These Are The Voyages, TOS, Season One
Page 99
38
Ratings, Reaction, Repeats, and Rewards
Nichelle Nichols, as Lt. Uhura, makes the cover of Ebony Magazine in January, 1967
With the premiere of “The Man Trap,” Star Trek received mixed reviews. Now, the critics were reappraising the series. TV columnists referred to it as “good science-fiction with great special effects” and “an exciting, futuristic adventure that keeps watchers on the edge of their seats.” TV Guide’s Cleveland Amory, for that magazine’s May 20, 1967, issue, wrote, “We would say that the show we most over-criticized was Star Trek... Lately we’ve enjoyed and admired much in the series.”
During Season One, cast members of Star Trek appeared on the cover of TV Guide, Ebony, TV Week, TV Showtime, TV Star Parade, TV Radio Mirror, The St. Louis Dispatch TV Magazine, The Boston Sunday Herald TV Magazine, Model Car & Science magazine, and TV Star Annual, among others.
By the time Star Trek was repeating the best episodes of its first season, the tabloids were picking up on the appeal of the series and its stars, prompting scores of articles in the likes of 16 Magazine and TV Movie Screen. Shatner was either shown as macho, riding motorcycles and hunting with a bow and arrow, or as the image of the perfect dad, visiting an amusement park and going horseback riding with his three daughters, Leslie, Lisabeth, and Melanie, ages nine, six and two, respectively. Nimoy, sans the pointed ears but always with the Spock bangs, was shown reading poetry, or being analyzed in articles like, “How a Man with Pointed Ears Feels Deep Down ... When the Makeup Is Off.” Star Trek was making good copy. And the flood gates had yet to open.
The Star Trek board game by Ideal Toys
Daily Variety, for its February 8, 1967 issue, reported that ABC Sales International, representing Desilu, had sold Star Trek to 28 foreign countries, and that the series had been dubbed into four languages … so far. This was a notable success for a series less than one year old. And this was just one of numerous revenue sources which were already paying into the studio and Roddenberry’s Norway Productions. Another was merchandising. Just in time for Christmas, 1966, the first Star Trek tie-ins materialized on shelves in toy stores across the United States. Ideal Toys, one of the “Big Four” (the others being Marx, Mattel and Remco), had made its fortune off the Teddy Bear. Now it released the Star Trek board game. The packaging, featuring Kirk, Spock and Uhura on the bridge, was attractive. The game itself was pointless.
Star Trek coloring book, a deal at 29 cents
Remco was doing well with their tie-in products based on television programs and popular singing groups, such as their Beatles’ figures and the battery-driven, one-foot tall replica of the robot from Lost in Space. With Star Trek, the best Remco would do was the Star Trek Astro Cruiser “with movable cannon,” the Star Trek Astro Helmet “with tinted visor,” and the Star Trek Astro Buzz Ray Gun with, well, a buzzing sound. None of these items had anything to do with Star Trek as seen on TV. They merely exploited the name.
Hasbro, makers of 1952's Mr. Potato Head and 1964's G.I. Joe, went for the fast buck with the Star Trek Paint by Numbers Kit, with pictures of Kirk, Spock and the Enterprise.
Ray Line, the toy division of Ray Plastics, Inc., came up with the Star Trek Tracer Gun. It was pretty much the same disk-shooting tracer gun Ray Line already marketed but now with the faces of Kirk and Spock and the name Star Trek on the cardboard packaging.
AMT Enterprise model from 1967
In early 1967, AMT took the lead with the crowning glory of all the various Star Trek merchandising ploys of the time. In the first six months alone, the model kit of the U.S.S. Enterprise sold a staggering 100,000 units.
In June 1967, Bantam published the first Star Trek paperback. Science fiction author James Blish (who had won a Hugo Award for 1959's A Case of Conscience) was hired to convert the series’ screenplays into short story form. Since work of this nature was usually delegated to pulp fiction hacks, Roddenberry and staff believed they had struck literary gold. For the cover of the first collection: the striking illustration NBC had commissioned James Bama to draw for promoting the premiere of the series.
In the summer of 1967, Western Publishing, best known for its Gold Key Comics and Little Golden Books, introduced the Star Trek comic book line, with photographs of the series’ stars on front and back covers. The story concept in issue number one -- a planet populated by intelligent and carnivorous vegetation -had been on the drawing board so long that it prominently featured Yeoman Rand.
First Gold Key Star Trek comic, for 12 cents, and first Bantam Star Trek paperback, for 50 cents, both from early 1967
All the merchandising meant good news for Star Trek’s lead cast members. Every time Kirk and Spock had their images printed on a toy package, a paperback book, or a comic, there was a royalty paid to Shatner and Nimoy. Desilu and Roddenberry, of course, made money too.
Nimoy’s first Dot record album – a surprise hit in 1967
Another financial windfall came with the release of Mr. Spock’s Music from Outer Space. In December 1966, Dot Records, a subsidiary of Paramount Pictures, approached Herb Solow with the idea of distributing a Star Trek-themed album. Solow immediately sent a memo to his colleagues, saying:
I think we should pursue any record company that wants to do an outer space or Vulcan single record or album, be it straight dramatic music, weird music, Nichelle Nichols singing, Bill Shatner doing bird calls, or even the sound of Gene Roddenberry polishing a semi-precious stone on his grinder.
A deal was quickly struck and a music producer was chosen -- Charles Grean, a composer and arranger who had found success with disposable yet popular novelty fare, such as “I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts,” by Merv Griffin, and “Quentin’s Theme,” the surprise radio hit from television’s Dark Shadows. Grean was assigned the task of creating something on which the kids would squander $2.50 -- the going rate for an LP record. But Grean wasn’t interested in Nichelle Nichols singing, Shatner doing bird calls, or Roddenberry and his grinder. He had his eye -- and his ear -- fixed on another member of the Star Trek family.
“Charles Grean has a teenage daughter who is a fan of Mr. Spock,” Nimoy said in a 1968 interview. “She said, ‘Well, if you’re going to do an album of music from Star Trek, then Mr. Spock should be on that album.’”
Herb Solow expressed concern over Nimoy’s involvement. In a December 14, 1966 memo to Roddenberry and the Desilu legal reps, he wrote:
Regarding Leonard Nimoy, I imagine we have our standard deal with him and can convey it to Dot Records. If not, I would hope that we would have some pressure on Alex Brewis [Nimoy’s agent] not to dampen any interest in our deal by trying to price his client out of the Dot Records’ business.
Publicity photo used in teen magazines promoting the music of Mr. Spock
Brewis played ball. Nimoy signed on the Dot. It was good business all around.
Roddenberry wrote to Solow on December 19, 1966:
In the matter of the Leonard Nimoy album, since it will undoubtedly contain something of the Star Trek theme, I would expect to receive a lyric royalty. And, since “Mr. Spock” is a creation of mine -maintained against some odds -- I would like to have some voice in the nature and direction of this album, nor do I feel that a special arrangement with myself and Norway Corporation on profits from the album would be at all out of order.
“Norway Corporation” was another way of saying “Roddenberry.”
The liner notes of the album Grean assembled, with Nimoy’s enthusiastic support, described its content as “kicky, mod” arrangements of popular songs, like “Music to Watch Girls By,” now given the new title “Music to Watch Space Girls By.” And a “hip adaptation” of the “Theme to Star Trek.” “Beyond Antares,” William Hatch and Gene Coon’s original song, which Uhura sang in “The Conscience of the King,” was presented as a haunting and lovely instrumental. Nimoy talked his way through “Alien,” a spoken-word piece explaining the nature of a Vulcan, and “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Earth,
” a somewhat amusing poem set to space-music, which he also co-wrote. Alexander Courage received the songwriting credit for “Where No Man Has Gone Before,” a two-and-a-half minute track made-up of the music heard under Shatner’s “Space, the final frontier...” narration. And then, yes, Nimoy sang. “You Are Not Alone,” written for the album by a colleague of Grean’s, was a perfect fit for the alienated Spock, with a lyric about watching stars in the sky and wondering if we are, indeed, not alone. The album closed with “A Visit to A Sad Planet,” co-written by Grean. Set to suspenseful cinematic music, it was a spoken-word piece about the Enterprise coming across a dying planet, as documented by the ship’s log. The people of this world had annihilated themselves through nuclear war. The not-so-surprising ending: The planet was known as Earth.
Pleased by the results, and even quite surprised, Charles Grean wrote to Ed Perlstein on March 2, 1967, admitting, “The Leonard Nimoy album turned-out much better than I expected!”
The music critic for Variety found the album to be better than expected, as well. The review for the April 19, 1967, edition, said:
Leonard Nimoy, who plays Mr. Spock in the TV series Star Trek, is spotlighted here in a program of songs and readings mostly pegged to out-of-this world ideas. Nimoy’s vocals on such numbers as “Where is Love,” “You Are Not Alone” and “Lost in the Stars,” are pleasantly rugged. He also registers nicely on his readings of tunes like “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Earth” and “A Visit to a Sad Planet,” an ominous description of a post-atomic holocaust on Earth.
With Mr. Spock on the front cover, holding the three-foot long model of the Enterprise featured in “Tomorrow Is Yesterday,” the record was not going to escape the attention of Star Trek’s growing legion of fans. It entered Billboard’s album charts on June 10, 1967, and remained there for an impressive 25 weeks, selling steadily, well-through the Christmas buying season. Even the track selected as the album’s single, “A Visit to A Sad Planet,” made the charts. Mr. Spock’s Music from Outer Space was intended to be a one-time event. However, before the end of the year, Dot was happy to sign Nimoy to a long-term contract.
The success of this latest Star Trek tie-in caused ill feelings between series’ composer Alexander Courage and Gene Roddenberry. Courage wrote the music for the “Theme to Star Trek,” featured on the album as an instrumental, but, to his way of thinking, had been forced into sharing credit and, more importantly, the royalty, with Roddenberry, who had dashed off a lyric for the song.
Justman said, “People are people. They have their good points and their bad points. And there were certain things that Gene did.... [He] was in financial need and he saw a way to get some money.” (94-1)
Courage said, “I think I have the right to be bitter. It turns out there was a clause in my contract which had been supplied to Roddenberry by his attorney to the effect that if a lyric was ever written by Roddenberry to the theme I wrote, whether it was ever used or not, Roddenberry would share in my royalties.... So, Roddenberry wrote a lyric, presented it to me and announced that he would from then on participate in my royalties.” (37-3)
On October 3, 1967, preparing for possible litigation, Roddenberry wrote a letter to Courage. It read, in part:
In my old office, the small bungalow across the lot, you and I sat down one afternoon and discussed sharing the credits on the music. I recall very distinctly that you shook your head and stated you would naturally prefer not to split the money on the theme but, on the other hand, since this was the way it was and since we were working so closely together on the concept, you would go along with it.... I think you know it has never been my way or policy to be unfair. On the other hand, I have always considered handshake agreements not only to be as binding as written agreements but also more important.
Roddenberry won. Fifty percent of the royalties belonged to him. To add insult to injury, Courage disdained the lyric, which began:
Beyond the rim of the star-light,
My love is wand’ring in star-flight.
I know he’ll find in star-clustered reaches,
Lu-uv, strange love a star woman teaches.
He complained, “Roddenberry’s lyrics totally lacked musical practicality. He made two very serious errors in writing the lyrics. One, he changed the shape of the melody by adding extra beats, and two, he used a closed vowel with a z-z-z-z-z sound on the highest notes, something that gives great problems to singers.”
Robert Justman added, “Owing to the ‘royalty’ issue, it’s no wonder Sandy Courage lost all enthusiasm for the series and liking for Gene Roddenberry.” (94-8)
Regardless, Courage would return. It was hard to ignore Star Trek.
Star Trek’s first nod for its excellence in production came from an unlikely source: the January issue of the Count Dracula Society newsletter: “The society voted a science fiction program, NBC’s Star Trek, as the best television program of the year, deserving the 1967 Television Award for its high quality of ‘fantasy and imagination.’”
And it beat out Dark Shadows.
The second nod was not given for Star Trek’s scripts, or acting, or direction, or even for its optical effects, but for its sound -- a very deserving recognition. More than any other series on TV, the work that went into cleaning and enhancing the audio on each Star Trek episode was an immense chore. First, sounds had to be removed, such as the noise of wood dragging against wood whenever a door on the Enterprise slid open or shut (replaced by whooshes), and the creaks and moans from the bridge, along with footsteps, as the actors walked on the multi-leveled set of plywood and strained hinges that held each slice of the circular pie together. Second, the sounds of the ship had to be added. Each room had a constant and steady tone of its own, whether it was the blending of a hundred different electronic components on the bridge, or the low moan of the engines heard in the corridors, or the hydraulics of the turbo lifts, or the beeping of a heart monitoring device in sickbay. Call Kirk on his communicator, the Sound Editor had to add in a chirp. When Kirk flipped it open, dialed in a signal, and then flipped it shut -- three more sounds were needed. When the transporter was used, the Sound Editor faded-in the music cue from Alexander Courage that tinkled and hummed along with the effect. When the landing party materialized on an alien world, the Editor would cue the alien world atmospheric sound. There was also a phaser sound, the computer had a sound, and for the intercom, the boatswain whistle. You can rarely make it through more than 10 or 20 seconds of Star Trek without a sound effect being heard, often layers and layers of sound effects.
The nucleus of Star Trek’s sound department in 1966 and 1967 was Supervising Editor Jack Finley, and sound editors Doug Grindstaff, Joseph Sorokin, and Tom Biggart. Finley had been in charge of the audio enhancement on TV’s Combat!, Grindstaff edited sound for a sci-fi movie called Destination Inner Space, Sorokin manipulated the soundtrack on Desilu’s The Untouchables, and Biggart cut the audio together for the sitcom Hazel.
Finlay said, “Trying to get the work done on time was the big thing, because that’s the name of the game in television -- deadlines. They didn’t give us a lot of money to get the stuff together, but on one occasion I told Gene that I needed a full night on the sound stage to play back what I had, just to see what was there.... Joe [Sorokin] and I worked all through that night compositing everything I had, listening to it, changing it, eliminating some things and adding others.” (62)
Sorokin said, “The bridge of the Enterprise was kind of a joint effort between Jack Finlay and myself. We had about seven or eight loops going, perhaps as many as a dozen, and from that we made various combinations until we got it all down to one.... Originally, we tried to synchronize the sounds with all those flashing lights built onto the bridge, but that was a never-ending, totally ridiculous situation. So after a while we just got hold of a half-dozen to a dozen different loops of various sounds for the Enterprise bridge. Doug Grindstaff, I might say, is perhaps one of the most able, competent men in the business.” (162)
In recognition of their hard work, and singling-out the episode “Space Seed,” Star Trek’s sound department received a nomination from MPSE -- the Motion Picture Sound Editors. On February, 16, 1967, Roddenberry sent a letter of congratulations to Douglas H. Grindstaff and Tom Biggart, the two contributors to that episode. He told them:
Although I have congratulated you in person for your part in Star Trek being nominated for the Golden Reel Sound Award, I did want to put it in writing, too. Star Trek sound has been a challenging experience for all of us, to say the least. Without the craftsmanship and talent you brought, it could have been a frustrating and sad experience. Somehow, despite all the hard work, late hours and everything else, it was full of rewarding and pleased experiences. The part you played in all this should be recognized and I’m glad it has been recognized in this fashion. Whether we win the final Award or not is much less important than the fact that it was an excellent job done by a group of excellent people.