams on TV. As with many celebrities who left this world too soon, Ed Wood's alcohol-fueled death at the age of 54 is a key part of his legend. Fans can't help but romanticize, sentimentalize, or even mythicize his tragic ending. The fact that he died penniless and obscure, only to become famous in death, makes him the Vincent Van Gogh of B-movies.

Eddie would have understood this phenomenon all too well. As I've written many times, death was one of Ed Wood's muses, possibly the main one, topping even sex, booze, and women's clothing. The Grim Reaper looms over Eddie's most famous movies, especially Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959) and Orgy of the Dead (1965), both of which largely take place in cemeteries. Eddie's short stories and books are likewise rife with graveyards, tombstones, coffins, and corpses. Through his writing, Ed Wood frequently pondered how we die, what happens to our bodies after we die, and how we are remembered by those still living. As a quick primer, I refer you to the stories "Into My Grave" and "Epitaph for the Village Drunk."

In the primitive days before the internet, it was not so easy to dig up personal information about other people, even public figures like movie directors. So it was rather eye-opening when author Rudolph Grey included Eddie's full death certificate in the patchwork biography Nightmare of Ecstasy: The Life and Art of Edward D. Wood, Jr. (1992). With his truly morbid imagination, Eddie would likely approve of his fans studying this grim document in detail. 

Ed Wood's death certificate.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 79: The 10 Most Shocking Stories in 'Nightmare of Ecstasy'

Ed looks very pink on this book cover.

Lillian Wood and Rudolph Grey (1984).

Memories can be tricky bastards. Most of us can barely recall in precise detail what we were doing last week, let alone 10 or 20 years ago. Over time, our memories of the past get blurrier and blurrier. Plus, as we try to make sense of an often chaotic and unpredictable world, we tend to take the events of our lives and shape them into meaningful, coherent stories. Often, that means exaggerating, eliminating, or flat out inventing certain details. These stories may not bear much resemblance to the truth, but we tell them to others and to ourselves so often that they become somehow stronger than the truth.

Rudolph Grey's Nightmare of Ecstasy: The Life and Art of Edward D. Wood, Jr. (1992) is truly a book of memories. In compiling the first (and still only) full-length biography of notorious filmmaker Ed Wood, Grey assembled the book largely out of quotes from Ed's friends, relatives, and professional associates. Though Grey does not annotate his sources whatsoever, most of these quotes presumably came from his own extensive interviews. Since Ed himself was already deceased by the time this book was being assembled, his quotes derive from old letters and vintage interviews. 

Nightmare is a great source of raw data and provided the foundation of Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski's script for the 1994 biopic Ed Wood. Some passages from the book made it directly into the movie, almost word for word. But none of this means that Grey's book is factually accurate. The author was more interested in compiling colorful anecdotes about Eddie than in curating the objective "truth" about the man.

Which is to say that some of Nightmare of Ecstasy is likely bullshit. But it's bullshit that I haven't tired of reading and rereading, even though I bought my copy 25 years ago. In fact, while scouring its pages, I keep finding stories that shock me even today. Ed Wood, let's not forget, was an emotionally volatile alcoholic operating on the fringe of the movie business, so a little seediness is expected in a story like this. But there are a few anecdotes that are sordid even by the standards of this book, and those are the ones I'd like to highlight. These are the ugly, uncomfortable stories that didn't make it into Ed Wood.

These are presented in no particular order. And, again, if I haven't made it clear already, I am not declaring these stories to be true or untrue. But I can verify that each one appears in Nightmare of Ecstasy. Let's dive in.