These Are The Voyages, TOS, Season One

by Cushman, Marc

  On June 15, 1967, Star Trek finally beamed into our house. The reception on Channel 8 was sub-standard but we could at least make out these men in futuristic military-type attire who were moving about in caves deep in the belly of a planet, hunting a creature that was killing the miners and tunneling through solid rock. We were captivated. And then the channel faded out. We waited with great anxiety hoping the picture and sound would return. Eventually it did, somewhat. And this is how it went the first time I saw “The Devil in the Dark.”

  Over the following weeks, the signal was stronger and we were able to see additional episodes in spotty, flickering black and white. The end of each had a profound effect on all of us as the show’s writers used stories about the future to comment on issues of the day.

  1967 was also the year I discovered my calling -- to write for television. There were a few TV series that helped ignite this passion in me, but no other show came close to sparking my imagination or seeming to have as much to say. Star Trek guided me as I practiced writing scripts, and grew from teenager to young adult.

  By 1982, I had relocated to Los Angeles and was working as a writer for a small production company that supplied programming to local TV. My boss wanted to do a one-hour special on the Star Trek phenomenon. The series was still airing five nights a week in most cities; the conventions were annual events throughout America; and Star Trek: The Motion Picture had been the big box office hit of 1980, with Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan soon to hit the theaters. A phone call was made and I was off to Paramount Pictures to interview Gene Roddenberry.

  Gene was warm and gracious. I went from nervous to calm in a matter of minutes. He talked to me about Star Trek for over an hour then had Susan Sackett, his personal assistant, take me around the lot to various storage rooms where props, art department sketches and other artifacts were kept. I was allowed to take anything I wanted on the honor system. Susan also gave me every script from the series to copy and then return. She was not only helpful but remarkably trusting.

  A few weeks later, after I had roughed out a script for These Are the Voyages -- as we were then calling it -- and arranged for a second interview session with Gene, our Star Trek special was suddenly off. Paramount decided a show of this type should be owned by the studio, which led to Leonard Nimoy’s Star Trek Memories (1983). As it happened, I was with Gene in his office when the news came. I will never forget his look of profound disappointment, with a trace of betrayal. Star Trek had already been wrested away from him -- he was merely serving as a consultant on The Wrath of Khan -- and now the video program that was supposed to be about him and the series he created was going to be about Nimoy and the series he starred in. Gene grew silent for several seconds as he stared off into space, and then said, “Well, you can always do it as a book. And screw them.”

  On the drive home, I wondered how long a project such as this would take if done properly. A year? Two? Three? I was busy trying to establish myself in television and, at the same time, holding down a day job. My commitment to writing a book on Star Trek was still a long ways down the road.

  I didn’t see Gene for several years. Then, in the fall of 1987, he was back on top with Star Trek: The Next Generation. I sent him a letter of congratulations and asked if he would allow me to pitch some story ideas. He was as gracious as always and invited me in. One of the stories I pitched would become the episode “Sarek.” We also talked about that book I might one day write. Gene asked how it would differ from Stephen Whitfield’s The Making of Star Trek, from 1968, or David Gerrold’s two books from 1973, The World of Star Trek and The Trouble with Tribbles. I explained that the Whitfield book, written when the series was still in production, and to which Gene had contributed, only covered the first two seasons and, therefore, was an incomplete account of the series. Nor did it focus on the making of the individual episodes. Gerrold’s The World of Star Trek was more of a long-form essay examining the popularity and assessing the series as a whole. His other book, The Trouble with Tribbles, while offering an in-depth look at the writing of that episode, dealt with no others. My approach would be to focus in great detail on the creative process behind the writing of all the episodes, as well as the scripts that never made it before the camera. Gene suggested I not limit myself to just “the writing.” He said, “Of course, it all starts with the script, but writing science fiction for television is just as much about understanding what can and cannot be done in front of the camera and in post production as it is dreaming up stories. We had no shortage of ideas; the problem was finding affordable ways in which to tell them.”

  Gene recommended I go through the massive show files that he and Star Trek associate producer Robert Justman had safe-guarded for nearly two decades. “You’ll find your book in those files,” he said. “Making Star Trek was more work, compromise and sacrifice than any one could imagine…unless they had been there.”

  And there lay the key. I would have to build a time portal through which the reader could transport back to the years 1964 through 1969 so that they could be there. Sadly, building time portals can take what seems like forever.

  Gene’s health started failing him shortly after this. By the time “Sarek” was made, in the third season (with Peter Beagle handling the teleplay), Gene had already scaled back his involvement with the series. One year later, in 1991, he left us.

  During the next decade, many of those who worked on the first Star Trek were publishing books. Yet none of these took a good hard look at the making of the “Classic 79.” Why was each story chosen? Who contributed what to which script? What compromises had to be made in developing these stories and making the productions affordable? What difficulties were encountered while producing them? Which did the creative staff consider their successes and which did they see as their failures, and why?

  With each new book I read, it seemed the history of Star Trek was becoming more, well, reinvented, and I became more determined to make the commitment to spend two or three years, or whatever it took, writing the type of book I’d want to read. My agent liked the idea of an all-out “biography” of a landmark television series but, with all those other books on Star Trek crowding the marketplace, he suggested I find another subject.

  It was at this time that I met Robert Culp, who said that he and Bill Cosby were both confused as to why no one had ever written a book on their series from the 1960s -- I Spy. That show had, in a sense, changed the face of TV. I Spy was the first series to cast a white actor and black actor on equal status, and made possible the first instance of a Black winning an Emmy -- three years in a row for Bill Cosby as Best Lead in a Drama -- and it was also the first series to film around the world, ushering in the technology to make that achievement possible. It certainly deserved a book and I approached the project much as I had wanted to for Star Trek -- treating the show as flesh and blood, giving it and its makers a proper biography. The I Spy book was published in 2007 by McFarland & Company to positive reviews, and this motivated me to get back to work on the one about Star Trek.

  Dorothy Fontana, Star Trek’s talented top writer and Script Editor, granted three separate interviews and connected me with many others from the first series. Robert Justman, the nuts-and-bolts producer, proved to be a great friend to this project as well. He welcomed me into his home on several occasions during the last year of his life as he battled Parkinson’s disease, talking with me, providing me with many essential documents, and doing as Gene had -- insisting that I utilize the show files they had loaned to the UCLA Performing Arts Library. “We all have failing memories,” he said. “Those documents are not susceptible to such disorders.”

  Gene and Bob were right, the show files were stained with the blood, sweat and tears that had gone into the making of each of the episodes and the many aborted stories and scripts. With every document I transcribed and every interview I conducted, my manuscript swelled in size. After connecting with a publisher, it was decided that this book would, in fact, be presented in t
hree volumes, one devoted to each season of the original Star Trek.

  Between researching, interviewing, writing, and editing, this trilogy on the first Star Trek has taken six years of my life, spread over 30, and I’ve loved every minute of it. With this first volume, and the two soon to follow, I hope you will enjoy taking this journey through time to witness the making of Star Trek: The Original Series as much as I have.

  Marc Cushman, February 2013.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  In the pages that follow, many behind-the-scenes details about the inspiration and production of the Star Trek series and individual episodes are shared with the public for the first time. This recounting is drawn from a variety of sources, including Desilu and Paramount archives (the Star Trek show files stored in the UCLA Performing Arts Special Collections), the ratings reports from A.C. Nielsen Media, the archived papers of many of the individuals involved, newspaper and magazine articles from the 1960s, personal interviews, and my own synthesis of bits of stories told by different people at different times, as published in a wide variety of outlets. Contextual information about the history and state of the television industry before and during the Star Trek era is drawn from public sources.

  In regard to the ratings reports from A.C. Nielsen, the manner in which the information was presented varied as a result of source and date. Nielsen had multiple ways of gauging audience numbers, from its overnight 12-city Trendex reports, to the 27-city or 30-city reports that arrived a week later, to the national surveys which came a week after that, and factored in rural areas, to periodic demographics reports. Some of these would estimate the audience numbers by ratings points, others by audience share, or by estimates of households watching, while others would cite two or more of these statistics. The complete significance of the Nielsen numbering systems from the 1960s may be difficult to interpret -even for those whom this author spoke to who currently work at Nielsen Media Services. In order to determine the audience share for independent stations and give a full picture of the division of the ratings-pie, I subtracted the share assigned by Nielsen to NBC, CBS, and ABC, thereby arriving at the percentage remaining for independent stations. One thing is clear from all of these reports: which network programs for any given time slot came in at first, second and third place. Star Trek’s placement, after more than four decades of misleading folklore, may surprise you.

  The picture images presented on the front and back cover, and within this book, came from numerous sources, including vintage magazines, NBC publicity pictures for Star Trek from the 1960s, Lincoln Enterprises film trims (sold to the fans through Gene Roddenberry’s mail order service in the late 1960s and early 1970s), and which were then restored by private collectors, and, for non-Star Trek images, numerous news and internet sources. In regard to the restored film trims, photo caption credits acknowledge the individual, group, or fan website which contributed the image to this project. On the few instances when two fan sites either claimed credit for the restoration of an image or legal justification to contribute the image to this work, both sites have been listed.

  After the first edition of this book was sent to print in June, 2013, and issued in August of that year, additional documents and images became available to this author, as well as a handful of new interviews. Some errors were also found in regard to copy editing. Therefore, this revised and expanded version of These Are the Voyages – TOS: Season One is being issued. My thanks for the assistance of the fans (and new friends) who felt that it was important to make this book as accurate and consistent as possible.

  1

  The Creator

  Inscription refers to Daily Variety review. Roddenberry wrote: “Greatest writing compliment ever received – ‘333 Montgomery Street’ review which accused me of stealing the dialogue from [courtroom trial] records.”

  He would ultimately become a pilot and a policeman, survive two grisly airplane crashes, change the course of network television and become an idol to countless fans of his visionary writing and ideas. But before any of that, Gene Roddenberry had a different plan for his life: He wanted to be a modern-day Jonathan Swift, the Irish poet and political pamphleteer who today is remembered mostly as a satirist.

  Roddenberry admired Swift’s ability to imagine new places and convey meaningful themes, saying: “I always enjoyed Jonathan Swift, the lands he went to and the characters he invented. It always seemed to me the type of writing I was doing was like what Swift did.” (145-23)

  In 1726, Swift wrote Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World, in Four Parts. By Lemuel Gulliver, First a Surgeon, and then a Captain of Several Ships, today known simply as Gulliver’s Travels. Most people only remember the land of the Lilliputians, but the seafarer also encountered giants, ghosts, immortals and other fantastic creatures, often using parables to make a moral or political point. Roddenberry recalled how impressed he was with Swift's ability to tackle hot issues of his day by disguising them in the trappings of far-off alien places and societies. “Swift,” he said, “used his characters to point out stupidities in our own system of thinking.” (145-23)

  With Star Trek, Roddenberry followed Swift in commenting on a similar list of issues: war, racism, over-population, slave labor and even prostitution. The influences are easy to spot -- Roddenberry intended it that way. He wanted to be compared to Swift. His super-charged ambitions pushed him to be something more than a word-slinger for hire; he was driven to be regarded as a writer who had important things to say -- things that influenced positive change, both in his professional field and in society. Swift, presumably, wouldn't have minded the comparison -- his epitaph includes the challenge “Go forth, Voyager, and copy, if you can, this vigorous… Champion of Liberty.”

  To most fans of Star Trek, Roddenberry is a hero. A genius. A man with a vision. A humanitarian. A writer and producer of uncompromising ethics. The “Creator.” Many marveled at his imagination and moral integrity. But like Swift, Roddenberry is not without his critics. They chastise him as a writer whose material vacillated between liberal and “jingo dogma,” with sexist overtones, romantic naiveté and preachy dialogue. Among those who worked closely with Roddenberry, some proclaimed him to be self-glorifying, controlling and even mediocre.

  Critical opinions will remain divided, but the many documents that have survived from the original Star Trek give evidence to Roddenberry’s quick, fluid mind, boundless creativity and keen instinct for drama. They also tell us that like any good character in fiction, this creator was not perfect. Perfection, after all, would be dull.

  Eugene Wesley Roddenberry was born in El Paso, Texas on August 19, 1921, though he was always called “Gene” to distinguish him from his father of the same name.

  Papa Eugene, a native of Georgia, had been dirt poor and a self-taught man. At 17, he lied about his age to join the Army and serve in World War I. While stationed in Texas, he married a local girl named Caroline Golemon. Two years after the birth of their son, Eugene left the military and moved his family to Los Angeles where he became a policeman.

  The Roddenberrys settled in Highland Park, a middle-class neighborhood that was predominantly white but quickly changing as L.A. was becoming a multicultural metropolis. Eugene, the Southerner, the former dough boy, the “street beat” cop, had trouble adapting. Gene Roddenberry himself referred to his father as a man who was driven by fits of anger and, due to his upbringing in the Florida-Georgia backcountry, prejudice.

  Roddenberry was determined not to be influenced by his father's negative side and sought to emulate the positives. He said, “[My father] was a good beat cop. I think [he] was very often embarrassed with what the police did in those days.... I guess many of my beliefs about ordinary people and what they can do come out of respect for my father.” (145-23)

  Roddenberry also attributed to his quiet father many aspects of his ability to imagine the future, saying, “He was advanced beyond his time. Once he took me out to the front yard of our Monte Vista Street house and said,
‘Gene, someday they’ll rip out whole blocks of the city and put gigantic highways through here.’ He was talking about the freeways that I later saw being built. He said this to me in the 1930s.” (145-23)

  The first freeway in Los Angeles -- the Arroyo Parkway (now The Pasadena Freeway) -- was completed in 1941.

  At the time the Hollywood Freeway opened in 1968, Roddenberry received a letter which highlighted his father's knack for seeing things to come. He recalled, “Two elderly ladies wrote from Jacksonville, Florida when the original series was on NBC. They had watched Star Trek, saw my name, and wrote that they could have predicted that I would have done something like Star Trek because I had talked of such futuristic things when they had met me on my way to Europe to fight in World War I. They thought they had discovered my father and what he was doing long after he came back from the Great War. They thought I was my father.... To have them say about my father -- that he held such thoughts when they knew him -- was exciting…. It made me proud that, in spite of not being formally educated, he had dreamed such dreams.” (145-23)

  The Roddenberry clan grew with the arrival of Bob and then Doris. Eugene allowed his wife, a devout Baptist, to put the fear of God into the kids. Roddenberry told writer David Alexander, “She took us to church every Sunday, but my father didn’t go…. I didn’t really take religion that seriously. It was obvious to me, almost from the first, that there were certain things that really needed explaining and thinking on, but why bother about them?” (145-23)