The walls have ears, and so does Doug.

It’s 1988, about two in the morning, and my phone is ringing off the hook. Who the hell is calling me at 2 am? I stumble out of bed, making my way through the darkness, I stub my toe, “Crimminies!” I yell. Snatching up the phone, “Who? What? Whattaya’ want at freaking 2am!” “Dougie!” yells the voice at the other end of the line. It’s David Smith, Makeup maestro Dick Smith’s son. “I’m sittin’ on the crapper, I pick up a copy of Newsweek magazine, and you are quoted on the quotable quotes page!” The quote is some cute comment I made about how I’ve given new meaning to the term “bit part”. The walls have ears, and so do I… as the tradition continues…

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Madcap Trek makeup artist Jerry Quist and I are in the itty bitty shack of a makeup lab on stage 10. As usual we are cracking each other up, and singing Mill’s Brothers tunes. Jerry is famous for his outrageous stories (and one of these days I will tell you about how as a boy, he stole Abraham Lincoln’s head from Disneyland. Yes he was brought to justice, and omigod it’s funny).

Mike Westmore saunters in, finishing the last stanza of “The Window Washer Man”, to much applause from us. “Ok, boys,” he says,”got a little task!”

“They find Data’s head in a cave, apparently buried there hundreds of years in the past,” explained Mike “We’ve got Brent’s life cast of his face, so all we need to do is clay out the back of the head.” “I’ll take care of that, Mike.” I volunteered. “What do you want to do about his ears?” As soon as they find time, they’ll bring Brent in, and we’ll grab a cast of them. The question is when will he have time?” As usual, they have more than a full schedule on stage. “Waitaminit, Mike! I have Brent Spiner’s ears!” I say. “Really?” says Mike., brightening up. ”That’s great! Where’d they come from?” “No, no! Look!” I explain, pushing my hair back, and pointing to my shell-like auditory receptors. Jerry laughs, “Holy mackeral! He’s right, Mister Wes’mo! looka’ that!”

The next thing I know, I’m in the department’s antique barber chair, and Jerry and Mike are whipping up a bowl of alginate. “Ears to Brent!” I toast. A couple of hours later, there it is. Brent never looked better. We make the mold, pour the cast, paint the head, add hair, and away we go!

About a week later, I’m taking my friend Maria Dugan on an impromptu tour of the stages, we’re standing by the makeup trailer talking, when all of a sudden her eyes pop, and she squeels (quietly), “Oh! Data! It’s Data!” I turn, and sure enough here comes Brent for his after lunch makeup touchup. Without a word, he stops inches from me, turns, and peers at the side of my head. “Hmm!” He says, “Nice ears!”

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It’s that makeup artist again, captain! Little by little, he’s taking my place!