2019-01-01_SciFiNow

(singke) #1

W W W.SCI FI N OW.CO.U K |^097


fi ghting in the army, rising to the second round
of the division fi nals before being knocked out.
Mad Men’s showrunner Matthew Weiner is a
Serling fan and believes that he was drawn to
the sport because of its association with many
great names of American literature (Ernest
Hemingway and Jack London, to name just
two). “There was a mythology that went along
with being a writer, and I think Serling was
acutely aware of it,” Weiner told the website
Grantland in 2014. “He’s from a small town.
He grew up as somewhat of an outsider,
despite being an insider, which is part of being
a white minority. And he might have been
drawn to boxing because of the writer mystique
that went along with it.”
Boxing fi gures heavily in Serling’s work.
It surfaces as a theme in a few Twilight
Zone episodes – a con man with the ability
to change his face into anything he wants
transforms into a boxer in ‘The Four Of Us Are
Dying’, while ‘The Big, Tall Wish’ tells the story
of an over-the-hill pugilist who has ‘left too
many pieces of his youth in too many stadiums
for too many years before too many screaming
people’. Indeed, it was his boxing-themed
TV play, ‘Requiem For A Heavyweight’, that
Serling considered his best work. The story
of a heavyweight champion (played by Jack
Palance) who is exploited by his avaricious
manager, it won Serling praise from the press
as well as a prestigious Peabody Award (the
fi rst time it had ever been given to a television
writer) and Emmys for Serling and director
Ralph Nelson. ‘‘Requiem For A Heavyweight’,’
wrote The New York Times the morning after
it was shown, ‘was a play of overwhelming
force and tenderness. It was an artistic triumph
that featured a performance of indescribable


COMPLETE GUIDE


ROD SERLING


ANNE SERLING
Rod Serling’s daughter Anne published her own book, As I Knew
Him, in 2013. We spoke to her about her memories of a remarkable
man and father...
You published your biography of your
father in 2013. What made you decide to
write it after all this time?
“I actually started another book years ago after
he died. I couldn’t fi nish it as I still hadn’t even
begun to navigate that minefi eld of grief. There
were three reasons I fi nally wrote the memoir:


  1. Because, like my dad, I fi nd writing cathartic
    and still grieving all these years later, I needed to
    write it out; 2. I wanted to learn more about my
    dad’s professional life, and 3. To dispel rumours,
    offensive assertions characterising my dad as
    this dark and tortured person. That could not
    be further removed from the man I, and all his
    friends, knew. I wanted the public – those who
    have done so much to preserve his legacy – to
    know the father behind the man. Along the way, I
    found the man behind the father.”


Was there anything particularly
surprising that you uncovered about
your father?
“I was, and am, astonished by the sheer volume
of the work he produced in such a short time. In
25 years he produced something like 250 scripts.
I learned to appreciate him in a way that I hadn’t


  • from an adult perspective. I am impressed by his
    courage and stamina in his struggles with censors.
    Also, the horrors he went through in the war. I
    knew he had nightmares. I heard him scream out
    at night and when I asked him in the morning he
    told me he was dreaming about the war, about
    the enemy but the degree that he (and any vet) is
    affected and haunted by those experiences – I had
    no idea. It is actually why he became a writer.”


Did you end the writing of the book with
a different impression of your dad?
“I learned about the man behind the father.
Forgive me for this – but that ‘other dimension’.”

What is your favourite memory of your
father, the one you go back to the most?
“It’s an amalgamation of so many. It’s this
brilliantly funny dad with an endearing silliness;
his face when he laughed – his eyes would

crinkle up. Sometimes it’s the stupidest thing I’ll
remember – like a bad joke. The best memory
though? Singing with him in the car. We’d sing
rounds. Often we were looking for our dogs – two
Irish setters. He used to call them ‘The Friendly
Travellers’. That’s where I see us – in that car,
driving off.”

There’s a strong sense of morality and
heart to your father’s work. What do you
think motivated him, creatively?
“He cared deeply about who we are as human
beings. He thought we could do better. He felt
that it was the writer’s job to menace the public’s
conscience. In 1968 when the country was in the
midst of divisiveness and turmoil that was tearing it
apart, my father ended a speech at the Library of
Congress in Washington by saying: “So long
as men and women write what they want, then
all of the other freedoms – all of them – will remain
intact. And it is then that writing becomes an
act of conscience, a weapon of truth, an article
of faith.””

The amount of time and effort he put into
The Twilight Zone is staggering. Do you
remember how the workload affected
him at home?
“As I wrote in my book, I know he said he worked
12 hours but I never had the sense, ever, that he
wasn’t available. He and I would play basketball
after school. He was always there at the dinner
table. His offi ce was in the backyard and although
we weren’t supposed to disturb him when he was
writing – he was there. I am certain he was under
a great deal of stress a lot of the time but he didn’t
often bring that ‘home’.”

He died far too young – was there much
creatively that he was frustrated at not
having achieved at the time of his death?
“He wanted to write a novel, a Broadway show;
he wanted to one day meet grandchildren.
I could never have imagined I would have to
say what he said to me: “If only you had known
your grandfather.””

The Twilight Zone
still dazzles.

© Anne Serling


W W W.SCI FI N OW.CO.U K |^097


fi ghting in the army, rising to the second round
of the division fi nals before being knocked out.
Mad Men’sMad Men’sMad Men’s showrunner Matthew Weiner is a showrunner Matthew Weiner is a
Serling fan and believes that he was drawn to
the sport because of its association with many
great names of American literature (Ernest
Hemingway and Jack London, to name just
two). “There was a mythology that went along
with being a writer, and I think Serling was
acutely aware of it,” Weiner told the website
Grantland in 2014. “He’s from a small town.
He grew up as somewhat of an outsider,
despite being an insider, which is part of being
a white minority. And he might have been
drawn to boxing because of the writer mystique
that went along with it.”
Boxing fi gures heavily in Serling’s work.
It surfaces as a theme in a few Twilight
Zone episodes – a con man with the ability
to change his face into anything he wants
transforms into a boxer in ‘The Four Of Us Are
Dying’, while ‘The Big, Tall Wish’ tells the story
of an over-the-hill pugilist who has ‘left too
many pieces of his youth in too many stadiums
for too many years before too many screaming
people’. Indeed, it was his boxing-themed
TV play, ‘Requiem For A Heavyweight’, that
Serling considered his best work. The story
of a heavyweight champion (played by Jack
Palance) who is exploited by his avaricious
manager, it won Serling praise from the press
as well as a prestigious Peabody Award (the
fi rst time it had ever been given to a television
writer) and Emmys for Serling and director
Ralph Nelson. ‘‘Requiem For A Heavyweight’,’
wrote The New York Times the morning after
it was shown, ‘was a play of overwhelming
force and tenderness. It was an artistic triumph
that featured a performance of indescribable


COMPLETE GUIDE


ROD SERLING


ANNE SERLING
Rod Serling’s daughter Anne published her own book, As I Knew
HimHimHim, in 2013. We spoke to her about her memories of a remarkable , in 2013. We spoke to her about her memories of a remarkable
man and father...
You published your biography of your
father in 2013. What made you decide to
write it after all this time?
“I actually started another book years ago after
he died. I couldn’t fi nish it as I still hadn’t even
begun to navigate that minefi eld of grief. There
were three reasons I fi nally wrote the memoir:


  1. Because, like my dad, I fi nd writing cathartic
    and still grieving all these years later, I needed to
    write it out; 2. I wanted to learn more about my
    dad’s professional life, and 3. To dispel rumours,
    offensive assertions characterising my dad as
    this dark and tortured person. That could not
    be further removed from the man I, and all his
    friends, knew. I wanted the public – those who
    have done so much to preserve his legacy – to
    know the father behind the man. Along the way, I
    found the man behind the father.”


Was there anything particularly
surprising that you uncovered about
your father?
“I was, and am, astonished by the sheer volume
of the work he produced in such a short time. In
25 years he produced something like 250 scripts.
I learned to appreciate him in a way that I hadn’t


  • from an adult perspective. I am impressed by his
    courage and stamina in his struggles with censors.
    Also, the horrors he went through in the war. I
    knew he had nightmares. I heard him scream out
    at night and when I asked him in the morning he
    told me he was dreaming about the war, about
    the enemy but the degree that he (and any vet) is
    affected and haunted by those experiences – I had
    no idea. It is actually why he became a writer.”


Did you end the writing of the book with
a different impression of your dad?
“I learned about the man behind the father.
Forgive me for this – but that ‘other dimension’.”

What is your favourite memory of your
father, the one you go back to the most?
“It’s an amalgamation of so many. It’s this
brilliantly funny dad with an endearing silliness;
his face when he laughed – his eyes would

crinkle up. Sometimes it’s the stupidest thing I’ll
remember – like a bad joke. The best memory
though? Singing with him in the car. We’d sing
rounds. Often we were looking for our dogs – two
Irish setters. He used to call them ‘The Friendly
Travellers’. That’s where I see us – in that car,
driving off.”

There’s a strong sense of morality and
heart to your father’s work. What do you
think motivated him, creatively?
“He cared deeply about who we are as human
beings. He thought we could do better. He felt
that it was the writer’s job to menace the public’s
conscience. In 1968 when the country was in the
midst of divisiveness and turmoil that was tearing it
apart, my father ended a speech at the Library of
Congress in Washington by saying: “So long
as men and women write what they want, then
all of the other freedoms – all of them – will remain
intact. And it is then that writing becomes an
act of conscience, a weapon of truth, an article
of faith.””

The amount of time and effort he put into
The Twilight ZoneThe Twilight ZoneThe Twilight Zone is staggering. Do you is staggering. Do you
remember how the workload affected
him at home?
“As I wrote in my book, I know he said he worked
12 hours but I never had the sense, ever, that he
wasn’t available. He and I would play basketball
after school. He was always there at the dinner
table. His offi ce was in the backyard and although
we weren’t supposed to disturb him when he was
writing – he was there. I am certain he was under
a great deal of stress a lot of the time but he didn’t
often bring that ‘home’.”

He died far too young – was there much
creatively that he was frustrated at not
having achieved at the time of his death?
“He wanted to write a novel, a Broadway show;
he wanted to one day meet grandchildren.
I could never have imagined I would have to
say what he said to me: “If only you had known
your grandfather.””

write it out; 2. I wanted to learn more about my
dad’s professional life, and 3. To dispel rumours,
offensive assertions characterising my dad as
this dark and tortured person. That could not
be further removed from the man I, and all his
friends, knew. I wanted the public – those who
have done so much to preserve his legacy – to
know the father behind the man. Along the way, I
found the man behind the father.”

Was there anything particularly
surprising that you uncovered about
your father?
“I was, and am, astonished by the sheer volume
of the work he produced in such a short time. In
25 years he produced something like 250 scripts.
I learned to appreciate him in a way that I hadn’t


  • from an adult perspective. I am impressed by his
    courage and stamina in his struggles with censors.
    Also, the horrors he went through in the war. I
    knew he had nightmares. I heard him scream out
    at night and when I asked him in the morning he
    told me he was dreaming about the war, about
    the enemy but the degree that he (and any vet) is
    affected and haunted by those experiences – I had
    no idea. It is actually why he became a writer.”


Did you end the writing of the book with
a different impression of your dad?
“I learned about the man behind the father.
Forgive me for this – but that ‘other dimension’.”

What is your favourite memory of your
father, the one you go back to the most?
“It’s an amalgamation of so many. It’s this
brilliantly funny dad with an endearing silliness;
his face when he laughed – his eyes would

, in 2013. We spoke to her about her memories of a remarkable

rounds. Often we were looking for our dogs – two

heart to your father’s work. What do you

that it was the writer’s job to menace the public’s
conscience. In 1968 when the country was in the
midst of divisiveness and turmoil that was tearing it
apart, my father ended a speech at the Library of

all of the other freedoms – all of them – will remain

act of conscience, a weapon of truth, an article

The amount of time and effort he put into
is staggering. Do you

“As I wrote in my book, I know he said he worked
12 hours but I never had the sense, ever, that he
wasn’t available. He and I would play basketball

table. His offi ce was in the backyard and although
we weren’t supposed to disturb him when he was
writing – he was there. I am certain he was under
a great deal of stress a lot of the time but he didn’t

He died far too young – was there much
creatively that he was frustrated at not
having achieved at the time of his death?
“He wanted to write a novel, a Broadway show;

say what he said to me: “If only you had known

ANNE SERLING
Rod Serling’s daughter Anne published her own book,
, in 2013. We spoke to her about her memories of a remarkable

The Twilight Zone
still dazzles.

© Anne Serling© Anne Serling

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