What if the fairy tale isn’t over?

The Ruby Slippers

Last night Judy Garland/Dorothy Gale’s Ruby Slippers were sold at Heritage Auctions for $32.5 million (including buyer’s premium). In a later blog post, I will share my thoughts on what this sale means for the Entertainment Memorabilia market. In this post I want to imagine with you that the story isn’t over.

I had no connection to this auction. The closest I have come to these slippers is the fact that I live in Minnesota. The state where these shoes were displayed, and ultimately stolen.

I also have a very active imagination. In my whimsical mind, this story feels incomplete.

These musings are entirely my own (and copyrighted, trademarked, and otherwise belonging to me in case some equally imaginative writer would like to collaborate on making these thoughts into a fictional story).

I entered the Memorabilia Market in 2006, when I took a job at a burgeoning memorabilia auction house. I was enthusiastic but not yet very good at my job. (Thankfully, I have learned much since then). The stolen slipper story was a year old. It was a strange, confusing tale, that didn’t make much sense, even then. I heard whispers, allegations, and opinions at the time. Aside from reading Rys Thomas’ book, and having a lovely coffee with him to discuss this crazy market, my connection to the slippers was the same as anyone else’s. Perhaps with a bit more curiosity. The market moved on and the slippers were ostensibly a cold case.

Over the years I followed the case of the slippers. The story was messy and fascinating. I waited eagerly in 2018 for the FBI press conference when the shoes were located. I waited to hear The Story (!). Who had stolen the shoes? Who was going to be arrested? Only to be disappointed that the whole press conference was just a photo op. The wah wah noise played loudly in my head.

When the news broke of Terry Jon Martin’s arrest, I was even more disappointed. This guy? This is the guy? You want me to believe he actually thought the shoes were made of rubies? The hell?

I admit, I may be accustomed to Hollywood endings - the bad guys get caught in the end and the wild story ends satisfactorily. But this story is stupid. It doesn’t make sense. One star for the plot. OR, my fanciful mind whispers, this is only act II. We are in the red herring section of the story. (Hooray! My mind rejoices). What if this story isn’t over yet?

My fairytale ending goes something like this…

The FBI in all their shadowy capacity are holding back. They know more than they have let on. They are willing to let Martin be the patsy, for now. An auction house is engaged to hold the sale of the slippers. Why play with $1 million of insurance money (the amount the slippers were insured for at the time of the theft), when there is more money to be made. They would allow the sale to go through. The slippers would be safely in another’s hands with more money realized. (Plot point: is this crime now bigger because after more than 25 years the payout is greater? Plot point #2: Is there a statue of limitations on this crime?)

Maybe there is another person at the center of this story who could have, my in my fiction story, have staged a theft? Whose ruse was bigger, more attention grabbing, and more financially beneficial than a small town crook’s from Duluth, Minnesota?

This story, as I have said, never made sense. How could a tiny museum three hours from Minneapolis with only a whisper of security be trusted to house and display these artifacts? How could objects of such cultural importance that its literal match is housed in the Smithsonian (who report that the slippers are the most asked about artifacts that they house) be left open to such thievery? Why would anyone who owned the slippers agree to this arrangement. As a non-collector, who does not have the kind of money to collect such treasures, but does have the common sense not to let my purse out of my sight, I am perplexed.

Like a piece of fine art, these shoes would be too “hot” to steal and fence without major connections and questionable ethics. Maybe thieves in the real world are less intelligent than those on screen. Maybe this caper is just as ridiculous as the surface details appear.

To me, it looks like two puzzles have been dropped on a table. 1,000 pieces of mismatched answers.

I am waiting for the big reveal, the revised and rewritten third act so that the story can finally gel and the lights will go up on a satisfactory ending.

As it stands, this story only gets two stars.