This collector of rare beer paraphernalia has traveled the world, cozied up to termite exterminators and building contractors, even grubbed through garbage heaps and outhouses.

"Find an outhouse, and you find a beer can dump, Douglas says.

All of this and more to find that rare can that completes a set.

Douglas, an inside sales manager at Vidient in Sunnyvale, got himself two rare and valuable 1958 Pike's Peak lager beer cans when a contractor he'd befriended was remodeling a bathroom in Cupertino. The cans were sealed up inside the bathroom walls by a construction worker when the house was first built.

Douglas has been called a "canaholic" and "the beer can guy," but if he must be labeled, he prefers the term "breweriana collector."

His San Jose home attests to it.

In the living room, there is a modest display atop the fireplace mantel of serving trays, including one from the Fredericksburg Brewery that once stood within walking distance of Douglas' home in San Jose.

The display also includes a grouping of half-dome beer advertising lights originally designed for display in bars.

However, the heart of his collection is in what Douglas calls "my beer can room."

Step inside his inner sanctum and the first thing you'll notice is row upon row upon row of beer cans lining the walls--some 1,500 beer cans.

Almost all are empty, because, he explains, "When they're on display you can't tell if they're full or empty. If they were full, the shelves couldn't hold them up."

To collectors, a full can has no more value than an empty one, he says.

One wall is devoted to California brews, arranged alphabetically from Acme to Zest, with such brands in between as Blue Boar Ale, Clear Lake Beer, Clipper Pale, Happy Hops Hops, Dutch Lunch and Golden Gate.

Many have beautiful graphics of scenic views, lakes, airplanes and other images.

Some cans, particularly early ones, include diagrams on the side that explain how to open them.

A few have prices, such as the Golden Gate brand imprinted with "6 for 79 cents" across the front. Now, just one Golden Gate can is worth $375.

"The same recipe was used for all the beers in these cans," Douglas says, adding that it was common practice for stores to order custom labels.

Beyond his Golden State collection, Douglas has examples of the first beer sold in a can--Krueger's Finest Beer and Krueger's Cream Ale, which went on sale 70 years ago, on Jan. 24, 1935.

A Krueger's Special Beer was test-marketed in 1933, but only one can from that special promotion is known to exist, according to websites devoted to breweriana.

The American Can Company had been working on putting beer in a can before Prohibition, but the mix of beer and metal resulted in what was called "metal turbidity" producing "a foul taste."

Union Carbide developed a plastic liner it trademarked as "keglined" in 1934, and American Can acquired it that same year.

Krueger agreed to try the new packaging and, within six months, was selling 550 percent of its pre-can production.

Consumers responded positively to the no-deposit aspect of the new cans, which were also easy to stack, did not break as bottles did and were easy to cool.

A 1938 Life magazine advertisement for beer cans extolled their virtues: "No fuss, no bother, no deposits and no returns. Nothing to do but drink good beer or ale when you buy IN CANS."

By 1952, beer in cans was outselling bottled brew.

Douglas enjoys sharing his extensive knowledge of beer can history and related anecdotes.

"The origin of the six-pack," he says, "was because they thought that would be the most a woman could carry by herself."

Besides Krueger's, Douglas has examples of cans with "cone tops," popular because they worked with the existing equipment breweries had to fill bottles.

He takes pleasure in showing the evolution of the Burgermeister on that brand's cans, as the "meister" goes from a full-length figure to just a face.

A special space is reserved for Douglas' 007 series of beer cans.

"There were seven cans to a set and two sets," he says of the beer that was manufactured in 1967 in Arizona. It was test-marketed in four cities, including San Francisco.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for collectors, the manufacturer didn't bother to get copyright permission for the use of James Bond's name or 007, so it was quickly pulled off the market.

Douglas completed his two sets recently.

What he doesn't have or collect are cans of Billy Beer, J.R. Ewing, M*A*S*H, Harley-Davidson or Rock 'N Roll brews.

"They're worth a buck each," he says dismissively. "They are all novelty brands and every liquor store in the country sold it. You could get it anywhere. They're worthless."

While Douglas has examples of the first cans from Coors, Budweiser and Miller, he has them only because they were firsts.

"I don't collect brands like Coors or Miller," he says. "I collect the beers they put out of business. If you haven't heard of the label before, I'm interested."

Douglas says there are beer cans worth $12,000 to $15,000 to the right collector, but he declines to talk about values of his own collection.

"I started collecting at about age 16 and I'm 43 now," Douglas says. "I went through comic books and baseball card phases and now I collect beer collectibles, specializing in Northern California."

Douglas' father actually started the beer can collection.

"When I started and took over my father's collection," he says, "I tried to collect quantity over quality."

At one point, he had 4,000 cans.

Initially, Douglas used to go out "dumping" for cans. About 10 feet away from an outhouse was usually the place a family dumped garbage and a good place to dig for old cans.

Now, Douglas acquires cans for his collection from the Internet, other collectors and workers who deal with older houses and buildings.

"A great source for me are contractors who rip down walls and find cans inside," he says.

"You'll find one, two or six cans together in a wall. If it was one guy, he had one beer. If it was two guys, they each had one, or they split a six pack," he says.

Other sources are termite exterminators who find cans in crawl spaces or under houses.

"One guy in Redwood City called me after he found 11 cone tops when he was remodeling his bathroom," Douglas says.

U.S. cone top beer cans had their start in 1935 several months after the first flat-top beer can was introduced. The tops of these cans raised and narrowed to a mouthpiece similar to a bottle, which had a cap on it.

Douglas has met people from the old breweries who took samples home from work. Old bars and grocery stores can mean paydirt for Douglas' collection. One restaurant in Oakland had cans in the ceiling panels, and he also found cans in the rafters of a train station.

While the majority of Douglas' collection is cans, he does have several bottles from San Jose's Fredericksburg Brewery.

Fredericksburg opened in 1896 and closed in 1918. In 1934, the year after Prohibition was repealed, it reopened as Wieland's Brewery. In 1952, it was acquired by Falstaff, which operated it until 1969.

The present J. Lohr Winery on Lenzen includes a building left from Falstaff's days.

That part of his collection includes several Fredericksburg bottles, both bottles and cans from Wieland's, and Falstaff cans from the San Jose site. Douglas also has other collectibles, including a serving tray from Fredericksburg and a metal thimble from Wieland's.

Douglas says he's both a collector and a drinker of beer.

His favorite production brew is Sierra Nevada, and he appreciates the irony of it being available only in bottles.

"My favorite beer is Watermelon Wheat," he says.

It's among the offerings at the 21st Amendment, a microbrewery at 563 Second St. in San Francisco where Douglas is a part owner.

The brewery is also where his extensive collection of neon beer signs and other breweriana is on display.

Douglas' wife, Monika, admits she doesn't understand what her husband says is an obsession to which he devotes from seven to 10 hours a week. For the most part, she's busy with their baby daughter, Veronika.

Each May, Douglas holds his "Rawley's Extravaganza," a show of beer can collectibles, at Serra Park in Sunnyvale. This last May was his 17th.

He will head out to Charlotte, N.C., in August for the annual convention of the Brewery Collectibles Club of America, which attracts up to 1,000 breweriana collectors.

"I've traveled all over the world for beer can shows," he says. "I've been all over North American and Europe for beer and I love it. There are more beer cans out there, in the walls and cellars. It's the thrill of the chase."

Rawley Douglas can be reached at ceskydup@pacbell.net or at 408.294.1834.

Sandy Sims contributed to this article.