These Are The Voyages, TOS, Season One

by Cushman, Marc

  - Kirk: “The more complex the mind, the greater the need for the simplicity of play.”

  ASSESSMENT

  Theodore Sturgeon’s very original screenplay plays like a roller coaster ride, seamlessly winding its way through dips and peaks, with an abundance of thrills along the way. While the fantasy elements of the story may have been too fantastic for NBC’s liking (see The Story Behind the Story), “Shore Leave” gave the network exactly what Roddenberry had promised -- a planet show with action and adventure.

  We meet Ruth, Kirk’s first love. Thanks to on-the-mark acting choices by William Shatner, Kirk appears intoxicated with feelings of both fondness and heartache. The mere presence of Ruth, her touch and scent, both comfort and torment him. Note how quickly the mood of the episode shifts. Credit the hauntingly beautiful music of Gerald Fried and the stunned and reflective look on Shatner’s face for making Kirk’s reunion with Ruth such a memorable one.

  Equally emotional: the death of Dr. McCoy. Another superb acting choice on the part of William Shatner. The script called for: “PUSH IN EXTREMELY RAPID ON Kirk’s reaction -- pure horror.” Shatner, instead, gave us a tortured expression as Kirk is overwhelmed with grief to the point of appearing physically ill. The combinations of strong performances by Nimoy, Takei, and guest star Emily Banks create a scene that is as heartfelt as it is gripping. Few watching back in December, 1966, could have guessed that in the world of science fiction anything is possible and McCoy might return from the dead. DeForest Kelley was not listed in the opening credits at this point. He was presented as a supporting character, which, as had happened with Yeoman Janice Rand, can suddenly go away. When this episode first aired, the shock and the remorse of witnessing the death of Dr. McCoy was intense. It was very clear just how vital McCoy -- and DeForest Kelley -- had become.

  Angela Martine-Taylor also dies in this story. And she too is “repaired.” Due to a lack of camera coverage from director Robert Sparr, you’ll need to watch closely, but she does return to Rodriguez’s side for the final moment of the episode.

  The fight between Kirk and Finnegan is noteworthy. The choreography and stunt work are as good as television got from this era. One can feel both Kirk’s determination and physical exhaustion. Gerald Fried’s score speeds up and then slows to a crawl, in perfect sync with the energy of the fight and the fatigue of the combatants.

  Adding to all of this, the scenery, for a 1966 television series with a budget just reduced to $187,000 per episode (although “Shore Leave” went over by $12,000), is unparalleled. The story takes on a dreamlike effect as the eerie backdrop of this strange world changes from lush and tropical to barren and harsh, and as characters from the subconscious mind pop in and out of the surreal existence.

  Moments like these elevate “Shore Leave” into the stratosphere of TOS’s very best.

  THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY

  Script Timeline

  Theodore Sturgeon’s story outline, ST #24, “Shore Leave”: May 10, 1966.

  Sturgeon’s revised outlines, gratis: May 17, 1966.

  Sturgeon’s 2nd Revised Story Outline, gratis: May 23, 1966.

  Sturgeon’s 1st Draft teleplay: early June 1966.

  Sturgeon’s rewrite, gratis (Rev. 1st Draft teleplay; now called “Finagle’s Planet”): June 20, 1966.

  Sturgeon’s 2nd Draft teleplay, title changed back to “Shore Leave”: September 9, 1966.

  Gene Coon’s polish (Mimeo Department Reformatted “Yellow Cover 1st Draft”): October 3, 1966.

  Coon’s second script polish (Final Draft teleplay): October 14, 1966.

  Additional page revisions by Coon: October 17, 1966.

  Gene Roddenberry’s emergency “rough step outline”: October 18, 1966.

  Rushed revised script pages from Roddenberry: October 19, 20 & 21, 1966.

  The basic idea for “Shore Leave” is in Gene Roddenberry’s March 1964 series proposal. Roddenberry handed the clever but vague concept off to Theodore Sturgeon who, at 48, was a science fiction legend known for his books, including More Than Human (1953) and The Cosmic Rape (1958).

  Roddenberry, thrilled to have Sturgeon on his team, later reflected, “Up until then, he had always been a writer of great novels. Someone said to him, ‘Ted, I understand that you are doing Star Trek now. Don’t you know that 90% of everything on television is crap?’ Ted rose up grandly and said, ‘Ninety percent of everything is crap.’” (145-23)

  Sturgeon’s “story treatment,” more like an abbreviated and somewhat disjointed short story, arrived May 10, 1966. Robert Justman got a look at it seven days later and was appalled. He wrote to John D.F. Black:

  What are we going to do about this story? Having just finished a memo on Harlan Ellison’s story, I am in no condition to go through this one yet. (RJ17-1)

  He didn’t have to. The next day something more resembling a proper screen outline arrived from the TV novice (dated May 17, received May 18). Justman’s memo to Black listed many things that could not be done in the real world of 1966 television, including:

  Why does McCoy’s body have to disappear? If it does have to disappear, why does it have to disappear in a method that Ted outlines -- “The top of a nearby rock pops up, two mechanical arms snake out, gather up the body, swiftly and smoothly they lift it to the top of the rock and disappear with it. The top of the rock slams shut. (RJ17-2)

  The scene was more effective as filmed, with McCoy’s body moved but without seeing how or to where. This created a greater sense of mystery. The idea came from Roddenberry, who wrote to Sturgeon:

  Enjoyable outline to read. Without wanting to seem to stroke my long gray TV beard, and with no claims to a crystal ball, it seems to me that this script is one of those which has to be either an Academy Award nominee or totally impossible. With that in mind, Ted, I intend to be as critical as possible at this stage. (GR17-1)

  Roddenberry’s list of criticisms was extensive, including:

  Let’s lose the mechanical arms taking McCoy’s body. Let’s just simply have it disappear. Mechanical arms are very expensive. (GR17-1)

  More importantly for Roddenberry was the handling of the series’ protagonist. He told Sturgeon:

  Create a story for Captain Kirk and intertwine it through the somewhat fragmented series of episodes which now exists. (GR17-1)

  Roddenberry’s notes continued for three pages, ending with a lecture defining a story -- the need for a character to have something happen or not happen. All else is window dressing.

  Sturgeon didn’t seem to take offense ... yet. His revised outline, for no pay, was dated May 23.

  Besides having a different date, and that there were no mechanical arms dragging McCoy into a hollowed out rock on the top of a hill, the famed writer failed to address very nearly any of the notes given. In this treatment, we still see McCoy’s body removed, although in a different manner than before, this time by Finagle (later to be named Finnegan). And it still required immense optical effects, as did so many other elements of the story.

  Roddenberry, in a hurry to get scripts written, sent this embryonic, problematic version of “Shore Leave” through to NBC.

  Days later, Stan Robertson sent one of his longer memos to Roddenberry, writing, in part:

  Frankly, I am disappointed with the written-out results of the story which I felt had such high promise when you verbalized it to me.... The idea is a good one but the writer seems to have gone far afield and come up with something, at least in the outline stage, less than dramatically sensational and which is not Star Trek as we all have envisioned. Primarily -- and I don’t mean even to suggest that I am lecturing on the fundamentals of writing to two such talented people as you and the excellent writer of this story -- we seem to have lost sight of the foundation of any story. The premise. What are we trying to say here? What is the reason for this tale?... This is not Captain Kirk’s story, nor a story in which he is an integral part. As we have stressed and must continue to stress, we must involve our star
in our dramas as much as possible. We’ve got to make him a living, breathing, important, identifiable person to our viewers. He’s got to be our Sandy Koufax -- the guy we build a Pennant-winning team around.... This is more a series of cameos than one continuing drama. The touches and the gimmicks are good -- the rabbit, Alice in Wonderland, the knight, etc. -- but after awhile they lose their interest and shock value and diminish into mere unrelated twists of a writer’s fertile imagination. There is little suspense, tension, jeopardy, and real conflict established. Excepting for the “death” of Dr. McCoy, all else is rather meaningless and not of much value. There is not enough warmth and human feeling. As we have discussed, these are necessary ingredients of our stories and cannot be overlooked and ignored.... In summary, Gene, we would say that this story leaves the reader with the observation: “Okay, now tell me a story.” There is just not enough “dramatic meat” to sink your teeth into; not enough characterization to really give a darn about what happens to the people involved. (SR17-1)

  Roddenberry responded with a long memo of his own, beginning:

  Agree with your comments on “Shore Leave.” The problem here is this was the second outline draft from the writer -- we had the choice of either sending him to script with instructions on what to add to it or forgetting the thing altogether. (GR12-2)

  Roddenberry assured Robertson that he had already expressed very much the same comments to Sturgeon and was confident that all would be well when the script arrived. It wasn’t.

  The next delivery from Sturgeon was neither fish nor fowl -- an odd mix of outline and script. Roddenberry sent further notes -- many further notes -- beginning with the warning:

  At the close of this you will no longer be a virgin.... The scatter-gun novelist technique confuses [my staff], and upsets me because dozens of people come pounding at my door. (GR17-2)

  It also upset Roddenberry that too many of the gimmicks in the “script” seemed to be telegraphed ahead, meaning that one could see them coming. Of this, he told Sturgeon:

  Maybe it’s that I don’t like the audience, or maybe I love them, but I like to keep the bastards off balance with the unexpected happening every two or three pages. (GR17-3)

  After another two pages of criticism, Roddenberry, keeping Sturgeon off balance, closed, “You’re lovely, inventive, wonderful. Now be commercial.” (GR17-3)

  Sturgeon fired off an indignant letter to Roddenberry, saying:

  Something I want to get off my chest, and also something I think will save you time in your future comments to me.... This has to do with your off-handed use of the adjective “novelistic” during the defloration.... I am by bent and training a communicator... therefore touch me not with the brush so strikingly tarred by so many of my colleagues. (TS17-1)

  Clearly, Sturgeon had heard the complaints from “colleagues” who felt they had been tarred by Roddenberry’s criticism and requests for free rewrites.

  Roddenberry’s rebuttal:

  Dear Ted, where did I tar you and with what brush? You say you’re communicating; I think I’m communicating... but somebody ain’t reading the communications.... A script, unlike a -- dare I mention the word? -- novel, is only the beginning of communicating with the audience. It does not, in fact, even reach an audience -- other than that audience of unseen technicians mentioned in your “defloration,” i.e., the men who convert script descriptions into sets, costumes, optical effects, makeup, hair styles, sound, etc. The term “novelist’s scattergun technique,” whether aptly or correctly used, or not, was a request that description and direction passages in your script be broken down into shots and camera angles which specify “what,” “how many,” and “how much,” the specifics so necessary to planning and budgeting television episodes. (GR17-4)

  Roddenberry’s letter crossed in the mail with a new version of Sturgeon’s script. It arrived in two parts -- the first two acts dated June 17, the second two from June 20. Only a TV novice would think to send in his script piecemeal. And only a novice to the media would arbitrarily change the title -- “Shore Leave” was now “Finagle’s Planet.”

  With the second half of the script was a short note from Sturgeon. He had read Roddenberry’s letter by this point and, having cooled off, attempted to make nice. He wrote:

  In order to stay on top of this script, Gene, I have revised my personal plans. Though I am returning to New York on Wednesday, the 22nd, I shall be back here on Monday the 27th and will, if you like, work in your offices beginning the 28th. Yours as ever, a lot, Sturgeon. (TS17-2)

  Robert Justman’s mood, however, hadn’t changed. In his latest memo to John D.F. Black, the only compliment he could muster concerned the mere germ of the idea behind the script. All else dealt with the impossible aspects of the written material which, for him, still did not resemble a proper TV script. He complained:

  Incidentally, is Ted Sturgeon going to direct and photograph this property? He sure has written it as if he is going to. When we get a rewrite on this show, and we are going to need one desperately, I suggest that all his “writer’s asides” to the reader be deleted. Let’s leave it up to the Director and the Cameraman as to how the shooting of the show is going to be handled. And let’s leave it up to the rest of us as to how certain Special Effects are going to be created for the show. This will also give us a much more realistic script length. There are pages and pages of scene description, notations to the various departments, and Popular-Mechanics-type instructions to sundry persons, which really have no place in a Teleplay. (RJ17-4)

  John D.F. Black later said, “My favorite part of the job was also the toughest part of the job, which was dealing with the writers. The intimidation of sitting down with Theodore Sturgeon, who was, at that time, the most anthologized writer in the English language -- at least, as far as I was told, (and) I didn’t know science fiction... but I believed it. The man was an adorable human being, but his mind was absolutely incredible.... We came to the conclusion that he was somebody from outer space. He was just visiting here. He could talk, he could speak the language, he could do everything like any other human being. But he wasn’t. So that was wonderful and, at the same time, it was terrifying.” (17-3)

  Justman found Sturgeon to be wonderful -- and frustrating. His wrote Black:

  As presently written, I’m sure you realize that this show is inordinately expensive. Most of the show will have to be shot on location, and there are piles and piles of extras and actors and wardrobe and other chozzerai that we need to review rather carefully. Also, the set construction as written is enough for a number of shows. And the Special Effects -- hoo-hoo-hoo!... I refer you to scene 132. You may have guessed that I intend to make a big change in this scene, if at all possible. I know it’s nice for Finagle to lead a horse with McCoy’s body across a saddle straight into the interior of a rock wall. But boy it sure as hell doesn’t do anything to advance the story and it sure as hell does something to advance my psychiatrist bills.... You may have been able to determine that I have had problems with this show. Well, that’s right. (RJ17-4)

  Roddenberry, if nothing else, was happy about the peace offering sent by Sturgeon and sent one of his own, writing back to the author:

  Let me start this by saying how impressed I am at the attitude with which you approach all this. It is most trying for any writer to adopt himself to the terribly arbitrary rules of the current television form, and for one of your stature and success it must seem doubly annoying at times. (GR17-5)

  Roddenberry had concerns as well -- nine single-spaced pages worth, beginning with the title. Of this, he wrote:

  “Finagle’s Planet” seems to give too much emphasis to the character “Finagle,” when actually our aim is to explore Kirk in more depth than this single character out of his past can provide. (GR17-5)

  This still was not a Kirk story, despite all the hinting and pleading from Roddenberry and Stan Robertson. And the script remained episodic, with the various imaginative elements not properly pulled together a
nd laid squarely on the shoulders of the series’ lead.

  Roddenberry’s bad news letter to Sturgeon closed:

  My feeling is that very little of this first draft can be saved. It needs an almost complete rewrite. (GR17-5)

  Sturgeon did his contractually required rewrite -- his third draft of the script, delivering most of the pages on September 8, with the balance the following day. Robert Justman delivered all of his criticism on the same day, this time directed to Star Trek’s new producer -- Gene L. Coon -- writing:

  Because of the way the screenplay is constructed, I am not sure whether we have sufficient length at the present time. There is [still] an awful lot of camera direction and scene description, which may affect the page count to our detriment. (RJ17-5)

  As for the Alice in Wonderland scene, and the way it was presented in this script, Justman told Coon:

  If we attempt to put someone in a large rabbit suit, it will look like someone in a large rabbit suit. (RJ17-5)

  And it did.

  Janice Rand was still in this script. Of this, Justman wrote:

  I would suggest that we cast Rand’s part as a Yeoman, but bring in someone new for this episode. Also, is it me or do I detect that the Yeoman becomes much too personal with Kirk in this sequence? (RJ17-5)

  She did. In the next draft, by Coon, Rand was taken out, a new Yeoman put in her place, and the “much too personal” business was now between her and McCoy.

  Justman continued:

  We establish the fact that Sulu shoots a police revolver six times. Later on in the script you will discover that Kirk, using the same pistol, fires at a mounted knight in armor five times. This would make the revolver an eleven-shooter. I can just see the letters we’ll get from numerous members of the National Rifle Association when they see this show. (RJ17-5)

  Coon removed a few of the shots. Sulu fires the gun four times; later Kirk shoots it three times. That many shots were needed for proper pacing in the running and charging sequences. It was one shot too many but the way Coon figured it, the same powers that created the gun could create an extra bullet if needed.