His Final Bow : Liberace Auction Draws Thousands Eager to Bid on the Legacy of a Man Born to Shop

Mike Corwin finished his impromptu performance on Liberace’s piano as a dreamy look crept into his eyes. He could spend his entire tax refund and bid $2,000 for the instrument, but he already knew there would be others who would pay much more.

“This is as close as I’ll ever get,” he said wistfully, his hand brushing the shiny black surface.

The piano and 2,000 other tangible remnants of Liberace’s life went on the auction block Saturday for a four-day sale expected to raise $5 million to $6 million to benefit the Liberace Foundation for the Performing and Creative Arts, a 10-year-old program that provides scholarships at 28 schools and colleges nationwide.

Gaudy to Mundane

Liberace’s material possessions, from the gaudy (a mink bedspread) to the mundane (a General Electric Toast-R-Oven) had been gathered into a large fluorescent-lit room in the Los Angeles Convention Center by the auction houses of Butterfield & Butterfield and Christie’s, joint sponsors of the auction.

Although the public got it’s first peek last Tuesday when the exhibit went on display, the real action began promptly at 11 a.m. Saturday with about 700 of the serious and merely curious in attendance. In an exhibition hall downstairs, bidders waded through the merchandise, while upstairs at the auction Liberace’s belongings were bringing in thousands of dollars.

His jewelry went fast and furious, with the first item, a large pendant with Liberace’s profile in silver, fetching $3,500. The catalogue appraisal was $100. A collection of cuff links, tie tacks, stickpins and house keys appraised at $100 sold for $2,000, and a personalized 14-karat cigarette case appraised at $5,000 went for $8,000.

The most expensive item sold was a Baldwin mirrored piano that went for $46,750. Making the bid was Emanouel Antiques of London, which also picked up four other pianos.

The performer’s Baccarat crystal table, previously owned by the Maharajah Bahadur Shah II, went for $40,000, $10,000 over the estimated catalogue price. But not everything sold for above-market value: A silk kimono valued at $500-$700 sold for $375, and a pair of wrought-iron girandoles appraised at $750-$1,000 went for $325.

The first day’s tally was $660,045.

There were reports that someone had put in a sealed bid of $1,700 for Liberace’s Nevada drivers’ license, catalogue-priced at $100-$250.

Downstairs, hip couples wearing sunglasses, middle-aged women in polyester caftans and businessmen in gray suits strolled among gilded antique tables, white baby grand pianos, fur coats, stained furniture, chipped lamps, wicker baskets and blenders.

Lifetime of Collecting

With an apparently well-deserved reputation as the king of kitsch, the entertainer had spent a lifetime collecting pieces that revealed his love of glitz and glitter off stage as well as on. Shopping was his avocation, according to publicist Brenda Lynch of the James Agency, which handled Liberace for years. Mr. Showmanship loved to consume. He bought to fill his homes in New York, Los Angeles, Lake Tahoe, Las Vegas and Malibu, each one with a different decor. “He was on the road 32 weeks out of the year,” she said, “and, instead of taking a vacation, he’d decide which one of his homes he wanted to go to.”

Shopping was a commonality that he shared with those who came to bid. Roaming the display items arranged by houses that the entertainer had occupied, they included serious dealers and collectors and just fans who wanted a piece of Liberace’s life that would fit on a coffee table.

Coy Deck of San Diego paused at the edge of the memorabilia section to take a picture of his wife, Sally, and sister, Marcena Haymaker.

“We have Liberace’s bed,” said Deck proudly. “We got it in Palm Springs. It’s a real large bed--an Eastern king. It’s wider than it is long!”

“We met Liberace once,” Sally Deck explained. “We were at Farmer’s Market, and he was buying vegetables. We have a star bedspread in our mobile home, and when we meet celebrities we ask them to sign it. So he just walked right in like he was anybody and signed it. We were in Dallas when Ford was running for President, and he signed it. Ark Linkletter signed it. Frank Sinatra signed it, but Don Rickles wouldn’t sign it.”

A Large Room to Fill

The Decks were “not sure” what they would bid on, Coy said. “We want everything. We have this room all done up, a real large room. And we want something to go along with that.”

Michael West had his eye on a pea green and rose beaded jacket and matching pants, displayed by a shoeless mannequin with tin foil wrapped around its head.

“That’s my favorite,” said the 30-year-old West, who said he was an impersonator who included Liberace in his repertoire. He had flown in from Atlanta for the auction.

“I came here yesterday as Liberace,” he explained. “I didn’t know how people were going to react. First it got real quiet. But then this guy sat down at the piano and started to play ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ and asked me to sing along. I said, ‘Sure, why not?’ And then I said, ‘Well look me over. I didn’t come to my own auction to go unnoticed!’ ”

West, who had momentarily assumed his Liberace voice, reverted back to his own as he continued, “I mean, if this was an Elvis Presley auction I’m sure there would be a lot of Elvis impersonators here.”

Upstairs at the auction, bidding had calmed down after the frenzy for the jewelry. Doris Vokes, wearing a red-and-white silk dress, sat in the back row with her friend Donna Gannaway, both sipping coffee and making notations in their 268-page catalogues.

“I’m a fan and a collector,” she said as the auctioneer sold off furnishings from Liberace’s Oriental-motif Hollywood penthouse. “I think his piano playing I’ll never forget. To have something that belonged to him is truly a beautiful thing. I had an antique store on Melrose, and he always liked to come in and look at different pieces. He was such a nice man. I’ll truly miss him.

‘Singing His Songs’

“The auction is being done so beautifully,” she added. “When Miss Gannaway and I came in and his music was playing, it brought tears to our eyes. We were singing his songs. It was such a lovely way to start the day.”

Others had had encounters with the star. Joan Hall gazed at the miniature pianos behind glass and said, “I knew his mother. He gave me an antique miniature piano once, signed. He was a nice, lovely person.

“I don’t think you’d know a nicer person,” said Hall, a private nurse from Culver City. “But I’m surprised he had a lot of gaudy things.”

Outside the cashier’s office Toni Bolognia was elated about her winning bid. Her purchase? Liberace’s convection oven, bought for $40.

“The item wasn’t listed in the catalogue, but they said it was some kind of oven,” said Bolognia of West Hills, who had her mother, Rosemary, in tow. “I was bidding on some art things, but everybody was outbidding me. Am I a fan? Kind of. I always thought he was eccentric. And I always looooved his pianos. It’s great to see all the piano memorabilia. When I saw all the stuff downstairs, I just, I didn’t know what to say.”

“One house is just prettier than the next,” said her mother.

Brian Mercer was, to be perfectly honest, not thrilled with some of the stock. The 27-year-old stockbroker had flown in from Toronto for the sale, only to find, he said, that the real items sometimes paled in comparison to the pictures in the catalogue.

‘Somewhat Disappointed’

“It’s kind of overwhelming, but I’m somewhat disappointed in some of the things. Like this,” he said, pointing to a gilded candelabrum that had missing and chipped pieces of crystal. “I came down with lots of money, $15,000, $20,000. I’m looking for things that are going to be of some value.” Of Liberace’s shopping mania, Mercer added, “He must have had a good time.”

To Mike Corwin of Pasadena, a 35-year-old employee of the phone company, Liberace was “my first hero of sorts. yes, you could use that word. I’ve been a fan and an admirer from the age of 7, when I started taking music lessons. I admired his style, his flash, his showmanship. And his playing was always happy. When you heard and watched him play, he never played anything sad or morose. That feeling went over into the audience.”

Corwin had been here every day since the exhibition opened and planned to stay until the last lot was sold. “I had to take a break and come down here,” he said. “Things were going so high. But having something of Liberace’s would give me satisfaction, that the man I emulated for all these years--it would be great just to have something in my home. I still enjoy his music,” he said, and paused.

“I think he went too soon.”