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Hauling garbage: the best trash can in half a quadrant
In a corner of my Star Trek room sits a small metal trash can. It often goes unnoticed by visitors, and that’s too bad. It’s more than 40 years old, it’s in really good condition, and it’s a great example of Star Trek in the ’70s, when fans would buy almost anything that sported those magic words. It is also cool that a small US novelty company lavished such quality artwork and attention to detail on a tin receptacle destined for apple cores and used tissues.
The can was manufactured by J. Chein & Co. and, sadly, by the time it rolled off the production line in Burlington, New Jersey, that company’s best days were already years behind it. Its doors opened in 1903 and it stayed in business for more than 75 years. The first products made by founder Julius Chein were tin toys dropped into boxes of Cracker Jacks and the company soon became known as a source of wind-up Ferris wheels and spinning tops, mostly sold in five and dimes. Chein died in a horse-riding accident in 1926 and his widow asked her brother, Samuel Hoffman, to take over. The company switched to manufacturing parts for airplanes and weapons during World War II and then got back to tin toys, but the slow decline of F.W. Woolworth Company, its main retail client, and the rising popularity of plastic eventually forced it out of that business.
The company moved into lithographed housewares such as wastebaskets and canisters, produced under the Cheinco brand. And that’s where my trash can comes in. It’s dated 1977, stands 33 cm/13 inches tall, sports colourful and reasonably accurate artwork, and even offers up interesting facts about the ship and its crew.
The Enterprise stats are seemingly drawn from the Star Fleet Technical Manual by Franz Joseph, published in 1975. The measurements — length of 288.6 meters and breadth of 127.1 meters — are essentially identical, albeit expressed in feet by Chein. However, the can’s “190,000 tons” is not quite the same as the manual’s measurement of “Deadweight tonnage-metric 190,000.”
One odd bit: Cheinco stated Christine Chapel’s rank as Lieutenant. There was no rank braid on Chapel’s uniform and I believe — and correct me if I am wrong — that her rank is never stated on screen during TOS, although she is promoted to Lieutenant in the animated episode Mudd’s Passion.
From What Are Little Girls Made Of? Those details, plus the mostly accurate artwork, means either someone at Cheinco knew Star Trek or Paramount was consulted to get the details right.
The company made many licensed trash cans for properties including Peanuts, GI Joe, The Wizard of Oz, and Disney, and also produced a Star Trek: The Motion Picture can, which I do not own.
I got my Cheinco at a Toronto Trek convention many years ago, and I have never seen another in person. I don’t remember how much I paid, but I do recall debating the purchase, as I had very little money with me. I am glad I bought it. It is quirky and rare and in far better shape than ones I have seen in online auctions. A TMP can sold at VintageToys.com in 2013 for US$30; I wish I had bought it.
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Playing with dolls: the Mego Enterprise Action Playset
Mego was about fun, not accuracy. That’s clear from its U.S.S Enterprise Action Playset. Had I owned one way back when, it would have been big on play value for young me.
But I never got the chance. Mego started producing Star Trek toys in 1975 and I was too young to buy them new. I had to wait a few decades for my playset. The figures and bridge pictured here are the original ’70s versions; not for me the 2008 reissues from Diamond Select.
Mego, founded in 1954, made cheap and unremarkable toys for almost two decades before landing on the idea of producing licensed dolls in the early 1970s. Its first two lines were Planet of the Apes and Star Trek. It made a number of TOS figures, even entirely inventing some characters, and a few playsets. The Mego Museum’s Star Trek page has a good summary. My playset has all the accessories: the nav and helm console, the two stools, the captain’s chair and all three double-sided viewscreen images, and my set came with all the stickers applied. I also have all six of the Wave One figures. I don’t have any of the others.
My original-issue playset 
I also own Kirk and Spock still mint-fresh in their boxes, and for the photo of my playset above I took for inspiration the promo photo from the back of those boxes. I don’t, however, have enough phasers, tricorders and belts to quite do justice to the scene.
The bridge, of course, looks nothing like the real one. It’s not curved, the stations are all wrong, and if you have the characters face the viewscreen then you’re left looking at the back of their heads. And the real bridge did not have a one-person transporter over on the side. Which raises an interesting point: this is called an Enterprise — and not a bridge — playset. This is because Mego crammed different departments into this thing.
Such as the mini transporter room, which is shockingly innovative. Here is the beaming process:
- place a figure in the transporter
- give the spinning knob a quick twirl
- watch as the revolving decals create a nifty illusion of the transporter cascade
- press the green button on the top; the transporter will stop spinning with the figure facing the back
- open the secret flap on the back of the set to remove the figure.
The crewmember has now been beamed down. Reverse the process, pressing the red button, to retrieve him or her from the planet.
Over on the other side is engineering, denoted by a circuit diagram on the wall. That’s it; that’s all of engineering.
Again, accuracy was clearly not Mego’s goal, but kids could have adventures on the bridge, have Kirk call down (over) to Scotty in engineering, beam crew around and, if they wanted, maybe even squeeze a sickbay into the back for McCoy.
Collector challenge
The playsets are also great fun for collectors. They were made of thin plastic laid over a cardboard framework and almost all were actually played with, so most units are in poor shape today. The plastic dries up and cracks, the corners get bashed in, and the white carry handle at the top is almost always broken.
All of which makes the pursuit of one in good condition a lot of fun. I bought mine a few years ago from a TOS collector I met on Facebook. It has no tears in the plastic, the handle is intact, the colours are bright and the decals in good shape, and it came with all the accessories. I paid less than $100 and I think I got a deal.
Collectors, especially completists, should know that Mego produced a few batches of these and there are many variations. The furniture came in either blue or yellow and in one or two pieces, there are a number of different boxes, the decals were either on a sheet or already affixed and, the biggest difference, the sets produced for the Canadian and French markets were about 10 percent smaller overall. I own the standard US version.
I spent years searching for a playset in good condition that I could afford, and I worried not at all about which colour the console was or whether the decals had been applied by the factory or a 10-year-old.
The playset folds into a carry box. My playset sits on a shelf in my Star Trek room, with the figures arrayed as pictured above.
Update: I recently created a dedicated Mego display area.
I don’t play with the figures but it’s nice to know that I can, anytime I wish.
Postscript
Mego created a prototype updated bridge playset that was a little more accurate. It also sported a separate sickbay, although it was positioned as a sort of treehouse over the bridge. Check out this Mego Museum page for photos.
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Inside Star Trek 9: Polka-dot marshmallows and herding extras with Charlie Washburn
Inside Star Trek was a semi-official newsletter, published under the guidance of Gene Roddenberry. This connection gave the writers access to the actors, production crew and sets.
I own the complete run:
- Issues 1 to 12: Inside Star Trek, edited by Ruth Berman
- Issues 13 to 24: renamed Star Trektennial News, edited by Susan Sackett
- Issues 25 to 31: again called Inside Star Trek, edited by Virginia Yable
Here are highlights from issue 9, published early 1969.
This issue highlighted two important production staffers and is one of the best so far.
Working around the periphery of the set
Charles Washburn was a second assistant director on seasons two and three of the original series. He landed at Desilu after completing an apprenticeship at the Directors Guild of America’s trainee program.
The article, which is uncredited but almost certainly written by editor Ruth Berman or frequent contributor DC Fontana, opens with Washburn explaining the role of second AD.
We prepare the shooting schedule and break it down by scene. From the shooting schedule I make out a call sheet for each day, containing all the scenes we’re to do that day in order, and all the members of the cast, the extras, and the crew-members involved in those scenes. And any extra equipment that we’ll need. I also call [the actors] and tell them ‘You are to come in at such and such a time.’
As second, I’m usually at work around the periphery of the set, in touch with all the departments and their needs. There might be a sequence coming up that requires food, so I check with the property department that they have the polka-dot marshmallows or whatever and that they will be ready.
One of Washburn’s call sheets, reproduced in the newsletter Washburn was also in charge of the extras on the set. He explained that they usually got a fixed-scale payment but he would bump up their fees if “we’re going to shake the ship and they’ll have to fall down or hang onto the rail.”
The article noted that “Washburn is Negro” and, despite the dated language, I appreciate that he was asked about barriers in the industry: “Did you have trouble getting into the guild because of prejudice?” Surprisingly, for the time, Washburn said no, pointing instead to the familial nature of unions as the biggest challenge:
I’m sure there has been prejudice, but, as I understand it, it’s not exactly prejudice against minorities — many of the unions have been closed to anyone who wasn’t related to a member. I cannot personally point to incidents in which I have been discriminated against because of my color.
Washburn concludes the article by stating that he was not really looking to become a director:
The work (of an AD) isn’t necessarily designed to turn out a director, but a lot of it would be helpful to someone who wanted to become one… But being an Assistant Director can be a career in itself. It’s a more stable job than straight directing — well, usually anyway.
Photo from Starlog Cutter, director and writer
The author of the article then walked “down to the opposite end of the lot” to chat with “cutter” Bill Brame. The film editor was “whirling rolls of film through a moviola (a sort of miniature projector).” Brame was at work on The Tholian Web.
The scene, like most scenes, had been filmed several times. One roll of film was entirely in close-up of Spock, one of McCoy, and some rolls showed both men. The script called for a scene between Spock and McCoy. It was Brame’s responsibility to decide whether the finished film would show a close view of the speaker, or a close view of the reactions of the listener, or a more distant shot of both (or a closeup of the object of discussion). The impact of the scene can be heightened by good editing or lost by bad… The director or producer of a show may want to do his own cutting, but otherwise the choice is up to the cutters.
Brame hoped editing would be his path to directing, and by the end of this career he had directed four movies, two of which he also wrote.
Washburn on Washburn
Washburn was a fixture on the lot, even becoming known as “Charlie Star Trek” because of his habit of answering the set phone with “Star Trek…Charlie!” but not much was written about him. The other significant source on Washburn is an article he himself wrote in issue 112 of Starlog in 1986. In it, he expands on the duties listed in Inside Star Trek, adding delivering breakfast to the actors, directing extras in the background, distributing script changes, rereading the next day’s scenes each night to ensure all bases were covered, and “cueing the special effects man when to open the Enterprise’s sliding doors as the actors approached.”
Washburn began working on Star Trek as a trainee second AD under Leonard “Tiger” Shapiro. Washburn said Shapiro gave nicknames to those he liked, and called George Takei “Take Home Pay.” He also called Nichelle Nichols “Madam Fufu” but, unlike most nicknames, he did not use it openly and she never heard it — until he wrote about it in Starlog.
To me, there is a condescending undertone to this supposedly fun practice, especially as Tiger called the “lot’s shoeshine man” Jake “Honest Jake the Gonif.” That last word is Yiddish and means a thief, dishonest person, or scoundrel. Washburn himself was called Washrag, Washtub, or Washbottom but says “I was never offended, even though the name was often shouted across the stage. I would always smile, yell out “Yes, sir,” and run to him. I loved the man.”
Washburn then provided some interesting day-in-the-life information and dropped a funny story about Shatner’s breakfast:
The reporting times for our main cast almost never changed. Nichelle Nichols’ and Leonard Nimoy’s reporting time was 6:30 a.m. to be ready for an 8:00 shoot. Bill Shatner’s was 7:00. And DeForest Kelley, George Takei, Jimmy Doohan and Walter Koenig were all expected at 7:30, since their makeup requirements were minimal. Leading ladies would usually have a 6:00 a.m. call. Now, for all the cast members in before 7:30, we would tender a breakfast to avoid a meal penalty (an actor could only work 5 1/2 hours without a company breaking for a meal, and we usually had lunch at 1:00 p.m.).
Nichelle, Bill and Leonard’s breakfast order was almost always the same. Nichelle would order yogurt. Leonard would order two soft-boiled eggs with bacon. Bill’s would be a rather grand order: two soft-boiled eggs, bacon, two scrambled eggs, a half grapefruit, wheat toast, and a large orange juice.
What Gregg (Peters, the unit manager) didn’t know — and I somehow never got around to telling him — was how Bill’s breakfast was disposed of each day. Bill would eat a piece of toast and drink the orange juice. His wardrobe man, Ken Harvey, would eat the half grapefruit. And his Doberman (Morgan), who Bill brought to work each day and kept in his dressing room, ate the rest.
Over the course of the third season, Washburn apparently changed his mind about directing, telling Gene Roddenberry “that my number one ambition was to be a motion picture director.” Roddenbery replied: “I don’t know what you tell you as to how to go about being a director. But, the most important thing for you is to want to do it. And, if you want to do it bad enough, you’ll find a way.”
Washburn worked as an assistant director after TOS, mostly in television, including contributing to the first season of The Next Generation.
Inside Star Trek is an invaluable source of early Star Trek voices. I’ll cover each issue. Click here to read other articles in this series. -
Relive John Belushi’s final captain’s log
Saturday Night Live is known for bittersweet Star Trek skits. William Shatner’s “Get a life!” bit is infamous, and the other standout is “The Last Voyage of the Starship Enterprise” from season one in 1976.
John Belushi was an early star of the show and Michael O’Donoghue was SNL’s first head writer. They were also Star Trek fans. The 12-minute Last Voyage sketch they wrote tells the story of a network executive (Elliot Gould) chasing down the Enterprise in a Chrysler Imperial. He boards the ship, announces that Star Trek has been cancelled and orders the set dismantled. Spock, played by Chevy Chase, and Dan Akroyd’s McCoy slowly acknowledge the reality and break character, walking off the bridge with the rest of the crew. Only Belushi’s Kirk sticks it out, closing out the scene by recording his last captain’s log.
The only way to watch that skit now is on an old VHS or DVD copy of The Best of John Belushi or this bootleg version. (Online at time of writing.)
The 1977 book Saturday Night Live collects scripts and notes from many of the best early SNL skits. It has a $7.95 price tag printed on the cover. I bought my copy secondhand for $4. You can get one today for about $6 at Thriftbooks and elsewhere.
I scanned the Star Trek section, which contains the script plus some photos and a set sketch, and created a PDF.
The book also includes a letter Gene Roddenberry wrote to express his appreciation of the bit. Strangely, he addressed the letter to Gould, that episode’s host, rather than to Lorne Michaels or another member of the production staff. Perhaps this was because, as Roddenberry wrote, he had been “something of an Elliot Gould fan for years.” Still, sending the praise to O’Donoghue or Belushi would have been better choices.
The approval he expressed makes sense, however, as Belushi and O’Donoghue clearly knew their Trek and respected the source material, even as they parodied it. Belushi’s Kirk says twice that there are 430 crewmembers aboard the Enterprise and accurately cites the captain’s serial number — SC937-0176CEC — as heard in Court Martial. There are also two references to the Promise Margarine commercial Shatner made in 1974.
Postscript
The tunics worn in the sketch were purchased from the Federation Trading Post in NYC.
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Starship class, part two: Gene Roddenberry and Matt Jefferies
I grew up believing the Enterprise is a Constitution-class ship. I later learned differently and recently wrote The Enterprise is not a Constitution-class ship.
Many people really did not like that. Within 24 hours, the article generated lots of comments on social media, not all of them kind, and a bunch of hits on this site. (The traffic and the comments surpassed the previous champ, my piece on Harlan Ellison’s drug-dealing crewmember, in less than a week.)
Here’s the thing: we discuss this stuff because we love Star Trek, and I respect that, and anyone can disagree with me. I’m just this guy.
But if you hold fast to the idea the Enterprise is a Constitution-class ship, you are also disagreeing with Gene Roddenberry and Matt Jefferies.
The creator
Gene Roddenberry created what’s typically called a “bible” for his show. The Writers/Directors Guide was a briefing document for people who were not part of the ongoing production and therefore needed basic information on the show. On page 7, Roddenberry and his staff wrote: The U.S.S. Enterprise is a spaceship, official designation “starship class.”
My copy is of the third revision, dated April 17, 1967. The date is important. This is almost two years after filming Where No Man Has Gone Before. It has been suggested that the dedication plaque, which states the Enterprise is a Starship-class vessel and which forms the basis of my argument, was a leftover from the pilot days that no one could be bothered to replace. This document makes it clear that is not the case.
The Making of Star Trek, first published in 1968 and written by Stephen E. Whitfield and Gene Roddenberry, also could not be clearer on this point.
The Enterprise is a member of the Starship Class (there are twelve of them) Registry Number NCC-1701. Starship Class vessels are the largest and most powerful man-made ships in space.
You can disagree with me. I don’t think you can disagree with Gene Roddenberry.
The designer
Walter Matthew Jefferies designed the Enterprise. The Making of Star Trek includes Jefferies’ renderings of the Enterprise, the bridge, the hangar deck, the shuttlecraft and the Klingon battle cruiser.
The Enterprise, depicted on page 178, is labelled “Space cruiser. Starship class.”
You can disagree with me. I don’t think you can disagree with Matt Jefferies.
If you haven’t done so, please read my first piece on this. I know a lot of people don’t like to hear it, but the reality is the Enterprise is a Starship-class ship.
I appreciate everyone who took the time to engage with me on this. Special thanks to Robert J. Sawyer and Pierre Charles Dubreuil who pointed me to the Jefferies drawing and the show bible, respectively.
Postscript
Captain Pike assigned one crew member to do nothing but stand beside the turbolift. He is there in every bridge scene in The Cage, so I have no idea if the plaque was on the set in 1964.
Images from TrekCore Update: Trek fan Karl Tate pointed out that guy moves off the wall in one scene and you can see the space beside the turbolift — and there was no dedication plaque on Pike’s Enterprise.
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The Enterprise is not a Constitution-class ship
I grew up knowing that Kirk’s Enterprise was a Constitution-class ship. The designation was never stated on screen, but I was one of the chosen few with access to a trove of Star Trek facts: the Star Fleet Technical Manual.
Created by Franz Joseph and published in 1975, this book filled out imaginary worlds for me with details we never saw on screen. I knew the names of the buttons on the Vulcan lyrette, I knew Scotty had an office in Engineering, I knew McCoy’s pointy red scanner thingy was an anabolic protoplaser, I knew that the staterooms had jacuzzis, I knew that the bridge was offset 36 degrees counterclockwise from “front,” and I knew the Enterprise was a Constitution-class ship.
I knew all these things because the Technical Manual said so.
Later, I learned Joseph had based his work on a thorough study of Star Trek but that he also made up a lot of stuff. Indeed, “Constitution-class” is never said on-screen during the original series and we never see a USS Constitution or hear it referenced.
Instead, the Enterprise is actually a Starship-class ship. It said so right on the dedication plaque, just to the right of the turbolift as you exit the bridge. The plaque read:U.S.S. ENTERPRISE
STARSHIP CLASS
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIF.
It is just barely legible on screen, even on Blu-ray, but in this screen cap from Elaan of Troyius it is clear by the number and shape of the letters that it does not say Constitution Class. I also zoomed in on an image from The Naked Time, but it doesn’t really help. The resolution is just not there. (All episode images are from TrekCore.)
So, where did Franz Joseph get Constitution class? From the script for Space Seed, it seems. In the episode, Khan asks to study “the technical manuals on your vessel” and the script specifies that one page of a manual has the words “Constitution class.” While this is an interesting production tidbit, “Constitution” is neither stated nor visible on screen.
But that script was enough for TOS uber-fan and professional Star Trek prop and model maker Greg Jein. His seminal 1975 article The Case of Jonathan Doe Starship, published in the zine T-Negative, reproduces the graphic that was meant for the episode. (Click through to his article to see this image.) But here’s the thing: the image is not seen on screen and, even if it was, it is not a schematic of the ship but rather a component of the “primary phaser.” It is as logical to conclude that this is a Constitution-class component, not a part from a Constitution-class ship. (The graphic would be used later in The Trouble with Tribbles, but it is far too small to see any details.)
The Trouble with Tribbles Star Trek production luminary Michael Okuda is on the Starship-class side. When Eaglemoss decided to reproduce the dedication plaque in 2016, it turned to Okuda to confirm the appearance and content of the original. And, just as with the plaque on the bridge set, it identifies the Enterprise as Starship class.
(I, of course, had to buy one. It’s a nice piece but Eaglemoss decided to make it smaller than the original, probably to keep the cost reasonable. I wish it had not done that.)
With apologies to the young fan I was, I have to go with the actual dedication plaque on the wall of the bridge. The Enterprise NCC-1701 was a Starship-class ship.
What did Gene Roddenberry and Matt Jefferies have to say about this? Read my followup article.
Postscript: The TNG retcon
“But,” say Next Gen fans, “Picard said it was a Constitution class.” He did — twice. Reading out loud from the database in The Naked Now, he says: “The Constitution-class Enterprise, Captain James T. Kirk commanding.”
Later, Picard confirms the class in a touching scene in Relics as he looks around the holodeck scene Scotty created, and the engineer himself uses “starship” to define a type, not a class.
Picard: Constitution class.
Scott: Aye. You’re familiar with them?
Picard: There’s one in the Fleet museum but then, of course, this is your Enterprise?
Scott: I actually served on two. This was the first. She was also the first ship I ever served on as Chief Engineer. You know, I served aboard eleven ships. Freighters, cruisers, starships, but this is the only one I think of, the only one I miss.
So, absolutely, TNG retconned the class. I don’t care. Dedication plaque beats TNG dialogue.
Update: Mike Okuda explained to me why the TNG staff opted for Kirk’s ship being a Constitution class.
We went with “Constitution” on TNG because it satisfied fan expectations, and because it implied that there were many different types of starships, which in turn implied that Starfleet was a bigger, more interesting, more capable organization.
That makes sense, as most fans would have thought using the correct designation was an error. But it is a retcon; it was a Starship-class ship in the 1960s.
Postscript the second: JJ got this right at least
I really dislike the design decisions in JJ Abrams’ reboot: the Apple-store bridge, using a brewery for Engineering and, worst of all, mucking up Matt Jefferies’ sleek and beautiful ship design with bulbous nacelles. But one thing Abrams got right: that ship is Starship class.
Image from Memory Alpha
Please also read the follow-up article I wrote, with additional primary sources.
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Inside Star Trek 8: George Takei on almost everything except Star Trek
Inside Star Trek was a semi-official newsletter, published under the guidance of Gene Roddenberry. This connection gave the writers access to the actors, production crew and sets.
I own the complete run:
- Issues 1 to 12: Inside Star Trek, edited by Ruth Berman
- Issues 13 to 24: renamed Star Trektennial News, edited by Susan Sackett
- Issues 25 to 31: again called Inside Star Trek, edited by Virginia Yable
Here are highlights from issue 8, published early 1969.
Those invisible stagehands
This is the weakest Inside Star Trek so far. It opens with a silly reader question:
In “Plato’s Stepchildren,” did the actors control the forced movements the characters made when they were being telepathically pushed around, or were they pushed around by “invisible” stagehands? Dorothy Waibel
Invisible stagehands? Well, kudos to Dorothy for having the courage to sign that question. Editor Ruth Berman responded, “The actors did it themselves.”
Reader Carol Stoddard asked:
Is Dr. McCoy’s daughter going to come on the Enterprise in any episode?
The idea of meeting McCoy’s daughter had first been pitched by Dorothy Fontana in early 1967, and the third issue of Inside Star Trek touched on this briefly. (Here is my article on that.) Berman replied:
No, at least not this season. Plans for a show about Joanna McCoy were begun, but did not work out.
No, those plans did not work out. Fontana’s pitch had Kirk and Joanna begin a relationship, and that caused problems between the captain and Leonard McCoy. It would also have caused problems for viewers, because it would have been icky.
George Takei on everything else
The rest of the issue is a wide-ranging interview with George Takei, and that’s why this is a weak outing. Not because of Takei himself — who I quite like and often find interesting — but because he wasn’t asked about Star Trek. We hear about a course at the Inner City Cultural Center, a small play he was in, the origins of Japanese Kabuki theatre, and a character study of Shakespeare’s Brutus. There was so little content available to fans in the 1960s that anything related to the show was consumed eagerly, but this really would have been a better article had they actually discussed Star Trek.
Still, there are two interesting bits. The first is about the advantage of being an Asian actor.
Many people complain about being of minority groups and so forth. But I think the very fact that I have this face opened a lot of doors for me… Other kids I was going to school with were kind of envious of my thing. But they were tall, blond, blue-eyed, and good looking, and they were a dime a dozen. My type was a rarity, so I worked, and they stayed in school.
Takei also discussed his family’s internment in Japanese-American World War II camps. Berman asked him:
In the official biography of you, it says that during World War II your folks moved from California to Arkansas. Is that a euphemism for saying that you were in one of our concentration camps?
It’s amazing to me that Desilu or perhaps Paramount, depending on when this biography was created, would characterize forced imprisonment as a family move, and good for Berman for asking this question. Takei’s response, in part:
My real memories of those camp days are fond memories… When we went, I was two years old or something like that, not really old enough to comprehend, and my parents told us we were going for a long vacation in the country. To a child, you know, that’s exactly what it was.
In his autobiography To the Stars, published in 1994, Takei puts his age at four, and states again that he thought of it as an adventure: “I just assumed this was the way people went to the country for a long vacation.”
For those old enough to understand what was being done to them, however, it was a grave injustice. Years later, that experience inspired the musical Allegiance, featuring Takei as the grandfather of an uprooted family. It premiered in 2012 and hit Broadway in 2015. It garnered mixed reviews, as in this piece from Variety:
There’s a tremendously affecting scene at the end of Allegiance in which George Takei’s character, his eyes glistening with tears, reconciles with his conflicted past and finds a promise of comfort that has eluded him for more than 50 years. The knowledge that the story was inspired by Takei’s childhood hardships in the Japanese-American “relocation centers” of World War II adds significantly to the emotional impact. But the powerful sentiments involved are too often flattened by the pedestrian lyrics and unmemorable melodies of Jay Kuo’s score, making an unconvincing case for this material’s suitability to be a musical.
…the most moving work comes from beloved Star Trek veteran Takei, who brings gentle, albeit sometimes corny, humor to Ojii-chan. His deep personal association to the material and evidence of a generous spirit of forgiveness dictate the tone, and are among the show’s strengths.
Photo: NY Times The newsletter’s overlong and unfocused interview comprises almost all of this issue, and it feels like Berman just wanted to fill the pages. Readers would have been better served by more Star Trek in their Star Trek newsletter. This issue does end on a great note, however. Berman says that just after her interview with Takei, the cast and crew learned the series had been “picked up for the rest of the third season.”
Inside Star Trek is an invaluable source of early Star Trek voices. I’ll cover each issue. Click here to read other articles in this series.
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One of everything, please: 1969’s Catalog #3 from Star Trek Enterprises
Gene Roddenberry realized in the late 1960s that people who love a TV show want to buy stuff related to it.
That had eluded most people back then, which is funny because the sports folks got it a lot earlier. The first set of baseball cards was issued by Goodwin Tobacco in 1886. Gypsy Queen or Old Judge smokers could collect cards featuring 12 New York Giants. And you’d be in the money today if you held on to the 1939 World Series program with the famous photo of Lou Gehrig’s big swing.
Photo from allvintagecards.com But Desilu and then Paramount did not market Trek collectibles in the 1960s. Luckily, Roddenberry was not known for missing business opportunities, and Star Trek Enterprises was born. Soon renamed Lincoln Enterprises, it began in 1967 as a mail-order business run by Bjo and John Trimble. It sold pendants, memo pads, insignia and postcards, plus subscriptions to the Inside Star Trek newsletter (which I am covering). It also sold film clips cut from production footage, which technically belonged to the studio, and scripts, while ignoring the percentage of those sales that should have gone to the writers.
But, for early Star Trek fans, these catalogs were a grand source of memorabilia when there was almost nothing else for sale. Here is my take on this 1969 catalog.
Research note: Catalog #3 is not dated but three observations lead me to believe it was published in 1969:
- It was produced by Star Trek Enterprises, which was renamed Lincoln Enterprises just before Roddenberry and his first wife Eileen divorced in 1969.
- It advertised issues one to 12 of the Inside Star Trek newsletter; issue 12 was produced in 1969.
- That issue would be the last until 1976, when it would relaunch under a new name, and as Catalog #3 references “subscribers” the company obviously did not yet know that the newsletter was about to suspend publication.
Click for larger versions.
What I would have bought
I was too young to place an order with Star Trek Enterprises, but here’s what would have been at the top of my shopping list. All prices are in US dollars.
Star Trek Interstellar membership. $3.50. Film clips, a memo pad, issues of the newsletter and a membership card for a few bucks? Deal.
Star Trek Writer’s Guide. $2. I now have a copy of the third revision of this document, dated April 1967. It’s a wonderful resource for fans as well as writers. I will cover it someday.
Flight Deck Certificate. $1 for the deluxe version. I would have grabbed one of these based on the promise it was “signed by Captain Kirk and Gene Roddenberry!” Sadly, it was not. I got mine from a short-lived sci-fi store in Toronto. I tell its story here.
IDIC medallion. $7.50. Back then, I would have purchased one. Today, even knowing what I know, I probably would anyway.
Film clip frames. All 14 sets for $12. “These are the first print ‘daily’ originals from the very film that runs through the cameras as they film the show…Scotty tells us that these frames will fit into half-mount holders…for viewing in a home 35mm projector.” So, this is actual Star Trek film, from the set, that I can project on a big screen at home in glorious colour? For fans in the 1960s — accustomed to watching the show on tiny TV screens, often in black and white — this would have been amazing.
Star Trek is… pitch. $1. This is perhaps the most important document in Star Trek history — and you don’t have to pay a buck for it. Read about it and download a PDF here.
Star Trek scripts. $505 for every episode and variant. In the days before Chrissie’s Transcripts Site put all the Star Trek dialogue online, this would have been a Holy Grail of collecting. Before streaming and Blu-ray, we had reruns that were always chopped up to make room for more commercials, the James Blish adaptations that often differed from the screened version, and the Fotonovels that were great but often changed the dialogue. To have the actual scripts would have been wonderful.
How much for one of everything?
I added it up. A well-heeled Star Trek fan back in the day could buy one of everything for $554.50. That’s the best version of each item: six issues of the newsletter, all three sets of the two-color decals, all three seasons of the scripts, including the first and final drafts from season three, etc.
That’s the cost at the time. In today’s dollars? I can’t say how accurate inflation-calculation sites are, but two seemingly reputable ones (Morgan Friedman and the US Inflation Calculator) say we’re looking at about $4,800 in 2024 dollars.
That’s a fair bit of money but, if I could use the light-speed breakaway factor to slingshot back to 1969, would I spend that much on Mr. Roddenberry’s mail-order store? You bet I would.
Also, my thanks to Florida’s Steven Whitaker for holding on to his copy of the catalog — numerous coffee-mug rings and all — so that I could buy it on eBay years later. He completed the order form but apparently never actually purchased his portraits, decals, insignia, postcards and film clips, so I hope he attended one of the early conventions and grabbed some great stuff.
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The last-minute Roddenberry rewrite that elevated Balance of Terror
Captain Kirk is fond of a good speech. All the adventure in Return to Tomorrow hinges on his inspirational words in the briefing room: “Risk…risk is our business. That’s what this starship is all about. That’s why we’re aboard her.”
A similarly critical moment is brought to life in Balance of Terror when Kirk confides in McCoy during the standoff with the Romulan Commander. It’s a smaller and more private moment than the other speeches, and a rare glimpse into the inner life of the usually self-confident captain.
I wish I were on a long sea voyage somewhere. Not too much deck tennis, no frantic dancing. And no responsibilities.
Why me? I look around that bridge, and I see the men waiting for me to make the next move — and Bones, what if I’m wrong?
It is one of the best scenes in all of Star Trek. The captain, at a critical moment when a poor decision could lead to the loss of his ship and a catastrophic rise in tensions with an old enemy, confides his fear and insecurity to one of his closest friends. McCoy’s reassurance hits just the right note, and Kirk returns to a hushed and darkened bridge to once again make the next move.
That scene was filmed on Tuesday, July 26, 1966, according to both Memory Alpha and These are the Voyages, and it was penned by Gene Roddenberry only the day before. The handwritten change was dated July 25. Writer Paul Schneider’s last script, dated July 22, 1966, had Kirk say:
Why, Bones?… I’m a Starship captain… This is a decision for diplomats, not one man! How can I decide if we risk starting a war… risk millions of lives.
Here’s the thing: had that speech been left unchanged, the story would have played out the same and the episode would still be considered a classic. But Roddenberry’s version showed a much greater understanding of the character and of the burden laid on him. The commitment to detail showcased by this small, non-plot scene is one reason Star Trek holds its audience when just about every other ’60s show has faded into the ether.
Reuse the best material
This scene is a direct call back to Captain Pike in The Cage. Following the death of three crew members on Rigel VII, he too is doubting himself and he, like Kirk, confides in the ship’s doctor in the privacy of his cabin. The scene Roddenberry wrote in 1964 worked beautifully then and worked just as well when he borrowed the idea two years later.
JJ Abrams’ Star Trek Beyond made the same play. Kirk is again with McCoy, questioning the choices he has made, but he has much less cause to feel insecure and the scene is a pale imitation.
It was not unusual for Roddenberry to rewrite scripts, as in Balance of Terror. He did it so often and to such an extent that writers routinely complained and many had pseudonyms ready to go. The story credit on A Private Little War is “Jud Crucis,” for example, a take on “Jesus Crucified” that Don Ingalls adopted to protest Roddenberry’s changes.
But those rewrites were often magic. That scene in Balance of Terror lasts less than 90 seconds and yet it gives a world of insight into the captain. The episode would still be great without it, but less so.
Postscript
Mark Lenard was a guest at the 1989 Toronto Trek convention, and I guess he didn’t charge much for autographs because I could afford to get three items signed: a Star Trek III 8×10, the convention program book and, my favourite, a VHS copy of Journey to Babel.
At his talk, the only question I could think to ask was: “Did the Romulan Commander ever have a name in the script?” He looked at me blankly for a second and then replied: “No, he was just called ‘Commander.’”
Different versions of the script and the memos on the episode confirm Lenard’s answer. It is strange the Romulan was denied a name, but perhaps it was done to emphasize that being a commander was what he was, and not just what he did.
Postscript the second
An interesting side note: Roddenberry borrowed the deck-tennis idea. Paul Schneider had McCoy speaking some of those lines in a script dated July 20. Roddenberry deleted the sentence and then a few days later gave those words to the captain, and added his moment of self doubt.
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What did AMT get for building the Galileo? And how much does a shuttlecraft cost?
You may have heard that model company AMT built the shuttlecraft Galileo exterior, the interior set and the miniature used for filming in exchange for the right to produce one or more consumer kits, but many sources are vague or incorrect about which models came out of that deal. As I wrote in an early post on this site: “Some sources say the deal was to produce the Klingon D7 model, others say the Enterprise; Matt Jefferies’ brother Richard claimed in his book Beyond the Clouds that the deal covered both the Enterprise and the Galileo models.”
Even Richard, however, was fuzzy on the specifics. The truth, according to Desilu documents from 1966, is that AMT’s Galileo construction work netted it the right to produce only the Enterprise model kit.
The 1983 reissue AMT Enterprise A memo from Edwin Perlstein, Desilu’s Director of Business Affairs, dated August 2, 1966, informed producer Bob Justman that the licensing deal had been finalized.
I have confirmed with Don Beebe of AMT that they will be proceeding to build the Galileo Seven exterior and interior and will try to deliver by a deadline date of September 6 for the interior and September 12 for the exterior.
As I indicated before, our deal was consummated because we offered and they accepted the U.S.S. Enterprise as a model deal.
A September 1967 article in Popular Mechanics identifies Beebe as the manager of AMT’s Speed and Custom Division in Phoenix, where the Galileo interior and exterior were constructed. The shooting miniature was probably built there as well.
$24,000 for a shuttlecraft
A separate letter from Perlstein, also sent on August 2, 1966, communicated the details of the agreement to Lou Mindling of Licensing Corporation of America, which handled official Star Trek licensing.
Perlstein said AMT had set the construction cost of the Galileo exterior and the interior set at $24,000. AMT would build those and the shooting model and pay LCA royalties of 5% plus a $3,000 advance.
In a separate deal, AMT would also be permitted to sell Galileo model kits. That deal was worth a royalty of 5% of sales, with 60% going to Desilu and the rest to LCA.
AMT’s Galileo exterior, interior set and the miniature (from TrekCore) Union considerations
The letter then gets specific about the final assembly of the Galileo, as that work needed to be done by union members.
Because of the Local #44 problem, the hardware such as seats, instrument panel, etc. will be unassembled and will be assembled at Desilu by Local #44 personnel. This cost of installation by Local #44 employees will be absorbed by Desilu.
$650 for the shooting model
A follow-up letter from Perlstein to AMT’s Beebe on September 14, 1966, adds the interesting fact that AMT estimated the cost to build the shooting miniature at $650. It also stated that LAC had dropped its request for a $3,000 advance on the Enterprise sales.
One million model kits
More than a year later, we get a sales update in a memo from Bob Justman to Gene Roddenberry. Writing on October 19, 1967, Justman said of the Enterprise kit:
I have it on reliable information that the “STAR TREK” Model Kit will sell more than a million copies within its first year of production… All I know is that the machine which turns out the plastic parts for the kit goes continually 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and AMT is rushing another machine into production, so that they can keep up with the demand.
Despite having the rights to the Galileo, the shuttlecraft kit was not released until 1974. I do not know the reason for the delay, but Justman was probably correct when he said in that same 1967 memo that “My personal feeling is that pretty soon AMT will be sorry they did not undertake the Galileo Model Kit.”
The misconceptions around the licensing specifics are, admittedly, minor details, but these documents are an interesting glimpse into the very early days of TV and movie marketing. In so many ways, Star Trek and its fans forged a path that other franchises would follow.
Justman ends his memo with a lament that would be validated a decade later by the success of the Star Wars toys:
Just imagine what aggressive merchandising could have done for the show and for the studio!
Postscript
Doing some reading for this piece, I discovered Memory’s Alpha’s AMT page had misspelled Perlstein’s name as “Pearlstein.” I have corrected that.
Collecting Trek
A TOS collection 40 years in the making
Collecting Trek 