These Are The Voyages, TOS, Season One

by Cushman, Marc

  Finally, on May 5, five months after getting the go-ahead to further develop “The Wild Blue” and the contract extension that went with it, Roddenberry followed up with Bill Dozier, writing:

  Keeping you posted on things -- am in the process of delivering to Bill Sackheim a very detailed sales presentation and format on the World War II Pacific Campaign series.... Have written a memo to [agent] Cruikshank, explaining why I began this project at such a late date in my contract -specifying the guarantees you have agreed to afford me. He has also been made aware of my cordial relationship with you and my desire for a separation agreement which will see that friendship has not impaired in any way. (145-7)

  Sackheim, who Roddenberry mentioned in his letter, was a writer/producer at Screen Gems who had worked on such series as Playhouse 90 and Alcoa Theatre. He felt Roddenberry’s series proposal needed work, and a better title. On May 17, upon receiving the revised material from Sackheim, Roddenberry wrote Dozier:

  Have in my hand the mimeographed presentation of “APO 923,” dated May 15, 1961, which will go to New York. Wanted you to know I am pleased it credits Bill Sackheim for his part in designing this presentation. (145-7)

  Roddenberry’s choice of the words “his part in designing this presentation” were calculated -- “designing” not “creating.” In a letter to his agent, he said:

  Now, to the subject of the property “APO 923” -- before the decision to leave Screen Gems occurred, I selected Bill Sackheim as the Executive Producer with whom to work on this project. It was a happy choice, we see pretty much eye to eye on the project, both of us have great enthusiasm for it. When the Exodus question arose, I told Dozier I would go ahead with this project only if certain agreements and protections were agreed upon.

  Among those terms, Roddenberry wanted “exclusive billing as series creator” and to be guaranteed full royalties per his Screen Gems contract.

  As for that new title (“APO” stands for “Army Post Office”), Sackheim was thinking along the same lines as author Richard Hooker did several years later when he wrote M*A*S*H (an acronym for “Mobile Army Surgical Hospital”).

  With his contract ended, Roddenberry found more money at Screen Gems with a pair of assignments for the studio’s new private detective show, Shannon, produced by Robert Sparks, and one of his scripts was chosen to open the series’ one-year syndicated run.

  Roddenberry moved on, working outside of Screen Gems with a script assignment for an hour-long series Target: The Corrupters. His script was heavily rewritten and the “teleplay” credit ended up going to staffer Harry Essex, leaving Roddenberry with only a “story by” acknowledgement and diminished residuals. It was a bitter pill to swallow, one that would leave him hesitant to add his name to other writers’ scripts that he rewrote in the future, even when there was little left of the original material.

  Meanwhile, news continued to come in regarding the two pilot scripts he had left behind at Screen Gems. On November 22, Variety reported that the studio planned to film the “APO 923” pilot. The December 19 issue added that CBS would finance and William Sackheim would produce. Roddenberry was listed as “head writer.” By the first days of January, the cast had been set with three up-and-coming actors: Ralph Taeger, Pat Harrington, Jr. and James Stacy. CBS programming executive Oscar Katz was hot on the property and, in early February, told Daily Variety the series would offer “a different kind of war story.” But on February 26, the trade reported that Perry Mason, the network’s powerhouse lawyer series, would exit Saturday to make room for the return of Jackie Gleason, with Perry Mason landing in the Thursday night spot reserved for “APO 923.” The second series by Roddenberry to be bought by a network, suffered the same fate as the first: it was never to be heard from again.

  One last pilot -- and potential Screen Gems series for Roddenberry -- also started in 1961 and carried over into early 1962, was “Defiance County.” This final project for the studio would ultimately create bad blood -- not between Roddenberry and Screen Gems, or Roddenberry and CBS, but between Roddenberry and his mentor, Erle Stanley Gardner.

  On November 11, 1961, Daily Variety announced that Screen Gems was planning the pilot film. In the same report, Paisano Productions, the makers of TV’s Perry Mason, was reported as planning one of its own pilots, based on Doug Selby, a well-known property of Erle Stanley Gardner’s with nine novels published between 1939 and 1949 (beginning with The D.A. Calls It Murder and ending with The D.A. Breaks an Egg). The title character was a young and somewhat inexperienced rural area district attorney. Roddenberry’s “Defiance County” also involved a young and somewhat inexperienced rural area D.A. Another coincidence: CBS was the network that Paisano Productions -- and, therefore, Gardner -- had their relationship with. Because of Mason, the production company believed it had a handshake deal with the network regarding a TV version of Selby.

  In the December 19 issue of Daily Variety, Dave Kaufman reported that Paisano had to hold up pilot plans on “Douglass Selby,” (the title given to the TV version of Doug Selby). In the same issue, a different columnist reported that CBS would be financing “Defiance County” for Screen Gems. It didn’t take a sharp legal mind like Perry Mason to figure this one out.

  Jackson Gillis, the story editor on Perry Mason, got a hold of a copy of Roddenberry’s script, then reported to his boss, producer Gail Patrick Jackson:

  I certainly think the script comes close to [our proposed series], since Selby has been in wide circulation for a very long time.... For considering how long the Gardner books have been sitting on CBS desks, I’d say they’ve certainly violated something here! (73a)

  Recalling how Roddenberry and Dozier united to make a TV version of James Michener’s Tales of the South Pacific without involving or paying Michener, it takes little imagination to see that they might think to do the same with Gardner’s Doug Selby. They certainly had opportunity to know about the book series -- Bill Dozier had once been Gardner’s literary agent, and Roddenberry was Gardner’s friend and, in a sense, student.

  Roddenberry later said, “I don’t think for a moment that I am the grand knight in shining armor, forever courageous. I’ve seen my moments of cowardice and my moments of confusion. I keep trying to improve these situations, but I don’t allow myself to be swept away because I would be swept away by a lie. I allow myself to forgive myself and like myself even though I lie. I keep hoping and working for a better Gene Roddenberry.” (145-23)

  When Gardner learned of Roddenberry’s latest creation, he referred the matter to his attorney, who then contacted Screen Gems’ legal counsel. According to writer David Alexander, there exist notes in the Gardner Archives that document how the famed author’s lawyer told the studio’s lawyer, “I thought you ought to know you’re starting a show which is very comparable to a show Paisano owns.”

  On February 9, Roddenberry wrote Gardner:

  I have created a format and written a pilot film, produced last month and now in cutting stage, which has as its central character a prosecuting attorney in a Midwestern town. Not an entirely new idea, I suppose; understand several other studios have tried similar things, but my hope was to come up with something rich in mid-America flavor, capturing the spirit of a portion of our country neglected by those who see drama as strictly East or West Coast big cities.... Again, making no claim for particular “freshness” in concept, the format, character and pilot story were wholly my original creation.... At about the time the show was being produced, the Screen Gems attorney called me to say he just received a telephone call from a lawyer representing Paisan [sic] Productions or Mrs. Jackson there (exactly which was unclear), claiming my show a copy of a property owned by yourself. The implication was, referring to our friendship of long standing, that I had somehow gained access to your files or had been told of your creation in this area and had rushed into production with my own version.... As with you, I am tremendously proud of my reputation and I certainly did not want any rumors affecting it flying aroun
d this strange little town. (145-7)

  Gardner, having been a practicing attorney before turning to writing courtroom dramas, knew a thing or two about how lawyers talked and wrote letters. He sent Roddenberry’s correspondence to his attorney, along with a note, saying:

  This letter is very friendly and informal, yet has everything in it. It could well have been plotted by an attorney and then paraphrased. (70a)

  On March 9, Gardner wrote Roddenberry:

  I was, of course, disappointed when CBS elected not to proceed further with my property Doug Selby. However, on the basis of all the information that we have, I am not taking the position that either you or Bill Dozier, or Screen Gems has committed any actionable wrong. (70a)

  Roddenberry fired back on March 15:

  I was not writing for Wm Dozier, or for Screen Gems. I was not asking what legal position you were taking. A thief is a thief, “actionable” or not. Either I stole something from you and my latest letter is a lie -- or neither is true.... I can't very well find out who’s fucking who without a straight answer from you. (145-7)

  On April 2, Gardner wrote Roddenberry:

  I never said you stole anything, I never said you copied anything, I never accused you of anything which was unethical. I never authorized anyone to represent me in making any such statement to anyone. (145-7)

  Roddenberry responded in a calmer tone on April 29, telling Gardner:

  Am happy to accept the fact that your phrase “no actionable wrong” was something said in the haste of diction [sic], carrying no special meaning. (70a)

  After that, aside from a change of address card sent from Roddenberry to Gardner, there is no indication of any further correspondences between the two men.

  “Defiance County” was filmed in January and, in February, scored by George Duning (later to write music for Star Trek). By April, CBS passed on the series and the pilot was never aired. Roddenberry was four for four (with “The Big Walk,” “333 Montgomery Street,” “APO 923” and now “Defiance County”) at not being able to take a pilot to series.

  Roddenberry, while gaining nothing, lost a valuable mentor in Erle Stanley Garner.

  During 1962, Roddenberry returned to the world of freelancing. His goal was to get another development deal but, until that happened, make a comfortable living and keep a high profile. His first step was an obvious one: more work at Have Gun - Will Travel. He also sold a script to the highly regarded hour-long detective series, The Naked City, followed by another hour-long, G.E. True, produced and hosted by Jack Webb, the first man to give him a job in Hollywood. A third hour-long was placed with the popular medical drama Dr. Kildare, starring Richard Chamberlain. It was here Roddenberry made an important connection: Norman Felton, a producer who would soon greatly advance his career.

  After a short period of rest -- the production hiatus from February through April when no one is buying scripts except for pilots -- Roddenberry returned again to Have Gun - Will Travel to write five more scripts for its final season. The last of those, “The Savages,” his 24th teleplay there, made him the writer to have the most scripts produced for the series.

  The Dr. Kildare episode Roddenberry had written several months earlier had since been filmed and aired, and now producer Norman Felton was calling. Felton later said, “Writers write scripts for episodic television, then the show is made and nobody tells them that the script was good. They just tell them what was wrong with it or that they should make it better. I wanted to tell him that I liked it, that I thought it was good.” (58bb)

  Roddenberry was quick to respond to Felton’s praise and asked if he could pitch an idea for a new series. Felton knew Roddenberry had credentials as a producer and a meeting was arranged. It went well and, after tidying up the proposal, Felton took it to MGM, the studio that produced Dr. Kildare. Development money was advanced for Roddenberry to write a teleplay. The title on his first draft script from October 1962 was “The Lieutenant.”

  NBC press photo, Gary Lockwood in The Lieutenant (MGM, 1963)

  MGM believed it had a winner in The Lieutenant as a potential series and decided not to seek network money to make a pilot. Instead, the studio chose to finance the pilot itself and hoped to start a bidding war by screening it for all three networks simultaneously. By early February 1963, the pilot had been shown to the networks. As quickly and easily as MGM had predicted, a deal was made. On February 7, NBC announced that it had bought the series for the fall TV season. Norman Felton would serve as Executive Producer, and Roddenberry, now 42, would produce. In just nine years, he had gone from aspiring writer to professional tele-scribe, to in-demand freelancer, to contracted developer for a television production company, to writer-producer with the biggest studio in Hollywood.

  MGM did more than merely screen the pilot for the networks. Daily Variety, on April 3, 1963, reported:

  [Norman Felton and Gene Roddenberry] just returned from Quantico, VA, where they screened pilot for U.S. Marine Corps officials. Producers noted full cooperation of Marines has been assured, including permission to film portions of normal base activity, using Marine personnel in backgrounds. Pilot was shot at Camp Pendleton.

  The Lieutenant, a peacetime look at the United States Marine Corps, portraying human drama in a military setting, premiered on NBC on a Saturday night in September of 1963. Gary Lockwood, later to be the top guest star in the second Star Trek pilot, played title character Lieutenant William Rice. Robert Vaughn, one year shy of being cast by Norman Felton for The Man from U.N.C.L.E., played Lockwood’s superior.

  Although Roddenberry had written the original pilot, he chose to re-edit the film so it could be scheduled later, and then selected another writer’s script to kick-off the series. Variety reviewed the starter, saying:

  Like all TV series that are based on a profession (medicine, law, teaching, etc.) the success of The Lieutenant will depend to a large degree on (1) whether military careerism with its special conflicts can sustain mass interest on a weekly basis, and (2) the plausibility of the dramatic situations that arise. The debut of Gene Roddenberry’s video brainchild showed some promise on the first count, but struck out on the second with the premiere script. Clearly, the new series can’t afford to be just a potboiler when it’s up against Jackie Gleason and the popular Hootenanny.

  The reviewer liked the star of the show but not his fictional character, writing:

  Lockwood has the looks, a special pensive quality and the basic acting ability to arrest the public fancy as a new TV star; but the character he portrays will have to give off more heroic magic than he did in the initial chapter.... [Premiere] show seemed to have as its purpose an explanation of why there can be no fraternizing between officers and enlisted men in the military [a recurring theme for Captain Kirk in Star Trek].... The script grew hard to believe before it got very far.... Ed Waters script was flawed too by stilted dialog, and the story had trouble overcoming the artificiality of the opening scene.

  Roddenberry could not blame Ed Waters for the dialogue; he himself had rewritten the script extensively without credit. But, even after suffering a bloody nose in front of boss Felton, MGM and NBC, the novice show-runner rebounded quickly when the Nielsen ratings came in. On October 23, Variety announced the surprise news: “NBC’s Saturday night Lieutenant [is] taking the count away from Jackie Gleason and Phil Silvers [on CBS].”

  Roddenberry quickly gained status as a reliable producer and began a relationship with numerous writers, directors, technicians and performers who later returned for Star Trek. Among the writers were Paul Schneider, Art Wallace, and Lee Erwin. The directors later to land on Star Trek included James Goldstone, Vincent McEveety, Marc Daniels, Robert Gist, Michael O'Herlihy, and Robert Butler. Among the actors who were space bound: Gary Lockwood, Majel Barrett, Leonard Nimoy, Nichelle Nichols, Walter Koenig, James Gregory, Michael Strong, Don Marshall, Ricardo Montalban, Madlyn Rhue, Leslie Parrish, and Barbara Babcock. Another new member of Roddenberry's inner circle was a young casting
director who would later make many talent discoveries for Star Trek: Joe D’Agosta.

  D’Agosta was, in a sense, a discovery himself -- of Gene Roddenberry’s. D’Agosta recalled: “I was just an ‘extra’ clerk then, checking in extras at MGM. The casting director on The Lieutenant got sick and I was asked if I thought I could fill in for a couple weeks. I immediately said yes, knowing I knew nothing. I had been an actor for five years in the theater, so I would bring in people that had never worked in television; they just worked in the little theaters around town. The thing that sold Gene Roddenberry on me is he insisted on military haircuts for all his actors because they were marines. The other casting director was lazy about getting actors to cut their hair -- they were TV actors, after all; they worked a lot, they didn’t want to change their look. But my actors didn’t worry about that, so I made sure everyone came in with military haircuts, even if I had to sit in the barber shop with them. I remember doing that with Dennis Hopper, telling the barber, ‘Take a little more off,’ and Dennis saying, ‘Oh no; really?’ And I’m saying, ‘Yup, take more off.’ Gene was impressed that he didn’t have to worry about military haircuts on his actors anymore, so he fired the other guy and kept me.” (43)

  It was during the production of The Lieutenant when Roddenberry first gained a reputation as a producer compulsively driven to alter the work of other writers. He said: “Scripts aren't written, but rewritten.” (145)

  As a result of all the rewriting, some of the writers who worked on The Lieutenant complained to executive producer Felton, and, of the 27 scripts Roddenberry bought for the series, he burned through 19 different writers.