Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 267 The great 'Hollywood Rat Race' auction of 2026

This eBay auction is a veritable smorgasbord.

NOTE: The following article is about the sale of some rare Ed Wood material. Because this sale is happening on eBay (an auction site) and because the seller is willing to entertain offers (or bids) from interested parties, I am referring to this as sale an "auction." JB.

This is not the article I planned to write this week. I actually wanted to get back to my ongoing series about Tim Burton's Ed Wood (1994). But something unusual has happened in the world of Ed Wood fandom, and I feel it is my responsibility to record it for the sake of posterity before we all forget that this ever happened. I strongly suspect that this is the kind of one-off oddity destined to fall down the memory hole never to be recalled again.

On March 16, 2026, Bob Blackburn (co-inheritor of the Ed Wood estate) posted on Facebook about a very intriguing eBay auction he'd learned about through fellow fan Patrick McCabe. It seems that a legitimate memorabilia dealer called NEOvintage was selling a treasure trove of rare Ed Wood materials from the 1960s, including a manuscript of Hollywood Rat Race typed by Eddie himself and some ultra-rare cassette tapes including unreleased interviews with Ed and others talking about Bela Lugosi. The asking price for these precious goodies? A mere quarter of a million dollars, though the seller is willing to offer a $50,000 discount to the right buyer. If you have a spare vacation home you're not using or perhaps a Scrooge McDuck vault of gold coins, maybe consider it.

Ed Wood Extra! The arrival of Lots #3028 and #3043

Here I am with my new Ed Wood poster, bathed in the greenish fluorescent glow of my small kitchen.

This poster caused me so much grief.

Chalk up one more thing Ed Wood and I have in common. Eddie suffered for his art. And I, too, have suffered for Ed Wood's art, though not for the reasons you might be imagining.

While making my way through, let's say, the '70s softcore romps Eddie wrote for Steve Apostolof involved a certain amount of tedium, I cannot say that Wood's work has inspired in me the same kind of theatrical agony it seems to have caused other observers. No, my suffering has been of a different stripe.

Since Ed Wood Wednesdays began back in July 2013, I have essentially been an indentured servant to a man who died nearly 40 years ago. In my quest to catalog the life and career of Edward Davis Wood, Jr., I have frequently forsaken such niceties as fresh air, exercise, and sleep. The sun may shine and the birds may chirp, after all, but this DVD of The Undergraduate isn't going to review itself! Like Mark Borchardt said in American Movie: "I have to adhere to this keyboard."

Conservatively, I'd estimate I've put on 15 to 20 pounds in the time I've been writing Ed Wood Wednesdays. I chalk it up to all those hours I've spent hunched over my laptop computer, keeping my energy up with a steady intake of frozen dinners and prepackaged snacks. Hey, Eddie got a little doughy near the end, too. That's yet another thing we have in common, except his weight gain came from booze while mine came from gummi worms and microwaved pizza.

And sometimes, this project has inconvenienced me in such silly ways that all I can do is laugh. Take today, for instance. You'll remember, a few weeks ago, that there was a massive auction of Ed Wood memorabilia. I chickened out on the big ticket items, including a suitcase and two trunks owned by Eddie himself, but I wanted to get something out of the auction so I bid on a few of the smaller items. I wound up winning two of these: a vintage one-sheet poster for Glen or Glenda? under the alternate title I Led 2 Lives (Lot #3028) and a set of eight Mexican lobby cards for Plan 9 from Outer Space (Lot #3043).

Today, they are in my possession at last, and getting them into my apartment was a Sisyphean ordeal. It should have been easy. FedEx was scheduled to deliver them yesterday, but I knew I'd be at work when they arrived so I arranged to have Patricia, the lovely lady who manages the office of the apartment complex where I live, sign for them in my absence. My apartment, I should say, is literally next door to this office. We share a wall.

But you know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men. My landlady happened to be dropping by the office when the FedEx guy arrived, and she prevented Patricia from signing for the package, reasoning that if they performed this simple kindness for me, a loyal rent-payer for 12 years, they'd have to do the same for everyone. My landlady, I can say from experience, is not someone with whom you can bargain... or reason.

One of my nifty new lobby cards.

Meanwhile, of course, my package could not be delivered as instructed. So back to the FedEx pickup center it went. Luckily, this is less than a quarter-mile from my home, since I live in a busy commercial district dominated by strip malls, chain stores, and gas stations. The clerk there was only too happy to turn over my Ed Wood poster and lobby cards to me.

But here is where the story turns into a Buster Keaton comedy. RR Auction sent these items in one large, flat cardboard box, and there was no way of fitting this into my cramped 2002 Chevy Cavalier. I tried every configuration I could imagine. Seats all the way forward. Seats all the way back. Passenger seat tilted as flat as it would go. Windows open. Trunk open. Nothing, and I mean nothing, worked.

Here I was, stranded in the FedEx parking lot just a few minutes away from my apartment. I thought of temporarily ditching the car and just walking the damned thing back home. But, again, this is a busy commercial district, and my story was happening during rush hour traffic. How was I ever going to get across those busy, dangerous streets with this ridiculous cardboard box? If I held it in front of me, I couldn't even see the traffic coming.

In desperation, I dragged the package back into the FedEx place and asked if I could just open it there and take the contents out. The lady behind the desk said this was fine, so I borrowed her scissors and cut into the package. And what tumbled out? More styrofoam packing peanuts than I have ever seen in my life. Dozens and dozens of the goddamned things accumulated at my feet. Mortified, I spent a good (read: bad) 10 to 15 minutes crawling around the floor of the FedEx pickup center in a frantic effort to retrieve every last one of those peanuts. The place looked nicer than my apartment, after all, and I didn't want to muck it up.

Eventually, though, I did manage to extract my purchases and get them into my battered, grungy old car. The Glen or Glenda? poster was swaddled in about eight miles of bubble wrap, so it was still quite a large item even outside of its cardboard cocoon. But at least it was now flexible enough to be (barely) wedged into the nearly-nonexistent back seat of my vehicle. I couldn't see a damned thing out the rear window, but then again, I didn't have far to drive. It wasn't 100% safe, but it was safe enough.

Once I got back home, I had a devil of a time chasing after all the additional styrofoam peanuts that were falling everywhere. I'm kind of a zealot about littering, especially in my own neighborhood, so I didn't want to just leave a trail of those tell-tale peanuts outside the apartment complex where I live. It was a windy day, though, so this was tricky to say the least. I'm sure I lost a few soldiers today.

And now? Well, now the poster and the lobby cards are safely ensconced in my apartment. And you know what else? They're really lovely. I have no idea what I'm going to do with them, but they're lovely nonetheless.

The Glenda poster is larger than I was imagining, the size of a small (admittedly very wide and flat) child, and still a satisfying shade of fire-engine red. Right now, still wrapped in plastic, it's leaning against the wall of my kitchen. I'll probably have it framed soon, but I think the kitchen is a good place for it. Much of Glen or Glenda? takes place in kitchens. Even Lugosi's lab where he creates life is a kind of kitchen. Every morning when I have my bowl of cereal, I can look up at Eddie smooching with Dolores Fuller, forever preserved in their 1953 glory. That's a nice thought.

The lobby cards came in a thick, heavy binder of their own. I might just leave them that way. To be honest, I haven't given much thought to the items themselves. I've barely even looked at 'em. For now, I'm just happy they're home.

POSTSCRIPT: In my Clouseau-esque struggles to get the uncooperative poster and lobby cards into my vehicle on Wednesday, I somehow managed to injure my left leg rather badly. By Thursday, that leg was noticeably bruised and achy, making it difficult to walk. For the last two days, then, I have been limping to and from work. Now that I am at last in repose, attempting to recuperate over the weekend, the medicinal smell of a cheap, over-the-counter topical ointment is stinging my nostrils. So when I say I have suffered for Ed Wood's art, I mean it quite literally.

Ed Wood Extra: The great Ed Wood auction of 2015 has ended

Ed Wood and Dolores Fuller in a still which will not be making its way into my collection.

Homer: Is this a happy ending or a sad ending? 

Marge: It's an ending. That's enough.

-from The Simpsons, "Rosebud" (1993)

This bad boy? All mine, baby.

Well, that was certainly something other than else, wasn't it? RR Auction's sale of items related to Edward Davis Wood, Jr. has ended, after having garnered media coverage from, among others, ABC News, Rolling Stone, and The A.V. Club. Internet bidding concluded on Wednesday (how appropriate), and there was a surprisingly informal and chatty live auction today, which I followed remotely from my cubicle at work.

I was not, alas, the winner of Lot #3026, a monogrammed leather briefcase and two suitcase-like trunks belonging to Ed Wood himself. This lot was especially enticing, as it also included a treasure trove of Eddie's personal papers, including production stills, publicity photos, and theatrical programs. I was in the running for this item until Tuesday, when the price jumped from about $4,000 to $10,000. I had been told the final price could go as high as $30,000, so I bowed out. When all the bids were in, this collection of priceless Wood-iana went for a remarkably cheap $11,000. I won't lie, citizens. This one stung a bit. The memory of Lot #3026 will probably take up residence in the back of my brain for quite some time. The one that got away. The white whale. Damn.

I was also not the winner of Lot #3027, which contained a script for Night of the Ghouls, a program for The Blackguard Returns, and actor Don Nagel's scrapbook. This, too, got out of hand on Tuesday. Way out of hand. I was prepared to pay a few hundred bucks, but this jumped up into the $4,000 range, and I backed off quickly.

I wanted to get something out of the auction,  however, and I managed to do that. I bid on two smaller items for which I had some personal affection. One was a vintage one-sheet poster for Glen or Glenda? (1953) under the alternate title I Led 2 Lives: Based on the Lives of Christine Jorgensen. Another was a set of Mexican lobby cards for Plan 9 from Outer Space. I chose these two items for special reasons. Glenda, as I have stated many times on this blog, is my favorite of Eddie's films, so I wanted to have some memorabilia affiliated with it. And Plan 9, of course, is the movie which initially attracted me to Ed Wood's body of work. I chose the Mexican lobby cards because Spanish was my minor in college. Plus, the cards look pretty cool, as seen below:

Six of the eight lobby cards of which I am now the proud (?) owner.

So is this a happy ending to the Ed Wood auction or a sad one? Like Marge Simpson once said, it's an ending. That's enough.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 57: The Auction of Lot #3026 (UPDATED!)

This suitcase full of Ed Wood's shattered hopes and dreams can be yours.

"Oedipa settled back, to await the crying of lot 49."

-Thomas Pynchon

"Auction houses run a rigged game. They know exactly how many people will be bidding on a work and exactly who they are."

-Jerry Saltz

I've done some dumb things in my time, citizens. Made a lot of mistakes—professionally, personally, romantically, financially, you name it. But this week, dear readers, I was tempted to do perhaps the stupidest thing I have ever done in my time on this planet: drop a good chunk of my life savings on some battered old suitcases and yellowing pieces of paper, simply because these trinkets once belonged to Edward Davis Wood, Jr.

Let me explain.

A few months ago, well into doing this project, I finally got the bright idea to sign up for a Google Alert on Ed Wood so that I'd get regular updates in my e-mail inbox whenever something Wood-related popped up in the news. Now, that probably seems like a no-brainer to you, but there is no such thing as a "no-brainer" in my world. Even something as simple as this was a "some-brainer" for me. It took about a year or so before that particular neuron finally fired in my brain.

So, anyway, these last few months, Google has been dutifully sending me Ed Wood stories, sometimes about the man himself and other times just about the 1994 biopic that bears his name. For example, when that film's director, Tm Burton, reunited with screenwriters Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski on another quirky biopic, Big Eyes, I received a slew of links about it. That's to be expected.

Google has also been telling me a lot about the recent Plan 9 remake, so much so that now I feel vaguely obligated to review it. (I kind of don't want to. I'd be perfectly content to let that particular sleeping dog lie, you know?) And when a theatrical troupe in Las Vegas turned Glen or Glenda? into a stage show, well, I heard all about that, too.

None of this has been too terribly earth-shattering or paradigm-shifting, even though this kind of news is most welcome. Last week, however, I had an e-mail alert with a headline that shook me to my core: "Director Ed Wood's belongings up for sale."  Quoth (the weirdly British-seeming, yet American-named) Hollywood.com:

A Plan 9 program.

A collection of director Ed Wood's belongings will be auctioned off later this month (Mar15). More than 200 items which once belonged to the iconic moviemaker are up for sale, including a briefcase containing photographs from his 1959 movie Plan 9 from Outer Space, a page from a notebook featuring Wood's notes on sexual terminology, and a programme from one of his first plays. The briefcase is the most expensive item in the collection with a starting bid of $2,500 (£1,600) while the signed programme is up for $300 (£190). Items from Wood's personal Hollywood memorabilia collection are also up for sale including actress Greta Garbo's 1938 immigration card and an array of candid backstage pictures from various movie shoots. The Hollywood Lifetime Collection Auction is to be held in Cambridge, Massachusetts on 19 March (15).

Now, how could I pass up something like that? (Garbo's green card? Are you shitting me?) Obviously, this required some further investigation.

A quick search for "Hollywood Lifetime Collection Auction" led me to this: a tantalizing, blow-by-blow description of  Lot #3026 - Ed Wood's Personal Collection on a site called RR Auction. Now, you might be wondering, how did Ed Wood even have a "personal collection," seeing as how he kept getting evicted from different residences and was thus forced to throw most of his precious mementos away?

Unsurprisingly, the answer was provided by superfan Bob Blackburn, the fellow who befriended Kathy Wood in her final years and became the co-keeper of the Ed Wood flame, so to speak, after her death. On the Ed Wood Facebook group, Bob recently explained: "I actually own the one suitcase that Ed and Kathy had when they were evicted from their Yucca St. apartment in December of 1978, which is identical to one that is included in this lot. The one I have, Kathy had kept the manuscript for Hollywood Rat Race in and the script for I Woke Up Early The Day I Died." Sounds like a choice item.

But what about the suitcase being auctioned off in 2015? Bob again: "This was from the Bekins Storage up on Lankershim [Blvd. in North Hollywood]. They put their stuff there at one time, and it got sold off. There's stories that some of the film canisters that Ed had were also in that unit." 

So there you have it, folks. Decades before Storage Wars, Ed and Kathy Wood put some belongings into a storage unit and then just couldn't keep up with the payments, so their possessions became somebody else's possessions. And now, that stuff is available to the highest bidder, which could be you, dear reader.

According to the official site for the Ed Wood sale, these rare items come from the James Collings Collection. Based on his official bio, Collings, who passed away in 2012, seems like an interesting character in his own right: an obsessive, hippie-ish memorabilia collector, numismatist, and autograph hound who met his wife in a 12-step program. (For hoarders, one wonders?) From what I can glean, it's Jimmy's widow, Merlyn, who's authorizing this auction. According to the bio, she "seamlessly embraced her husband's insatiable lifestyle." Meaning, I guess, she enabled his addiction while he was alive and now wants to make bank on all that junk he accumulated over the years. Good for her. I don't blame her a bit.

So what have we got here? Let's go over some of  the juicier items in detail:

Ed Wood's briefcase

• For many, the main item of interest in this sale is a light-brown, cowhide-leather, Rexbilt briefcase that was personally owned and used by Edward D. Wood, Jr. If the photo can be trusted, there's even a fading "EDW" monogram in the lower-right-hand corner. This is a fantastic-looking item. I can imagine Eddie toting this around with him when he went to meetings with potential publishers or backers. Gotta look the part, after all. Accessories make the man. "Anybody carrying that kind of briefcase must know what he's talking about! How much do you need, Mr. Wood? One million? Two million? Is cash all right? You certainly have room for it in that magnificent briefcase of yours!"

• Then, there are two further pieces of luggage the auctioneers are describing as "trunks," which maybe makes them sound bigger than they are. You can see one of them at the top of this article. These are boxy, suitcase-sized jobs, one of which was manufactured by "Travelgard Vancouver Trunk & Bag Ltd." That company, which dates back to the 1930s, seems to be long gone today. Pity. I can't help but think back to a 1996 Simpsons episode entitled "Bart the Fink" in which a cash-strapped Krusty the Clown has to auction off his possessions. One item in particular is "a handmade leather suitcase carried by the Krustofski family upon their arrival at Ellis Island in 1902. A priceless heirloom and historic piece of Krustyana." It goes for a whopping 40 cents to Marge Simpson's chain-smoking sister, Selma, who buys the cherished keepsake just to soak her feet in it. 

• There's a whole mess of Plan 9 promotional items, including a few pressbooks, stills, and behind-the-scenes photos, complete with (apparently unheeded) suggestions for alterations by Ed Wood himself, who wanted Bela Lugosi posthumously added to a cast portrait along with "smoke" and "special effects." Touchingly, one of these items bears a dedication to Wood's longtime cinematographer, William C. Thompson, "the cameraman who made it all possible!!"

• I'm guessing that the 1965 autographed glossy photo of Ed Wood "on a film set with his camera in the background and a script in his lap" derives from the production of Orgy of the Dead, given the year and the fact that it's signed "To Steve, My friend a thousand times over." Who could that be but Orgy director Steve Apostolof?

A program from The Casual Company.

• For me, maybe the most interesting item in the entire auction is a program from The Casual Company, the autobiographical, WWII-set play Ed wrote, directed, and costarred in after moving to Hollywood in 1947. I've said before that Eddie's 1940s theatrical career has not been properly documented, and this ultra-rare document helps to fill in some gaps there. It reveals, for instance, that the show was performed by a troupe called "the Sad Sacks," which included Ed himself and future Night of the Ghouls producer and Atomic Productions co-founder, Maj. J.C. Foxworthy. Moreover, the show is much less serious than it is depicted as being in Tim Burton's Ed Wood. The cover describes it as "A Farce in Three Acts," and the characters have such Beetle Bailey-worthy names as "Pfc Elbo Joints," "Pfc Jim Nastics," "Pfc Lemmy A. Dime," "Ilene Sideways," and "Mary Widow." Eddie gave himself the rather-more-dignified-sounding role of "Corporal Anthony," while his buddy Foxworthy played "Capt. J. Sleepingwell Gutter." Make of that what you will. Unlike what Burton's movie says, by the way, the cast and crew does not include such Wood regulars as Dolores Fuller, Conrad Brooks, Paul Marco, or Bunny Breckenridge. Eddie likely hadn't even met those people yet.

• You've gotta have some Tor Johnson stuff in this auction to make it official. Luckily, there are three Tor-autographed photos here, including one from 1961 in which the Super Swedish Angel refers to Ed Wood as "my favorite producer." The auction people warn bidders that "all signatures are extremely faded, with poor contrast," but they also point out that "Johnson played iconic roles in Wood’s most notorious films and represents an exceedingly rare horror autograph." Take 'em or leave 'em, folks.

• The only item that competes with the Casual Company program for sheer Wood-ian intrigue is a "lined notebook page of Wood's typed and handwritten notes on sexual terminology." In the 1960s and 1970s, in addition to writing novels and short stories, Wood also wrote (often under pseudonyms) many, many, many volumes of non-fiction, usually sexual and salacious in nature. (Bloodiest Sex Crimes of History is a good example.) Although such works were pure hokum with no scientific validity, Eddie took these publisher-mandated assignments rather seriously. From his earnest entry on aphrodisiacs: "Spanish Fly is probably the most talked of aphrodisiac, but it is actually a diuretic." Good to know. Furthermore, such supposed love potions as absinthe "are merely intoxicants." And that's something about which Eddie was truly an expert.

• In a strange coincidence, the auction also includes "a magazine layout for Wood's short story 'Howl of the Werewolf,' framed to an overall size of 22 x 28." In case you're just joining us, I devoted the entirety of the previous Ed Wood Wednesdays to that particular story of a lusty lycanthrope and his most-unfortunate female victim, a stressed-out secretary who should never have vacationed in the woods during werewolf season. As such, I can attest that the unsigned artwork accompanying the story is quite eye-catching. And now, here it is, coming up for auction. Small world, am I right?

On the set of The Sun Was Setting.

And there's more, too. Much more.

Lot #3026 includes stills, press clippings, lobby cards, and publicity photos related to Jail Bait (aka The Hidden Face), The Sinister Urge, The Bride and the Beast, Crossroad Avenger, Bride of the Monster, and Fugitive Girls, among others. Basically, this is the exact stuff to which I have devoted the last two years of my life. If you could fit the last twenty-four months of my existence into two steamer trunks and a suitcase, it would look like this. What really surprises me is that there are even some items connected to obscure or semi-forgotten Wood projects, like The Lawless Rider, Final Curtain, and The Sun Was Setting. That's some Ph.D-level, Advanced Wood-ian Studies material there, folks. Who knew that publicity photos from these productions even existed anymore?

The auction people, by the way, want us to know that Lot #3026 is "accompanied by several letters of provenance from notable figures, including Maila Nurmi (Vampira), Wood's biographer Rudolph Grey, David Ward, and Dennis Phelps." Not being familiar with the memorabilia biz, I'll admit that I did not immediately know what a "letter of provenance" is. Based on my limited understanding of the subject matter, though, I'll surmise that it's basically a letter attesting to the authenticity of an item.

The bidding on Lot #3026 begins on March 12, 2015. That's tomorrow, if you're reading this article the day it goes out. It continues for a week. The minimum opening bid, as you already know, is $2500. Yes, I will be bidding on this.  Don't worry. I have no chance of winning. Bob Blackburn says that the final price should be in the $30,000 range. That's a little rich for my blood. Hell, that's a lot rich for my blood. Thirty-thousand smackeroos. That's a chunk of change.

I can't help but shake my head at the bitter irony of this. After all, this entire auction is possible because Ed Wood was so profoundly broke he couldn't afford his North Hollywood storage unit anymore. If Eddie were around today, there's no way he hope to buy back his old suitcases full of faded memories. There's no way I can buy them back, either, but I'm going to make a token effort nonetheless. For loyalty's sake.

A taste of Lot #3027, the second best thing in the auction.

Incidentally, if there's no way you can possibly afford Lot #3026, there are a number of less expensive items that are being auctioned off separately and that may be in your (and my) price range, including vintage one-sheets for Glen or Glenda? (under the title I Led 2 Lives), Plan 9, Bride and the Beast, The Sinister Urge, Jail Bait, and a collection of eleven of Eddie's sexploitation films (including Love Feast, Beach Bunnies, Drop Out Wife, and others). The minimum bids on these are generally $200 apiece, though Plan 9 is starting at $300, presumably because it's Ed's most famous creation.

Additionally, there are some Plan 9 and Bride of the Monster lobby cards up for bids, too, plus three of Vampira's excellent self portraits (in black and white with red accents). RR Auction is also including under the "Ed Wood" category some titles that have only a little bit to do with Eddie, including Mesa of Lost Women, The Unearthly, and Beast of Yucca Flats.

By far, the most interesting item other than the already-legendary Lot #3026, however, is #3027 Signed Ed Wood Program and Script. Starting bid: $300. What you get here is a program for The Blackguard Returns, a 1949 play in which Ed portrayed a sheriff, and a script for 1959's Night of the Ghouls. Why these items should be paired, I do not know, but they are accompanied by a "four-page scrapbook" from actor Don Nagel, who was a regular in Wood's films during the 1950s.

The auction is shaping up to be the single biggest Ed Wood-related story of 2015, just as the release of Blood Splatters Quickly and the new DVDs from Alpha Blue Archives and After Hours Cinema were the most important developments of 2014. As evidence, I point you to this excited article by John W. Barry from Ed Wood's hometown paper, the Poughkeepsie Journal. It includes some exultant comments by RR Auction's vice president, Bobby Livingston, who says that the sale offers "a peek into who Ed Wood was" and calls the auction "one of the most incredible things I've ever seen." Local Ed Wood fans are also interviewed in Barry's article, including Joe Mendillo, who is part of the effort to raise $30,000 to build a statue of Edward D. Wood, Jr. in Poughkeepsie. He sees the auction as a good thing. "The more enthusiasm," states Mendillo, "the more likely Poughkeepsie will get its statue."

It's understandable that some of Ed Wood's fans were hoping that the auction would remain fairly obscure. Fewer bidders mean lower prices, after all. But it now appears that the toothpaste is well out of the tube on this one.

Get your checkbooks ready.