27/10/2025
Tales from the Flying Saucer:
Several years ago, at an auction in the UK, I put in an absurdly low bid for a piece of Hollywood memorabilia. It was a 1960s theatrical space suit used as a prototype in Lost in Space, the Irwin Allen TV show that ran for three seasons in the mid 1960s. I paid £30 for it. It’s part of a tiny collection of space and sci fi stuff that we’ll be putting on display over the summer, when the wind dies down.
The suit is made of Genex aluminised fabric, similar to the material used in the Mercury space missions and in firefighting. It’s possible the suit was also a guest star in Hellfighters, the movie about the team that put out oil fires, starring John Wayne. Possibly also The Right Stuff. It spent years on the rack at the Western Costume Co in Hollywood, bears their stamp and smells vaguely of old to***co.
Lost in Space was a fixture on after-school TV in Australia in the early 1970s.
Homegrown budgets were low in Australia back then and there were only about seven Australian actors, so the 3.30pm-6pm post-school slot was filled with already ageing American sci fi shows and sitcoms. They included Time Tunnel, Land of the Giants, My Favourity Martian, Batman, Star Trek and Lost in Space.
Maureen Robinson, played by June Lockhart, was the mission botanist and she managed the hydroponic garden. She dosed out protein pills, the one-capsule meal replacement, when there was a shortage of food. The pills were immortalised in Bowie’s song, Space Oddity. She was also the anchor of the show, a rational human heart in a cheesy sci fi drama.
Lost in Space was eventually cancelled in a row over budget before the story arc reached anything near a satisfying conclusion.
The story is essentially The Swiss Family Robinson set in outer space. They get lost due to sabotage by the villainous Dr Smith (who gets stuck on board) and spend the remaining episodes crash landing on planets, repairing the ship, taking off, having endless battles with camp aliens, but never getting home. Well, except for once when Will Robinson is beamed back to earth using an alien matter transfer device but is unable to persuade the authorities that it’s really him, but he’s there long enough to pick up a chemical his mum and dad need to repair the space ship from the local drug store.
I watched every episode, probably twice over. It was shy fi, I guess, an imaginary family living an exotic life out in the stars that I could be part of. I’d reenact it, create off-shoot episodes with my friends, risk a beating by slipping unconsciously into the noises and accents of the characters. Some of the episodes were genuinely terrifying. Penny, the younger Robinson daughter, falls through a mirror into a dark cave inhabited by a boy who can’t escape. There’s resolution and family comfort, supplied by Maureen and flight commander John, played by Guy Williams who also played Zorro. But there’s also a danger bit at the end of each episode, the cliffhanger, which really worked.
Irwin Allen went on to make Time Tunnel and then became Hollywood’s ‘Master of Disaster’ with The Poseidon Adventure, The Towering Inferno and more. Lost in Space was the wellspring of what became known as ‘Irwin Allen Rock and Roll’, the faux turbulence manoeuvre in which the cast stagger from one side of the set to the other and back again in a murmurated sequence. Perhaps the lowest budget special effect of all time.
Lost in Space became increasingly hammy, reaching its apogee with an episode called ‘The Vegetable Rebellion’ in which giant sentient vegetables take over a planet, after an actor dressed as an ambulatory carrot demands retribution for the plucking of a flower. June Lockhart recalled“We laughed so hard during the shooting of that, that Guy Williams and I were written out of the next two episodes as a disciplinary measure.”
Lockhart’s hinterland was unconventional. She had the largest parking space on the Lost in Space production lot to accommodate her vehicle, an old fire truck, built in the 1920s. She’d take the child cast members out to bars in Los Angeles to absorb West Coast psychedelia, rock and pop. She was also a lifelong politics ju**ie, obtaining a media card that gave her access to White House press room briefings which she regularly attended. The fascination began in 1948, following completion of the run of a play, when she and a friend took the train to Washington. At the White House, they were led into the Oval Office. Behind the desk sat the president, Harry Truman.
“What is it like being in here?” she asked Truman.
“He looked at me, and said, ‘It’s just like being in jail.’”
June Lockhart died a few days ago, aged 100. She had one of Hollywood’s longest careers and she received a special award from NASA. If the suit I own was on the set of Lost in Space, I bequeath it to future scientists who can extract her DNA, clone her, and bring the Robinson Family who are still Lost in Space safely back to Earth.
For now, the Lost in Space Robot stares mournfully out of the window of the Flying Saucer cafe. RIP and Ad Astra, June Lockhart.
