The Trouble With Tribbles Part 32

The similarity between tribbles and .at cats was unmistakable.

Coincidence? Or what?

Dare I breathe the word-plagiarism?-the worst possible sin a writer can commit, the theft of another man's work!

Believe me-I spent some uncomfortable moments with my head that morning. Because I'd read The Rolling Stones .fteen years before-and forgotten it completely. Or had I?

If I were a plagiarist, I'd picked the wrong work to steal from-too many other people would recognize it.

Where did my tribbles come from-? Where did the idea begin? Had I been original, or had I been inadvertently imitating something that had been implanted in my memory so deeply I was not aware that it was there?

Look-I thought I was telling the "rabbits in Australia" story. When rabbits were .rst introduced to Australia, they multiplied at an incredible rate because there were no predators or natural enemies to keep them in control. It was an ecology story-and a s.p.a.ceship is the perfect setting for it because a s.p.a.ceship must be a balanced ecology.

When it came to designing the creatures though, I had to be simple-they had to be easy to build; they had to be cheap, and they had to be believable. We wouldn't want to use rabbits for the story-we wanted something...well, gimmicky. We needed a science .ction animal.

If we used living Earth creatures, we would have three big problems-any one of which would be enough to keep the show from being .lmed-.rst, what do you use and how do you make them look alien? Green mice? Gerbils? Hamsters? Where do you get .ve hundred of them on short notice? Who's going to do the make-up on them? Second problem: Who takes care of them for six days of .lming? How do you keep them in control so they don't run loose all over the studio? How do you keep them from being the pests that you are portraying them as? Third: how do you keep the Humane Society off your neck the eighth time you have to drop all .ve hundred of them on William Shatner? And how do you convince William Shatner to stand still for it? And how do you show them dead without actually killing them? Drug them? Five hundred of them? Sure...

It was obvious that tribbles couldn't be played by living creatures, and I had never considered it seriously in my initial premise. I knew we were going to have to build something, and the building of it should be simple, cheap and fast. So, I had to think-what would be easy?

Holly (you remember her, don't you? I gave her a planet) Sherman had a key ring attached to a ball of pink fuzz. The more I looked at it, the more obvious it became. Pink and green and blue were colors too garish to use-and perhaps a little too effete-but the ease with which a .uff ball could be manufactured made it a natural candidate. A .uff ball is a perfect pet: it exists only for your affection. You take care of it-and it purrs at you; what more do you want from a pet? A pet is a subst.i.tute infant-but multiply it by one million and it's a parasite. Sure, .uff b.a.l.l.s would be fun-and you could drop them on Shatner without hurting either them or him.

So, .uff b.a.l.l.s it was.

From .uff b.a.l.l.s to fuzzies to tribbles...as the script was written, the creatures remained basically the same, but the plot around them evolved, developed and tightened into its .nal form.

I admit-yes, the gimmick of my story was the same as the gimmick of Heinlein's, but the plot-and the plot is the important part of the story-was totally different. There were unavoidable echoes of Heinlein in one or two scenes-echoes that were not there in the initial premise, but that developed as the story was bludgeoned into shape. For instance: the scene where Cyrano barters with the Trader over the .rst tribble.

Many of STAR TREK'S fans are also Heinlein fans. And one of the most frequent questions that crops up among them is: "Were you in.uenced by Heinlein's Flat Cats when you wrote the Tribbles? Is that where you got the idea?"

In all honesty, I must admit that if I was, it was a subconscious in.uence. Had I realized what I was doing, I either would not have done the story or would have worked to minimize the similarities.

The .rst ones to catch the resemblance were Kellam-DeForest Research. They noted almost offhandedly in their regular research report on the script that several chapters in Heinlein's book revolved around the same premise. They suggested that Heinlein could conceivably make a good case that the future value of his book as a .lm property would be damaged by STAR TREK's use of the gag, and it might be a good idea to purchase the rights from him. (Kellam-DeForest also noticed the similarity between our barroom brawl and the pie .ght in The Great Race. Just as Tony Curtis walked through that one untouched, so did Cyrano Jones walk through ours.) The problem was solved with a phone call. Either Gene c.o.o.n or Gene Roddenberry, I'm not sure which, called Robert A. Heinlein and told him about the script. "We have a young kid here who's just done his .rst script. It's a very good one and we want to use it, but it's a lot like part of The Rolling Stones and we want to clear up any ha.s.sles before they start..."

Heinlein was very gracious about the whole thing. (I suppose he could have asked for money or credit. He didn't.) He simply said that he didn't see that there was any kind of a problem at all. But he would appreciate a copy of the script.

And that was why Ande startled me that morning.

Later, after the episode was aired, he sent a note to me, thanking me for the script and commenting that he thought it would probably .lm well-he didn't have TV reception in his area. He also said, and this I quote: "Let me add that I felt that the a.n.a.logy to my .at cats was mild enough to be of no importance-and we both owe something to Ellis Parker Butler...and possibly to Noah."*

Other people, mostly hardcore fans, have commented more strongly on the resemblance-they have read more meanings into it than are really there. One fan even demanded to know why Heinlein didn't receive screen credit.

Look, ideas are common. What counts is what different writers do with them. "The Trouble With Tribbles" is NOT The Rolling Stones.

If the legal department of Desilu (now Paramount) Studios, a department that specializes in avoiding plagiarism suits, says that it's okay to .lm the episode, they'd better know what they're talking about. Every script is checked before it goes on the air. When a studio is investing that much money into a piece of .lm, they can't afford to leave anything to chance. Had there been even the slightest question of similarity or infringement, Heinlein would have been paid for his rights or the story would not have been .lmed.

As far as the studio was concerned, what I had written was signi.cantly different from Heinlein's book.

-But as far as I'm concerned, the coincidence was just a little too close for me. I am very proud of my script, "The Trouble With Tribbles," but I would like it to be totally my own-and recognizably so. Coincidence or in.uence, there is no great honor in repeating another writer's ideas, no matter how well you do them.

The moral here is simple: if you know you're imitating another man's work, don't. And if you don't know, but the idea came too easily, then check to make sure. Double-check the books of your favorite authors, or check with an authority in the .eld. In the long run, it's the best thing to do.

After "The Apple," they .lmed "Mirror, Mirror," and then "The Deadly Years," and "I, Mudd."

And then it was my turn. The second week in August 1967, they began shooting "The Trouble With Tribbles."

At last, the magic was real.

All the people I had imagined, made up from my own head, were suddenly alive and standing before me-doing what I had imagined them doing: Cyrano Jones, Nilz Baris, Arne Darvin, Trader, Mister Lurry, Captain Koloth, Korax.

Cyrano Jones was played-and sometimes overplayed-by Stanley Adams, a writer as well as an actor. Nilz Baris was William Schallert. He's played the mayor in In the Heat of the Night, but was probably more recognizable as Patty Duke's father. Arne Darvin was Charlie Brill-he did a short stint on Laugh-In the following year.

Mr. Lurry was Whit Bissell, a soft-spoken, white-haired gentleman who has been in countless movies and TV shows; he's the kind of character actor you always recognize, even if you don't remember his name. Captain Koloth was William Campbell-he'd been on STAR TREK before as Trelane in "The Squire of Gothos."

In that episode, he'd played a spoiled brat who took over the Enterprise. He teased Captain Kirk, Spock, Uhura, Sulu, McCoy and the rest of the crew until his parents showed up and told him he'd have to play nice or not at all.

That episode made considerable impact on the fans. It also allowed Campbell to show his versatility as an actor. So when the part of Captain Koloth came along-i.e. a dastardly gentleman-he was a logical choice.

An interesting sidelight to this is that Gene Roddenberry had been thinking that Kirk should have a Klingon counterpart. Just as the Enterprise is a.s.signed to a speci.c quadrant of the galaxy, so would a speci.c Klingon ship be a.s.signed by the Klingon High Command to the same quadrant. Thus the two captains would continually .nd themselves confronting each other. Roddenberry had thought William Campbell as Captain Koloth might be perfect for this role. Campbell would then have become a semi-regular, appearing in every story where Kirk confronted Klingons.

Unfortunately, Campbell was not available the next time a Klingon episode was to be .lmed, so another actor was hired. Later on, the idea of a continuing set of nasties was dropped or forgotten.

Koloth's aide, Korax, was played by Michael Pataki-a most vicious fellow indeed. Quite mean. He looked like a member of the Interstellar h.e.l.l's Angels. Admiral Komack was played by Ed Reimers, most famous for his All State Insurance commercials; and one of STAR TREK's regular extras, Paul Bradley, spoke Ensign Freeman's one line. The Trader was a fellow named Guy Raymond-he'd been doing some beer commercials as a bemused bartender while crazy things happened in his bar. So he was perfect for the Trader.

The interiors of the Trading Post were built on Soundstage 10. Almost all of STAR TREK's non-permanent interiors were constructed there. For this show, there were only three. Or three and a half: There was Lurry's of.ce-quite a big set, actually; it comprised a small transporter booth, an open area in front of a door, and the of.ce proper with a large window in back, through which the Enterprise could be seen hanging in s.p.a.ce.

The second set was the entrance to the storage compartments. This was a small, almost utilitarian corridor with angled walls. A couple of hatchways were set into them.

The third set was the trading post. (The half-set was the corridor outside of it.) This was also a very large set. There was a bar proper, behind which was a shelf of odd merchandise and an electronic drink mixer. Then there was a large open area of tables and booths.

The tables had been built by John Dwyer, the show's set decorator, but the chairs had been scrounged from all over the city. It is very dif.cult to .nd twenty-four matching chairs-especially chairs that can be used on STAR TREK. Folding chairs from Abby Rents just wouldn't have made it.

Finally Dwyer found a company that had the chairs he wanted-but they didn't stock them in such large quant.i.ties. The chairs had to be pulled out of showrooms all over Los Angeles County.

When Joe Pevney, the director for "Tribbles," began planning the big .ght scene, he came to Dwyer and asked, "What can I break?" Dwyer replied, "The tables. Not the chairs. The chairs we have to pay for."

The .ght scene in "The Trouble With Tribbles" was one of the most fun to .lm. One whole end of Soundstage 10 was .lled by (my nickname) The Bottom Half of In.nity, Bar, Grill and Trading Post-The Interstellar Stuckey's. It was .lled with Earthmen, Klingons and a.s.sorted other Star.eet personnel. They were sitting and chatting amiably, drinking and boozing- -abruptly a .ght breaks out. The whole set erupts into an explosion of hurtling bodies and crashing furniture! The violence seems horrendous! Flailing .sts and .ying Earthmen! Clattering Klingons, noise and destruction!

-And a guy with a handheld Arri.ex scuttling sideways across the .oor, tracking with Cyrano Jones, oblivious to anything behind him- "Oh, h.e.l.l, cut!" said the director. He eyed the mobile cameraman warily. "You got in the way of the big camera."

Sure enough, the fellow looked up, and there was the dolly-mounted Cyclops peering over his shoulder. "Sorry about that."

"All right," said Pevney. "Dress the set and let's do it again."

-And they did.

The scene had been so carefully ch.o.r.eographed that the second take was identical to the .rst. (Except that this time there was no errant cameraman wandering in front of the second camera.) The same tables went crashing, the same chairs went .ying (gently), the same stunt men went tumbling. This .ght had been so thoroughly planned that they could have taken it on the road.

Only a few feet away, a group of tourists stood and quietly watched.

Ho hum. Hollywood's best stuntmen demolish interstellar pubs routinely.

I was perched on a ladder, watching all this from a vantage point like a gawky vulture-and proud as a new parent. While the crew was setting up for closeups of speci.c sections of the .ght, Walter Koenig came over to talk to a couple of the girls. Pointing at me, he said, "And this is the writer of the episode."

I puffed up my feathers, prepared to preen, readied myself for a little ego-boo. After all, this was my script. This would be honestly deserved. I checked to see if I had my pen for signing autographs.

"Oh," said the fans. And then, "Do you think Leonard Nimoy will be here today?"

So much for ego-boo.

*On the other hand, if you're too lazy to make your own and want to buy an "Of.cial David Gerrold Tribble,"-about as identical to the ones used on the show as can be made-write to: "Tribbles," Box 526, Hollywood, Calif. 90028, and ask for a catalogue and price list. (Tell them I said it's okay.)

*Dorothy Fontana says that it is only recently that they have gotten Gene to stop walking around on the ocean.

*Ellis Parker Butler wrote a story called "Pigs Is Pigs," about a postal inspector who refused to turn over a pair of guinea pigs to a fellow until the livestock tax was paid. The fellow claimed that guinea pigs were rodents and therefore exempt. The postal worker said, "Pigs is pigs." The man refused to pay. The Post Of.ce had to take care of the guinea pigs. The guinea pigs began to breed. And breed. And breed . . . "Pigs is pigs."

CHAPTER TEN.

Author! Author!

"The Trouble With Tribbles" was telecast on December 29, 1967. I bought my .rst color TV so I could see the show in color, and I invited the immediate city to a party that evening so my friends could see the show too.

It was also a graduation party. I'd needed three units of anything to count as a senior project at Valley State College (now Cal State at Northridge) so I could get my degree. I turned in a copy of the shooting script and all the notes and outlines that led up to it. They didn't really have an instructor in the Theatre Arts department quali.ed to judge it, there weren't any writing cla.s.ses, so they just gave it an A.

That, and the party, was the only response I got on "The Trouble With Tribbles" for a long time.

No, that's not entirely correct-about a week or so after the episode was telecast, there was a "Save STAR TREK" rally at NBC in Burbank. (Several of the cast and crew attended, but the word was out to be "incognito." We didn't want it to look like the rally was anything but spontaneous.) Toward the end of the evening though, Mr. Scott's cover was blown and the fans .ocked eagerly around James Doohan. For some reason, a kid about fourteen asked me if I worked for STAR TREK. I admitted (modestly) that I had written "The Trouble With Tribbles."

"Oh," he said. "I didn't like it. It wasn't like what they usually do. It wasn't exciting enough."

I wanted to punch him. Instead, I said, "Well, you're ent.i.tled to your opinion."

The rally broke up then anyway. The police were just discovering that someone had put "Mr. Spock for President" b.u.mper stickers all over their cars and motorcycles.

Aside from that one comment, I might have dropped a stone down a well. For six months I stood there waiting for the splash.

I simply had no idea of what reaction my episode had gotten-just an occasional comment from a friend or relative who knew I had written it. Oh, and an article in a newspaper-some local paper in the east had a question and answer column, and one little girl had written in wanting to know what STAR TREK had used for the tribbles. The reporter who wrote the column had answered, "A lot of imagination."

Later on, I found out that the fan mail response had been tremendous-but none of that fan mail had been directed toward the writer. Most of it had been from eager young fans asking for tribbles. "You have so many, I saw all the millions on TV, surely you can spare just one..."

Some people even thought the tribbles were alive and one man was sure that they had been mistreated by being locked up in a cramped, hot storage compartment. A girl named Joanne Tribble wrote in saying that she was de.nitely not round and fuzzy. She included her measurements to prove it.

It wasn't until June that I found out just what kind of effect my script had had on STAR TREK fans...

There's a group in Los Angeles called the Los Angeles Science Fantasy Society. It is a science .ction and fantasy fan club. It is the oldest science .ction and fantasy fan club in the United States, probably the known universe. It is one aspect of a phenomenon called "fandom."

Fandom-which I must explain before I can go any farther-is a unique conglomeration of writers, artists, readers, editors, publishers, critics, designers, adolescents, cartoonists, pretty girls, mis.ts, geniuses, and just plain appreciators who like things out of the ordinary and each other. Ostensibly the phenomenon rotates around science .ction. Actually, it focuses on anything out of the ordinary: 2001: A s.p.a.ce Odyssey, Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, Tarzan, Apollo 11, Sherlock Holmes, Georgette Heyer books, Chuck Jones cartoons, Ray Harryhausen movies, Dark Shadows TV series, Fantastic Four comic books, and a lot of other things too.

Not everybody likes everything that fandom has to offer, but there's something for everybody. Fans get together to exchange information, to gossip, to trade fanzines, to write fanzines, to do critical a.n.a.lyses, to attend conventions, to attend club meetings, to drink beer, to play poker-and sometimes even to talk about science .ction and fantasy.

Out of curiosity, I attended a meeting of the LASFS.* I was asked to introduce myself. I said, "My name is David Gerrold, and I wrote a script for STAR TREK," and sat down.

"Which one?" someone called.

"UH-" (Really, for a moment there, I was trying to be modest) "-it'll be rerun next week. You can see it then."

"What's the t.i.tle?''

"Uh-" (It didnt work.) "-'The Trouble With Tribbles.'"

Applause. Yes, they applauded.

I was startled. But not as startled as I would be in a moment.

Bruce Pelz, then director of the club, eyed me from the podium. "You know, don't you, that you've been nominated for a Hugo?"

And I said, "Huh?"

Now, maybe you don't know what a Hugo is-I did, and I was startled. I wouldn't have been more startled if Bruce Pelz had told me I had been awarded the n.o.bel Peace Prize. (Well, maybe the n.o.bel Peace Prize...) The Hugo award is named after Hugo Gernsback, the father of modern science .ction. It is the .eld's equivalent to an Oscar. It is the highest honor that a science .ction writer can receive from the fans of science .ction. It is an international award and represents the opinions of fans from England, j.a.pan, Australia, Ireland, Germany, France, Spain, Argentina, and anywhere else they read science .ction. To win a Hugo is to be told that you have written the best piece of science .ction in that category for that year. It is not an honor to be taken lightly.

Even for me to be nominated was a shock-and a piece of praise that I had not expected to be eligible to win for a long time-if ever. I had known about the existence of the Hugo. I had not yet considered it in terms of something that I might be able to achieve.

Yet, here I was nominated for one.

Think of it this way-what is your fondest dream?

What would you like to achieve more than anything else? If it's recognition that you are the very, very best at something-anything-you begin to understand how I was starting to feel.

It was the .rst time that a writer's .rst sale had ever been nominated. And that nomination alone was enough to distort my sense of reality for a good long time to come. It is very dif.cult to maintain any kind of objectivity when abruptly you are being told that your words are as good as Theodore Sturgeon's , Harlan Ellison's, Norman Spinrad's, and Jerome Bixby's-those were the four other writers on the ballot for the Best Dramatic Presentation.

Four other names in science .ction that I recognized-and admired; even to be cla.s.sed with them was an honor. I'd been reading the stories and novels of these men for years-these were the most special of the special dreamers. And my inclusion on the ballot said to me that I had made it too.

The Hugos were awarded in August of 1968 at the 26th annual World Science Fiction Convention.

I lost. And a good thing, too. Else I would have been unbearable for years. (Losing didn't teach me humility-but it did teach me I didn't have any. I lost badly.) The winner was-ready?-Harlan Ellison, for his episode, "City on the Edge of Forever." Or maybe it was Gene Roddenberry who won-because the Hugo was awarded on the basis of what was seen on the air, and it was Gene Roddenberry's version that was .lmed.