Fifty Five Years Ago: Lost In Space Debuts

   When Lost In Space debuted on CBS on September 15, 1965, I was four years old. I can't say I have a clear recollection of having watched it from the start -- it's entirely possible I came in a little while later and caught up on the earlier episodes during summer reruns. We were still living up in Rhode Island, in military base housing, that September when the show started. All of my clear recollections of the show were from once we were in Levittown, PA, in our first (and as it turned out last) family home, where we moved the following June.

  There was much about the show (and this only became increasingly so) that was geared toward a young audience. Goofiness and flash and occasionally mawkishnes that had I been a little older and self-conscious possibly would have put me off. The timing was what it was, though, and I was an unashamed fan, despite how most of the aliens were either wearing green or silver body paint, historical costumes from the prop department, or huge, mardi gras-style papier mache' heads.
  I continue to reject the team allegiance some people try to push regarding this show, demanding a choice between it and Star Trek, which was a loose contemporary - Trek coming on the air the following September.
  Roddenberry's vision was of a generally idealized, future society a couple centuries off, and generally closer to science fiction, though still more adequately categorized as Space Opera. It was a promise of

hope that the seemingly endless tumult of our times would eventually pay off for humanity.  Lost In Space was a family adventure set in the then-future of the late 1990s. The space family Robinson. Different vibe, different intent. No mutual exclusivity required. Trek is the cultural future we can hope for and aspire to. LIS was a space-set fantasy that appealed to many of us as a family experience we wish we'd had instead of what we got in the shoddy, grubby compromise of so-called "real life." Your mileage, of course, may vary.
  Reruns of the show are still currently (I think it's still on the schedule, but I haven't checked) on MeTV, though unfortunately they've suffered the predations of being on commercial television, and have had bits and pieces snipped out of them over the years to make more time for commercials. Fortunately, the full three seasons are available on Netflix -- though I have to say that so far I've not really availed myself of them. That's a little sad, come to think of it, but time and mood are what they are, and it always seems there's something more pressing. As with many points of nostalgia, I keep thinking I'll hit some golden point of leisure when I'll go revisit them. There's an extra layer to the reluctance, though, and that's the fairly clear knowledge that my revisiting most of them will probably do my fond memories no favor. Short of dangerous chemical ingestion or a severe head injury, I'm not going to be able to get into the mindset to appreciate them in the uncritical, unsophisticated way I did back in my mid-single digits. And... that's fine.
    I'll find another, better route to gently revisit the show, and may write about that in separate pieces.

    For today though, I'll take a broader tack. My strongest connection with the series is the lingering emotional one. It was both then and is now so very clear that Bill Mumy, who was for so many of us our personal avatar in the show, loved being Will Robinson. His recollections of his time on the show, and working with his cast mates, part of the Archive of American Television, are wonderful, often heartwarming reminiscences. If you were a fan of the show, this is an excellent way to begin to waken that connection, while at the same time get the behind-the-scenes perspective.
   I'll start with Bill's direct reminiscences of each of his cast mates. The warmth, affection and respect in each case is obvious.
   The first is mainly about working with Jonathan Harris, including some insights in how the character of Dr. Smith the world saw was created by Jonathan himself.

  Here Bill talks about his time with each of the other cast mates, hitting some high points and at least one regret, starting with working with Guy Williams...

  Because he mentioned it in passing while talking about Mark, and because the Robot was such a key character, here's a section about the Robot and the man inside.

  Backing up a little, I want to give you two interview segments with Jonathan Harris. In this first, he talks about meeting Irwin Allen and being cast for the part.

  Wild! Next, Jonathan talks about the reinvention of Dr. Zachary Smith -- something Bill talked about briefly during his piece up near the top on working with Harris.

  Rounding out the story of the series, here's a segment on the sudden cancellation of the show.

  Getting a little off-topic, though it comes back around soon enough, I thought I'd add this Biography piece on Jonathan Harris, especially as Bill had earlier dropped a note about Jonathan's background as a self-created character. This is a longer piece, just shy of 45 minutes, but I found it well worth the time. The prospect of reinventing one's self is one that has long intrigued me, and, eventually, is more than worthy of being a topic unto itself.

 Did you see the show when it first aired, or catch it over its many years of syndication? Simply a nodding acquaintance with it, or were you a fan? Let me know in the comments!   - Mike