A Perfect End to the Tilt-a-Whirl Tale of TV’s STAR TREK

            These Are the Voyages:  TOS Season Three is finally in release!  This monumental book series by Marc Cushman illuminates the background and creation of the world-bestriding colossus that is Star Trek.

            The reason these books take so long to produce is the miles-deep research involved.  Over a span of years (and in some instances, decades), Cushman was able to interview the principal creators, and also achieved access to tons of studio paperwork, story proposals, casting lists, budget memos, and other original documents.

            He puts this together with contemporary press coverage and retrospective quotations from cast and crew, and, hey presto! the answer to every TREK or pop culture fan’s dream!

            We have in-depth descriptions of each episode’s genesis, development, and production; narratives of crew and cast changes; and for me the most interesting of all, the part telling the day-to-day stuff.  We learn how much time was spent on this stage or that; the changes in a character’s name or which directors were sure-footed or floundering; and about a gazillion other details that make you feel like a tribble on the wall.

            As I noted in my reviews of the first two books in this series, another mind-blower is the inclusion (and explanation) of the TV ratings for Star Trek’s NBC run.  Contrary to the popular narrative that Trek flopped in the ratings, we are shown that nearly every week, the show either won or took second place in one or both of its half-hour segments.  My own conclusion is that show creator Gene Roddenberry was too much of an irritant to NBC, Desilu, and Paramount executives.  (Read these books for plenty of ammunition for this opinion.) 

            As I wrote in 2013 to Marc about this topic:  “GR’s behavior once again proves that, while some idols have feet of clay, others replace clay with something more nasty.  This kind of behavior – me-first; willing to cross ethical and legal boundaries to benefit yourself; fire good, loyal, devoted employees to install others you like better – makes me sad.”

            Also, Star Trek was (of course) an expensive show to produce, nearly bankrupting Desilu before the production company was sold to Paramount.  So, the factors of expense plus “that darn Roddenberry” and his rebellious attitude were a couple of the major factors that doomed the series.

            As I pronounced when I encountered the first book, “TOS One,” this is going to be the primary research document for future researchers.  The only thing to be wished for is an index of names.  But, so loaded is every page, any index would be about as long as the book! 

            Now,  I consider myself an original Trekker.  I watched the show on NBC and in syndication; I taped episode audio from TV speakers on my “cassette-corder”;  I’ve had TREK nonfiction published in several volumes of the “Best of TREK” book series;  I have about a hundred books and magazines concerning the whole TREK thing.

            Still, I can about open any of these books at random, point a finger on any page, and find something I didn’t know.

            You cannot be knowledgeable about TV production in the 1960s, and about the peculiarly American phenomenon known as Star Trek, unless you have read these books.

            TRUTH IN REVIEWING:  I am an editor for this book series.

 

Memory Lane -- STARLOG #12, March 1978 -- "STAR TREK II" TV Series

At this point in time, STAR WARS had splashed, and Paramount decided that the cancelled little TV show Star Trek might be a good way to cash in on the craze, if they could get it out of mothballs fast enough.

So, the TV show that never was (one of thousands of course), began development.  'Twas to be called Star Trek II.

And note the ad on the last page for one of Shatner's methods to cash in on the fever!  Of course, the only "limited" in  the phrase"Limited Collector's Edition" referred to the amount of orders they received!

Happy 2015! 

 

Thankful Memories of Childhood Past

I had turned four years old four months before the above photo was taken in our front driveway.  I must have been cold, to wear a stocking cap underneath my cowboy hat!

I don't recall the long gun, but it looks like one of the typical air-pump rifles of the time.  You ratcheted the trigger guard away from the stock and back to "wind it up" so that when you pulled the trigger you got a satisfying "pop!" sound.

Note I also have some "cowboy gloves" with gauntlets. And that's my mom's shadow falling across my figure.  I was facing due west, so this must have been taken in late afternoon, with the sun sinking behind her.

Now, something I DO REMEMBER is my Indian teepee.  Pretty cool, huh?  The date on this print is July 1962, six months later than the previous shot.

I must have seen this tent outfit in Otasco or at Montgomery Ward's.  It's pretty neat, especially since Mom has allowed me to take up about half the kitchen floor to set it up.  (Those suction cups wouldn't stick to the wood floors in the rest of the house, but they worked fine on kitchen linoleum.)  I still have ONE of those suction cups kicking around.

Note the "buckskin" outfit, complete with fringes on the sleeves and pant legs.  A couple of the feathers in the headdress are a little askew -- maybe I wore the thing during nap time too!

I'm thankful for the wonders of imagination and parts-playing that my 1960s childhood included.  Most of the time when we played "Cowboys and Indians" or "Silver War" -- we didn't know the words OR THE CONCEPT of "Civil" War -- it was just as honorable to be one side as the other.  It was PLAY, for heaven's sake, not "an evil societal evocation of a shameful blot on the past."

It was fun, dressing up and playing around the neighborhood, part of a childhood that had the best parents ever!

I pray that your own childhood has happy and thankful memories.  If not, then find some kids in your church or neighborhood and try to help them have fun!  Volunteer someplace, or just wave at the kids as they zip by on bikes or skateboard.  Be part of somebody else's happy childhood.

Merry Christmas!

See you January 5th.

MA-83 - 45s & Favorites, Disc 16

Here are some more of my favorite songs, from when the 45 rpm record was how you heard new songs (on your AM radio of course).

01. Taxman (Take 11) - The Beatles (2:31)

02. I Talk to the Wind - King Crimson (6:08)  1969

03. In a Broken Dream - Python Lee Jackson (3:39)  1970

04. One Monkey Don't Stop No Show - Honey Cone (3:45)  1971

05. Hurting Each Other - Carpenters (2:48)  1971

06. Watching the River Flow - Bob Dylan (3:34)  1971

07. Chapel of Love - Bette Midler (2:43)  1972

08. When My Baby's Beside Me - Big Star (3:22)  1972

09. Comic Book Heroes - I'm Your Superman - Rick Springfield (3:39)  1973

10. Sister Mary Elephant - Cheech & Chong (3:34)  1973

11. Wild Tales - Graham Nash (2:13)  1973

12. Who Do You Think You Are - Jigsaw (2:57)  1974

13. To Each His Own - Faith, Hope & Charity (5:18)  1975

14. Howzat! - Sherbet (3:45)  1976

15. Hold On -  Ian Gomm (2:59)  1978

16. Rock Lobster (DB Records version) - The B-52's (4:38)  1978

17. Kitty - Racey (3:21)  1979

18. Fish Heads - Barnes & Barnes (2:25)  1980

19. Eaten by the Monster of Love - Sparks (2:59)  1982

20. Earthquake Song - The Little Girls (2:38)  1983

21. The Real End - Rickie Lee Jones (5:02)  1984

22. Sgt  Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise) - A Day in the Life -  Big Daddy (4:56)  1992

With a few added treasures, for fun.  I hope you get a smile from some of 'em, too!

Track 13, "To Each His Own," is a perfect statement of individual rights, right up there with the Magna Carta.  If only those "know-betters" in the snooty ruling class took those lyrics to heart!

They don't go to parties ...

 

The Suppression of the Essefians - A Lost Section of "Gulliver's Travels"

 And here's the text straight-on....

JONATHAN SWIFT
Gulliver’s
Travels

TEXTUAL NOTE:
the Suppression of the Essefians


CHAPTER X
(excerpts)

The Author sets out on his next voyage.  A storm sinks his
Ship, he escaping by floating with a casque of cocoanut
fibres.  He drifts to the Country of the Essefians.  Their
obsessions and strange behaviours.

    I was at home but two short weeks when I was approached by a bosome friend, Sir Theodric Guysell, to ship with him as Doctor of the Halffleet, a ship of two hundred and eighty tuns.  Seeing that the cargoe, of rice and cocoanut fibres, was sure to set a fine profit, I could but sign on at the encouragement of my friend Captain Guysell as his Doctor and one-fourths partner.

*    *    *

    Whilst the flecksing of the ship’s boards under the strain of the torrent had allowed water to reach the rice cargoe and induce it to swelling, the same water inrushing also floated the casques of cocoanut fibres, keeping the Halffleet afloat till she veriably burst apart at her various seams.
    I was Heaven-blest to grasp the rope netting round a casque of the fibres and so was presarved afloat.

*    *    *

    My resquers were civil and in every respect appeared as normal humanity.  They even spoke English, albeit with partickular drawl by which I surmised their land might be near to the colonies in the New World.  Mine hosts said that I had alit in the Land of Essefians.


*    *    *

    All of that land are prey to a singular obsession, which to be simply put is a fixation or belief, nigh akin to a Religious Conviction, that “The Future” -- it is written, and indeed spoken, with such emphasis -- will undoubtedly provide wonders and plenty and the relief of all mortal ills.
    The Essefians compete to write and read Romances on their various imagin’d Futures.  And tho one such tale, if fulfilled, must needs contradict all others, yet each is hailed as worthy.
    Indeed, much of the behaviour of the Essefians is likewise contradictory.  They claim that in The Future will all be whole and hale and fit.  Very well, a noble goal, and each Essefian avers that he lives his life to reach that mark personally.  Yet, I was hardpress’d to encounter a native of that land whose corpulence would not exclude him from his own New Brave World!
    Likewise, some practise a procedure similar to the smoking of Tobacko in Europe.  But unlike our healthy imbibing of the leafe, they instead resort to the consumption of Tobacko admixed with various chemics and flavours none knows which.
    And also in a similar fashion, there be those who, while fore-swearing to partake of these Tobacko-ishe decoctions, ne’er-the-less virtuously claim the virtues of the syphoning of flavoured chemicals thru metal tubes into their mouthes -- in imitation of the same vice they virtuously proclaim to have renounced!  And although none can say what be inside these tubes, yet these pseudo-smokers boast of their health with much pride.  Although indulgers in this curious substation maintain it be termed “vaping,” methinks such may be called “vapid” not “vaped.”
    Further disconcerting note may be made that both schooles of Essefians swear that such is not for Children, but their very classification and promotions of their Tobacko-ishe commodities are done by Methods sure to intice children to enter the use.
    In a discussion with mine host, a round fellow nam’d Pickwhoo, I enquired as to how the wonders of The Future will be realised, if its only hope is to be brought to Reality by imperfect creatures as he or I.  To which he replied that in The Future, Man will be beyond all pettiness, selfishness, and conflict.  I asked how this Transformation was to occur, and he averred that every day Man was learning to practice peace and generosity, following the Bright Ensample embodied by followers of the Essefian ways.  He was about to further expound, when a light blow impackted the side of the House wherein we spoke.  At the sound of this Blowe, Pickwhoo irrupted in a shower of blasphemies, some unfamiliar to even one who has spent years in the company of sailors.  After a brief absence, Pickwhoo returned with a Play-Ball made of Indian rubber.  He had taken the ball from a child whose play had intruded into our philosophical talk of peace and forgiveness.  “D*** kids!” averred this advocate of understanding and progress, thus cursing the very Future he espoused.


*    *    *

    One group of Essefians, whilst proclaiming wonder at the myriad varieties of Life and embracing the singular Beauty of each living thing, meanwhiles indorse a strangely opposite view.  They allow -- nay, they salute --, the killing of an unborn Babe because of a real or imagin’d inconvenience to its Mother.  When I enquired further about this practise to murder the selfsame Future that was otherwise anticipated by their Sect, I was told that this attitude was called “Pro Choice.”  Whereupon I responded, “By my sights, the question whether or no to engage in Congress wherein an unwanted child might be engendered -- that is the time when a wise choice should be made.”
    Mine host became empurpled of face and explained that I was not entitled to comment, being of the Male Gender.  I responded, “Why, say?  Having myself experienced Birth, may I not proclaim its goodness?  Further, since your countrymen constantly image the wonders of The Future, how can they justify its Murder, one innocent babe at a time?  How can any sentient being choose Death over Life, merely for convenience’ sake?”
    It was several days that passed before Pickwhoo ventured again to converse, at which time he invited me to join him at a “Convention,” or a Gathering of exceptionally dedicated worshipers of The Future.  I must confess that the behaviour that I witnessed was, contrariwise, most un-conventional, but more must needs bide until the next Chapter.


( HERE THE EXCERPT ENDS )