Now imagine you took those same items, and had a garage sale, and you watched as people haggled your prices down, as they devalued your memories and lifetime 'achievements'.
How would that feel?
Recently, San Diego Beat presented this article.
September 20, 2002
HOLLYWOOD - For Hollywood and history, it was horrifying. Vultures descended on the estate sale, bickering over prices and carting severed monster heads and space aliens out the landmark mansion's door. Forrest J. Ackerman, the 85-year-old author and sci-fi king, graciously sat on a fold-out chair and watched his lifelong dream destroyed.
Somehow, he managed a smile as strangers grabbed up his late wife's $1 Jell-O molds along with the priceless treasures he'd amassed since he was 10 years old.
For 51 years, almost every Saturday morning and for free, the enthusiastic funster took whomever showed up on a lively, chill-filled "touch everything" tour of the "Ackermansion," jampacked with a 300,000-piece movie memorabilia collection once dubbed the "Fort Knox of Science Fiction."
Mostly it was regular folks from around the globe, but A-list celebs, including Bela Lugosi, Vincent Price and Steven Spielberg - the latter who with George Lucas credits Ackerman with inspiring their filmmaking - also ogled at the Martian machine from "The War of the Worlds" and the pteranodon that tried to spirit away Fay Wray in the 1933 "King Kong."
Though he was repeatedly ripped off - some moron even hijacked half of the 18-foot sub from "Atlantis, the Lost Continent" - Ackerman until lately let strangers trek through his bathrooms, bedrooms and kitchen because he wanted to share the gifts and purchases he poured every penny into. But here's the real horror story: For decades, Forry, as he was nicknamed, futilely tried to get Hollywood studios, moguls and the city of L.A. to give his wondrous wares a permanent home.
And now it's too late. Ackerman had to sell the dilapidating 18-room mansion, move into a small nearby bungalow and liquidate the largest collection of its kind in order to pay $200,000 in legal bills incurred during a court battle with former business partner Ray Ferry over the pen name Dr. Acula. Ackerman won but Ferry declared bankruptcy.
"How much is this?" the vultures buzzed as they snatched Forry's beloved fantasy paintings and posters off the walls.
