Since the dawn of the age of cinema, one film stands out from all the others as having mastered the art of storytelling as much as it does explore the depths of the human condition. That film is Citizen Kane. At its beating heart lies the most mysterious of symbolic objects: the Rosebud sled.
In the film’s haunting final moments, we see the sled engulfed in flames, lost forever to the smoggy exhausts of Xanadu. Its destruction, a poignant reminder that even the most cherished memories can be swept away by the passage of time. That a childhood cut short can leave a lasting mark on even the most noble among us – a truth that feels just as powerful now as it did in 1941.
Toward the end of the film’s first scene, we witness the death of media tycoon Charles Foster Kane. His lifeless hand releases a snow globe as he utters his final word “Rosebud,” the mystery of which sends a journalist on a doomed quest to uncover the meaning.
“I guess Rosebud is just a piece in a jigsaw puzzle. A missing piece.”
Few relics achieve such monumental status as Citizen Kane’s Rosebud. Director Orson Welles intentionally kept the sled mysterious, knowing its impact lay in its ambiguity and openness to interpretation. Some argue that Rosebud represents Kane’s longing for the simplicity and purity of his childhood. Others suggest it symbolizes his deep-rooted desire for a mother’s love and emotional connection – that which he lost amidst his trappings of wealth and power.
Though I’m not a journalist, I, too, have embarked on a quest to uncover everything I can about the emblematic sled. Drawn not just to its fabled mystique but to the elusive props themselves – one in particular that has captivated my attention for years. One that seemed to have been forgotten; lost to the shifting spotlight and fleeting focus of Hollywood interest.
As we reflect on the legacy of Citizen Kane and the enigmatic symbol of Rosebud, we’re reminded of the extraordinary power of cinema to illuminate the human experience, and its uncanny ability to weaverelevant threads through the fabric of our culture.
I consider it one of the profound honors of my life to have had even the slightest hand in collaborating with director Joe Dante on the unveiling of the “Lost” Rosebud Sled.
Where did the name come from?
There are different theories about its origin, but the name “Rosebud” is widely believed to have come from Herman Mankiewicz, who wrote the screenplay.
One popular (though highly improbable) theory is that Mankiewicz included “Rosebud” as a sly jab at William Randolph Hearst, the real-life newspaper magnate who inspired Citizen Kane‘s titular character. Often credited to writer Gore Vidal, “Rosebud” was a private nickname Hearst used for his mistress, Marion Davies’ private parts. While this was likely just a rumor, the suggestion offended Hearst, and contributed to his decision to suppress the film.
The second theory comes from Patrick McGilligan’s 2015 biography of Orson Welles, where he notes that Mankiewicz himself claimed the word “Rosebud” was inspired by a famous racehorse named Old Rosebud. Mankiewicz had placed a bet on Old Rosebud in the 1914 Kentucky Derby, and the horse’s win became symbolic to him, representing “his lost youth and the break with his family.”
The third, and perhaps most credible theory was confirmed by Herman’s son, Frank Mankiewicz, and involves the greatest bicycle theft in history.
From his memoir So I Was Saying… Frank says “that Rosebud was actually the brand of his dad’s first bicycle, stolen in front of the Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, public library “the very first day my father had it’’ — a theft that an independent researcher confirmed in police records from 1908.” – NY Post.
For Mankiewicz, Rosebud was a nostalgic nod to a favorite childhood memory, providing the emotional backbone for Citizen Kane and connecting the themes of lost innocence and longing. Welles, on the other hand, was less fond of the concept (22:15). He famously criticized it, saying, “I’m ashamed of Rosebud. I think it’s a rather tawdry device; it’s the thing I like least in Kane. It’s kind of a dime-store Freudian gag.”
For any other Rosegeeks out there, one bonus theory comes from Smithsonian Magazine, which states the sled was inspired by South Dakota’s Lakota Sioux tribe: “in the 1930s, the young Lakota woman, according to her New York Times obituary, worked at CBS Radio at the same time as Orson Welles. And Miss Yellow Robe’s first name? The same as the reservation from which she came: Rosebud.”
What remains of the sleds today
The Rosebud sled is far more than just a movie prop; it’s a priceless piece of film history. A blend of its history, rarity and cultural impact makes it one of the most valuable film props of all time. I wouldn’t be overstating by saying it has become one of the most sought-after film artifacts in the world.
Most film historians agree there were at least four sleds crafted – one Pine wood sled meant for filming, as Pine native to the southwest is significantly heavier and harder, and 3 Balsa wood sleds meant for burning in the notorious furnace scene. Balsa is soft, airy and lightweight which meant it would blaze easily.
Joe Dante:To think they would only build one Pine sled for filming, and 3 for burning, is a bit naive. Back in those days, film was expensive. And it was a kid riding it! If he broke the sled on a take, they would need another right away. No time to fix or build another. I would imagine they’d have built at least two Pine sleds for that reason alone.
And indeed, it seems they did exactly that. As of now, only two Rosebud sleds are publicly known to exist. However, Joe is prepared to reveal that there are actually three sleds still in existence. A revelation that profoundly changes the prop’s historical significance. Shall we go sledding?
The Mank Sled
According to Mankiewicz family lore, this sled was given to Herman by either screenwriter friend Ben Hecht or the Mercury Theatre’s John Houseman at the conclusion of principal photography on Citizen Kane. The sled was said to have been a treasured heirloom in the Mankiewicz family until its Bonham’s sale in 2015. It was exhibited at the Debbie Reynolds Museum in Las Vegas between 1995 and 1998.
Though not a true Rosebud (being that it was never in the film) it may have served as a prototype for the eventual prop. The name “Rosebud” was painted on later.
The buyer of this sled remains unknown
The Spielberg Sled
@ Getty 1982
Welles once recalled that three Balsa versions of Rosebud were made for the fiery final scene in Citizen Kane. He was satisfied after the second take of the sled burning, leaving the third sled unused and relegated to storage in the bowels of RKO Pictures. Forgotten, the sled later surfaced when a studio watchman salvaged it from a trash heap near the prop vault at RKO’s Hollywood lot (Paramount.) Eventually, the sled found its way into the hands of John Hall, RKO’s chief archivist, before commissioning it for sale at auction.
Sotheby’s auction in 1982 pitched it as the Holy Grail of film memorabilia. Collectors across the world signified they had no ceiling, including oil tycoon Lucien Flourney, who speculated it might go for a million dollars. One bidder, aggressively outbidding all others by phone, was film director Steven Spielberg. George Lucas signaled he would bid, but had apparently agreed with Spielberg not to compete, letting Spielberg win the sled for a mere $60,500.
Today, Spielberg occasionally shares this emblem of film heritage with the public, loaning it for display to the Academy Museum in Los Angeles.
The Bauer Sled
Rosebud @ Christie’s 1982
Fourteen years after Spielberg acquired his Rosebud sled, another one would emerge — this time a Pine version featured at the beginning
of Citizen Kane. Its owner, retired helicopter pilot Arthur Bauer, had kept it for more than 50 years. He recalled how hismother once suggested painting it and turning it into a plant stand, but he couldn’t bring himself to alter something so special. Instead, the sled stayed tucked away instorage, almost forgotten, until it was rediscovered in 1996. Revered again, as one of cinema’s most celebrated props, it sold at Christie’s for an astonishing $233,500 – purchased by an unknown buyer.
In early 1942, just months after the release of Citizen Kane, 12-year-old Arthur Bauer, a student at Public School 217 in Brooklyn and a member of the school’s film club, entered a contest sponsored by RKO Pictures. The competition challenged participants to match their film picks with those of the New York Film Critics. Reflecting on his victory, Bauer recalled, “I was told I could pick from a list of prizes, and I chose the Rosebud sled used in Citizen Kane.” The prized hardwood sled was presented to him by RKO actress Bonita Granville in the New York office of Will Hays (of the “Hays Code”), then President of the Motion Picture Producers & Distributors.
How did a Rosebud sled end up in New York at that time? Valid question. (After all, the film was shot at RKO/Paramount in Hollywood.) The clue might lie in Broadway.
The only known image of Rosebud used as a prop in Orson Welles’ play Native Son. Published in Life Magazine @ 1941
A mere one month after Citizen Kane premiered at Radio City Music Hall, Orson Welles opened his Broadway adaptation of Native Son at the St. James Theater on West 44th St. It was based on Richard Wright’s best-selling book of the same name. For luck, Welles insisted on using the Rosebud sled as a prop in one of the play’s scenes. During the Mercury/Kane/Native Son years, Welles reportedly lived just north of New York City in the “Hollywood on the Hudson” neighborhood of Sneden’s Landing. It may not be a stretch to assume Rosebud lived there with him until its Brooklyn adoption six months after Native Son closed.
Kane’s infamous flashback show scenes of his younger self in 1871, gleefully riding the Pine sled down a snowbank in Colorado, and pulling it back up by its rope. Soon after, we get a clear shot of the face of Rosebud as young Kane uses it to fend off Thatcher.
Note the rope is visibly tied to the curl of the metal sled rails. However, in a minor continuity error, the very next shot we see of the Pine sled abandoned in the snow reveals the rope is missing. I guess even a masterpiece has its flaws.
.
The next time we see Rosebud (marking the only time a Balsa sled is visible) is atop the vast heaps of Kane’s worldly possessions in Xanadu before being thrown into the incinerator at the conclusion of the film.
The Lost Sled
Let’s cut to the chase: yes, another sled was discovered in the 1980s—the so-called “Lost” Sled. Unlike the others, however, this one never made any headlines.
It was the winter of 1984. Film director Joe Dante was working on Explorers with a young Ethan Hawke and River Phoenix on the Paramount lot. Two years had passed since the iconic Balsa sled had been unearthed and auctioned to Steven Spielberg. One evening, as Dante was leaving the studio, something unusual caught his eye—a haphazard pile of film props and remnants of forgotten productions being assembled near an exit gate. Ever the curious collector, he wandered over to take a closer look.
Paramount workers were clearing out parts of the catacombs beneath the side of the studio lot that had been RKO. To Dante’s revulsion, screen treasures were being discarded without a second thought. Dumpsters were overflowing with furniture, lamps and miscellaneous props. Among the clutter, he noticed a familiar silhouette. Beaten up and speckled with paint, it was unmistakable. There it lay, the zenith of movie history, abandoned. Lost, but waiting to be found.
A studio carpenter casually asked Joe Dante if he wanted to take this particular piece of “detritus,” which was otherwise destined for the landfill. Stunned but trying to play it cool, Joe gulped and said, “Sure.” And just like that, he went home with what would become his most prized possession for the next forty years.
So why keep it a secret all this time?
Joe Dante:Ha! Well I didn’t, really. I put it in four of my films. It may have been so hidden that not manypeople noticed.
Joe Dante: Of course I had to put it in the film I was making at the time, Explorers. It’s in the junkyard scene when the boys are looking for parts for their ship.
Joe Dante:I think the last time I used it was 1991 in Eerie Indiana“The Losers” episode when Omri Katz is in the Bureau of the Lost.
Is that why you refer to it as the “lost” sled?
Joe Dante:I’d say it has a nice ring to it.
You’ve been a lifelong storyteller. Why tell this story now?
Joe Dante: Two reasons. Number one, the climate-controlled vault where Rosebud is stored, is now slated for demolition. I’m not sure yet where we’ll be moving to, and don’t want to risk damaging it. Number two, I want to find a collector who cherishes it as much as I have. Who can safeguard it, take care of it, maybe even gently restore it. It deserves to be seen by more than the spiders within a few concrete walls.
Sooo…
How do we know it’s real? A years-long fascination took me on my own Rosebud journey to find answers to that question.
Besides being identical in every detail, it obviously bears the unmistakable look of age. But just how old is it? The only way to determine that was to have the sled carbon-dated.
I recruited a well-known radiocarbon dating company based in Washington that’s processed nearly sixty thousand samples in the last decade alone. The team was thrilled to be using their technology on establishing antique provenance rather than the usual “naturally deposited items.”
The wait was on. Just over four weeks after I sent them a sample, I received the report. Radiocarbon dating can be subjective, using a variety of means and correction. The company used the widely accepted post-bomb pulse calibration, and INTCAL20 for converting radiocarbon ages to calendar ages in the Northern Hemisphere Zone 2 curve. This doesn’t give you a specific age of the wood in question, rather a number of specific ranges when the tree stopped absorbing carbon (cut down.) They gave me some ranges when the tree could have been alive, but I only wanted to know one thing:
“This sample, captures that particularly flat period of the carbon curve within the 400 years prior to the bomb pulse when human activities were adding carbon to the atmosphere and upsetting the natural ratio of carbon isotopes.”
Prior to bomb-testing. That meant there was no question, the wood came from before the 1950’s.
What are the chances someone would’ve made another Rosebud in the 8-10 years after its release?
Joe Dante: “Citizen Kane was a flop, for all intents and purposes. It didn’t even make its money back.”
He’s right. Being that Kane was loosely based on William Randolph Hearst, Hearst did everything he could to stifle its release. And despite most critics praising the film’s techniques, his efforts unfortunately worked. Columnist Hedda Hopper called the film “a vicious and irresponsible attack on a great man.” Many theater owners, fearing Hearst’s retaliation, chose not to show the film making it virtually impossible to see nationwide unless you lived in a big city.
Public perception was another key factor – released in the throes of the WWII box office boom, it was seen as a deeply cynical take on the American dream. Audiences were looking for something a little more upbeat and escapist. RKO quickly shelved what they considered a shameful catastrophe for the studio, never to be thought of again.
Joe Dante: “RKO was one of the first studios to sell its film library to television stations in the later 50’s. That’s the first time most of the country saw Citizen Kane.”
It wasn’t until the 1950’s when television really began to catch on and Citizen Kane appeared in living rooms. This is when the “great reevaluation” occurred. 1956 saw not only saw the film’s television premiere, but also a short theatrical re-release. Critics, no longer influenced by Hearst, now lauded it as a masterpiece in filmmaking. “The work that influenced the cinema more profoundly than any American film since The Birth of a Nation.” – Andrew Sarris, Film Culture, 1956. In 1962, Sight & Sound magazine voted Citizen Kane the greatest film ever made, an honor it has largely retained since.
Joe Dante: “Nobody would’ve made a replica sled during the 40’s and early 50’s. It wasn’t a popular film, and Rosebud certainly didn’t have the meaning then that it has now.”
One of my questions had been answered, but I still had one more. If Orson recalled that three Balsa sleds were made for burning, two of which were used in takes, and Spielberg has the third, could it be that the lost sled is … Pine? We know the Bauer sled is Pine, and as Joe pointed out they wouldn’t have made only one Pine sled for a kid who was doing full body slides down an asbestos-covered slope.
So how can we find that out?
Enter Dr. Harry Alden. Alden provides microscopic identification of natural materials from archaeological and fine art objects. He has worked for the USDA Center for Wood Anatomy and Winterthur Museum, as well as the Smithsonian Institution. Dr. Alden tested a sample.
“Yellow Pine Group. Common in Southwest Oregon, Sierra Mountains down to Baja Mexico. Pine (Pinus spp./Pinaceae) is composed of at least 93 species worldwide and can be separated into three groups based on their microanatomy; the Red Pine Group, the White Pine Group and the Yellow or Hard Pine Group.” – Alden
My heart skipped when I read it. Hard Pine. As in, meant for riding.
I asked him flat out, “any chance it could be Balsa?” He replied, “no chance.”
There it was: clear evidence that two Pine sleds must have been made. One found its way to a young Arthur Bauer, while the other languished in the Bureau of the Lost until it was rediscovered in 1984 by a filmmaker explordinaire.
This raises the tantalizing possibility that either the Bauer Sled, the Lost Sled, or perhaps both, were used on screen in the film. A mystery we may never fully unravel.
When comparing the three sleds, you’ll notice some minor similarities and differences. For one, and most obviously, The Lost Sled has had no restoration yet. The others may have had a minimal amount of restorative work done to remove mildew or foreign debris. Both Pine sleds have similar cracks down the center, whereas Spielberg’s Balsa sled does not.
You’ll also notice the rope. While all the sleds originally had metal rails attached (including the one incinerated on screen), The Lost Sled is unique in still having a rope. In the film, we clearly see young Kane’s sled with a rope tied to the top metal curls of its sledrail. However, The Lost Sled stands out as the only one with holes drilled into its sides. Who drilled these holes, and why? Was the rope added by Paramount’s millworkers to hang it in their shop? Considering the paint splatter and stains, this seems like the most plausible explanation—albeit a makeshift, and may I say, crude one.
A year after this new question a-rose, a potential clue unexpectedly fell into my lap—or rather, appeared on my TV screen.
Critically panned, the financially successful Hellzapoppin’ was apparently what audiences actually wanted to see in 1941, the same year Citizen Kane released.
In June of that year, seven months after Citizen Kane wrapped, Hellzapoppin’ began production at Universal Studios. A metafictional adaptation of the hit Broadway show, Hellzapoppin’ was packed with gags and in-jokes, constantly “breaking the fourth wall” to engage the audience. Among these clever nods was a Rosebud sled, conspicuously hanging from a pole saw above the snow. Chic Johnson accidentally bumps into the sled, causing it to wobble on its rope, then quips, “I thought they burned that.”
Could a prop maker or art director working at Universal have asked a colleague at RKO to borrow a leftover Rosebud sled from Citizen Kane? While not impossible, it would be uncommon at the time due to the competitive nature of studio contracts. Crew members were typically tied to their respective studios, which limited crossover between productions.
Interestingly, at least one unverified source suggests that Orson Welles may have been friends with Chic Johnson and Ole Olsen, the stars of Hellzapoppin’.
Just as I could argue that the Lost sled appeared in Hellzapoppin’, so too could I make the case for it being Spielberg’s sled. While it might be a trick of lens compression, if you zoom into the rosebud design on the sled in Hellzapoppin’, the shorter length of the center pistil seems to match Spielberg’s design. Whereas the Bauer and Lost Sled rosebud designs feature a notably longer pistil.
The Crusader: Could it exist?
To Charles Foster Kane, Rosebud represented not only the subconscious lack of responsibility, family connection and unambitious contentment, but it was also a monumental turning point in his life. The moment his innocence shattered into a million pieces, setting about his transition into the reclusive wolf he would eventually become.
In an attempt to soften Kane’s spite, Thatcher frigidly presents him with a newer, higher-quality sled named “The Crusader” on a snowy Christmas morning in New York City. This doesn’t appease Charles, but rather reinforces the need to burn his now-worthless childhood memories in the fires of vengeance and solitary wrath.
In the mythical world of Orson Welles, the Crusader is never mentioned; never analyzed or discussed, and as far as this writer knows, never found. Welles’ disdain for Rosebud was clear – perhaps he was channeling a bit of Charles Foster Kane himself, narcissistically bitter about the public’s obsession with something he didn’t create.
If the Lost Sled is any indication of what the future could hold, The Crusader may be out there somewhere. Unknowingly resting atop a mountain of worldly possessions, lost, waiting to be encountered. Waiting to finally have its own story told. I guess life really does imitate art.
Heritage Auctions
After decades in obscurity, this long-lost Pine sled, rescued by filmmaker Joe Dante from the shadows of Paramount’s RKO lot, finally steps into the spotlight. Backed by carbon dating, wood analysis, and a lineage of cinematic breadcrumb trails, its authenticity is undeniable. Now, for the first time, this historic artifact will be passed on to the next generation of collector.
On July 16th, 2025 a bidder purchased The Lost Rosebud Sled for $14.7m setting a new world record for the second highest price paid for a film prop, next to the Ruby Slippers. For collectors, historians, and cinephiles alike, these are more than props – they are the embodiment of memory, myth, and movie magic. 🌹
astonishing $233,500 – purchased by an unknown buyer.
. 
How do we know it’s real? A years-long fascination took me on my own Rosebud journey to find answers to that question.
Could a prop maker or art director working at Universal have asked a colleague at RKO to borrow a leftover Rosebud sled from Citizen Kane? While not impossible, it would be uncommon at the time due to the competitive nature of studio contracts. Crew members were typically tied to their respective studios, which limited crossover between productions.
