For me, there was (and still is) something magical about the Planet of the Apes Television series.   I’m aware that there are many people who would disagree with this: devotees of the original movies, for one—and most of the series’ regular (and semi-regular) cast for another. More significant, perhaps, are the opinions of the millions in the U.S. who chose not to watch the show when it was airing and who, by doing so, brought about its demise…   When the series premiered in the U.K.—on Sunday October 13th., 1974—I was seventeen years old. I was at an age, really, where I’d ceased to be interested in watching Television. I was familiar with the reputation of the Apes movies, however, and curiosity led me to go out of my way to tune in to that first episode.   By the time the end credits were rolling, I was entranced…   Why did the show make such a big impression on me?   Well, undoubtedly, the show’s initial impact owed a lot to the strangeness and vividness of the world that was presented to me. My childhood had been spent in the 1960s, at a time when Science Fiction dominated Television, from British-created series like “Doctor Who,” and the creations of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, to American imports like “Star Trek” and the numerous productions of Irwin Allen. With “Apes,” however, for the first time, I found myself confronted with an utterly believable alien civilisation.   Much of what I saw had been inherited from Pierre Boulle’s provocative vision of a simian-ruled world, and the manner in which it had been physically realised—with its post-apocalyptic themes emphasised—for the original 1967 feature film: John Chambers utterly convincing make-up design; Morton Haack’s remarkable costumes; and William Creber’s evocative simian architecture and needle-like starship…   The product of the artistry and imagination of the team assembled by Arthur P. Jacobs and Darryl F. Zanuck infused me with the same sense of wonder I experienced when I first encountered the structures and carvings of the pre-Columbian civilisations of the Incas, the Maya, and the Aztecs, or the elegant artifacts of ancient Egypt.   I also responded positively to the moral anger underpinning the show. Since the age of thirteen I had been disgusted by the bigotry, hypocrisy and corruption of our political leaders and a society that not only tolerated but supported them; how could I fail to be engaged by an artistic endeavour that reflected my attitudes?   There were, however, three significant elements that the Television series added to the existing matrix: the noble and engaging personalities of a thirty-first century Chimpanzee named Galen, and two twentieth-century astronauts: Alan Virdon, and Pete Burke.   I liked these people from the very beginning, thanks to Don Weis’ stylish direction, the intelligent contributions of the cast, and the humanity at the heart of Art Wallace’s script.   Beyond Pete Burke’s teen-sidekick vocabulary (his constant use of words like “buster,” and “pal” seem at odds with his age and occupation), a reading of the original scripts for “Escape from Tomorrow” reveal just how Wallace placed compassion and justice at the core of his story: Farrow recognises the jeopardy the astronauts are in and risks his life to save them; Virdon and Burke demonstrate tremendous affection and concern for each other and for those who help them. Most significantly of all, we see in Galen someone who is able to recognise a failing in his beliefs, and has the courage to turn his life upside-down to embrace the truth. Wallace even chooses to present Zaius, one of our adversaries, with sympathy. In the scene following Galen’s imprisonment, we see the Chief Councillor of the ape civilisation regrets the actions he has had to take to preserve his society.   Are the criticisms of the cast and critics justified? Did the series tell the same story over and over? In broad terms, perhaps. The astronauts are captured in “Escape from Tomorrow” and “The Gladiators”; Virdon is imprisoned in “The Legacy” and hospitalised in “The Surgeon”; Burke is captured in “The Interrogation”; both become slaves in “The Good Seeds”, “The Liberator”, and “Tomorrow's Tide”. In spite of this, I never saw the stories as repetitive.   Perhaps it was because I had to wait a week before each new adventure, and I therefore had time for the memory of the preceding story to fade a little—unlike the cast whose work on the series was an unbroken daily diet of script pages—but back in 1974 (and even today) I saw the stories as distinct and well-crafted. In terms of the details, each situation was different. The challenges the fugitives encountered, the people they met and the problems that occupied them, were unique to each story.   Essentially, however, it was my affection and concern for the series’ protagonists that drew me back week after week.   Thirty years later, it still does.   This site is intended to be a tribute to the show; to the characters and their world, and to the work of the cast and crew—many of whom are, sadly, no longer with us.   It is an attempt to provide an archive and a resource of the material I have collected over the years, an examination of the series itself and an expression of my reactions to it.   While I am aware that there are many who would question the need for such a site, there are also, I know, many who share my affection for this production and they at least, I hope, will find something of value here.   Mark Rogers. January, 2008