Happy 96th, De—a cowboy in and out of Starfleet

Especially this week... if it was ever a secret how I felt about DeForest Kelley and his
creations, and indeed his life, it is no longer—thanks most recently to The Red Shirt Diaries.

It used to be lonely being a vocal De fan—not so much for any negatives for him, but purely for any attention at all. Yet now, with every year that goes by I see more and more appreciation for his long-understated role in the original Star Trek success chemistry...as well as his other roles, including those delicious bad guys.

If you have been a Treklander here for any length of time, you likely know I take a moment on Jan. 20 each year to celebrate De's day by sharing a photo from his life and career. And while many know of all De's TV and film Western roles before Star Trek, in that genre's heydey, few know of those he had after Trek's 1969 cancellation.

And thus comes this year's portrait: Taken during a guest appearance on ABC's short-lived series The Cowboys... In 1974—just five years after Trek's demise. It was the last sojourn in spurs of his career—but boy, De's time in outer space did not dull his feel for the wide open spaces. Don't you think?

Thoughts on June 11: Spock again illuminates McCoy

Or, rather, Leonard Nimoy illuminates DeForest Kelley.

It seems here in the Blog Age I've settled into a tradition each year of celebrating De's life career on his Jan. 20 birthday ... and using the anniversary of his passing on June 11, 1999—today—to reflect on what he's meant to me, to fandom, and to the world. Nothing radical there.


But I look back at my Trekland posts on the major markers of his death—the tenth anniversary, and then the fifteenth—and realize that, like all history and anything connected with the non-Prophets' linear existence, the passing years only shed more light, more texture and more nuance on what it is we already know.

So it was this year with Leonard Nimoy's own passing Feb. 27, and how I caught my own thoughts and reaction, upon hearing the news, first shifting to 6/11/99 and De—and then comparing and contrasting the two, and reflecting on first fandom and then our culture's reaction and modes of today... as I wrote about for Star Trek Magazine just a few days later for the rushed first edition after Leonard's passing. Very proud of that piece, as once again sometimes the simplest writing turns into my favorite.

Come to think of it, it's where my thoughts went when we lost Majel in 2008, and even grand old producer A.C. Lyles a year back. With Gene so long gone, De continues to be my adult anchor and reference point to all Trek, it seems. Hmmmmm.

One thing that has not changed, in fact perhaps accelerated by Leonard's passing, is the ongoing stampede of fans and appreciators of De's role of McCoy and his humble, understated performance overall. What I wrote about that explosion last year, sparked by finding my first Trek T-shirts (above), has not only mushroomed, but the awareness of it as well — especially among younger fans who can take their 24/7 remastered streaming fandom and see it all for themselves, much quicker, and go online and spread it further.

When I finally shed a professional veneer during our last interview and confessed to De that he and McCoy were both my favorites, he laughingly cracked a great retort: "Well, where were you in the 60s when I coulda used you up, against Bill and Leonard?" I've told that story more than once, but it occurs to me now: I think he'd love to shoot it back at all his new fans today, as well...and be just as appreciative.

De-Day 2015: I'm an actor, not a doctor! OR a cowboy.

If it's January 20, it must be my annual, personal tribute —as it has since this blog began—to my guy, Jackson DeForest Kelley, who would have been 95 today. Wow.

Don't need to say much more than what I've said in past years... aside from the groundswell of Kelley fandom that seems to be shaping up everywhere (perhaps, not coincidentally, since THIS first happened).

In any case, I'll just drop this year's edition here. You're welcome.

De with Susan Hayward, getting out of the haybarns and hitchin' posts for once, co-starring with her and Bette Davis in 1966's Where Love Has Gone (and thanks, once again, Sue Keenan):

15 years without De—and a G+ Hangout to recall him

De in a shoot for TV Guide: June 1968, post-S2

It's no secret that I am as big a DeForest Kelley fan as I am of his character, the ever-iconic Leonard Horatio McCoy, M.D.,* himself.

De passed away 15 years ago today, on June 11, 1999, at age 79, of stomach cancer—an affliction known only to a few (and certainly not me). Caring for his beloved and ailing wife Carolyn, it was De instead who passed away first—and, likewise, preceded all his Trek colleagues from their TV crew. After Gene's death in 1991, it was Jimmy who followed next in 2005 and then Majel in late 2008.

As for De... well, I can't believe it's already been five years now, but I've been blogging long enough that it was actually the tenth anniversary of his passing when I shared the story of how I learned the news of his death—in a typically Star Trek way: at a convention.

De's subsequent memorial at Paramount, and our DFK tribute issue of Communicator—the favorite of my eight years as managing editor—are bittersweet memories, too. The recent passing of his friend and Paramount icon A.C. Lyles, who prompted De's last public appearance eight months before his death and talked of him in our DFK issue, revived many of those memories and feelings as well. Of course, playing McCoy twice for Star Trek Continues in a serious vein, after years of "party impersonations" in fun, felt like it brought me even closer to what made De tick—if you didn't have a clue from Terry Rioux's long-awaited 2005 biography, From Sawdust to Stardust.

So... it's 15 years since we lost De. If you're as big a fan as I am, you should know that his longtime assistant and author, Kris Smith, is taking part in a typically open online tribute to De that you too can attend this Saturday at 5:30 pm PT/ 8:30 ET on Google+ . I'm going to "attend" as well during the hour, and potentially other Trek notables.

You can even submit questions for the virtual panel at the Q&A app at the Google+ group created for the event by fan Brandon Cowles: the "In Memory and Honor of DeForest Kelley" Facebook page.

As with a trial run last week, the whole thing will also be streamed live on YouTube here and then recorded for download later.

Come over Saturday and bask in some memories and reflected glow of the great and humble De himself... or catch it when you can.

McCoy fans: This is how far we've come

I've talked about how I felt like I'd found the lost De Kelley Fan Club chapter when I walked into the Star Trek Continues wardrobe room last year to play McCoy and found his fans all over the place… and then wondered where they'd been all these years.  De as much joked about the same thing to me once.

And now, still amidst some personal archeology after last year's move, I came across some real artifacts that brought it all home to me again about what it was like to be an early-day McCoy fan:

For lo: my very first Star Trek T-shirt:

It was an iron-on transfer from a still (and thus the fade) bought by mail-order from Gene and Majel's own Lincoln Enterprises (now roddenberry.com)... and I specifically recall having to go that route because it was the only way to get ANY shot of McCoy on a Tshirt from them, in any form or fashion. I was yet to find my second and third mail-order companies.

So, yes: I could only get McCoy in a NAZI UNIFORM … sharing frame with Kirk and Spock... to get him at all.

Oh well, I was a kid, what did I know? Except bafflement.

But hey— if I was laying out my own cash (or begging Mom for it), that short had better be proclaiming McCoy on its chest. There were enough Enterprise, and show logo, and Kirk, and Spock shirts floating around by then. Geez. But that was it.

The NEXT year, I finally found a place that would take a photo and make a custom iron-on from it—woohoo, high-tech!  And so, you can tell by the fading how much I wore...

...my SECOND Star Trek T-shirt:

Still a shared pose, but at least a fun and pretty moment from fave "Journey to Babel." But still, though:  few choices.

You modern-day McCoy fans don't know how good you've got it!

And now, get off my astro-turf.

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.

Happy birthday, De—94 and still so young!

As is our habit over the years here at Trekland, we always mark the birthday of my favorite of them all, DeForest Kelley, and share some of our stack of De non-Trek images.

And this year, a twist: A full-page spotlight from, as you can see, a 1948 Hollywood movie star fan magazine—around the time of Variety Girl and just after his debut in Fear in the Night. (And I bet that life lifelong friend, the late great A.C. Lyles, help cobble the text together for the mag in his guise as a Paramount publicist.) Note that even here, they don't include his first name "Jackson" before his other two when listing his "real name."

As if it was possible to up my feelings any more, you all know the past year has put me into an even closer relationship with De and his legacy by twice playing McCoy for Star Trek Continues, and the study actually gave me an appreciation for the darker sides of both actor and his role that I never considered as a fan. Just know that even though I've stepped back from the role now, I'll never step back from my appreciation of his understated performance legacy, the real-world path that De and McCoy both climbed in Star Trek, and the effect they had in getting me mixed up in this crazy franchise.

So once again, raise a glass of Finagle's Folly to De, or even a mint julep, and enjoy:

Happy birthday De: even belatedly, a special wish

Ever since I launched TREKLAND a few years back, I always make it a point to mark at least one Trekland birthday every year, out of all the many involved: my own personal fave, our own DeForest Kelley—and do it by sharing a photo from the file I collected from friends after his death in 1999.

This year, I am a day late—but I hope not a dollar short. In fact, this year of all years it's been a bittersweet personal moment for me after all the younger years feelings for De and his iconic role among roles... then meeting him as a fan, and then meeting him as a colleague—though for all too short a time.

And now, to know him as an item of research of sorts: playing McCoy, on short notice, in the debut full episode of Star Trek Continues, as I tweeted and Facebook'd a couple days ago on the run.  It's a labor of love that must also be real work, fitted in on a month's notice amid other new cramped deadlines—though I'd like to think I've been doing the research by osmosis all along.

So it's not only a belated birthday wish—but one made on the road, to boot. Even so, I wanted to share a photo—and this one, a Trek topic from the second season, will bear special meaning, as I'll share eventually: ...and my big thanks to trekcore.com for being the online site that had it handy where I could find it on short notice!

Happy birthday, De—I hope somewhere, somehow, you know why I'm late...and accept it as a gift in spirit.

Remembering De... again

It was this day in 1999—already 13 years!—that we lost DeForest Kelley, the first of the original regular cast. 

As my sentimental favorite of all the original crew, as none then or since can be, I prefer for my Trekland to mark De's birthdays and celebrate his whole career—as you longtime Treklanders know well.

Still, back in 2009 on this day I felt compelled to write a piece about De and the day I heard the news, and thoughts since then... so in an already busy week, I figured it was the best way to stop and remember the best of McCoy, the best of De, and relish how lucky we have so much on film—before and behind the camera lens. My comments about his biography are still heartfelt, too:

10 Years Without De

June 11 marks a decade without De.... DeForest Kelley, the first of our regular cast to pass on—and perhaps the hardest for me to deal with. Thank goodness we had Communicator then and, selfishly, were able to mourn via the memorial pages of #124—despite its age, perhaps my favorite issue ever as edtor. 

It was certainly the most personal.  ...

Happy birthday, De!

Yep, it's that time again: One of our traditions here at TREKLAND is remembering Jackson DeForest Kelley every year on his day ... Happy 92, De!

And not just his Star Trek days. As in, here he is as another of his patented Western baddies, playing head henchman Wexler in John Sturges' The Law and Jake Wade, starring Richard Widmark and Robert Taylor in 1958.

Happy birthday, De!

All our Star Trek favorites past and present have birthdays worth noting, of course...but as you veteran residents of Trekland know, I indulge my privilege and always take special care to mark the one of our late, great and much-beloved Dr. McCoy Prime—Jackson DeForest Kelley. He would have been 91 today had he not died on June 11, 1999—the first loss of the original regular cast. Jimmy Doohan followed six years later.

Aside from Trek and all those Westerns, here's a still from De's very first feature, a little film noir mystery from 1947 — that's *47* — called Fear in the Night (from Paramount, natch). De plays the lead: a guy who dreams he killed a man, then wakes up with spent bullets in his pocket .... And guys and gals, he's all of 27 here!

Eleven years ago—more than coincidence?

Having a blast so far at the second edition of Con du Lac in scenic Lake Charles, La...

...and a Twitter poster reminded me, in part, of a not-so-odd coincidence.

ELEVEN years ago this weekend we were at an equally smallish-but-fun convention in High Point, NC....another Southern con, obviously.

What binds these two together today beside the humidity index rating is what struck me just now: June 11, 1999 was the day we got word that DeForest Kelley had died. Back then, we were just about to go into opening ceremonies, so I broke it to the attendees and we had a moment of silence. After I had had my own. I think I'll remind the crowd here today.

Where were you when you heard the first of the Original Crew had passed on?

Happy birthday, De!

Karl Urban was a great find to play the recast "Subprime" Bones, among a brilliant casting job of capturing the essence of all the original crew.

But for a lot of us there's only one face and one name that will always be the Real McCoy. Or Western badasses like "Wexler" from John Sturges' The Law and Jake Wade, in 1958, here with Richard Widmark and Robert Taylor.

Happy birthday, DeForest Kelley. Hardly looks 90, does he?

10 years without De

June 11 marks a decade without De.... DeForest Kelley, the first of our regular cast to pass on—and perhaps the hardest for me to deal with. Thank goodness we had Communicator then and, selfishly, were able to mourn via the memorial pages of #124—despite its age, perhaps my favorite issue ever as edtor. It was certainly the most personal. I still have copies of this issue and take them to cons; it is perhaps the most popular of the back issues I still have—and we all know why.

Karl Urban's portrayal of McCoy in ST 2009 has won just about universal acclaim as a perfect blend of homage and originality... and puts a great, timely focus back on the inspiration. The shot above is De at Denver's 1988 Starcon, enjoying his fans. (And yes, note the famous left-hand pinkie ring!)

If you're ready to read about De's life story from Georgia to The War to old Hollywood—of which Trek was really just a small, late part—take a look at Terry Rioux's excellent bio and Kris Smith's memory books.

I'm always torn between recalling birthdays versus death days for our celebs. But for De--who cares? It's both.

Happy Birthday, De

After all the Western meanies, but before Dr. McCoy, there was the first "good doctor" ...























... LAB CHIEF GREENE, the doctor in Gene Roddenberry's unsold 1966 pilot POLICE STORY (no relation to the '70s version). De's little bit of networking and new Kennedy-style hairdo helped win over the suits and got Gene the OK to finally hire him as "Bones" just two years later.

Inaugurations aside, Jan. 20 means only one thing each year—at least in Trekland: the chance to smile, cuss an affectionate "Dammit, Jim," and say hello in our hearts once more to Jackson DeForest Kelley. Each birthday from now on, look forward to Trekland trotting out a new and hopefully rare shot of De in some role or pose. Having passed away a decade ago, De would have been 89 this year... but for many of us he'll always be around. (Insert your own uplifting, hopeful postmortem quotes from ST II here if you like.)

Majel's memorial: We are all still fans

I thought I was above and beyond it all by now.

When Majel Roddenberry passed Dec. 18 I joined the round of tributes and reflections back then, but thanks to the holidays her public memorial was pushed back til Jan. 4. I thought time and distance meant for me that the day would merely be about observations, like seeing so much of the Trekland family reunited—and musing how much like a true family it is, when the years pass and it sadly takes a funeral to get all the farflung cousins and nieces and nephews back together that you used to take for granted as a kid.

You know: true and telling, but safe observatorial comments.

Until, that is, you get blindsided. It should be the most expected moment of the day—but then your gut betrays you in the blink of an eye. In my case, it was a dewey eye, thanks one single entry in Majel's memorial clip reel—produced by longtime trek editor Bob Lederman: a typical Chapel/McCoy face-off, close-up to close-up, together again in Sickbay (above).

And from out of nowhere, I choked. My eyes leaked. And all I could think was, "Well ... Sickbay is going to be a lot quieter tonight." Ten years later and I still miss De...and now Majel. I'd been "got" by a double whammy. (I mean, you all know how I am about my De and my McCoy.)

Where did that come from? I tried to tamp it down—and then, just as suddenly, I celebrated it. As jaded and weary as "professional" Star Trek folks can be—that tear was a precious thing. There's still room for innocence, there's still a place to be a kid again and not even realize how much these people and this world have you bound up. And with all the hoohaw about ages and demographics, that will be the ultimate bar for J.J.'s movie and anything flowing from it.

Once again, thanks De... and thanks Majel. A shoutout to Gene, and Jimmy, and Bob J. to boot.

We are all still fans. Still.

(BTW—It didn't hurt that the reel's very next clip was De and Majel's infamous boob-grabbing crashabout in the medlab, from the second-season bloopers. What a great way to get the smiles back.)