Houston, We Have a Moron

Every once in a while, I read about an auction for movie or TV memorabilia that tempts me to click a link. Then I see an item that tempts me to place a bid. Maybe it’s a prop. Maybe it’s a signed script or poster. Whatever it is, there’s a 40% chance it’s from The Godfather.

My strategy is this: if I see something cool and the bidding is low enough, I’ll join in, knowing someone will almost certainly top my price. It’s like, I’m just here to pay my respects; I can’t stay. But if by some miracle I win it, well, I scored myself a bargain.

If I see something I love, however, I’ll actually get in the fight. This doesn’t happen often, and it’s resulted in only two wins: props from Mad Men and Late Show with David Letterman.

Last December, I read an article online that linked to Julien’s Auctions’ “Hollywood Legends” collection. There were items from David Lynch’s estate, a ton from Back to the Future, and more from titles like Jurassic Park, E.T., Top Gun, Batman, Star Trek, Forrest Gump, and many more.

I saw a few things I liked, but nothing I wanted to go all in on. The first was a signed Al Hirschfeld print of Marilyn Monroe, Jack Lemmon, and Tony Curtis in character from Some Like It Hot. That was expected to sell for between $1,000 and $2,000, so I already knew it was never going to hang on my wall. I was outbid within 10 minutes. It ended up going for $6,400.

Julien’s also had a slew of items from Uncle Harry Dean Stanton’s estate.1 Books, letters, paintings, furniture—you name it.

It’s weird to see all of the possessions that made up a person’s life splayed out in what is essentially a virtual yard sale. It’s even weirder when it’s someone famous. I find it a little creepy that we can look at, let alone own, a special Beverly Hills Hotel menu from David Lynch’s wedding to actress Emily Stofle.

Clearly, I don’t find it creepy enough. Among Stanton’s collection were a bunch of notes and postcards from Jack Nicholson, whom I love. I bid on a postcard he sent to Harry Dean in 1984.

Jack wrote:

HDS—

Tokyo was fun

Berlin had no sun

Rome had some rain

London press LIES again

Yr Pal Jack

It sold for $768, a figure you can’t even see from down where my bid was.

Before I reveal the other item I bid on, I should note that, besides my love of pop culture, I’m a space nerd. The more I learn about the universe, quantum physics, and the unlikelihood of our existence, the more fascinated I am. The black-hole rabbit hole alone could keep me busy for years.

With that in mind, I got excited when I saw this:

Apollo 13

Production-Used NASA Podium

An original NASA podium given to Cinematographer Dean Cundey ASC, CSC during the production of the film Apollo 13 (Universal Pictures, 1995).

Dean noted that both he and director Ron Howard were given these podiums, making them the only two in existence.

The podium is composed of wood, particle board, and acrylic, and features a drawer and lower cupboard. A station for microphones is incorporated into each side of the podium.

Estimate: $1,000–$2,000

Now, do I need a podium? I do not. Do I have anywhere to put a podium? I do not. Does any of that matter if it’s a NASA podium from Apollo 13, and the only other person in the world to have one is Ron Howard? It does not.

I set my ceiling at $150, secure in the knowledge that I’d soon be outbid.

I failed to notice that I never got an email telling me that. The odds of my winning were so small that I’d forgotten about it. So I was surprised when I did get an email congratulating me on being the new owner of a ridiculously impractical piece of furniture.

After a moment of disbelief, I laughed and thought it would be perfect to stand behind during work video calls. Or, I could wheel it outside and hold State of the Neighborhood speeches on my porch. I really didn’t have a good space for it, but I’d figure that out.

As I read the rest of the email, I saw there was a 28% “buyer’s premium.” Okay, I’d missed that before, but I was still getting it for under $200, which was a great price for something they thought might sell for 10 times that amount.

The email also addressed another point I hadn’t thought about: shipping. That was going to run me $700.

My head spun like a tennis ball in zero gravity.

I felt stupid for not considering the shipping cost before placing my bid. With the two items I’d won in the past, the shipping was minimal, the key difference being they weren’t the size and weight of a waterlogged Saint Bernard. So it wasn’t even on my radar.

All told, the cost of this transaction was about what you’d pay going out for a nice dinner for two, leaving a healthy tip, and slipping the hostess another 470%.

This is the kind of problem that’s best handled on the phone, where the empathy forged from a human connection can work in your favor.

Unfortunately, I was too embarrassed for that. I wanted to remain a faceless and voiceless idiot—a mystery rube—so I emailed Julien’s, explaining my predicament. It was a moonshot, but I had to try.

An excerpt:

I, of course, will happily pay for the auction I won. But I’m hoping we can work something out with regard to the item itself, because I no longer want it. Would you be interested in keeping it, to perhaps auction off again? Or giving it away? Or donating it to a charity so they can auction it?

An understanding woman named Joanna responded, saying they’d explore options to donate it, but there were no guarantees. I replied back, thanking her.

That was on January 5. Since then, with no further messages from Joanna, I’ve been in a Schrödinger’s lectern situation, where I both own and don’t own this stupid fucking thing, with the former scenario still dangling that $700 price tag.

After seven months of waiting to hear my fate, I got an email from Julien’s Auctions a few days ago. I went into tachycardia as I clicked on it.

The pertinent passages:

We are notifying you that the property listed below remains at our facility. We are extending a final opportunity for you to retrieve them or arrange for their collection.

Please note that as of today, this property is considered abandoned, and we reserve the right to dispose of it accordingly, including release or donation.

They’re aborting the mission! Thank God.

There’s something in the email that confuses me, though—disposing of it via “release or donation.”

Release? The item description hadn’t mentioned that this was a wild podium. Was I the second one to abandon it, after its mother? Had Julien’s raised it from a podiette? Are we sure it hasn’t been domesticated and won’t be able to stand up for itself out on its own?

Assuming they know what they’re doing, I’m glad Julien’s is thinking about letting it run free. I hope it finds a home on a nice dais or stage. Maybe one day, it will even reunite with Ron Howard’s NASA podium and they can reminisce about their Hollywood days. Even if it was for just a moment 30 years ago, these stars shone brightly.

1

Not my uncle.

Whether you’re sitting by the pool in this part of the world or by the fire in another, hitting “play” on Funny Story is the perfect way to relax. In this episode, Shelly Mazzanoble tells us about mushroom-induced gnomes, and I discuss why a woman’s pants were pulled aside on a ride.

Take one small step and become a subscriber, or one giant leap and become a Patron. Either way, I’d be over the moon.