Is that a Denobulan at the coffee machine?
Sunday, November 14, 2004
A Visit to the Enterprise set
While I was in Los Angeles on assignment to the New York Times, to cover the Planet Xpo "Beam Me Up Scotty One Last Time" convention for a story on Star Trek's future, I visited the set of the only ongoing project in Star Trek's present: the Enterprise series.
After a morning on the phone trying to straighten out my Internet access, I arrived at Paramount lot later than I'd expected, in early afternoon. It was a bright day in late August, a bit cooler than usual for this time of year I was told, but pleasantly warm for a resident of a far northern California coastal climate. I drove through the Melrose gate, got my guest pass, and after the trunk of my rental car was inspected I found a parking space in a guest lot, which happened to be next to the Roddenberry building.
My destination was the Dietrich building, where I was to meet David Sperber, public relations for Enterprise, and John Wentworth, head of Paramount marketing and a Star Trek veteran.
For several weeks as I started this story, I had trouble getting Paramount to respond to my requests for information and interviews, and a couple of interviews I scheduled without them were cancelled (Garfield Reeves-Stevens even called me to tell me that he couldn't call me until I cleared it through Paramount.) But when John Wentworth got involved, everything went much more smoothly, and I talked to everyone I requested in the time I had remaining.
John and I had spoken a few times on the phone, and he set up several interviews. In the course of one early conversation, I mentioned that had just taken another look at a tape of the Star Trek 30th special and had seen his name in the credits, which seemed to startle him. He was with Rick Berman when I interviewed Berman by phone. When I asked Berman whether there were plans for anything relating to Star Trek's 40th anniversary ("Oh, God," was his response), John told Berman that I'd spotted his name at the end of the 30th anniversary show.
"John Wentworth was actually working on promotion in the very first year of the first series back in 1966," Berman said in his usual authoritative tone. "That is not so true," I heard Wentworth say in the background. "I don't think he was born," Berman added.
But Wentworth was in a meeting when I arrived, so David Sperber called over to the Enterprise office to see if we could go on the set. It turned out that David was new to the job, and this would also be his first visit to the set. He said we'd be meeting Donna Rooney of the Enterprise staff, who would show us around, and that Manny Coto would be joining us as well.
I'd interviewed Coto on the phone a few days earlier. I'd read his interview with TrekWeb and noted the hopeful response online to his vision of Enterprise as a true prequel series, and his enthusiasm for Star Trek in general. Since by journalistic tradition you can't quote someone from another source, I had to get him to say essentially the same thing to me, which he did. It was a short interview because Enterprise was going to be just a small part of my article, so meeting him would be a bonus.
Maybe this is where I should inject a personal note. I approached this story as a professional, with objectivity to maintain and a mandate from my editor to fulfill. My demeanor kept everyone guessing. They probably knew what I've come to know: that the world is sharply divided between Star Trek fans and people who don't get it, who have little more than contempt for Star Trek, if not all of science fiction, etc. I think the fact that I am ethical, and that I'm not interested in scoring points at anyone's expense, yet I take my professional responsibilities seriously, came through in my first contacts and interviews. But they didn't yet know that I'm a Star Trek fan.
But I also wasn't just another journalist when I visited Paramount: I was the New York Times, one of the more powerful newspapers in America. I'm freelance but I've worked for the Times before, and I knew what this meant. Usually I got more access to higher level people than I did working for other newspapers and magazines. So while I was doing this story, and especially on this day at Paramount (and later at the convention), I was treated well. Not only did I get access, information and my questions answered, but everyone was friendly, and all my jokes were funny and my insights profound.
Some of this was a little different than in other situations, so I began to see what it meant that the people who work on Star Trek are loyal to each other, even a kind of family. I did get the feeling of being accepted, and of people being interested in me personally. I attribute some of this to my intelligence and charm, and of course my modesty. But I never forgot that I was there because I was the New York Times. In other words, I was Cinderella, and midnight would come when the story was published, and my luminous New York Times halo vaporized and I became the raggedy man back in the street looking for work.
So I don't know if Manny Coto was coming along only because I was the New York Times or also because something in our interview piqued his curiosity. It didn't really matter. I was interested in meeting him, both for the story and for my own curiosity.
David Sperber commandeered one of those golf cart vehicles used on the Paramount lot and we headed for the Enterprise offices. He wasn't real experienced at this task either, and we took a circuitous route with some blind alleys and odd looks from Paramount security. But when we stopped at our destination, there standing on the corner were two men and a woman. One of the men was LeVar Burton.
Strictly speaking, this Paramount visit was more for background than an essential part of my story. But it always pays to go look at things. And ironically, this visit would provide the only hard news in my article. Minutes before, LeVar Burton had just agreed to direct the third and concluding episode in the mini-arc that featured his Next Gen colleague, Brent Spiner. So I was the first to report this.
I had interviewed Burton already. I requested an interview through his publicity agent, and one afternoon I heard the phone ring. My partner Margaret (who teaches drama at Humboldt State University) answered it and told me, "It's for you. I don't know who it is, but he has a great voice." It was LeVar Burton calling from Martha's Vineyard where he was on vacation.
Now I introduced myself in person. He remembered that I was going to the Scotty convention and said he wasn't going to be there after all. He'd been announced as a guest at the celebrity dinner honoring James Doohan. Burton's wife was having minor surgery that day. "Tell Jimmy I can't make it," he said, or ordered, or requested. I knew already that because of James Doohan's precarious health, access would be strictly limited, and I wasn't even going to attempt to get an interview. But I said I'd get the message to him, and I did (through Jimmy's son, Chris Doohan.)
I met Manny Coto and Donna Rooney, and after LeVar Burton left, the four of us set off in the cart. (There are seats in front, in back, and a jump seat area behind that.) Coto began riffing on the way over, with an irreverent sense of humor not so apparent in his interview mode.
We stopped near a small door in a large building, with several trailers semi-permanently parked nearby. The second half of the day's shooting was about to start. We walked out of the bright sunshine into a series of narrow dim corridors that surrounded some of the standing Enterprise sets. In a slightly larger area there were a series of food wagons, adding some faint florescent shimmer to the dimness, and standing near one of them was a Denobulan. Manny introduced me to John Billingsley, who was in full makeup and costume. I hadn't yet seen "Out of Time" so I couldn't compliment his terrific performance in that movie, or ask him if working with Denzel Washington was as much fun as it looked like it might be.
While the next scene was set up, Donna led us down one of the Enterprise corridors to see more sets. We paused at a doorway, where Manny discussed possible locations for the upcoming Vulcan arc with someone. I examined the set, which looked sturdy and real (except for the 21st century person sitting on the floor of an Enterprise corridor reading a book.) Most of the movie sets I've visited have been on location, and for television I'm more used to the plywood and paint flimsiness of news and talk show sets. Even the Tonight Show set is much less impressive than it appears on TV. So I was a bit surprised at how substantial the standing sets of the ship are. I understood a little better how it would become possible to feel you were coming to work on the Enterprise every day.
continued after the photo
While I was in Los Angeles on assignment to the New York Times, to cover the Planet Xpo "Beam Me Up Scotty One Last Time" convention for a story on Star Trek's future, I visited the set of the only ongoing project in Star Trek's present: the Enterprise series.
After a morning on the phone trying to straighten out my Internet access, I arrived at Paramount lot later than I'd expected, in early afternoon. It was a bright day in late August, a bit cooler than usual for this time of year I was told, but pleasantly warm for a resident of a far northern California coastal climate. I drove through the Melrose gate, got my guest pass, and after the trunk of my rental car was inspected I found a parking space in a guest lot, which happened to be next to the Roddenberry building.
My destination was the Dietrich building, where I was to meet David Sperber, public relations for Enterprise, and John Wentworth, head of Paramount marketing and a Star Trek veteran.
For several weeks as I started this story, I had trouble getting Paramount to respond to my requests for information and interviews, and a couple of interviews I scheduled without them were cancelled (Garfield Reeves-Stevens even called me to tell me that he couldn't call me until I cleared it through Paramount.) But when John Wentworth got involved, everything went much more smoothly, and I talked to everyone I requested in the time I had remaining.
John and I had spoken a few times on the phone, and he set up several interviews. In the course of one early conversation, I mentioned that had just taken another look at a tape of the Star Trek 30th special and had seen his name in the credits, which seemed to startle him. He was with Rick Berman when I interviewed Berman by phone. When I asked Berman whether there were plans for anything relating to Star Trek's 40th anniversary ("Oh, God," was his response), John told Berman that I'd spotted his name at the end of the 30th anniversary show.
"John Wentworth was actually working on promotion in the very first year of the first series back in 1966," Berman said in his usual authoritative tone. "That is not so true," I heard Wentworth say in the background. "I don't think he was born," Berman added.
But Wentworth was in a meeting when I arrived, so David Sperber called over to the Enterprise office to see if we could go on the set. It turned out that David was new to the job, and this would also be his first visit to the set. He said we'd be meeting Donna Rooney of the Enterprise staff, who would show us around, and that Manny Coto would be joining us as well.
I'd interviewed Coto on the phone a few days earlier. I'd read his interview with TrekWeb and noted the hopeful response online to his vision of Enterprise as a true prequel series, and his enthusiasm for Star Trek in general. Since by journalistic tradition you can't quote someone from another source, I had to get him to say essentially the same thing to me, which he did. It was a short interview because Enterprise was going to be just a small part of my article, so meeting him would be a bonus.
Maybe this is where I should inject a personal note. I approached this story as a professional, with objectivity to maintain and a mandate from my editor to fulfill. My demeanor kept everyone guessing. They probably knew what I've come to know: that the world is sharply divided between Star Trek fans and people who don't get it, who have little more than contempt for Star Trek, if not all of science fiction, etc. I think the fact that I am ethical, and that I'm not interested in scoring points at anyone's expense, yet I take my professional responsibilities seriously, came through in my first contacts and interviews. But they didn't yet know that I'm a Star Trek fan.
But I also wasn't just another journalist when I visited Paramount: I was the New York Times, one of the more powerful newspapers in America. I'm freelance but I've worked for the Times before, and I knew what this meant. Usually I got more access to higher level people than I did working for other newspapers and magazines. So while I was doing this story, and especially on this day at Paramount (and later at the convention), I was treated well. Not only did I get access, information and my questions answered, but everyone was friendly, and all my jokes were funny and my insights profound.
Some of this was a little different than in other situations, so I began to see what it meant that the people who work on Star Trek are loyal to each other, even a kind of family. I did get the feeling of being accepted, and of people being interested in me personally. I attribute some of this to my intelligence and charm, and of course my modesty. But I never forgot that I was there because I was the New York Times. In other words, I was Cinderella, and midnight would come when the story was published, and my luminous New York Times halo vaporized and I became the raggedy man back in the street looking for work.
So I don't know if Manny Coto was coming along only because I was the New York Times or also because something in our interview piqued his curiosity. It didn't really matter. I was interested in meeting him, both for the story and for my own curiosity.
David Sperber commandeered one of those golf cart vehicles used on the Paramount lot and we headed for the Enterprise offices. He wasn't real experienced at this task either, and we took a circuitous route with some blind alleys and odd looks from Paramount security. But when we stopped at our destination, there standing on the corner were two men and a woman. One of the men was LeVar Burton.
Strictly speaking, this Paramount visit was more for background than an essential part of my story. But it always pays to go look at things. And ironically, this visit would provide the only hard news in my article. Minutes before, LeVar Burton had just agreed to direct the third and concluding episode in the mini-arc that featured his Next Gen colleague, Brent Spiner. So I was the first to report this.
I had interviewed Burton already. I requested an interview through his publicity agent, and one afternoon I heard the phone ring. My partner Margaret (who teaches drama at Humboldt State University) answered it and told me, "It's for you. I don't know who it is, but he has a great voice." It was LeVar Burton calling from Martha's Vineyard where he was on vacation.
Now I introduced myself in person. He remembered that I was going to the Scotty convention and said he wasn't going to be there after all. He'd been announced as a guest at the celebrity dinner honoring James Doohan. Burton's wife was having minor surgery that day. "Tell Jimmy I can't make it," he said, or ordered, or requested. I knew already that because of James Doohan's precarious health, access would be strictly limited, and I wasn't even going to attempt to get an interview. But I said I'd get the message to him, and I did (through Jimmy's son, Chris Doohan.)
I met Manny Coto and Donna Rooney, and after LeVar Burton left, the four of us set off in the cart. (There are seats in front, in back, and a jump seat area behind that.) Coto began riffing on the way over, with an irreverent sense of humor not so apparent in his interview mode.
We stopped near a small door in a large building, with several trailers semi-permanently parked nearby. The second half of the day's shooting was about to start. We walked out of the bright sunshine into a series of narrow dim corridors that surrounded some of the standing Enterprise sets. In a slightly larger area there were a series of food wagons, adding some faint florescent shimmer to the dimness, and standing near one of them was a Denobulan. Manny introduced me to John Billingsley, who was in full makeup and costume. I hadn't yet seen "Out of Time" so I couldn't compliment his terrific performance in that movie, or ask him if working with Denzel Washington was as much fun as it looked like it might be.
While the next scene was set up, Donna led us down one of the Enterprise corridors to see more sets. We paused at a doorway, where Manny discussed possible locations for the upcoming Vulcan arc with someone. I examined the set, which looked sturdy and real (except for the 21st century person sitting on the floor of an Enterprise corridor reading a book.) Most of the movie sets I've visited have been on location, and for television I'm more used to the plywood and paint flimsiness of news and talk show sets. Even the Tonight Show set is much less impressive than it appears on TV. So I was a bit surprised at how substantial the standing sets of the ship are. I understood a little better how it would become possible to feel you were coming to work on the Enterprise every day.
continued after the photo
Though the specific places seen on the Enterprise are much as you see them, they aren't configured in any real way. I can't remember the order of them, but the Enterprise sick bay might be right next to a bridge set used for a Klingon vessel. Donna moved us through at a good clip, but we paused at the Enterprise bridge. Most of it was covered with plastic, but they unveiled the new captain's chair. I was urged to try it out---a standard perk for guests, I gather---and who could resist sitting in the captain's chair of any Enterprise?
The bridge is the contemporary gray-and-silver you see on the screen, and I asked Manny about the difficulty of making it believable, yet not too much more sophisticated than the bridge of Kirk's Enterprise which is supposed to come later. He said that actually they were slowly moving the design in the direction of Kirk's Enterprise, at least in some of the shapes. He allowed that they probably wouldn't go so far as 60s mini-skirts and beehive hairdos. He then started riffing on how he could actually do that for an episode.
"We haven't done a comedy episode yet," he said. Everyone started riffing on the idea that this Enterprise gets thrown back to the 1960s. I suggested they could all come down with a disease that compelled them to desire beehive hair. "A virus," Manny said. "That might work." I was going to say something about "The Naked Time/Now," but didn't want to completely give myself away yet. Unfortunately it was only later that I came up with the dialogue:
Archer: A virus that makes everybody think it's the 1960s? How it that possible?
Phlox: Simple, Captain. It's a retro virus.
But soon Donna had us moving, and eventually we not only saw the standing cave set, we got lost in it. It's trickier than it looks, especially with cables on the floor. Some of the larger areas were being tinted red for Vulcan scenes.
The largest set appeared to be the engine room, and since people are often climbing and fighting and falling all over this set, it is particularly sturdy.
Donna was a great guide and we saw quite a lot before it was time to return to near our starting point, where shooting was underway. It was a relatively simple scene, a conversation between Archer and Phlox in the Enterprise mess, for "Cold Station 12," the middle episode of the Soong/Brent Spiner arc.
We were lined up against the back wall to watch. Our perspective was the camera's for most of the scene, and we could also watch on two real-time high definition tape monitors. The director (Mike Vejar) was seated in front of one of them. Even though we were close enough to see every movement, we couldn't hear the dialogue.
Edited into the show, this scene consists of a long two-shot( as Archer moves around, getting a cup of coffee, starting to leave, then coming over to the table and sitting down opposite Phlox) but also a couple of other two-shot perspectives (one from over Phlox's shoulders), a brief close-up of Archer and several of Phlox, including a couple of reaction shots. What we saw, standing there, was Scott Bakula walking exactly the same little circuit a few times, mumbling to Billingsley, in between joking and talking to people who briefly swarmed on the set, as the camera was moved.
Manny told me what the scene was about: that the two were discussing the Eugenics War, and genetic engineering, which might have saved Archer's father from a dread Alzheimers-like disease. (This took on more meaning a few nights later, at that tribute dinner, which was a benefit for the Alzheimer's Foundation. Among his current afflictions, James Doohan had started showing signs of Alzheimer's. )
Manny said he'd written the scene to give more complexity to the issue of genetic engineering, with obvious implications for the present. (Again, at the tribute dinner, several speakers---including Wil Wheaton---talked about the need for stem cell research.) Manny said he'd just written the scene, and was still amazed by the experience of writing something one day and seeing it being done the next. (The credited writer for this episode is Michael Bryant.) I asked him if he needed to trim anything to get the scene in, but he said the episode had been running a little short.
It was only when I saw this scene on television and finally heard the dialogue that I realized it not only served to give the issue of genetic manipulation the complexity it deserved, and the treatment of more than one side of a moral question that is a Star Trek tradition, but it also contained a few lines that summarized a more general observation that Gene Roddenberry would certainly have approved. Referring to the Eugenics War that he'd read about, Phlox described it as at time when "human intelligence and human instinct were out of synch." Later in the conversation, Archer observes that while the Eugenics War led earth to ban genetic engineering, Denobula had used it successfully for centuries. "Denobula perfected genetic engineering a long time ago," he said, "but you never came close to destroying yourselves."
"Perhaps we were simply fortunate," Phlox suggested.
"Or maybe your instincts had caught up with your intellect," Archer said.
Satisfied that the scene was working, Manny told us he had to get back to his office. Back out in the blinding sunshine, he talked a little more about all the opportunities the Enterprise series has, in being the prequel to a rich universe of established Star Trek history. Like all the technology-how did it come about? What about the transporter, for instance? Someone had to have invented it, what was the story behind that? He wanted to do a story featuring the inventor of the transporter. (Which sounds a lot like what evolved into the first story in January, called "Daedalus." )
In his interview with me as well as with others, Manny Coto called himself a Star Trek fan. That was a major part of his appeal to fans and their hope that Enterprise would not only continue past its fourth season, but would fulfill its promise as a Star Trek series.
Now, as we rode back to drop Manny and Donna off at their offices, I saw the opportunity to test how much of a fan he was. David was getting more confident behind the wheel of that overgrown golf cart, which is not to say he was perfect. But he was enjoying zipping around in it. So I injected a comment that could reasonably pass as the kind of banter we were all engaging in. I was in the front seat next to David, while Manny and Donna were in the seat behind us. '"I've never understood the human predilection for piloting vehicles at unsafe velocities," I said. It wasn't exact, but it was close enough---Data says something like that in Nemesis, when he is seated beside Picard who is driving his own overgrown golf cart across a desert planet.
An "ah-hah," came immediately from behind me. "You're a fan," Manny said. I doubt if David or Donna knew what he was talking about, but I did. I had to reveal myself, to test him.
After a quick lunch with David at Paramount---the very room where William Shatner and Patrick Stewart met---I finally met John Wentworth back at the Dietrich building. He gave me a breakdown of selected TV drama series that had all lost audience last year, mostly to the so-called reality shows. "Smallville" was at the top of the list, followed by "West Wing." "Law and Order: SVU" had lost almost the same percentage of audience as "Enterprise." It had been a bad year for drama shows all around, not just Enterprise.
Eventually I would write a story that quoted several people---most of them Star Trek veterans---saying that the Star Trek franchise was in trouble creatively as well with audiences. But I had confirmed my instinct that Manny Coto was bringing strong new possibilities to Enterprise, something more than the usual smoke and hope at the start of a new season. So that was part of the story, too.
I wrote the story as a journalist, even as temporarily the New York Times. But before my press credentials and visitor's pass expired, and my rental car became a pumpkin again, I chatted with John Wentworth about Star Trek past and present. After some conversation and some questions that indicated I knew a bit more about Star Trek than the average journalist, he smiled. "I knew you were a fan," he said.
But I'm a fan of something else that made this little jaunt especially enjoyable: I'm a fan of the process. I've written about actors and directors, film and TV and theatre, but I've also written for actors, film and theatre. I even acted and directed a little in college. I enjoy actors and what they do, and directors, and I enjoy hanging out with the other people who do the work that brings these shows to life. Even the occasional producer. I enjoyed talking about writing problems and delights with Manny Coto, even briefly. I just like being there on the set. As easy as it is to make fun of the excesses of "show business," I essentially admire what they all do. I love the process.
Home
The bridge is the contemporary gray-and-silver you see on the screen, and I asked Manny about the difficulty of making it believable, yet not too much more sophisticated than the bridge of Kirk's Enterprise which is supposed to come later. He said that actually they were slowly moving the design in the direction of Kirk's Enterprise, at least in some of the shapes. He allowed that they probably wouldn't go so far as 60s mini-skirts and beehive hairdos. He then started riffing on how he could actually do that for an episode.
"We haven't done a comedy episode yet," he said. Everyone started riffing on the idea that this Enterprise gets thrown back to the 1960s. I suggested they could all come down with a disease that compelled them to desire beehive hair. "A virus," Manny said. "That might work." I was going to say something about "The Naked Time/Now," but didn't want to completely give myself away yet. Unfortunately it was only later that I came up with the dialogue:
Archer: A virus that makes everybody think it's the 1960s? How it that possible?
Phlox: Simple, Captain. It's a retro virus.
But soon Donna had us moving, and eventually we not only saw the standing cave set, we got lost in it. It's trickier than it looks, especially with cables on the floor. Some of the larger areas were being tinted red for Vulcan scenes.
The largest set appeared to be the engine room, and since people are often climbing and fighting and falling all over this set, it is particularly sturdy.
Donna was a great guide and we saw quite a lot before it was time to return to near our starting point, where shooting was underway. It was a relatively simple scene, a conversation between Archer and Phlox in the Enterprise mess, for "Cold Station 12," the middle episode of the Soong/Brent Spiner arc.
We were lined up against the back wall to watch. Our perspective was the camera's for most of the scene, and we could also watch on two real-time high definition tape monitors. The director (Mike Vejar) was seated in front of one of them. Even though we were close enough to see every movement, we couldn't hear the dialogue.
Edited into the show, this scene consists of a long two-shot( as Archer moves around, getting a cup of coffee, starting to leave, then coming over to the table and sitting down opposite Phlox) but also a couple of other two-shot perspectives (one from over Phlox's shoulders), a brief close-up of Archer and several of Phlox, including a couple of reaction shots. What we saw, standing there, was Scott Bakula walking exactly the same little circuit a few times, mumbling to Billingsley, in between joking and talking to people who briefly swarmed on the set, as the camera was moved.
Manny told me what the scene was about: that the two were discussing the Eugenics War, and genetic engineering, which might have saved Archer's father from a dread Alzheimers-like disease. (This took on more meaning a few nights later, at that tribute dinner, which was a benefit for the Alzheimer's Foundation. Among his current afflictions, James Doohan had started showing signs of Alzheimer's. )
Manny said he'd written the scene to give more complexity to the issue of genetic engineering, with obvious implications for the present. (Again, at the tribute dinner, several speakers---including Wil Wheaton---talked about the need for stem cell research.) Manny said he'd just written the scene, and was still amazed by the experience of writing something one day and seeing it being done the next. (The credited writer for this episode is Michael Bryant.) I asked him if he needed to trim anything to get the scene in, but he said the episode had been running a little short.
It was only when I saw this scene on television and finally heard the dialogue that I realized it not only served to give the issue of genetic manipulation the complexity it deserved, and the treatment of more than one side of a moral question that is a Star Trek tradition, but it also contained a few lines that summarized a more general observation that Gene Roddenberry would certainly have approved. Referring to the Eugenics War that he'd read about, Phlox described it as at time when "human intelligence and human instinct were out of synch." Later in the conversation, Archer observes that while the Eugenics War led earth to ban genetic engineering, Denobula had used it successfully for centuries. "Denobula perfected genetic engineering a long time ago," he said, "but you never came close to destroying yourselves."
"Perhaps we were simply fortunate," Phlox suggested.
"Or maybe your instincts had caught up with your intellect," Archer said.
Satisfied that the scene was working, Manny told us he had to get back to his office. Back out in the blinding sunshine, he talked a little more about all the opportunities the Enterprise series has, in being the prequel to a rich universe of established Star Trek history. Like all the technology-how did it come about? What about the transporter, for instance? Someone had to have invented it, what was the story behind that? He wanted to do a story featuring the inventor of the transporter. (Which sounds a lot like what evolved into the first story in January, called "Daedalus." )
In his interview with me as well as with others, Manny Coto called himself a Star Trek fan. That was a major part of his appeal to fans and their hope that Enterprise would not only continue past its fourth season, but would fulfill its promise as a Star Trek series.
Now, as we rode back to drop Manny and Donna off at their offices, I saw the opportunity to test how much of a fan he was. David was getting more confident behind the wheel of that overgrown golf cart, which is not to say he was perfect. But he was enjoying zipping around in it. So I injected a comment that could reasonably pass as the kind of banter we were all engaging in. I was in the front seat next to David, while Manny and Donna were in the seat behind us. '"I've never understood the human predilection for piloting vehicles at unsafe velocities," I said. It wasn't exact, but it was close enough---Data says something like that in Nemesis, when he is seated beside Picard who is driving his own overgrown golf cart across a desert planet.
An "ah-hah," came immediately from behind me. "You're a fan," Manny said. I doubt if David or Donna knew what he was talking about, but I did. I had to reveal myself, to test him.
After a quick lunch with David at Paramount---the very room where William Shatner and Patrick Stewart met---I finally met John Wentworth back at the Dietrich building. He gave me a breakdown of selected TV drama series that had all lost audience last year, mostly to the so-called reality shows. "Smallville" was at the top of the list, followed by "West Wing." "Law and Order: SVU" had lost almost the same percentage of audience as "Enterprise." It had been a bad year for drama shows all around, not just Enterprise.
Eventually I would write a story that quoted several people---most of them Star Trek veterans---saying that the Star Trek franchise was in trouble creatively as well with audiences. But I had confirmed my instinct that Manny Coto was bringing strong new possibilities to Enterprise, something more than the usual smoke and hope at the start of a new season. So that was part of the story, too.
I wrote the story as a journalist, even as temporarily the New York Times. But before my press credentials and visitor's pass expired, and my rental car became a pumpkin again, I chatted with John Wentworth about Star Trek past and present. After some conversation and some questions that indicated I knew a bit more about Star Trek than the average journalist, he smiled. "I knew you were a fan," he said.
But I'm a fan of something else that made this little jaunt especially enjoyable: I'm a fan of the process. I've written about actors and directors, film and TV and theatre, but I've also written for actors, film and theatre. I even acted and directed a little in college. I enjoy actors and what they do, and directors, and I enjoy hanging out with the other people who do the work that brings these shows to life. Even the occasional producer. I enjoyed talking about writing problems and delights with Manny Coto, even briefly. I just like being there on the set. As easy as it is to make fun of the excesses of "show business," I essentially admire what they all do. I love the process.
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