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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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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.
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Before VCRs, we had the Fotonovels. And they were glorious

The serial number of the USS Reliant is NCC-1864. I’ve known that since 1984, when my family got a VCR and I could pause a rented copy of The Wrath of Khan. Pausing let me study details, and that was a game changer. Soon I was recording TOS repeats and taking 90 minutes to play and pause my way through the episodes.
I had a similar experience years earlier in 1979, when I discovered the Star Trek Fotonovels. These were essentially graphic novels that used episode images instead of drawings. Created by Mandala Productions and published by Bantam Books, 12 were released between 1977 and 1979, with one episode per book. I bought my first one at Bakka in Toronto, and grabbing one whenever I had a few dollars is one of my favourite collecting experiences.
You could linger on an image, examine the bridge and see the relative positions of the crew, look at the buttons on the consoles, note that a crewmember had a tricorder slung on one shoulder. The books were better for images than dialogue, however. The first issue in the series was, inevitably, The City on the Edge of Forever, and this pic from the opening puts words in our captain’s mouth that he never said on screen.


And it’s true that the images weren’t always stellar. This one, for example, is not kind to Scotty.
Most others, though, are great, and fans like me would often have these books fall apart from hours of use.


“Encounter with an Ellison“
A nice feature of these books was the supplemental material. Issue #1 has a good, albeit sadly brief, interview with Harlan Ellison, who wrote the screenplay on which the episode is based. The interview, conducted by Sandra Cawson (about whom I could find no information), opens with a description of Ellison’s home:
Harlan Ellison’s home is a calculated fall down a rabbit hole. Every wall scintillating with original paintings by the Italian Campanile, the German Wunderlich, the Japanese Kanemitsu, Leo and Diane Dillon — who do the covers of his books. Every corner is jammed with sculptures and toys and books, my God! the books: 17,000 in a sprawling, many-winged hillside retreat from which pour, every year, books, short stories, essays, reviews, motion-picture scripts and, of course, award-winning teleplays.
In a remark designed to tell you she had heard of Ellison’s gruff manner, Cawson writes: “To my surprise and delight, I found Ellison to be outgoing, charming, hospitable and prepared to answer my most prying questions.” As Ellison probably had approval rights on the resulting interview, this may have been more of his own world building.
The screen version of City was very different from Ellison’s script (my piece on the beautiful IDW graphic novel goes into those changes) and he was never shy about promoting his version as the superior story. In the interview, he said:
You must understand that working in television can be a singularly crippling and brutalizing thing for the creative spirit, particularly if a writer perceives himself as something more than merely a hack or a creative typist who is helping to fill network airtime in order to sell new cars and deodorants. So a writer who cares about his work puts in small touches, special scenes, lines of enriching dialogue, that give him his reason for writing it. Almost all of those touches were excised in the name of straight action sequences. Their loss diminished the value of the script enormously.
This is the writer of the episode slamming the story you just paid money to own. It was my first exposure to Ellison’s take on the episode, and at the time I had no idea what he meant. True to form, the interview ended with:
Sandra: Thank you. It’s been peculiar.
Harlan: And thank you. Yes, hasn’t it?
The Star Trek Quiz
Ten of the 12 Fotonovels also included a quiz. (The exceptions are numbers six and seven.) Even as a kid, these questions were too easy.

Here are the answers. I will cover the other Fotonovels in future posts.

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Pain on screen and in real life: Diamond Select’s Devil in the Dark diorama

I usually write about unique or rare collectibles on this site, and there are many I have yet to cover, but looking around my Star Trek room for post inspiration I was struck by the accuracy and attention to detail in Diamond Select’s The Devil in the Dark diorama.
Also, as it always does, looking at the scene on my shelf reminded me of a terrible time in William Shatner’s life, and of a behind-the-scenes story that illustrates both his professionalism and annoying sense of humour.
Behind-the-scenes TOS history
Like the company’s Space Seed diorama, this piece can be assembled to present one of two scenes: Spock standing and pointing his phaser at the Horta or a kneeling figure, grimacing in pain during the mindmeld.



I chose the latter because it’s a pivotal moment in the episode and because Shatner tells an interesting story about filming it in his book Star Trek Memories. He first names this episode as his favourite — “Exciting, thought-provoking and intelligent, it contained all of the ingredients that made up our very best Star Treks” — and then adds: “None of that stuff qualifies it as my favourite.” He explained:
Early in the second day of shooting this episode, I got a phone call that told me my father had died… The grief is long since gone, and just the joy of having known him and loved him and of knowing that he loved me remains. But at that moment in time, the pain was awful. My father had died.
He died in Miami, and…no matter how we juggled flights, there was just no way for me to avoid having to wait about five hours before I could get to Miami out of Los Angeles airport. It was almost lunchtime by the time my travel arrangements were finally firming up, and… I can remember hearing Gregg Peters, an A.D., saying ‘We’re going to break for lunch then shut down for the rest of the day. Everybody go home, we’ll not shoot today. Bill is leaving.’ And I said to Gregg, ‘Please don’t do that, my plane doesn’t leave until six, and I don’t know what I’ll do with myself for these remaining hours if I’m not here. Please, let’s continue to shoot.
An hour later, after we broke for lunch and after the tears and the anguish, we started shooting what we’d been rehearsing all morning… And even though I really can’t remember most of the day’s details anymore, the one thing that I recall perfectly and that I’ll never forget is the closeness that my friend Leonard had toward me. Not just emotionally, but physically as well. I mean, I’ve seen film with elephants that support the sick and the dying with their bodies, and Leonard somehow always seemed physically close to me.
Our cinematographer, Jerry Finnerman, whose father had also recently passed away, stayed close, too. And together, they kind of herded around me, assuring me that there were people close by in case I wanted to talk or just needed a friend. Between Leonard and Jerry, we were able to make it through that awful afternoon, and I was able to fly out that evening to my father, warmed by their love and affection.
That’s what makes this episode my favorite.
Shatner’s professionalism is impressive. In the episode, Kirk briefs the security detail before sending them into the tunnels to seek the monster and, according to Marc Cushman’s These are the Voyages, season 1, that is one of the scenes Shatner insisted on shooting before his flight. Cushman quotes actor Eddie Paskey: “I didn’t know at the time that his father had just passed away, and, as far as I knew, no one else on the set knew it.” No one there and no one watching the episode could see that Shatner had been weeping just before the cameras rolled.

Eddie Paskey (right) after Shatner got the bad news (TrekCore) Shatner continues the story:
As I flew off to my dad’s service, the crew went ahead and shot the scene where Spock mind-melds with the Horta. Now, as you know…it’s in great pain. So, of course, as Spock taps into its mind, he too experiences the creature’s anguish. With that in mind, he gets very emotional and yells out something like ‘Pain! PAIN!!’ Still, by the time I got back to the set, this was all in the can and I had no chance to see it.
When Shatner returned, the first task was to film Kirk’s reaction shots. He asked that Nimoy replay the scene, so his responses would be appropriate.
I kept pleading with Leonard until he finally gave in to my request, went over to the Horta costume and got ready to run the scene for me, at which point I said to him ‘Now Leonard, do this thing full out for me, will ya? Don’t just say pain, pain, let me really hear it. Do it for me!’ So now Leonard sighed, took a moment to prepare, and then launched into a full bore mind-meld.
“PA-A-A-A-A-A-A-IN!’ he howled. “Oh, PAIN, PAAAAAAAAIN!!!’
At which point I yelled, ‘Jesus Christ! Get that Vulcan an Aspirin!”
The crew broke up laughing, Leonard shook his head at me in disgust, and all at once I felt a whole lot better.
Shatner was dealing with a lot and probably needed humour to get through his day, but he admitted in a 2016 article in the Daily Mail that Nimoy was hurt by the prank, and he details a very different crowd reaction:
When the time came for the camera to shoot my reactions, I asked him to replay the scene, which he obligingly did. He didn’t rush it — he felt the emotion and cried out from the depths of his soul: ‘Pain! Pain! Pain!’
I went for the cheap joke and yelled, ‘Hey, someone get this guy an Aspirin!’ Then I waited for a laugh that never came.
Leonard was absolutely furious. He thought I’d set him up for ridicule. He stalked off the set but confronted me later, telling me that he thought I was ‘a real son-of-a-bitch.’
My apology must have sounded hollow because he didn’t say a word to me that wasn’t in the script for at least a week.
Great value
Diamond Select’s depiction of this scene is really good, with excellent attention to detail. The package contains two heads for Spock, two sets of hands, and two tricorders, one with the top flipped open and the other closed, because Spock’s tricorder is open when they first encounter the creature but closed as he approaches for the meld. The Horta’s wound can also be hidden or visible.


The packaging, however, is not quite as accurate. There is a notable error in the photo on the back of the box.


These dioramas are often available quite inexpensively. I paid C$15 for it at Hamilton Comic Con 2019 because the box was a little damaged. It’s an excellent piece that tells two great stories — one on screen, one behind it.
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Star Trek as Canadian content

Make a list of the people most responsible for Star Trek’s conception and early development. Roughly, that list would be Gene Roddenberry, Gene Coon, DC Fontana, Samuel Peeples, Matt Jefferies, Herb Solow and Robert Justman. They are all American.
But what they created is Canadian on a fundamental level. That idea was new to me and — once pointed out — obvious.

Sawyer I love Star Trek for many reasons, paramount of which is its optimistic view of the future, but there was always an element I couldn’t quite identify. I recently sat down with one of the world’s foremost science-fiction novelists, Robert J. Sawyer, to discuss Boarding the Enterprise, the Star Trek book he edited with David Gerrold. It’s a fascinating and unique book and you should read my article on it and then go buy it.
During that interview, Rob, who is Canadian, identified the aspect of my fandom that had eluded me.
I looked at…Star Trek first from a Canadian perspective. That peace is better than war, that multiculturalism is better than uniformity, and to me Star Trek was so Canadian in most of its vision. The rhetoric that you would hear was what Canada was supposed to be.
Rob is right. The ideals of Star Trek, the heart, the aspiration, are absolutely consistent with the best elements of Canadian society. Neither I nor Rob would suggest Canada is a utopia. We have gun violence and racial problems and poverty, but it is fair to say that we suffer those ills to a far lesser degree than do most countries.
Cultural mosaic
Although we don’t use the term as much anymore, Canada views itself as a cultural mosaic, a whole composed of pieces that are themselves distinct and unique. This contrasts to the melting-pot concept, in which being American means being the same.
Plato’s Stepchildren is about power imbalances and what the mighty do to those outside of the norm. Not the best episode, it nonetheless contains among the most Star Trek of lines. Kirk tells Alexander: “…where I come from, size, shape, or color makes no difference…” Alexander doesn’t have to be like everyone else. He can be both different and valid.

All episode photos from TrekCore Infinite diversity
The Vulcan concept of infinite diversity in infinite combinations was introduced in Is There In Truth No Beauty? and while the IDIC symbol was created for a real-world commercial reason, its sentiment is very much in keeping with the philosophy of Star Trek.
Miranda Jones’ parting words to Spock make the same value statement as Kirk’s to Alexander: “The glory of creation is in its infinite diversity.”
We’re not going to kill…today
Kirk is often presented with the opportunity to take ostensibly justified revenge on an enemy. The Horta in The Devil in the Dark, Balok in The Corbomite Maneuver and the Gorn of Arena are all at his mercy — yet he stays his hand. Even the vanquishing of Apollo in Who Mourns For Adonais? is an occasion for regret rather than a fist-pump of victory. As Rob said, time and again Star Trek tells us that preserving life is better than taking it.

The group that fashioned Star Trek in its early days were all American, and yet what they created uses ideals drawn from the Canadian example. Think of the Federation itself: a collaborative organization founded by very different people which promotes exploration, peace, and the common good, and which sends its ships out into the void to meet more people and invite them to contribute to the group. It is a cultural mosaic writ large.






























