More Memoirs of a Rocket Scientist
A life of adventure, science, and survival— one man's journey from writing for Star Trek® to exploring the edges of the world
Excerpt:
INT. A spacious living room in a suburban Southern California home -NIGHT - Nov 15, 1968
While my friend Judy greets new guests, early arrivals mill
about her parents’ living room, chatting over snacks. The
mood is festive, the place packed. Friends and family have
come to help us celebrate — Judy and I had come up with the
original story and collaborated in writing “The Tholian Web,”
an episode of the Original Star Trek® television series. Now
we’re about to see the show we’d created. For the first time.
On live TV. With a roomful of expectant friends and family.
And I’m saying very little. To be honest, I can’t wait to see
how our words will turn out onscreen. We know the folks at
the Star Trek offices liked the show. But this is different. This
is the first product I’d had a role in putting out to the world.
How would “real” people react?
As I’m waiting nervously for show time, a movement
catches my eye — Judy’s father, settling into one of the two
chairs reserved for him and Judy’s mom. A tall, rangy man, Mr.
Burns had always commanded respect. Beginning as a police
officer in Oklahoma, he’d moved on to a post that gave him
a much broader mandate. In fact, he’d become an Oklahoma
Ranger, teaming up with members of their counterparts the
Texas Rangers on various occasions. In the thick of it for
years, he had his share of tales of derring-do to tell. Among
other things, he was, for a while, partnered with Frank Hamer,
the Texas Ranger who took down Bonnie and Clyde. Retired
now from on-the-job injuries, this evening must be as much a
gratification for him as for Judy and myself. And of course for
Judy’s mom.
“Wait!” one of the guests asks. Racing out of the room,
she returns quickly, bowl of popcorn topped up. Everyone else
signals they’re set.
It’s time. Judy’s mom and dad settled, the rest of us find a
spot on the floor, snuggling up together to somehow fit into
the space. Eyes look up, lock on the TV. The air in the room
is electric. A friend turns on the television — a color TV, rare
at the time. The screen comes alive. A cheer goes up — it’s the
opening tune and scene: the Star Ship Enterprise approaching
against a backdrop of space and stars. Judy’s name and mine
appear on the screen. Wild applause!
CUT TO:
We are on the bridge of the Enterprise. The ship is tasked to
find the missing Defiant, a sister ship. They do find it, but the
Defiant keeps warping into and out of a parallel universe —
seemingly a ghost ship. Captain Kirk leads a boarding party to
the Defiant where they discover the crew is indeed dead.
All this is familiar. After all, Judy and I wrote it! But it is
fascinating to see how the actors and production people bring our
words to life.
Captain Kirk is lost while being transported back to the
Enterprise. The crew mourns at his memorial service. But
then, he reappears — a spectral figure haunting the bridge
and corridors! Is he somehow alive? Is he trapped in this
strange region of space? Can he be recovered? Or is he really
a ghost, truly dead and forever doomed to wander the ship,
an apparition passing through the walls of the Enterprise. The
crew of the Enterprise is terrified.
Meanwhile, the Enterprise faces a deadly serious problem:
A Tholian ship arrives and a strange, crystal-like, being
appears on the screen. He is anything but friendly.
It isn’t long before everyone’s cheering the good guys,
booing the Tholians, and bombarding the screen with
popcorn. People are making comments, laughing. In awe at
the wonderful graphics. But oh, those clunky space suits…
The mood changes. The room becomes tense. Clearly, all
hell is about to break loose. After the combat skirmish both
the Enterprise and the Tholian ship are immobilized and
must lick their wounds until repairs can be made. Then the
Tholians deploy something new: a web of energy to envelop
and capture the Enterprise…
Over dinner at the Mongolian Barbeque Mike Minor had
explained the exacting process of the web’s creation. But now I finally
get to see his wonderful stop-action animation of the web as it is being
woven. I am really impressed.
A few more scenes and the show is over. A cheer and
applause charge the air. Our friends get to their feet and head
to the kitchen for more refreshments. Judy and I join them,
and are inundated with congratulations. Eventually people
begin taking their leave.
The evening has been a triumph. I hadn’t realized how
wound up I was, wondering how it would go. Now, with
everyone’s enthusiastic reactions, I can relax and enjoy the
satisfaction of a job well done.
The house is quiet. Time to join Judy on the sofa for
post-mortems. We laugh at some of the stuff that had been on
the screen. There was that scene where Spock and McCoy are
reviewing Kirk’s video. “The dialog didn’t make sense,” I say.
“How did that happen?” Judy fills me in. She had frequented
the set often during Star Trek’s shooting.
I had only visited once during those times. That was not exactly
a thrilling experience. Mostly people sat around for hours while
the lighting technicians did their magic. Somehow the light aboard
the USS Enterprise seemed to emanate uniformly from the walls
themselves. You have to look very carefully at the final product to
notice any shadows.
About the dialog that didn’t make sense: It turns out, Judy
informs me, the actors didn’t like their parts in the scene. So
they swapped each other’s dialog. Of course this completely
wrecked the scene’s logic. Judy caught the script trade at the
time but nobody else at Star Trek apparently did. We have a
good laugh.
I tell Judy that it was wonderful how the actors ran with
the humor in a later scene. I know it had been a difficult
one for her to write. Unhappy with her relatively flat first
version, Judy tossed it and replaced it with a witty gem — a
little masterpiece. The scene steals the show. Our friends
bombarded the TV with a hail of popcorn when viewing it.
They obviously agreed.
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