Organized religion shocked young Roddenberry. On one trip to church, he was appalled when his Bible-thumping pastor described communion as consuming the flesh and blood of Christ. As he watched fellow parishioners stuff bread into their mouths -- bread that represented the body of Jesus -- and wash it down with the Son of God's blood in the form of red grape juice, the theme of many Star Trek scripts was born: question authority; do not pray to false gods, and any god interpreted by man is likely to be false.
Future Star Trek collaborator Robert H. Justman said, “The kind of organized religion that infuriated Gene was exploitive. Human beings exploit. Human beings are the only species on Earth that I know of who kill their own kind. Constantly.” (94-6)
Although Roddenberry was becoming increasingly aware of mankind’s frailties, he wanted to believe the future would see humankind choosing right over wrong. This was not an attitude later manufactured for the press; Roddenberry was a true Utopian. And these high hopes for the future had started at a young age.
As a boy, Gene Roddenberry was an avid reader, checking out three or four books from the library at a time. He also discovered the pulps, including magazines that catered to science fiction, like Amazing Stories and Astounding. The former was the brainchild of Hugo Gernsback, the man who first put the words “science” and “fiction” together (although he preferred the term “scientifiction”). The latter, Astounding, has been credited with ushering in the Golden Era of science fiction in 1939 with the discovery of A.E. Van Vogt, Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein and Theodore Sturgeon. In 1966, Roddenberry would invite all four authors to write for Star Trek. Two of them – Van Vogt and Sturgeon – did. Asimov wanted to but never quite found the time. Heinlein passed.
Roddenberry at L.A.C.C. (Courtesy of Gerald Gurian)
Roddenberry loved the radio, too, especially adventure shows such as The Lone Ranger, fantastic fare like The Green Hornet, and mysteries like The Shadow. With these influences he discovered a passion to write. Mrs. Virginia Church, Roddenberry's English teacher and a published writer, recognized the teen’s talent and a flair for storytelling. She encouraged him to keep writing and continue with his education.
Following high school, the only school the family could afford was the free Los Angeles City College. It was on a bus ride to L.A.C.C. where Roddenberry met an attractive blonde, two years his junior. Her name was Eileen Anita Rexroat. They were soon dating.
With Eileen by his side, Roddenberry believed he could shoot for the stars, so he enrolled in flight school. To appease his dad, he also focused on police studies. Two years later, his education was interrupted. The military needed pilots. Within days after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, he was inducted into the Army Air Corps. Prior to shipping out, on June 20, 1942, he married Eileen Rexroat.
Captain Gene Roddenberry, USAF (Courtesy of Gerald Gurian)
Roddenberry was only 20 when he received his officer’s commission as a second lieutenant and assigned to Bellows Field, Hawaii where he joined the 394th Squadron. By January 1943, at age 21, he was flying B-17 bombers on combat missions out of Espiritu Santo Island, Guadalcanal. It was there, on August 2, that a B-17 piloted by Roddenberry crashed. The plane lost altitude on take-off, plummeted back to the runway, then skidded to a stop. Two members of the crew stationed in the nose of the plane perished. Seven others escaped the fire that consumed the wreckage. Army investigation found the crash to be the result of a mechanical failure. Roddenberry's record remained clean and he soon transferred back to the states where, ironically, he served as a crash investigator.
After the war, Roddenberry was discharged from the military and took a job as a junior pilot for Pan Am, which was breaking new ground in world airline service with the first around-the-world air route in 1947. On the night of June 18, 1947, he was off duty and returning home on Pan Am Flight 121, the Eclipse, departing from Karachi, India. While flying over Syria, an engine burst into flames and the plane crashed in the darkened desert, killing seven of the nine flight crew members, including both pilots. Seven of the 26 passengers also perished. Roddenberry was the highest in rank of the surviving Pan Am employees on the scene. Despite suffering a pair of broken ribs, he took charge of the crash site, quickly getting survivors off the burning plane, tending to the injured and orchestrating the efforts that led them out of hostile territory to their safe rescue.
As the survivor of two harrowing plane crashes, with wife Eileen and now baby daughter Darleen to consider, Roddenberry decided it was time to change his occupation and move the family to Los Angeles where they took up temporary residence with his parents. During the first few months there, he made money as a salesman, but his short term goal was to follow in his father's footsteps into police work.
In February 1949, Gene Roddenberry took the oath as a policeman with the LAPD. He served first as a patrol officer, then as a traffic cop. Interviewed by David Alexander, he later reflected, “I was much more a macho-type person. I was still accepting things from my childhood as necessary and part of reality -- how men related to women, etcetera.... As a dramatist doing Star Trek, I have had a chance to sort those things out and say to myself, ‘Jesus, that was a stupid attitude I had about this or that.’... But I had many saving graces, too.... I did not like violence for violence sake [in entertainment]. I had many female traits, which is certainly a part of any whole man or human. I wasn’t part of the crowd that sat around on the sidelines and made fun of people. I always had great respect for people -- even those with different ideas.... [And] I hated animals to be hurt.” (145-23)
During his seven years on the force, Roddenberry only used his gun once, to spare an injured dog from further suffering after being hit by a car.
Los Angeles Chief of Police William H. Parker, who had been Eugene Roddenberry’s sergeant, took the younger Roddenberry under his wing. Knowing of the patrolman’s growing interest in writing, Parker transferred him to Public Affairs where he wrote press releases and more. Roddenberry admitted, “I was Parker’s speechwriter, writing his philosophical beliefs. I had to justify for him many of the things he did. These were things of rare honesty. I was close to him in the days when he dreamed of building a better police department and when he was engaged in putting his dreams into action.” (145-23)
Parker was a visionary. He reinvented the LAPD into a highly mobile and rigidly trained force to reckon with. It was Parker’s idea to hire Marine drill instructors and implement the paramilitary police model that would bring esteem to his department, as well as notoriety. Within law enforcement circles, Parker’s LAPD gained a reputation for being “the finest in the world,” but to many in Los Angeles, particularly those among the youth and minority groups, he was seen as a political boss who abused his power.
“It was only when he forgot he was a philosopher and began to think he was God that he got into trouble,” Roddenberry said. “As his student, I have gotten into trouble the same way.” (145-23)
In the early 1950s, television was just establishing itself in Los Angeles. In its first few years, TV programming almost exclusively originated from New York. The live shows, such as anthology series, transmitted their one-hour productions from the East Coast, as did the half-hour comedies and the variety and contestant shows. Los Angeles contributed the filmed series, with The Lone Ranger being the first western, Dragnet the first cop show, and I Love Lucy the first sitcom, all shot on film. As a result of this booming industry, production companies with little experience were sprouting up all around Hollywood, and they needed writers. Jack Webb's Mark VII Productions was one such company.
Producing the radio version of Dragnet and its TV counterpart required 80 scripts a year. Webb needed true stories from the files of the LAPD, so he sent an offer to the Public Affairs division to pay $100 for any police cases that could be used on his series. In 1951 this was very good money for a cop pulling in only $400 a month. In today’s economy it equates
to a $900 bonus, added to his $3,500 monthly paychec
k from the city. All that was required was one page, typed, giving Webb “just the facts” of a real-life police investigation and its outcome.
Word was quickly passed from one detective to the next to send their best stories to Roddenberry in Public Affairs where he would write the cases up and submit them to Webb. For each story Dragnet bought, the $100 prize was split down the middle. Soon Roddenberry was making enough money to consider pursuing a future in television. He was not alone. Don Ingalls, also assigned to Public Affairs, would follow Roddenberry into television as a writer-producer. The two would remain friends, with Roddenberry working for Ingalls on Whiplash and Ingalls working for Roddenberry on Star Trek.
The Public Affairs division also enabled Roddenberry to work as a technical consultant on Hollywood-produced cop shows. TV was seen as a great propaganda tool and Chief Parker wanted to ensure that television’s version of the men in blue was portrayed in a proper and positive manner. This opened the door for Roddenberry to pursue a full-time career in television.
Following Dragnet’s lead in seeking the endorsement and cooperation of the LAPD was Mr. District Attorney, from Ziv Television Programs. While forgotten today, Mr. District Attorney deserves at least a footnote in history -- this was where Gene Roddenberry got his real start in television.
Frederic William Ziv, head and namesake of the company, remembered, “A very large police officer in full uniform -- badge, whistle and gun -- was on the set for several days, reading scripts and giving advice. Finally, he looked at Jon Epstein [head of the Story Department] and said, ‘I can write scripts as good as this.’” (197)
Roddenberry was invited to make good on his boast and send in a story idea in outline form. Along with the treatment, he wrote Epstein:
Dear John [sic]: This is it! MR. DISTRICT ATTORNEY finally has a story tailored to TV’s every need. If you don’t like this you should go back to, you’ll pardon the expression, Longuyland [Long Island]. P.S. This story is of current interest because gambling operations are currently giving [our] industry a headache. Its [sic] been in the news recently.
Epstein managed to forgive Roddenberry’s slap to the face of his show and paid the cocky LA cop $700 to write a script. “Defense Plant Gambling” was dated March, 2, 1954. The pseudonym on the title page was Robert Wesley, a name Roddenberry later resurrected for a character in a Star Trek episode (“The Ultimate Computer”). The nom de plume was necessary because members of the LAPD weren't supposed to moonlight as television writers. And thus Roddenberry’s career in TV was born -- with good timing, bluster, and an unexpected opportunity mixed with a little bit of rule-bending.
Roddenberry quickly followed with another Mr. Distract Attorney episode, “Wife Killer,” in April 1954. It was an ironic title. Just as his dreams of becoming a working writer were being realized, his marriage was falling apart. The birth of a second daughter, Dawn, only delayed the inevitable. Eileen wanted her husband, newly promoted to sergeant, to forget writing and stay focused on a stable career in law enforcement. She wouldn’t get her wish.
In 1955, Roddenberry sold four more scripts to Mr. District Attorney and submitted a story idea to another Ziv show -- Science Fiction Theater. Regarding the treatment for “The Transporter,” he wrote, in part:
The proposed story is of the invention of “The Transporter,” a device which is television, smellovision, soundvision all rolled into one. A device which creates an artificial world for the user, capable of duplicating delight, sensation, contentment, adventure -- all beyond the reach of the ordinary person living the ordinary life. With it you can voyage to far-off lands, argue with Socrates, earn and spend a million dollars, or lay Marilyn Monroe. Take your choice. And this is the story of the inventor who, after achieving this miracle, suddenly realizes that a commercial, greedy, sometimes inhuman world would take over his miracle. And it might be used as they have used the miracle of radio, television, the motion pictures -- with more devastating results…. It could create wants and desires for which the world would destroy itself -- a dying race sitting at their “transporters.” (145-7)
Science Fiction Theater passed, believing the story too expensive to film. Nine years later, Roddenberry resurrected the transporter in a different form for the first Star Trek pilot, “The Cage.” That episode also used the theme of this earlier treatment, giving the Talosians the ability of duplicating delight, sensation, contentment and adventure, and showing how they themselves would become a dying race, living vicariously through others.
The rejection of "The Transporter" was but a modest speed bump. As 1955 progressed, so did Roddenberry the writer, selling three scripts to the newest Ziv entry, the durable Highway Patrol.
At this time, Roddenberry took another step up and found an agent. With Lawrence Cruickshank on board he could pursue writing assignments beyond Ziv, beginning with a second stab at science fiction. This time around, he wrote a full teleplay with the emphasis on character over sci-fi gadgets. Four Star Playhouse bought and filmed the script, then sat on it for a year before shopping the property as part of a syndication package and selling it under a variety of banners to different markets. In California, “The Secret Weapon of 117” (AKA “The Secret Defense of 117”) aired as an episode of Chevron Hall of Stars. In other parts of the United States, it was slotted into weekly anthologies series, such as Stage 7, sponsored by U.S. Steel.
Roddenberry said, “In those days, Four Star [Productions]… considered it one of those odd things that happened and it never occurred to them that science fiction might have a life of its own. U.S. Steel wanted it, too [in addition to Chevron], and everyone was startled that an interesting story could be made out of science fiction elements.” (145-26)
Roddenberry’s episode starred Ricardo Montalban, who would later appear as Khan on Star Trek. The story dealt with a pair of aliens who had taken human form to spy on mankind. Becoming man and woman, however, caused great distraction for the pair with all the newfound emotions and temptations they felt. They ultimately abandoned their mission and their former kind, choosing to stay on Earth as imperfect human beings. If this sounds familiar to Star Trek fans, elements of the story appeared in the episode “By Any Other Name.”
Daily Variety’s review from March 1956 said:
A tongue-in-cheek science-fictioner which takes off on a romantic comedy tangent, this Chevron proves a gay little romp with sharp philosophical overtones. It also marks the maiden “telepie” [Variety lingo for “teleplay”]effort of a promising scripter, Robert Wesley, which is the nom de video of an L.A. cop -- oops -- policeman.
It would be another eight years before “Wesley” had a chance to write science fiction again, being kept from it by a whirlwind of writing assignments for an assortment of TV cops and cowboys, in addition to writing for a real cop -- the Chief of the LAPD.
In 1956, Roddenberry wrote two more scripts for Highway Patrol and a couple for another Ziv hit, I Led Three Lives, which followed the exploits of an undercover FBI agent battling Communism in America. Ziv also put him to work on West Point, with a staggering fourteen script assignments over two years. One of these jobs was to finish a teleplay started by Sam Rolfe, who left the show when he sold a series of his own: Have Gun -- Will Travel. Rolfe appreciated Roddenberry’s handling of the script and the two men became friends.
In May 1956, as Roddenberry struggled to balance his television commitments with his fulltime LAPD job, he sent a letter to newfound literary friend and mentor Erle Stanley Gardner, the creator of Perry Mason. He talked of the important things in life -- “freedom to create, explore, travel, plus a comfortable income and some [professional] challenge” -- and how he saw few of these things happening if he remained on the force. He wrote:
Although the challenge can be found in police work, not much else is there. During the past seven years... I’ve learned a big part of what the job teaches -- and the remaining education at a cost of 23 more years doesn’t look like a good investment.... The thing that tipped t
he scale in favor of writing was, of course, the recent success of several scripts which has led to a number of top-paying assignments. Am working on two pilots now, continuing on West Point, which goes on a national hook-up this fall. ZIV’s head of production was quoted in The Reporter the other day naming me as their top writer -- this and other things still have me amazed and grateful. (145-7)
1957, now a full time TV writer
Roddenberry resigned from the LAPD on June 7, 1956. Two weeks later, agent Lawrence Cruikshank arranged a meeting at CBS where his client pitched one of those two pilot ideas he’d mentioned to Gardner. From the series proposal, dated June 20:
“Hawaii Passage” is a series of stories which take place mainly aboard an ocean liner, a cruise ship which travels between the mainland and Hawaii and possibly other Pacific ports.... The continuing main characters in the series of stories, outside of the ship itself, are the ship’s captain, purser, and/or deck-officer. The stories are of a general anthology nature. They will concern passengers and the ship personnel, separately or in combination. (145-7)
CBS passed on the proposal (ABC would buy a comedy take on this 21 years later from producer Aaron Spelling, called The Love Boat).
With his time no longer split between two opposing careers, Roddenberry became even more prolific. In 1957, Ziv paid him to write a pair of pilot scripts based on in-house ideas for new series. One was “Junior Executive,” which went nowhere; the other, “Coastal Security,” was later reworked into what became a modest success called Harbor Command. The busy production house also assigned him two script jobs for a new series making its move from radio to TV. The short-lived Dr. Christian premiered in October.
Roddenberry worked for other production as well, taking four script assignments on a new western, Boots and Saddles. One featured DeForest Kelley and James Doohan in prominent roles. Then Roddenberry reconnected with an influential friend and producer -Sam Rolfe.
These Are The Voyages, TOS, Season One Page 3
