RIP Ron Thornton, CGI pioneer and fan media's hero too

I didn't know Ron Thornton that well, although he was certainly kind and generous and supportive of me in my writing and projects. I may not even have any pics with him, back from the time of no cameras-on-pagers known as The Nineties.

Following his passing Monday afternoon after a long illness, you can read much more by his Trekside colleagues Mike Okuda and Daren Dochterman here at the excellent remembrance startrek.com ran today... where I pilfered the above photo. There are many more reflections on Ron scattered around Facebook by both peers and proteges.

But with his far-too-soon passing on Monday, it brings to mind how much our world has changed, how much storytelling capability on television has changed.. and so much of it due to Ron. For all you kids raised on cheap n' easy CGI* you do on your own laptop... Ron was literally the one who brought the magic of new digital effects to weekly TV.

Ron was a hands-on visual effects guy, and has plenty of credits to prove it. But by the time he'd co-started Foundation Imaging and it bled over into Trek work where we needed to interact,  I saw him as head of his companies, mostly. But in that regard Ron was not only always glad to see and help me, but he made it possible for the CGI Trek journalism revolution as well. Beginning with the original UK Fact Files—and then our official Communicator mag and then the US Trek mag that Fact Files content became in the US—those digital ship shots were no longer a high-dollar wish-list item: Ron made it possible to supply us with the angles and 3/4 views of elusive CGI ships that Trek techheads were so hungry for, after mourning the phase-out of those beautiful, actual miniature ship models.

True, in the early years we used to talk about how all the Foundation effects on Babylon 5 were "so CG-ey"—that is, overly aliased, and obviously below the quality of shooting actual models. But the  evolution was speedy, for the important thing was that his breakthrough render farm concept allowed common PCs of that time to handle the high-data demands of CGI processing quickly as a networked unit. So speedy, in fact, that even the supervisors on state-of-the-art Star Trek, one by one--even, by DS9's last season, skeptic Gary Hutzel too—became convinced that CGI would be not just doable but respectable on TV limits... both in money AND time. Even for Star Trek.

It's ironic to me how today there's as much CGI digital work on TV now that has nothing to do with space battles—invasive viruses and infections illustrated with graphic motion on every procedural show, massive Earthly landscapes on global adventure shows, Earth-bound superheroics on all the superhero fad series... and it all kicked off with Ron finding a way to make it work on the small screen in the early 90s.

Excuse me. I know I must have a great shot with Ron here somewhere. I'm long overdue to dig it out.


*Just in case you need it: CGI is actually the acronym for "computer-generated imagery."

RIP, Grace Lee: For many, you were our first

Our last two losses were hard, if not unexpected—but I didn't see this one coming.

Grace Lee "Yeoman Rand" Whitney, whose passing at home May 1 hit the web hard two days later on Sunday afternoon, was boppin' around the Vegas Khaaan landscape like always last August when I chatted with her for the umpteenth million time—perhaps most of all over the years while on set for Commander Janice Rand's final onscreen canon moment in Voyager's "Flashback" anniversary episode with George Takei.

But this week, my mind goes back to this moment, 17 years before that ...

...when we really first met, at a small convention in Dallas the summer The Motion Picture debuted (when everyone was disappointed that the TMP "trailer" so highly hyped was a non-event of ship stills "animation." Little did we know...). Yeah, she was a judge for the costume contest, and that's me afterward as my Tellarite in dress uniform, Dr. Ffalst—and this would be your typical selfie moment.

But our bonding moment that day was really more about this mood...

...when she was consoling me on losing out to not one but two sets of Rocky Horror babe-pair entrants, thanks to the otherwise all-male judging panel—and confiding that she had voted for me as obviously the best for anyone not acting on hormones alone. After sweating in the Texas humidity with that nose-putty pignose almost sliding off, delayed due to overflow to see the triler, her words were a comfort—but it was still the last time I ever went all-out and fully made up for a con masquerade. I had shared this pic before, but I had not shared the sentiment.

But hearing of Gracie's sudden loss on Sunday, checking it out with the Fresno Bee paper, and, again, soaking up the heartfelt words and memories so many fans online have poured out over social media everywhere… well, it struck me what so many of us first-generation fandom share: There's a good chance Gracie was our first.

Think about it: Before the Internet, of course, and even before the plethora of large well-run conventions... most of us in small towns and cities only read about our Trekfolks coming to cons in L.A. or New York, or Chicago. Our little "local" cons weren't about to afford Shatner or Nimoy—but, given pecking order and star billing, there was a good chance that a lot of small-time and start-up cons had Grace Lee as their first guest. And thus, she became the first "regular" that many, many fans ever met in person, chatted with, maybe grabbed a photo (from an actual camera), but at least came away clutching an autograph.

I've come to realize the past couple of days that, more than any other of her castmates, I have more Gracie stories stored up from both sides of the fan/pro demarcation than I'd realized. That also means, as sweet natured as she was, those same small and start-up cons could also be a trap: I know at least one instance when we bought her dinner, without her knowledge, when the host promoter smilingly sat at the table of the "guest dinner" but bailed on our bill.

But those are the exceptions to the rule. Gracie, much like Majel at her Lincoln Enterprises-turned-roddenberry.com table, was the epitomy of accessibility for her fans. Yes, star billing order drove that, but for small-town fans hungry for some "real life" contact with their favorite show in those pre-Internet, pre-saturation, and pre-'87 sequels days where it all began... well, Grace Lee was their first.

And from what I saw at Vegas 2014... she still was, for many.

All photos: Kevin Hopkins

Total disclosure, but more sharing: Gracie was actually my second, truth be told, after meeting George the year before—but I also remember, at that same Dallas convention, when we chased away those obnoxious singers on the millionth round of "Star Trekkin'" so she and her agent could chat with fans at her table in peace, as recorded in this Instamatic special (at right)!




Swift journeys, sweet, strong lady.

RIP my friend and legal guide, John Couch

I have to take a minute and say this here, even though he was hardly a Treklander—before or behind the cameras,  merchandise or fandom...

But it's been  tough to deal with the passing of John Couch, one of our first touchstones in L.A. over these 20 years, via former TNG/DS9/VGR script coordinator turned actor's rep Lolita Fatjo; other Trek names in his circle are Eric Stillwell and DS9 guest actor (among many) Jim Metsker. He came here to pursue acting, as so many, do--wound up at Ralph Edwards Productions, and after taking a law degree in the 1990s he became their VP for business and legal affairs, and taught many law students and bar preppers.

But I remember John as a not just a wonderful, kind, quick-witted friend on the quiet side … from not just parties and get-togethers, but to our lunches near his Ralph Edwards office, across from the Chinese Theater in Hollywood, and sponsoring me into Pacific Pioneer Broadcasters after Charlie Washburn's passing, where he was a board member and longtime Ralph Edwards rep… to a patient legal ear through all the various family bumps or project repping…and finally, a reassuring force helping launch my documentary, The Con of Wrath—now, not to be there as it comes home.

Even though I must try to find a new "legal consultant," there's no way to replace a patient friend and advisor like that. Especially one who will answer a panicked call at 8 am on a Saturday in L.A. when the very first day of the shoot in Houston has a legal bombshell tossed at it!

Oh, and did I say John was one of about three in all of L.A. to give me a yell when my OU Sooners had a big win--or a big loss. He was really a basefall fan... his beloved SF Giants... but he knew what we all give up a bit to come here. "Congrats on your Sooners," he'd email or tell me.

Cancer sucks. Ten-month cancer is the worst.

But here's to all the good times, good memories, good freindship, John. Missing you much...but your legacy lives on in all those you touched.

Family wishes for Leonard memorial gift donations

Not mine, but forwarded to me—Marietta, near Atlanta, GA

Since Friday, life for me has been an overwhelming mix of feeling and fielding. 

I have tried to share my reflections on Leonard Nimoy in media everywhere —Twitter, Facebook, podcasts like a special The Ready Room, television like Sky News in UK/Europe, radio (Boston's WXTK) — everywhere, except right here on my own blog. 

But it's coming.

Meanwhile, in a telling way, you know where my head was from my very first tweet:

And many more followed.


For now, let me share the family's wishes for those wanting to make donations or memorial gifts in Leonard's name:

Everychild Foundation
PO Box 1808
Pacific Palisades, CA 90272

COPD Foundation
20F Street NW, Suite 200-A
Washington, DC 20001 

Beit T'Shuvah Treatment Center
8831 Venice Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90034 

Bay-Nimoy Early Childhood Center at Temple Israel of Hollywood
7300 Hollywood Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90046

RIP, Leonard Nimoy: So many talents—but Spock's #1

FInal Vegas Khhaaan Trek convention appearance, August 2011

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.

RIP Cliff Bole: Modern Trek's prolific, hard-working director—and blue-guys namesake

I've been meaning to share a few thoughts these past busy weeks about prolific director Cliff Bole, 76, who passed away Feb. 15 and may well go down in history amid a long career best known as the most prolific TNG director of all (25 hours)—with 42 hours of Trek in toto, with 7 more on DS9 and 10 on Voyager. Cliff died at his home in Palm Desert, Calif., after a long battle with cancer. 

As a sign of his impact, no other Trek director is also the namesake for a species (the Bolians, debuted in the episode "Conspiracy" he directed) or a landmark (the Cliffs of Bole, from DS9's "Invasive Procedure" that he did not direct).

Atop that long list of Trek credits, of course, will always and forever be "The Best of Both Worlds"—both parts. When I first met Cliff during my second trip to L.A. in 1993 (above), settling in to do research over two weeks as a "tourist" and not under the gun of a cruelly close deadline, Cliff eagerly returned my call for an interview—Trek had not been done to death by then, and no Internet yet!—and he invited me out to his house in the Valley. As I recall now, that was actually my first "trip" there, outside the Glendale/Hollywood "axis" my two annual book research trips had revolved around so far.

Car-crazy Cliff and the '41 Mercury
he showed off to me in 1993

That's where we snapped the shots I share here, including his then-current car project ... and all in Cliff's no-nonsense, plain-spoken, gruff-around-the-edges language that didn't hold back on the honesty or the fun memories at all. He was upfront about his resume, called a dog a dog as well as a hit a hit, and took the blame or credit as much as anyone in TV directing can do. He threw a lot of insights at me that I was only then beginning to appreciate, and going back through that first, long interview I'm reminded of how much Treklanders like him taught me about not only the well-oiled Trek machine, but Hollywood in general.

Along with the "BOBW"s, too, he also admits to the "Aquiel"s of the bunch, as well. For TV directors, it's always a mixed bag and a bit of the "luck of the draw" when scripts are being cranked out in a long season. Here's some of what he told me about that upon our first meeting back in March 1993:
“There were a couple I thought might be my last! The crew works so damn hard and you try, but you just can‘t come to bat every time and hit a home run. You try to at least get on base, first."

"It was one helluva ride!"

He began all the way back with only the series’ seventh show, "Lonely Among Us": "I managed to survive the first year—which in itself I’m proud of! The most dangerous thing about episodic directors: if you stay around too long you‘re going to fall through some of the cracks. I don’t care how good the writers are, there’s going to be one episode that doesn‘t have it all. But you’re going to fall through the cracks and the chances are that they’re going to say, ‘Well, get rid of this bum!’ It’s going to happen and it‘s happened to me on a lot of series, and it’s dangerous. The best thing to do is hit a couple of episodes and get out.”

But not so with TNG, and he praised onetime Warner Brothers contact Rick Berman for the stability he brought to the production—even the "regular irregulars" like himself were made part of the family. Flight enthusiast Michael Dorn convinced him to get his own license again after a 20-year lapse in the air; special effects man Wil Thoms once towed Bole’s restored 1940 pickup truck to a friend who bought it in Seattle, using a trailer loaned by one of the set grips.

“We had so much fun. We had some uptightness, but God, this was a family; we had marriages, divorces—I got divorced in the middle of it; people had kids and family. More than anything I’ve ever experienced, there’s major family stuff going on here.”
Cliff had thoughts on all his TNG shows for me, but of course everyone wants to hear about BOBW—as he told me, in 1994:  “Mike Westmore (makeup designer) called me up one night and he said, ‘I‘ve got this idea for a laser’ and I said ‘Jesus Christ, that sounds great! Do it! Do it! Do it!’ He said, ‘where do you want to put it?’ And I said, ‘Right here, man, on the side of the head—and every time he looks in the camera it’s there.’ I went to grammar school with Mike; we started out in kindergarten together! 

And then this, about the pre-sir Patrick Stewart: “I remember once I said ‘OK, we’re finished for the night—I don’t think I need this close-up of Patrick’...And he looked down at me—we’re all dead tired—and gave me one of those great English eye looks, from up on his pedestal in the lab. And then I said,  ‘Well, I guess I’ll shoot a close-up of Patrick here!’ ” 
 
According to his full obituary biography as submitted by family—where you can leave your own thoughts on his work, online—Clifford John Bole was born in San Francisco on Nov. 9, 1937, but grew up in the San Fernando Valley of north L.A., turning his interest in the biz into a life as a "set rat," sneaking in with friends to watch productions in progress on location or the nearby studios.

Bole (left) consults on-set on DS9
with script supervisor Judi Brown
and Rene Auberjonois

"I've been here since I was 4; my dad in vaudeville, ran theaters in San Francisco, and he always said 'Don't get into this end of the business!' In the old Valley, we had studio backlots bigger than Burbank—Universal, Warners, Republic...9, 10, 15 streets. They used to shoot on Saturdays, and at 6 o'clock Saturdays we were on our bikes, crossing the LA River on a raft to watch 'em." Breaking in as a script clerk and starting out as the on-set script supervisor for McHale's Navy, Cliff has credits as a director on Baywatch, Charlie's Angels, Fantasy Island, MacGyver, M.A.N.T.I.S., Matt Houston, Mission: Impossible, Scarecrow and Mrs. King, Spencer for Hire, Strike Force, The Six Million Dollar Man, The X Files, T.J. Hooker, and Vega$. 

In 2005, Cliff was recognized with a Golden Palm Star on the Palm Springs Walk of Stars, and turned to his car crush to complete Cars Under the Stars, a documentary showcasing the popular El Paseo Cruise Night event there. He was also an avid pilot, boater, golfer and dirt bike rider, where he shared close ties with the stunt community and counted Ronnie Rondell, Roy "Snuffy" Harrison and the late Hal Needham as close friends. He was also an Army vet and was stationed in Korea; survivors are his wife, son, daughter, and two grandchildren.

The family suggests that friends wishing to honor his memory contribute to a cancer research organization of their choice, or visit his star in Palm Springs. A celebration of life will be held later in the year; I hope to be able to go, and share some of the mentions from the day with Trekland.
 
Official startrek.com had a memorial post with reflections on Cliff and his work by many of his Trek colleagues.

Recalling a real Treklander: prop master Joe Longo, 74

This past Wednesday, I joined a few Trek folks (and many family and friends) to bid goodbye to a Treklander who ended up his long Hollywood career in Starfleet: prop master Joe Longo, who died Jan. 5 at age 73. As a sweet memento, the family had even reproduced Joe's trading card (from the 1993 Skybox "TNG behind the scenes" set) for all attendees at the mausoleum service. I took it, but I actually already had one—from the original set. Maybe you have one, too.

Now, this is not a case of a long shared personal history: When I met him, Joe had just moved from alternating episodes on TNG for five years to go over full-time on the new DS9. We had a good sit-down to cover those years in 1993, when I came out to work on the first TNG Companion edition, and I snapped this photo (at right) up in his office in the "Dreier Building" row of offices over Stages 8-9.  (How many first-season DS9 props can you identify on his walls?) Our chat is one of the famous 400+ hours on those cassette tapes I have.

But he was indeed on DS9 by the time I got to L.A. full-time, and I wouldn't really get to come back around to deal with his newer show until the Fact Files partwork and Communicator magazine took off a few years later. Long story short, as gruff as he always looked, Joe was a no-nonsense guy but was great to share his TNG memories with me, as fellow prop master Alan Sims had … and Joe helped out whenever I needed it after that. And I always loved to hear another Golden Age of Hollywood story about a movie, series, or an actor, when he had a sec. But, unfortunately, that was not too common. 

So check out some memories from co-workers like John Eaves, Mike Okuda, Doug Drexler and Rick Sternbach in this memorial post from Jan. 29 at star trek.com; those of you with the Okudas' Encyclopedia, note how Doug clevely worked Joe in as some of the uniform illustration "models" (with his bushy 'stach.).  For my part, let me simply share the photo above, and the memorial program below—with his career and some fun parting insights about a name you'll now now a little bit about, every time you see it forever on 12 total seasons of classic Star Trek TV, plus two films—ST II and III.

Over the last few years there have been times when I had to be away and miss a final memorial to one of our Trek family, and I always regret it. It reminds me I do have a few more to catch up on after Joe.

As for Joe, check out an another extra: look for that card below, too.

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.  

Birthdays en masse, and RIP William Windom: "He's gone"

It's been such a busy week post-Vegas that I haven't had time to mark the latest birthdays, for Jonathan Frakes and of course Gene Roddenberry ... And now comes this sad news: the death Saturday at age 88 of our own tragic Matt Decker, William Windom.

Gene and Jonathan, each in their own way, were remembered by fans all over on their day Sunday. But I have to stop and say this:

I envy Doug Drexler, Jack Marshall, James Cawley and the Phase II "fan film" crew who worked with Windom, incredibly, ca. 2004 on their episode "In Harm's Way." Doug and Dorothy relate on Facebook here how the retired actor drove eight hours down to L.A. from NorCal to reprise Decker in an older visage for that story. It was a great tale behind a sweet moment in all the fan-generated episodes we have today.

Now, I have no similar story; I saw him at cons and signing shows and really only had one real conversation—in fact, I'm pretty sure it was just about the last time I ever really bought an autograph. Reflecting on it here, I think it's a sign of how even now there are some lingering occasions where you just can't shake "fanboy mode," even after all these years working in Trekland.

Because I mainly saw William Windom where it really mattered: right there, unshaven and unsteady, wearing his gold shirt with the Constellation insignia. For you see, Windom's Matt Decker was the TOS guest star that easily made the greatest dramatic wallop on me back when the term "Star Trek" referred only to those 79 one-hour TV episodes you watched after school. So many great ones, but it was the gripping background of a wrecked sister ship, the Big Four all with screen time doing their jobs under stress, the biggest amount of custom FX shots in TOS, and that great Sol Kaplan score I swear John Williams ripped off for Jaws—in fact, I'm playing the suite as I write this. It all made "DMa" easily the most impactful for me, Windom's broken Decker being the icing on the cake.  

That's the show I recite the most lines from, the most entire scenes from. So much so that, even in recent years, Windom gave me a look that day at Bill Campbell's old Fantasticon charity cons of the late 90s when I asked him to sign his only Decker photo option a certain way.

Now, I admit I do recall, barely, seeing he and Inger Stevens in the sitcom The Farmer's Daughter (they had that cool stair-chair that went up and down the treads, along a wall track). And I recall enjoying the Thurber-based cult classic My World and Welcome To It that nabbed him an Emmy even though it was cancelled, even before I understood what that all meant and why that was karmic payback for the injustice of it being axed (as so many cool shows would come to be mourned when cut down too soon). Not so much with Windom as the doctor on Murder, She Wrote, personally not being a regular viewer—but it didn't matter: By the 1980s, Windom was simply one of those great fixture faces of TV you could always count on.

Yep ... he's a big reason—though hardly the only one—why "The Doomsday Machine" remains one of my two favorite Treks of TOS, and why I can still recite two entire scenes of his. One, Decker's usurping of the Enterprise conn from Spock, which inspires one of De Kelley's best scenes ever (and clearly the Best McCoy Go-To-Hell Look in the whole franchise). I had to be a little older before I realized Windom's one-handed fidgeting with the two microtapes as Decker under siege was an homage to the metal balls Bogie's Captain Queeg handled all through his hearing and breakdown in The Caine Mutiny.

And then, That Other Scene: perhaps the most difficult any early Trek guest was ever called upon to play: traumatic shock. Recite Decker along with me, won't you?: "Don't you know that? There was... but not any more!"

Either Windom had forgotten, or he got asked to sign that zillions of times....like the day *I* asked him. I suspect it was the latter ... but one way or the other, it was why I got The Look. And I wouldn't trade it—the autograph, or the memory—for all the quatloos in China.

(What? None of this conjures up the ghost, right out of hell? Then take a look at this legal demo clip; you need to see it—at least from 0:44 onward:)




So long, Mr. Windom. We really were stronger with you than without you.

Your thoughts? Please share with the crew, below— in comments:

For folks in SoCal, a memorial service for Windom will be at 2 p.m. Saturday, Sept. 15 at Theatre West, 3333 Cahuenga Blvd. West, Los Angeles.

RIP Sally Ride—but do you know her big Star Trek Moment?

It was January 10, 1995, and Star Trek: Voyager was just days away from becoming not only Star Trek's first true network series since the orignal... but also the first in the franchise to feature another groundbreaking casting choice: a female captain, Kathryn Janeway.

For the highly anticipated cast and crew premiere screening at Paramount, the UPN honchos and Voyager co-creators Rick Berman, Michael Piller and Jeri Taylor (in background) joined new lead Kate Mulgrew—whose Janeway role had been the brainchild of Taylor—and made sure to make a little history that night as well.

Who else to honor on such an auspicious night for the world's biggest space adventure and its first female regular captain .... than America's first female astronaut and high-flying gender pioneer, Dr. Sally K. Ride?

(I was there that night in the front press row, a recent arrival in LA myself, and I'm danged if I can locate my good original photos this second. Instead, here's the studio photog's image we ran in Communicator/Issue 101—so apologies for the print-screen.)

Ride passed away today of pancreatic cancer at 61, having made her mark at age 31 in 1983 as American's first woman in space, and then-youngest ever, at age 32. She left NASA in 1987 after nine years and one more mission, with a third mission postponed by the Challenger disaster and her sitting on the accident's review commission. She resigned to work at Stanford's Center for International Security and Arms Control, as her spot in history will always be assured.

But back on the Paramount Pictures main theater stage in 1995, after honoring Ride for such contributions to space exploration, Mulgrew presented her with a plaque and combadge from the show's sets so Ride "could beam up whenever she felt the need to." In line with the historic mutual love affair overall between Star Trek and NASA—America's fictional and real-life space heroes—Ride's remarks that night revealed she was suitably touched and honored to be a part of another landmark for women in culture.

Ride even had a second and earlier link to the franchise, of course, in that she was in the group of new astronauts chosen from among women and minorities recruited by the NASA program Nichelle "Uhura" Nichols headed in the 1970s-80s.

An Andy Griffith-Star Trek link? Not once, but twice!

Happy Independence Day, y'all...

And while all of America joins in to mourn and remember the great Andy Griffith, who died Tuesday at the age of 86, it took a Facebook poke from Dan Madsen to remind me of a site that actually has a great Andy-Star Trek connection: a study of the commonly seen Mayberry small town exteriors at the Desilu "Forty Acres" lot in Culver City that Desilu-produced Star Trek redressed and shot wider, in "Miri," "The Return of the Archons," "Errand of Mercy," and "The City on the Edge of Forever": with an even greater link here.  "Forty Acres" (actually 29) was also the home of the Hogan Heroes' "Stalag 13" POW camp set, with "Mayberry" serving earlier for both the Superman TV series and even as Atlanta in Gone With the Wind. The large outdoor set complex was sold, bulldozed and developed more industrially in 1976.

But Mayberry-Trek lives on in film: Not Andy per se, but the iconic "Goodnight, Sweetheart" Kirk-Edith scene in "City" actually includes a stroll past the iconic "Floyd's Barber Shop" (above), whose sign is left uncovered across the whole frame as the two tragic lovers walk by, on what is of course ostensibly a 1930 New York City street.

If you want to go one more Andy-Trek connection, don't forget the yes-they-really-aired-this-concept Salvage 1 (left), which starred Andy and was executive produced by none other than ... Harve Bennett! For all its glorious 19 episodes in 1979, over a half and a quarter season—this was Harve's TV follow-up to The SIx Million Dollar Man and his last series prior to Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

What's more, guess who got her first writing credits ever on that Andy-starring series in its dying weeks? None other than future TNG executive producer and Voyager co-creator Jeri Taylor!

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.  ...

Just a quick note about George Murdock: RIP at 81

No, I did not know or even have the pleasure to meet actor George Murdock, who died last Monday at age 81. But I felt compelled to point out one fact:

The mainstream obits for Mr. Murdock are very complete, but they all love to lead with how he played "God" in Star Trek V ... and even zapped Kirk after the immortal line, "What does God need with a starship?"

That's nice, but ...The "God" role was a glorified, overexposed effects cameo with facial details barely perceptible.  To me, the more memorable of Murdock's two Trek roles is as the heroic  Admiral Hansen, doomed commander of the Starfleet armada wiped out in the infamous "battle" of Wolf 359 (above).

I can just see you saying Ah yes!  as your own light bulb goes off. In fact, I KNOW it did.

The little TV kid in me, too, loves Murdock for his dozen or so guest bits as the creepy Lt. Scanlon of Internal Affairs, an occasional thorn in the side of Barney Miller in the beloved but rarely seen ABC police sitcom. (Totally off-topic, but kudos to Shout! Factory for finally getting the whole 8-year series out on DVD.)

But there's one other role the gruff-talking native of Salina, Kans., could claim from the glory days of TV: he played Dr. Salik, the main doctor of TV"s original 1978 Battlestar Galactica... schlepping around his medical bay with bio-pod beds in that tan uniform.


So, farewell to another great character actor: George Murdock did it all.

RIP "Charlie Star Trek": My buddy Charles Washburn, 73

My friend Charles Washburn is gone.

If that name is not a familiar one, please bear with me and get to know it, at least now.  If the only fact that I relayed here today was that Charlie was the first-ever African-American to be a 2nd assistant director in Hollywood, in 1967 ... after having been the first black admitted and then graduated from the Director’s Guild of America trainee program the year before ... well, that would be enough.

Adding in the fact that both feats happened via the original Desilu Star Trek makes me doubly proud and honored to have known this Treklander, and hopefully helped to share his story and his person.

“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.”

Now THAT puts this “true Hollywood story” in perspective.

Charlie was laid to rest Tuesday in his native Memphis, Tenn., having finally lost his battle with kidney disease at age 73 on April 13, survived by a daughter and son. The word was not made public til a few days ago, and I feel torn that I was  in Houston on another shooting trip for The Con of Wrath—thus delaying my putting together these thoughts.  What I truly regret, though, is that I had meant to get back and visit him for a antyoher chat and clean-up session in recent months at the Screen Actor’s Home in the west Valley…  and just never got it done.

But then, I treasure the many hours we did share these past five years since 2007, when we first made acquaintance due to his stint as an early 1st AD for TNG and the 20^th anniversary pieces I did for the old startrek.com team.  For, more than any one-line "claim to fame" for the history books, Charlie was simply a gentleman—and a beaming human example of cheery, positive living.  He was raised with a certain amount of what we would call middle-class pride for his “people,” and yet growing up in the South of the ‘50s and ‘60s he could certainly use all of the optimism and cheer he could muster. Even more so for an energetic, college-trained young man with talent and the desire to make it, and going so far from home to do so.

Charlie had dozens of credits as he rose in the ranks—like Bill Cosby Show, Vega$, Batman, Six Million Dollar Man. And like everyone else in LaLa Land in all walks of life, he had numerous scripts and stories of his own tucked away, to pitch and plug at any moment—busy doing so even in his last few months (see his Actor's Home desk, below).  He also loved Westerns and their stars, especially the weekly Saturday morning serials he watched in color-blind mode as a young boy growing up, and was quite the expert. All of that leaves it no surprise that Charlie was also an exasperating and stubborn pack rat, as I soon realized when I helped him move his stored items ... often ...  as he compacted his life “stuff” and moved to an apartment at the Home, kidney dialysis slowing his pace just a bit the last couple years.  On the good side, though, that stash allowed him to selflessly share the original call sheets from his Season 2 shows as DGA Trainee, and then his alternating Season 3 eps as a full-fledged 2^nd AD….

I have my own interviews with Charlie archived, but thankfully he himself had done the same with Star Trek buddies like director Joe Pevney and others, before they passed.  It was all for had completed a chapter or two or three of his book-to-be, entitled “Charlie Star Trek”— his nickname from back in the day, from the way everyone at Desilu heard his greeting as he answered the onstage phone.  There’s a lot of history preserved there—and lots from succeeding shows as well that hopefully will come to light.

But of all that Charlie shared with me, I’m grateful for the entrée he gave into his beloved Pacific Pioneer Broadcasters, as much as all the Trekland info and insights…and most of all that sunny, warm-hearted cheer that greeted each and every soul he met, or idea he considered. In later years he even organized screenings and shows for residents at the Screen Actors Home himself, until he no longer do so, and I’m proud to have helped him meet-and-greet local L. A. fans who were unaware of him as a local treasure.  I wish we could have gotten him out much more, and to some of the larger conventions like Vegas—for, like producer Bob Justman in his final years, he truly was a long-lived eyewitness to the TOS crew that latter-day fans deserved to be aware of while they had him. You can see he and his words preserved, at least, in special features amid the latest remastered editions of the original series Blu-Ray sets.

What might stick in my mind most of all, perhaps, is the joy on Charlie’s face the night I got him over for that nationwide 40^th Anniversary remastered screening of “The Menagerie,” and fans in Burbank swarmed him in the lobby after he’d been introduced as the icon he was.

For my part, I’ll help get his words, deeds and legacy out to any Trekfans and filmbuffs I can, in any media that works. That’s the least we can do for ourselves… and Charlie Star Trek.

(And yes, the role of damage control team member Lt. Washburn in "The Doomsday Machine" was indeed named for him.)