Happy 95th, A.C! You were great in the Oscars' memorial

One good thing about Facebook is that birthday reminder function—and last Saturday, up popped A.C. Lyles on mine. He would have been 95.

It was a great reminder that I had meant to regale you all after he rightfully turned up in the Oscars' memorial reel (right) ... after I let his actual passing last Sept. 27 get by without getting wistful about A.C., this living legend of Paramount and yet another piece of the Treklander tapestry—if not an unlikely one.

“A.C.”—no one ever called him Andrew Craddock or Junior—never worked on any Star Trek per se, but as a former theater usher boy-turned-producer emeritus and goodwill ambassador for Paramount, you can bet he overlapped Star Trek in all kinds of ways.  For one thing, his last office for decades had been in the Hart Building, where all the spinoff Star Trek writers and assistants over the years were officed—including Gene Roddenberry himself. More on that later…

What’s more, A.C. was a publicist in the postwar days at the studio when among others he helped promote one young Jackson Deforest Kelley as the studio’s latest contract player—and later stood up as his best man when De and Caroline got married in 1945.

A.C. must have been good at it—he was also best man to another actor you may recall: Ronald Reagan and wife Nancy, in 1952. That’s why, along with roles as the unofficial or official Hollywood liaison to Washington under four presidents, of course it’s A.C. who’s guiding The Gipper during his post-presidential tour of the Next Generation set in this iconic series of pics (right), during the shoot of season finale “Redemption” on April 18, 1991 (with Michael Piller (left), Patrick Stewart and Rick Berman).

 
Yep, A.C. was Paramount’s ambassador to every event where regaling was in order, happy or sad—and “regale” is the verb that best comes to mind when you have that many decades of stories you can recount first-hand—or perhaps stretch a bit.  I saw him both crack jokes or roast raw about honorees at Pacific Pioneer Broadcasters award luncheons since 2007 (at left, meeting student PPB visitors in Sept. 2011) ; Mike Westmore asked him to speak at the dedication of the Westmore family’s Hollywood Walk of Fame star in 2008 (below), and he did the honors for De Kelley at his old friend’s memorial program on the studio lot in 1999.

In fact, when I talked to A.C. for our De Kelley memorial issue for Communicator, the old softie confided he was shocked when De, whom he knew to be very ill with his stomach cancer at the time, just had to get dressed up and make it to the lot for A.C.’s 80th birthday party in 1998 — thankfully recorded in this snapshot (right). It was to be De’s last public appearance before his death just eight months later. 

Indeed, everyone eventually got a visit to A.C.'s fourth-floor Hart enclave, where among the sights were posters of his own produced movies AND a hand-crank silent-era camera used on Paramount’s landmark silent film Wings, the very first Best Movie Oscar winner from 1927—and the movie that enraptured young A.C. into his cinematic infatuation back home in Jacksoniville, Fla.  The most striking element of his office decore, though, were the dozens of framed, red-matted 8x10s of his friends in the biz from the Forties to the Aughts that lined the walls.

Who knows how many visitors he invited in for a photo with him before the massive wall o’pix… but it took until a random lot visit I made in June 2011, when something just told me I should check in on A.C. and say hi, before I took my turn in his chair. Something must have told me I’d better do it that day, for while I saw him later at Pacific Pioneer Broadcast luncheons and even helped introduce him to students there once or twice… I’d have no idea that office visit would be the last time I’d ever see him on the lot.

And even then, as he had for years—well after her five seasons on Voyager were up—A.C. always ended our visits with “And give your lovely wife a kiss hello for me, too.”

For the charm of A.C. was far more than knowing him as a spellbinding talker and a living Hollywood memory wall. Anyone and everyone who worked on the lot at Paramount knew A.C., because he made it a point every day to introduce himself to any face he did not recognize, no matter how low or how high on the totem pole it might appear to be sitting. And that new face, in turn, quickly learned several points about A.C. from colleagues—or the man himself:

—The fact that he knew everyone "in town," and had since Edison invented film… and had a story or two about them ALL;

—That he drove a gleaming, cream-colored '62 Thunderbird convertible, always smartly parked in the producer’s lot for all to admire;

—That he was the most dapper dresser you ever saw, every time you saw him, no matter where—made even sharper still against his eternal SoCal tennis tan;

—And that everyone was his friend. Especially the ladies.  Even tourists on the studio tour (right, in 2008), whom he loved to regale with impromptu stories when he happened to spot a group on the main promenade. Especially the ladies.

In fact, for the Star Trek writers—and especially their mostly female assistants—A.C.’s “good morning” and “good evening” look-in as he passed their open doors en route to the Hart Building’s tiny elevator were a daily rite of work. Especially so when his cologne tended to pre-announce his presence a couple of minutes beforehand!

And when A.C. stopped you, or tangented off with a typical “That reminds me of the time Ronald Coleman…”  … you listened. And tried to will yourself to etch it into memory.

Paramount hosted a celebration in that memory, to that memory, right on the studio lot Nov. 11 (left). The day was done up right: many of those legendary red-matted photos from A.C.'s were brought over to the back wall of the Paramount Theater lobby, his friends and colleagues over the decades spilling out to the lawn and some good eats afterward. Thankfully, Paramount has been doing us all a favor in recent years, and had set A.C. down and walked him all over the lot to record hours of his memories and tales on film—and at his memorial we were treated to parts of it.

My own thoughts were drawn, mistily, to that afternoon—could it already be 14 years now?—when they’d done the same thing for De… and now here, like A.C. that day, were others on stage to speak and laugh and share their awe of this icon’s wonderful life. Heck, that last photo of A.C. and De together was snapped in this same lobby as well.

They ended A.C.'s program with that sneak peek at a big chunk of his memory tales on film—where we all instantly realized that the top speaker of the day was, of course, the ol’ story spinner himself. A.C. was still the best show of them all.

And why not? It’s the old Hollywood maxim:

With some blockbusters, you just can't make a sequel.




All photos except Regan set visit tour  and De-A.C. 1999 are the author's; copyright and use reserved.

An Oscar moment for Charlie—watch TONIGHT!

One of my favorite moments of the Academy Awards broadcast each year, though bittersweet, is the “memorial reel” of those of distinction in the film industry—household name, or not—who have passed away during the last 12 months.

But you can bet that I’ll be watching this Sunday with even more interest, if that’s possible—and I hope you will be, too.

I hope you recall when I wrote of the passing of CharlesWashburn last April 13 when he succumbed to kidney failure. That’s his full name, but for the old gang at Desilu Studios from 1967-69 he’d be better known as “Charlie Star Trek”—a take-off on the way he answered the phone onstage in his role as an assistant director.

I felt met Charlie just six years ago now, while working on a 20^th anniversary timeline for The Next Generation for the old startrek.com—but I had long wanted to track him down for my TNG Companion book for his AD memories from two generations, after I realized he was one of the “old guard” Gene had first assembled for TNG who had worked on the original series.

See, efficient and quietly polite Charlie Washburn was a true pioneer in the industry: he landed in Hollywood in 1967 from his native Memphis, Tenn., on scholarship for the Director’s Guild trainee program—and soon became the first African-American DGA trainee graduate in history.  In that tumultuous time of social change, the fact that Charlie went on to become the first black full-time 2^nd A.D. in TV as well when he finished just adds to the luster. And the fact that a big chunk of this occurred during classic Star Trek’s second and third seasons (one as trainee, most of the next as 2nd AD)—well, that’s worthy of a trophy any day.

“When I started at Desilu, there were only three black employees on the whole lot,” Charlie told me once: “Nichelle Nichols, myself, and the guy who had the food truck—who closed it up after lunch and then shined shoes.” If anything can put Gene Rodenberry’s original creation smack in the middle of the times from whence it came, that was it.

He went on to many more film and TV production credits, of course, like the Bill Cosby Show, Vega$, Batman, and The Six Million Dollar Man.  Over his long career Charlie worked with the likes of Diana Ross and Sydney Poitier, and even did a little acting with Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry, to name a few.

At his passing I wrote that piece in his memory here, and included a couple of photos, including a recent shot I’d taken myself. Many fans here and elsewhere have thanked me for preserving his story, but—like so many other “little” tales of Star Trek yet to be recorded or told—it’s one I was thrilled to share, even if in a moment of passing.

Flash forward 10 months: It was only two weeks ago that the unit compiling the memorial reel wrote me to say they had been looking for Charlie items, found my blog, and wondered if I had more photos to share. Did I! We got them in touch with his grateful family, as well, who were thrilled and honored to get the news and share even more pics from his career, in and out of Star Trek. As of Tuesday, I was told it all was a “lock” in the final edit.

It's only fitting—and hurray for Charlie— when you recall that the Academy omitted our beloved Westerns bad-guy star DeForest Kelley from the memorial reel in 2000—and did the same with Jimmy Doohan in 2006, then "revisited" him a year later to make up for it.

Charlie was a bit of a pack rat, but that was because up until the end he filled his days still keeping busy researching and pitching scripts, knowing that some of his historical and unique angles would catch fire with some producer. They never did, but they should have.

As if turns out, they won’t use any of Charlie’s Star Trek shots for his moment in the limelight—makes sense, being the Oscars and not the Emmies of TV—but will use instead a brief clip he assistant-directed from 1972’s Lady Sings the Blues starring Diana Ross.

That—plus my portrait of him at his office desk just a year before he died. I was stunned to hear that news.

 














  
So be watching with me tonight, will you, as the honor roll of Hollywood takes their final bow. It will only be a couple seconds, but to bid a fond farewell to a good friend in such an arena—and to have had a small hand in making it happen, with a visual to boot—is a “memorial” I will treasure forever.   
And now, when you see his name flash by in the “TOS” credits those last two seasons—or even when you hear Scotty say “Washburn has a report” during “The Doomsday Machine”—I hope you’ll smile and think of what an unassuming and talented pioneer Charlie truly was.

He must have been. He’s on the Oscar reel!



This column ran on the startrek.com home page on Saturday, but we have added here one new on-set photo, and the mention of De and Jimmy's past history with the Academy memorial.  

Diet Coke Oscars commercial has Star Trek/Paramount all over it

My jaw dropped when the new Diet Coke commercial unspooled over the Oscars show Sunday night. Did you catch it?

Well, you should know, dear readers, that it is literally dripping with Trek sauce in a full marinade. SO much so it slapped me upside the head... in a virtual way. With my own eyes.

The ad (see below), titled "Not All Stars Appear On-Screen," carried the obvious "location shoot" vista of tilted stone at Vasquez Rocks—known to you all as the Kirk-Gorn fight scene... AND Capella IV, Vulcan from ST IV and ST 2009, TNG's Mintaka III, etc, etc...

But more than that, a big chunk is shot at Paramount—and right on legendary "Star Trek Street" of the 80s/90s/Aughts. Recall the big sliding stage door, seen both opening (0:16) and closing? That's the main door to Stage 18—home to the DS9 Defiant, Bajor and "swing" sets, then Enterprise's Bridge, Engine Room/Armory/Shuttle Bay, Decon and Transporter. And, once open, you peek out from the dark stage right at the Stage 8-9 entrance (here obscured by a white trailer) and stairway, home to the TOS movies, TNG and VGR standing sets and ENT Sickbay and "swing" sets—and now home to CBS's NCIS: LA.  That upper walkway leads you to the upstairs Dreier Building offices that once housed the TNG-VGR art department and offices from set construction coordinator (and fan club honoree) Al Smutko to prop master Alan Sims to set dresser Jim Mees.  Makeup designer Mike Westmore and hair dressers Joysee Norman and later Michale Moore were there, too.

And yes, we said Stage 18. A few seconds at 0:13 are seen to be outside the small door for "Stage 14," but that's another street over — where the huge Stage 14-15 team-up is more in the scale of movies ... used for both First Contact and JJ's Star Trek.

Most film and commercials shot in the "heart of Trekland" Paramount are from over on New York street.  So, seeing these cool views from right there along Star Trek Street once again--well, I half expected to see L.Z. or Steve or Russ the security guards, or Mark Alan Shepherd halfway into his Morn makeup, wandering through one of those shots. Very cool!

Here, take a look: