Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 238: The to-do list

Hope that coffee is strong, pally. Looks like a lot of work.

Let's just do this. I'll warn you in advance: this article is more for me than it is for you. This is something I've needed to do for a while now. Might as well bite the bullet.

Last week, I mentioned the vast amount of Ed Wood-related material I still have/want to cover in this series. But exactly how much are we talking about here? Well, the only way to know for sure is simply to list as much of it as I can. Maybe, once it's all laid out in front of me, it won't seem so intimidating. Or maybe it'll seem way more intimidating. Either way, we must proceed. I think a good way to start is to divide the work into various categories.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 237: The not-so-endless reaches of time

No matter who you are, time is coming to get you.

Ed Wood died at 54. My colleague Greg Javer, who researched the life and work of Ed Wood, died at 56. My own mother died at 46, her father at 54. I turn 50 in a couple of months. I am acutely aware that my time is rapidly running out. You know the scene in The Wizard of Oz (1939) in which Margaret Hamilton shows Judy Garland a giant hourglass full of red sand?

"Do you see that?" she yells, turning the hourglass upside down. "That's how much longer you've got to be alive, and it isn't long, my pretty! It isn't long!"

Cut to Judy Garland, sobbing in mute horror. That's how I feel right now.

I'm currently working a full-time cubicle job as a clerk at a mortgage company. Most days, I come home from the office feeling like garbage and not wanting to do much of anything. In what spare time I have, mostly nights and weekends, I do a biweekly podcast and maintain this blog. If you're reading this article, you probably think that I only write about Ed Wood. In fact, you may think this entire blog is called "Ed Wood Wednesdays." It isn't, but I've stopped correcting people on that point. 

SIDEBAR: The name of this blog is Dead 2 Rights. "Ed Wood Wednesdays" is a series of articles on that blog, sort of like how Saturday Night Live (1975- ) is a series on NBC. Most weeks, the Ed Wood stuff on D2R isn't even what gets the most clicks. My articles about Fat Albert, What's My Line, and Patience & Prudence consistently outperform Ed. In fact, of the ten most-viewed articles in the entire history of this blog, only two are about Ed Wood. And one of those is the index page.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 211: The incredible artwork of Shenandoah See (and my total failure as an Ed Wood fan)

I think this piece captures something essential about Tor Johnson.

In August 2021, I did what I had hoped never to do again: I returned to full-time office work. It seemed like my only option, since my freelance writing career was truly dead by then. I couldn't sell very many articles to editors, at least not enough to cover my monthly expenses, and Dad Made Dirty Movies: The Erotic World of Stephen C. Apostolof (2020), the book I'd authored with Jordan Todorov, wasn't exactly opening a lot of doors. Meanwhile, I needed medical insurance and a reliable source of rent money. It was time to go back to the only life I'd ever known.

Turns out, cubicle jobs like the ones I'd had in the '90s and '00s weren't as common in the 2020s—especially after the pandemic—but I found a reliable (if low-paying) position at a mortgage company and have stayed there for over three years. Since then, free time has become my most precious commodity, maybe the only thing I really treasure anymore. Every second away from that office is golden, even if I'm spending it in traffic or waiting in a checkout line.

Since time is my most/only valuable asset, I have to decide how to spend it wisely. Maintaining this blog is one of my main hobbies, but it's not the only one. Believe it or not, I have a life beyond Ed Wood. Since 2018, for instance, I have cohosted a podcast called These Days Are Ours that requires many hours of research and editing. I'm also a member of the Glenview Concert Band, an ensemble that rehearses and performs regularly. So I have at least three sirens calling out to me. But there is a fourth that outranks the others: the urge to do nothing at all. Often, when I drag myself home from work, all I want to do is stare blankly at the TV for a couple of hours and then crawl into bed without accomplishing a single thing.

I feel guilty about all this, because earnest, well-meaning people continue to email me with questions, comments, and suggestions—pretty much all of it related to Ed Wood. To be honest, I've barely skimmed most of this material. In many cases, these fine folks are working on books and documentaries of their own, and they want my input or participation. If I respond at all, it's usually something like, "Sounds interesting!" or "Keep me posted!" Some help I am, huh? 

One of the people emailing me lately is a talented writer and artist named Shenandoah See. Even though I have been shamefully lax in responding to his emails, he graciously said I could share some of his work however I see fit. This is how I see fit. Here is a little gallery of Shenandoah's work. I genuinely hope you enjoy it.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 203: The saga of Ed Wood's historical marker

This house on Delano Street in Poughkeepsie was once Ed Wood's home.

And the year of Ed Wood continues! The 100th anniversary of Eddie's birth has brought with it many marvelous surprises, including some recognition from the director's home state of New York. On Wednesday, November 20, 2024, an official historical marker is being placed at 35 Delano Street in Poughkeepsie, New York to denote it as Ed Wood's childhood home. Amazingly, this blog played some small role in that achievement.

In June 2024, I received this intriguing email from a man named Robert McHugh:

I am a teacher near Poughkeepsie and for the past couple of years I have had my students apply for funding for historic markers for sites in Dutchess County. This year, one group of students decided to try for a marker about Ed Wood. They used some of the material from your site—the reference to the wedding announcement of his parents in the Kingston paper was especially helpful—as part of the grant application. 

Good news: they were successful and there is now a historic marker being made that will likely be installed sometime over the next few months. (It takes quite a while to fabricate them; I don't know if we will have it by October 10 for his birthday.) It's going to go in front of one of the homes he lived in, at 35 Delano St. 

I'm not sure if you happen to live anywhere near Poughkeepsie, but we would love to invite you to the unveiling, whenever that would be. 

Thanks for posting all that great information about him online.

I thanked Robert for the email and gave due credit to Greg Dziawer, who has written extensively about Ed Wood's early life in Poughkeepsie for this blog. Greg, in turn, has credited the formidable James Pontolillo for his tireless (and ongoing!) research into Ed's New York years. Unfortunately, since I live in the suburbs of Chicago and work full time, I had to tell Robert that attending the unveiling of the marker was not possible.

In October, Robert gave me an exciting update: "The Ed Wood marker has finally been made. Now we have to figure out how to install it and think about an unveiling ceremony." In assembling the ceremony, Robert reached out to director and film programmer Katie Cokinos, who organized the special screening of Ed Wood (1994) that I attended virtually on Ed's 100th birthday last month. Knowing I would be unable to be there in person, Katie very nicely asked me to write a speech for the occasion. Here is that speech:

Ladies and gentlemen:

We are gathered here on this wonderful occasion to honor the memory of a man who received very little recognition in his own lifetime. Edward Davis Wood, Jr. was born in Poughkeepsie, New York on October 10, 1924 and became enamored of show business and the movies at a young age. He even worked as an usher at the Bardavon Theater on Market Street. I can imagine he spent many hours in that place, staring up at the screen and gazing in amazement at the larger-than-life figures projected there. He especially loved the cowboy stars, like Buck Jones, and of course the great horror icon Bela Lugosi.

For many of us, that's where the journey would end. We're content just to watch the screen and to live vicariously through other people's stories. We still do that today, except the screens have gotten much smaller and we can carry them in our pockets. But that wasn't enough for our Eddie. He didn't just want to watch other people's adventures. He wanted to have adventures of his own. That instinct led him, after a stint in the Marines during World War II, to Hollywood in the late 1940s.

 

Heed the words of Lyle Talbot.

Once on the West Coast, Ed Wood did everything he could to make his mark as a writer, director, and producer of motion pictures. And that's not all! He acted on both stage and screen, made TV commercials and pilots, and penned countless novels, short stories, and magazine articles. There seemed to be no end to his creativity or his ambition. Along the way, he attempted just about every kind of story there is: science-fiction, horror, Westerns, and even crime thrillers. He may never have gotten to work with Buck Jones, but he did work extensively with Bela Lugosi and even befriended the great horror icon. Bela wound up appearing in all three of Ed's most famous films: GLEN OR GLENDA, BRIDE OF THE MONSTER, and the infamous PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE.

During his own, rather short time on this earth, Ed Wood received very little praise or recognition from the entertainment industry. He wasn't getting positive reviews in the press or awards from his colleagues. To the extent that Ed's films were noticed at all, they were mocked and derided for their low budgets, unlikely dialogue, and outrageous storylines. And yet, his quirky, memorable films have struck a nerve with fans for decades, and those fans have kept Eddie's memory alive long after his death in 1978. This year alone , the 100th anniversary of Ed Wood's birth, there have been at least three major new books about him, and his films continue to be shown in theaters across the country and re-released for home viewing as well.

And now, we place this marker at Ed Wood's childhood home. I am certain that Eddie would be flattered and thrilled by this honor. And if there is anything we can learn from his life, it's that we shouldn't be content to sit on the sidelines and watch other people do all the exciting things we wish we could do ourselves. As Lyle Talbot says in GLEN OR GLENDA, "We only have one life to live. We throw that one away, what is there left?"

I don't know if Katie will actually deliver that speech at the ceremony, but it was so nice to be asked. As for the marker, here is what it will look like. Perhaps, if you live near Poughkeepsie, you can stop by 35 Delano Street and see it for yourself someday.

This handsome blue and yellow marker stands as a tribute to Ed Wood.

Podcast Tuesday: "Fonzie Needs Boats! Fonzie Needs Boats!"

Fonzie and Dr. Solo don't seem to get along terribly well on The Fonz and the Happy Days Gang.

Ostensibly, The Fonz and the Happy Days Gang (1980-81) is a show about time travel. Fonzie (Henry Winkler), Richie (Ron Howard), and Ralph (Don Most) travel haphazardly from one era to another in a constantly-malfunctioning flying saucer, accompanied by "future chick" Cupcake (Didi Conn) and a mischievous dog named Mr. Cool (Frank Welker). Their ultimate goal is to return to 1957 Milwaukee. I say the show is "ostensibly" about time travel because it's really more about hopping from one literary form to another (Westerns, horror stories, swashbucklers, etc.) and seeing how the characters fit in. I call it genre travel.

But in its second season, the show did an episode that is neither time travel nor genre travel: "Time Schlep." Here, the gang find themselves in the Bermuda Triangle on a remote island that lies outside of the time-space continuum. Time has stopped here; it's not any particular year on this island. They encounter a mad scientist (voiced by Rene Auberjonois), a damsel in distress, a giant gorilla, and an evil robot, but the story does not fit into any convenient category. We are figuratively and literally in uncharted territory this week.

Does that make for a better or worse episode? Both? Neither? Find out by listening to the latest installment of These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast. You know how to do that, right?

Sally and Ted Forth secretly want to kill each other

The characters of Sally Forth descend into hell, a few panels at a time.

Marriage is a long haul. And no one knows that better than the characters in syndicated comic strips, where people generally don't age (or age much) and everyone is stuck in some kind of Groundhog Day-esque nightmare loop of time. That little parody up there is based on a real Sally Forth strip. It took very little to make it very bleak indeed. On the bright side, though: prime rib!

Time #2

In case you missed Time #1, it's here. The first one was based on a series of vacation photos taken by a group of friends. The second one, I think you can guess. I don't know why, but I've always been interested in how faces change over time. That used to be something I drew over and over again as a kid. I'd draw a character, then show him ten years, twenty years, fifty years later, etc. I suppose these little collages are my way of returning to that.

Time

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.