The Frank Gehry designed Science Fiction Museum in
Seattle. BK photo.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Star Trek 40th: The Seattle Celebration
by William S. Kowinski
Some long overdue notes on the Planet Xpo Star Trek 40th Anniversary Celebration at the Science Fiction Museum in Seattle, which began on the actual 40th anniversary: Friday, September 8, 2006… This is not meant to be a complete report. Fortunately, Amy Ulen has written about many of the events I missed or don’t need to report on because she did, at startrek.com, here and here. So this is a selective personal log, and it begins in the Blue Room.
THE BLUE ROOM
First, a little context. I was invited to moderate a panel discussion on (Kowincidentally) the Soul of Star Trek, and in exchange I got access to all the events for the three days (except the banquet on Saturday), and got to hang out with the other participants in what was called the Blue Room, a lounge and staging area on the fourth floor of the Museum. It had a circle of sofas and chairs, a bar (though all I had was water, and I don’t think they stocked much else), a TV monitor and a view overlooking the soaring Sky Church, the main auditorium: it begins on the second floor, but its ceiling was high above us. There were also events in the JPL Room on the first floor, and various autograph and photo sessions on Level 3 (also the dealers room) and the first floor “Ten Forward.”
Most of the program participants—including the actors, the scientists and writers on the panels as well as the convention staff—passed through the Blue Room at one time or another. Because I wasn’t there as a reporter, I’m choosing to err on the side of discretion in reporting conversations, etc. I hope I’m not violating any confidences in what I do say. But the Blue Room was a major part of my experience. My participation was kind of unique: unlike the other writers, I was on only one panel, but I also was at the event totally on my own dime. Since my dime is not made of latinum, I couldn’t stay at the same hotel as other participants or buy a ticket to the banquet, so my opportunities for socializing were pretty much restricted to the Museum and in particular, to the Blue Room.
Because of its nature and its location, the Blue Room was itself a unique way to experience the convention. At any given time, there was an event going on in the Sky Church—actors, panels, films—which were often also on the video monitor. We could look down and watch the fans responding to and interacting with whoever was on stage. Meanwhile, there was the mix in the Blue Room itself. There was one surreal moment when I was chatting with Marina Sirtis while she ate her salad before her Sky Church appearance with Jonathan Frakes, while on the other side of me I could hear fragments of a totally separate and highly learned conversation on the history of rocketry.
[text continues after photos]
by William S. Kowinski
Some long overdue notes on the Planet Xpo Star Trek 40th Anniversary Celebration at the Science Fiction Museum in Seattle, which began on the actual 40th anniversary: Friday, September 8, 2006… This is not meant to be a complete report. Fortunately, Amy Ulen has written about many of the events I missed or don’t need to report on because she did, at startrek.com, here and here. So this is a selective personal log, and it begins in the Blue Room.
THE BLUE ROOM
First, a little context. I was invited to moderate a panel discussion on (Kowincidentally) the Soul of Star Trek, and in exchange I got access to all the events for the three days (except the banquet on Saturday), and got to hang out with the other participants in what was called the Blue Room, a lounge and staging area on the fourth floor of the Museum. It had a circle of sofas and chairs, a bar (though all I had was water, and I don’t think they stocked much else), a TV monitor and a view overlooking the soaring Sky Church, the main auditorium: it begins on the second floor, but its ceiling was high above us. There were also events in the JPL Room on the first floor, and various autograph and photo sessions on Level 3 (also the dealers room) and the first floor “Ten Forward.”
Most of the program participants—including the actors, the scientists and writers on the panels as well as the convention staff—passed through the Blue Room at one time or another. Because I wasn’t there as a reporter, I’m choosing to err on the side of discretion in reporting conversations, etc. I hope I’m not violating any confidences in what I do say. But the Blue Room was a major part of my experience. My participation was kind of unique: unlike the other writers, I was on only one panel, but I also was at the event totally on my own dime. Since my dime is not made of latinum, I couldn’t stay at the same hotel as other participants or buy a ticket to the banquet, so my opportunities for socializing were pretty much restricted to the Museum and in particular, to the Blue Room.
Because of its nature and its location, the Blue Room was itself a unique way to experience the convention. At any given time, there was an event going on in the Sky Church—actors, panels, films—which were often also on the video monitor. We could look down and watch the fans responding to and interacting with whoever was on stage. Meanwhile, there was the mix in the Blue Room itself. There was one surreal moment when I was chatting with Marina Sirtis while she ate her salad before her Sky Church appearance with Jonathan Frakes, while on the other side of me I could hear fragments of a totally separate and highly learned conversation on the history of rocketry.
[text continues after photos]
THE STARS
I had met (and interviewed) Nichelle Nichols and Walter Koenig at the Farewell Scotty convention in Hollywood in 2004, which I attended as a freelance reporter on assignment to the New York Times. Nichelle had endeared herself to me forever by spontaneously introducing me to Neil Armstrong, about ten seconds after I introduced myself to her. This time I saw her only for a minute in the Blue Room just before my panel started on Friday, but I got a hug and a Hollywood kiss. Nichelle held the Sky Church stage on Sunday, with amazing energy and grace. I was in the Blue Room as she started, and on the monitor the strong planes of her face reminded me of carvings of African or Egyptian goddesses. She also showed a partial rough-cut of her forthcoming movie, “Lady Magdalene,” which presented some earthy, humorous and musical aspects.
I talked briefly with Walter Koenig on Friday afternoon, as we stood waiting for the elevator to the Blue Room. He introduced me to his wife, Judy. I guess I’m not telling tales out of school to mention that he’s read this Soul of Star Trek blog on occasion, and we talked about one entry he particularly liked. One of the writers in attendance commented later that Walter looked relaxed, elegant, European. He wore a tweed jacket and jeans. I hardly ever see anyone in a tweed jacket anymore, and that’s a shame, partly because I like to wear them myself.
Walter had his Sky Church solo on Saturday afternoon. He is soft spoken and articulate, and had a good rapport with the audience, even when fielding the millionth request to repeat his “nuclear wessels” line from Star Trek IV. When so requested, he said something about feeling like a trained monkey—and his accompanying gesture, of an organ-grinder’s monkey turning, was small and fleeting but perfect, reminding me of how many skills these actors have that we seldom get to see—and then he did the line with good-natured grace. We did get to see more of his acting skills than usual in the New Voyages episode and the extended trailer for “Star Trek: Of Gods and Men” shown on Friday evening—I’ll say more about those in the section below.
I should mention what the Sky Church itself did for these appearances. The huge cathedral-like room was always dark, for behind the stage and extending far beyond it was a high wall of images: usually a moving star field, plus huge photos of whichever star was on stage, from various episodes and/or movies. Films and video were also projected onto a screen on that back wall. It’s quite an impressive venue.
George Takei was the first of the original cast to take the stage. I’d heard him speak solo at the Scotty convention but hadn’t met him. This time he spoke in more detail about his experiences as a child in an internment camp where many families of Japanese ancestry, especially from the West Coast were held during World War II. The most vivid detail I recall was his memory of going to the latrine in the middle of the night with a spotlight and a machine gun following him from a tower above. I did meet him in the Blue Room afterwards, and told him that even though I’d read similar comments he’d made about this, hearing him talk about it was so much more powerful. “I think it’s important,” he said, and he had related his experiences to the xenophobia, racial profiling and demonization of entire peoples and faiths that has been a recurring temptation and sometimes close to official policy in recent years in the U.S. Guantanamo was clearly on his mind.
On a later panel, George countered the idea that Star Trek was too optimistic. It’s not true that Gene Roddenberry created a future where there wasn’t conflict, but one where people dealt with conflict and its underlying causes. Yet the attitude of optimism was important. “I think optimism is a necessity to make progress.”
On Sunday I happened to be in the Blue Room just after he’d been given a unique scrapbook—it was a meticulously preserved set of photographs and drawings of a play he had done as a UCLA theatre student in the late 1950s. He’d played the lead. Apparently the scrapbook had been created by a UCLA film student, as an assignment to document the theatre production and create storyboards. George said that he’d felt guilty accepting it, but I gathered that it had belonged to the woman lead of the play who had recently passed away, and whoever had given it to George felt he should have it.
I had met (and interviewed) Nichelle Nichols and Walter Koenig at the Farewell Scotty convention in Hollywood in 2004, which I attended as a freelance reporter on assignment to the New York Times. Nichelle had endeared herself to me forever by spontaneously introducing me to Neil Armstrong, about ten seconds after I introduced myself to her. This time I saw her only for a minute in the Blue Room just before my panel started on Friday, but I got a hug and a Hollywood kiss. Nichelle held the Sky Church stage on Sunday, with amazing energy and grace. I was in the Blue Room as she started, and on the monitor the strong planes of her face reminded me of carvings of African or Egyptian goddesses. She also showed a partial rough-cut of her forthcoming movie, “Lady Magdalene,” which presented some earthy, humorous and musical aspects.
I talked briefly with Walter Koenig on Friday afternoon, as we stood waiting for the elevator to the Blue Room. He introduced me to his wife, Judy. I guess I’m not telling tales out of school to mention that he’s read this Soul of Star Trek blog on occasion, and we talked about one entry he particularly liked. One of the writers in attendance commented later that Walter looked relaxed, elegant, European. He wore a tweed jacket and jeans. I hardly ever see anyone in a tweed jacket anymore, and that’s a shame, partly because I like to wear them myself.
Walter had his Sky Church solo on Saturday afternoon. He is soft spoken and articulate, and had a good rapport with the audience, even when fielding the millionth request to repeat his “nuclear wessels” line from Star Trek IV. When so requested, he said something about feeling like a trained monkey—and his accompanying gesture, of an organ-grinder’s monkey turning, was small and fleeting but perfect, reminding me of how many skills these actors have that we seldom get to see—and then he did the line with good-natured grace. We did get to see more of his acting skills than usual in the New Voyages episode and the extended trailer for “Star Trek: Of Gods and Men” shown on Friday evening—I’ll say more about those in the section below.
I should mention what the Sky Church itself did for these appearances. The huge cathedral-like room was always dark, for behind the stage and extending far beyond it was a high wall of images: usually a moving star field, plus huge photos of whichever star was on stage, from various episodes and/or movies. Films and video were also projected onto a screen on that back wall. It’s quite an impressive venue.
George Takei was the first of the original cast to take the stage. I’d heard him speak solo at the Scotty convention but hadn’t met him. This time he spoke in more detail about his experiences as a child in an internment camp where many families of Japanese ancestry, especially from the West Coast were held during World War II. The most vivid detail I recall was his memory of going to the latrine in the middle of the night with a spotlight and a machine gun following him from a tower above. I did meet him in the Blue Room afterwards, and told him that even though I’d read similar comments he’d made about this, hearing him talk about it was so much more powerful. “I think it’s important,” he said, and he had related his experiences to the xenophobia, racial profiling and demonization of entire peoples and faiths that has been a recurring temptation and sometimes close to official policy in recent years in the U.S. Guantanamo was clearly on his mind.
On a later panel, George countered the idea that Star Trek was too optimistic. It’s not true that Gene Roddenberry created a future where there wasn’t conflict, but one where people dealt with conflict and its underlying causes. Yet the attitude of optimism was important. “I think optimism is a necessity to make progress.”
On Sunday I happened to be in the Blue Room just after he’d been given a unique scrapbook—it was a meticulously preserved set of photographs and drawings of a play he had done as a UCLA theatre student in the late 1950s. He’d played the lead. Apparently the scrapbook had been created by a UCLA film student, as an assignment to document the theatre production and create storyboards. George said that he’d felt guilty accepting it, but I gathered that it had belonged to the woman lead of the play who had recently passed away, and whoever had given it to George felt he should have it.
MORE STARS (IN PAIRS)
Although we’d exchanged emails when I was doing my Times story, I hadn’t met Jonathan Frakes until the Blue Room on Saturday—as he was eating his salad. Salad days with the Rikers! Having told one tale I’ll tell another—he’s also read this blog, and commented that it showed “loyalty to the vision” of Star Trek. (I also told Marina that I’d stolen a photo from her web site for this one. I've now stolen it again. She looks fabulous in person, by the way, even without the Borg eyepiece.)
But I had only a moment to ask Jonathan about the episode he directed for the Masters of Science Fiction series for ABC, an anthology of classic sci-fi tales (his was a Harlan Ellison story), produced by the creators of the successful Masters of Horror on Showtime. There wasn’t time to ask about his student days at Penn State (I grew up in western Pennsylvania, spent some time on the main campus later, and some of my friends and half my relatives went there.)
Marina and Jonathan went directly from the Blue Room to the Sky Church stage—though their pairing seems natural, I’m not sure they’d appeared as a duo before. I also don’t know how this practice of pairing up actors for convention appearances began, but it’s very effective and a lot of fun. Actors are sensitive to the moment, by nature and certainly by training or both, and playing off each other with the further participation of the audience enlivens these events. The actors also put their personalities and even their relationships (as actors, their characters, and as people in real life) into action. It all adds to the entertainment while giving the audience a sense that they’ve seen something of them beyond a Q and A. It’s not just about Star Trek—it’s a little bit of Star Trek, of the personalities behind the characters they play.
Each pairing I’ve seen was a little different. At the Scotty convention, William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy created a crackling electrical force with their banter that was Kirk and Spock at the same time as it was Shatner and Nimoy, now best friends. At times it was conspiratorial, at times mock-adversarial, as when Shatner jumped on Nimoy’s admission that he thought planets and moons were the same thing. Sirtis and Frakes had a different energy and camaraderie, teasing at times but easy and affectionate, as befits the couple that still propose a sitcom about “the Rikers in space: their wacky uncle Data, and their little dog, Worf.”
As seems to be the convention trend, they got into some rowdy and somewhat raunchy repartee with the audience (one male fan thanked Marina/Troi for getting him through his adolescence; she replied that it was a huge compliment). Though eventually Marina had to warn one fan, “Don’t be funnier than us.” They answered questions, including some they posed to each other that were asked at other venues. They repeated the stories about how rowdy the Next Gen set was, how one director refused to return because of it. “And that was the first season,” Marina said. “Before we got really out of control,” Jonathan added.
Jonathan, who played both William T. Riker and his brother, Thomas on the series, wondered why Marina had told him that she thought Thomas “was cuter.” He also wondered how Riker was so good at poker when he played with somebody who could see through the cards (Geordi), somebody who could count the cards (Data), somebody who could read everybody’s feelings (Troi), and “Worf, who could kick your ass.” Several questions seemed to come from former TNG crew members. At one point, Jonathan introduced a fan he’d met—a woman who had served on the real Enterprise, the aircraft carrier. She got a round of applause.
Amidst the sassy one-liners and the dish on other Trek shows, Marina interjected a heartfelt tribute to Jonathan as a director—most directors, she said, were either good with the technical aspects or with the actors. In her experience, only Frakes was good at both. He in turn advised how he dealt with prima donna actors and with actors whose great reputation preceeds them: “You treat them as you do any other actors. You make sure to tell them when they’re wonderful, you make sure to give them a note when you feel they need a note—nobody, no matter how fabulous and experienced and talented they are—we’re all children, we still need to be told that we’re wanted.”
One on-set story they told I hadn’t heard was about the famous drunk Troi scene in the feature, First Contact, with Marina, James Cromwell (as Zephram Cochrane) and Jonathan, who was also directing. Jonathan said that his wife (actor Genie Francis) told him he acts best when he’s tired because he is more relaxed. That scene, he said, was shot at the end of the day when they were all exhausted, and they got it in three takes. That surprised and bemused look on Riker’s face when Troi pokes him in the chest was genuine—Marina hadn’t done it in rehearsal, and Jonathan was surprised, as actor and director as well as the character.
They both thought the Next Generation series had ended too soon (just as Shatner and Nimoy thought the original crew had more movies in them than six), and they would put on the space suits again, anytime. Marina—who commented onstage she’s had a run lately of playing Middle Eastern women-- wanted to know why she hadn’t been invited to act in “Of Gods and Men.” She said it lightly on stage, and not so lightly later. It’s a testament to the power of the Star Trek universe that actors want to continue to be part of it, even without the paycheck.
There were several more pairings in Seattle, including two I caught: John Billingsley and Gary Graham from Enterprise, and Tim Russ and Garret Wang from Voyager. Oddly, both of these pairs divulged who in their respective casts farted the most. John and Gary seemed to be getting better acquainted while on stage—both discovered they’d had the same small Shakespeare part, with one line: “What ho! Sail!” They offered several different readings of it.
I’d met John Billingsley on the Enterprise set, though he was in full makeup as Phlox at the time, and when I met him in the Blue Room I failed to remember the episode, although I did recall that he’d written about it in his blog. (It was “Cold Station 12”) The scene I saw him shoot, though I was too far away to hear what he and Scott Bacula were saying, turned out to have some of my favorite lines of the whole series.
But things happened fast in the Blue Room and I couldn’t quite explain any of that before someone else joined the group, and John attempted to introduce all of us to the newcomer. When he came around to me, he said tentatively, “John?” “Bill,” I said, opting for dull honesty rather than changing my name on the spot. “I knew it had something to do with my name,” he said, meaning the Bill in Billingsley. Seattle was a homecoming for Bill—sorry, I mean John; he acted there and started a couple of theatre groups that still flourish.
Gary Graham, who looks considerably younger than Soval, his character in Enterprise, said on stage that he’d taken his key for the character from one of Archer’s lines in his first scene: that he was a Vulcan who had spent too much time on Earth, and so he was not in full control of his emotions. Graham was very modest about his own accomplishments in the series, but he spontaneously expressed his gratitude for the opportunity to be part of Star Trek and all that it represents.
Garrett Wang and Tim Russ had an easy camaraderie on stage as well. Garrett also participated in a panel on “Society and Star Trek,” with George Takei, who had been a role model for him. Garrett said that growing up in Memphis he had experienced racism every single day—much of it from non-Caucasians. His ancestry is Chinese, and he’d done what George had done as a young actor of Japanese ancestry: searched for good, non-stereotypical roles. It reminded me of George saying he had turned down a role as a Japanese houseboy and because of it, had to take a job as an actual waiter. But they both found those non-stereotyped roles in Star Trek.
Always in his black trench coat, Tim Russ was the brooding (but friendly) Renaissance man of the convention. He opened his Sky Church appearance by singing a song he’d written ( some listeners near me thought he sounded like Peter Gabriel); he held his own talking about physics and future shock on a panel of scientists and writers; he answered questions and did a hilarious Tuvok-on-the-Voyager-bridge impression with Garrett Wang, and possibly above all, he showed part of a film he directed that very well may turn a lot of heads in Hollywood and beyond.
Although we’d exchanged emails when I was doing my Times story, I hadn’t met Jonathan Frakes until the Blue Room on Saturday—as he was eating his salad. Salad days with the Rikers! Having told one tale I’ll tell another—he’s also read this blog, and commented that it showed “loyalty to the vision” of Star Trek. (I also told Marina that I’d stolen a photo from her web site for this one. I've now stolen it again. She looks fabulous in person, by the way, even without the Borg eyepiece.)
But I had only a moment to ask Jonathan about the episode he directed for the Masters of Science Fiction series for ABC, an anthology of classic sci-fi tales (his was a Harlan Ellison story), produced by the creators of the successful Masters of Horror on Showtime. There wasn’t time to ask about his student days at Penn State (I grew up in western Pennsylvania, spent some time on the main campus later, and some of my friends and half my relatives went there.)
Marina and Jonathan went directly from the Blue Room to the Sky Church stage—though their pairing seems natural, I’m not sure they’d appeared as a duo before. I also don’t know how this practice of pairing up actors for convention appearances began, but it’s very effective and a lot of fun. Actors are sensitive to the moment, by nature and certainly by training or both, and playing off each other with the further participation of the audience enlivens these events. The actors also put their personalities and even their relationships (as actors, their characters, and as people in real life) into action. It all adds to the entertainment while giving the audience a sense that they’ve seen something of them beyond a Q and A. It’s not just about Star Trek—it’s a little bit of Star Trek, of the personalities behind the characters they play.
Each pairing I’ve seen was a little different. At the Scotty convention, William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy created a crackling electrical force with their banter that was Kirk and Spock at the same time as it was Shatner and Nimoy, now best friends. At times it was conspiratorial, at times mock-adversarial, as when Shatner jumped on Nimoy’s admission that he thought planets and moons were the same thing. Sirtis and Frakes had a different energy and camaraderie, teasing at times but easy and affectionate, as befits the couple that still propose a sitcom about “the Rikers in space: their wacky uncle Data, and their little dog, Worf.”
As seems to be the convention trend, they got into some rowdy and somewhat raunchy repartee with the audience (one male fan thanked Marina/Troi for getting him through his adolescence; she replied that it was a huge compliment). Though eventually Marina had to warn one fan, “Don’t be funnier than us.” They answered questions, including some they posed to each other that were asked at other venues. They repeated the stories about how rowdy the Next Gen set was, how one director refused to return because of it. “And that was the first season,” Marina said. “Before we got really out of control,” Jonathan added.
Jonathan, who played both William T. Riker and his brother, Thomas on the series, wondered why Marina had told him that she thought Thomas “was cuter.” He also wondered how Riker was so good at poker when he played with somebody who could see through the cards (Geordi), somebody who could count the cards (Data), somebody who could read everybody’s feelings (Troi), and “Worf, who could kick your ass.” Several questions seemed to come from former TNG crew members. At one point, Jonathan introduced a fan he’d met—a woman who had served on the real Enterprise, the aircraft carrier. She got a round of applause.
Amidst the sassy one-liners and the dish on other Trek shows, Marina interjected a heartfelt tribute to Jonathan as a director—most directors, she said, were either good with the technical aspects or with the actors. In her experience, only Frakes was good at both. He in turn advised how he dealt with prima donna actors and with actors whose great reputation preceeds them: “You treat them as you do any other actors. You make sure to tell them when they’re wonderful, you make sure to give them a note when you feel they need a note—nobody, no matter how fabulous and experienced and talented they are—we’re all children, we still need to be told that we’re wanted.”
One on-set story they told I hadn’t heard was about the famous drunk Troi scene in the feature, First Contact, with Marina, James Cromwell (as Zephram Cochrane) and Jonathan, who was also directing. Jonathan said that his wife (actor Genie Francis) told him he acts best when he’s tired because he is more relaxed. That scene, he said, was shot at the end of the day when they were all exhausted, and they got it in three takes. That surprised and bemused look on Riker’s face when Troi pokes him in the chest was genuine—Marina hadn’t done it in rehearsal, and Jonathan was surprised, as actor and director as well as the character.
They both thought the Next Generation series had ended too soon (just as Shatner and Nimoy thought the original crew had more movies in them than six), and they would put on the space suits again, anytime. Marina—who commented onstage she’s had a run lately of playing Middle Eastern women-- wanted to know why she hadn’t been invited to act in “Of Gods and Men.” She said it lightly on stage, and not so lightly later. It’s a testament to the power of the Star Trek universe that actors want to continue to be part of it, even without the paycheck.
There were several more pairings in Seattle, including two I caught: John Billingsley and Gary Graham from Enterprise, and Tim Russ and Garret Wang from Voyager. Oddly, both of these pairs divulged who in their respective casts farted the most. John and Gary seemed to be getting better acquainted while on stage—both discovered they’d had the same small Shakespeare part, with one line: “What ho! Sail!” They offered several different readings of it.
I’d met John Billingsley on the Enterprise set, though he was in full makeup as Phlox at the time, and when I met him in the Blue Room I failed to remember the episode, although I did recall that he’d written about it in his blog. (It was “Cold Station 12”) The scene I saw him shoot, though I was too far away to hear what he and Scott Bacula were saying, turned out to have some of my favorite lines of the whole series.
But things happened fast in the Blue Room and I couldn’t quite explain any of that before someone else joined the group, and John attempted to introduce all of us to the newcomer. When he came around to me, he said tentatively, “John?” “Bill,” I said, opting for dull honesty rather than changing my name on the spot. “I knew it had something to do with my name,” he said, meaning the Bill in Billingsley. Seattle was a homecoming for Bill—sorry, I mean John; he acted there and started a couple of theatre groups that still flourish.
Gary Graham, who looks considerably younger than Soval, his character in Enterprise, said on stage that he’d taken his key for the character from one of Archer’s lines in his first scene: that he was a Vulcan who had spent too much time on Earth, and so he was not in full control of his emotions. Graham was very modest about his own accomplishments in the series, but he spontaneously expressed his gratitude for the opportunity to be part of Star Trek and all that it represents.
Garrett Wang and Tim Russ had an easy camaraderie on stage as well. Garrett also participated in a panel on “Society and Star Trek,” with George Takei, who had been a role model for him. Garrett said that growing up in Memphis he had experienced racism every single day—much of it from non-Caucasians. His ancestry is Chinese, and he’d done what George had done as a young actor of Japanese ancestry: searched for good, non-stereotypical roles. It reminded me of George saying he had turned down a role as a Japanese houseboy and because of it, had to take a job as an actual waiter. But they both found those non-stereotyped roles in Star Trek.
Always in his black trench coat, Tim Russ was the brooding (but friendly) Renaissance man of the convention. He opened his Sky Church appearance by singing a song he’d written ( some listeners near me thought he sounded like Peter Gabriel); he held his own talking about physics and future shock on a panel of scientists and writers; he answered questions and did a hilarious Tuvok-on-the-Voyager-bridge impression with Garrett Wang, and possibly above all, he showed part of a film he directed that very well may turn a lot of heads in Hollywood and beyond.
THE FILMS
I finally caught the part I’d missed of the humorous and affectionate “Roddenberry On Patrol,” the first collaboration of producer/writer Sky Douglas Conway (also the impresario of Planet Xpo) and director Tim Russ. It’s clever and skillfully done, but didn’t really prepare me for what I was to see on Friday evening in two trailers for “Of Gods and Men.”
But before that, we saw the premiere of the Star Trek: New Voyages production called “To Serve All My Days,” written by D.C.Fontana and starring Walter Koenig as Chekov. It’s been available on the Internet since then, and I’ve seen it again. ( Frankly, I couldn’t hear the dialogue clearly at the convention.) But even without following the nuances of the story, on first viewing it was clear that this was Walter’s time to shine. It's a quality piece, and while this was probably his most complete performance as Chekov, it may not turn out to be his most praised performance in a new Star Trek story.
That might be in “Star Trek: Of Gods and Men.” After the New Voyages webisodes, we got two tantalizing glimpses of this film. A standard-length trailer came first. Here were familiar faces in unfamiliar roles. The trailer was fast-paced, but all trailers are. The visual style was striking, but could that be just the trailer edit? Then we saw a longer piece, about six minutes, and even though these scenes were probably selected for their action as well, I got a better impression of what the overall film might be like. If the rest of it is anything like what I saw, this is not just a quantum leap forward for non-studio Trek films, it could command the notice of a lot of people in Hollywood as well as Trekdom.
If what we saw is an accurate indication of the whole film, no Star Trek has ever looked like this. It is a new visual style for this saga. It may turn out to be unique because of this particular story, but I’m willing to bet that J.J. Abrams and Paramount are going to take a good long look at it, and they may be among those who sit up and take notice of Tim Russ as a director. (Jonathan Frakes was reportedly impressed by the short trailer shown again Saturday. I heard a rumor that he was interested in seeing the longer piece before he left Seattle.)
The premise of “Of Gods and Men” is an alternate (and definitely not Mirror) universe where Captain Kirk has never been born. Some actors seem to be playing versions of their Star Trek roles, and others aren’t. Sky calls it the Trek version of "It's A Wonderful Life," but the alternate universe seems to suggest the rebels of Star Wars fighting a Star Trek universe empire, but it has a harder edge. And if Walter Koenig in the New Voyages webisodes was impressive, his performance in this film may well be extraordinary.
I’m not a fan of the Mirror universe episodes after the first one, and I don’t believe Star Trek has to be “gritty” and more like the ugly past to be relevant. But Conway, Russ and company may have found a way to produce a real Star Trek story with a harder edge than we’ve seen before. I got that impression not only from a few scenes I saw but from talking to Sky Conway about it later. He feels strongly this is a movie that Gene Roddenberry would have liked. (He told me that during production, Nichelle remarked that “Gene is here.”)
At the convention, Conway was no longer sure the film would be ready to be released on the Internet during the Christmas holidays, because some final scenes yet to be shot in Hollywood featuring a “mystery” guest star had been delayed. But according to an account of that final shoot at trekmovie.com , the release date is back to the original--and the filmmakers are reportedly hopeful that CBS will find a way to partner up with them for other sorts of releases. There will be more information at the web movie’s website.
The timing of these screenings at the Celebration was perfect: forty years after the original series began, two new Star Trek stories emerge—made by many of the very same people, often in partnership with several new generations, and done with full knowledge of what they mean, both in terms of legacy, and for the most fervent fans. And after all the precedents that Star Trek has shattered in the past, there is this one now—perhaps the most amazing of all. These were Star Trek stories created and accomplished only for love.
I finally caught the part I’d missed of the humorous and affectionate “Roddenberry On Patrol,” the first collaboration of producer/writer Sky Douglas Conway (also the impresario of Planet Xpo) and director Tim Russ. It’s clever and skillfully done, but didn’t really prepare me for what I was to see on Friday evening in two trailers for “Of Gods and Men.”
But before that, we saw the premiere of the Star Trek: New Voyages production called “To Serve All My Days,” written by D.C.Fontana and starring Walter Koenig as Chekov. It’s been available on the Internet since then, and I’ve seen it again. ( Frankly, I couldn’t hear the dialogue clearly at the convention.) But even without following the nuances of the story, on first viewing it was clear that this was Walter’s time to shine. It's a quality piece, and while this was probably his most complete performance as Chekov, it may not turn out to be his most praised performance in a new Star Trek story.
That might be in “Star Trek: Of Gods and Men.” After the New Voyages webisodes, we got two tantalizing glimpses of this film. A standard-length trailer came first. Here were familiar faces in unfamiliar roles. The trailer was fast-paced, but all trailers are. The visual style was striking, but could that be just the trailer edit? Then we saw a longer piece, about six minutes, and even though these scenes were probably selected for their action as well, I got a better impression of what the overall film might be like. If the rest of it is anything like what I saw, this is not just a quantum leap forward for non-studio Trek films, it could command the notice of a lot of people in Hollywood as well as Trekdom.
If what we saw is an accurate indication of the whole film, no Star Trek has ever looked like this. It is a new visual style for this saga. It may turn out to be unique because of this particular story, but I’m willing to bet that J.J. Abrams and Paramount are going to take a good long look at it, and they may be among those who sit up and take notice of Tim Russ as a director. (Jonathan Frakes was reportedly impressed by the short trailer shown again Saturday. I heard a rumor that he was interested in seeing the longer piece before he left Seattle.)
The premise of “Of Gods and Men” is an alternate (and definitely not Mirror) universe where Captain Kirk has never been born. Some actors seem to be playing versions of their Star Trek roles, and others aren’t. Sky calls it the Trek version of "It's A Wonderful Life," but the alternate universe seems to suggest the rebels of Star Wars fighting a Star Trek universe empire, but it has a harder edge. And if Walter Koenig in the New Voyages webisodes was impressive, his performance in this film may well be extraordinary.
I’m not a fan of the Mirror universe episodes after the first one, and I don’t believe Star Trek has to be “gritty” and more like the ugly past to be relevant. But Conway, Russ and company may have found a way to produce a real Star Trek story with a harder edge than we’ve seen before. I got that impression not only from a few scenes I saw but from talking to Sky Conway about it later. He feels strongly this is a movie that Gene Roddenberry would have liked. (He told me that during production, Nichelle remarked that “Gene is here.”)
At the convention, Conway was no longer sure the film would be ready to be released on the Internet during the Christmas holidays, because some final scenes yet to be shot in Hollywood featuring a “mystery” guest star had been delayed. But according to an account of that final shoot at trekmovie.com , the release date is back to the original--and the filmmakers are reportedly hopeful that CBS will find a way to partner up with them for other sorts of releases. There will be more information at the web movie’s website.
The timing of these screenings at the Celebration was perfect: forty years after the original series began, two new Star Trek stories emerge—made by many of the very same people, often in partnership with several new generations, and done with full knowledge of what they mean, both in terms of legacy, and for the most fervent fans. And after all the precedents that Star Trek has shattered in the past, there is this one now—perhaps the most amazing of all. These were Star Trek stories created and accomplished only for love.
THE MOMENT
The central moment of the Celebration was to honor almost the very moment of the anniversary. Within some negligible number of minutes, glasses of champagne were to be raised high atop the Space Needle in honor of the hour that the first Star Trek story entered American homes, and the forty years of the continuing saga since.
Well, it was a fine idea. It turned out to be a complex operation that became a genial bit of chaos—definitely less than it could have been, yet fitting in its own way. For me, it began in the Blue Room. It was decided that all the participants should gather there and go over to the Space Needle together. But since we had to go down to the second floor on the elevator in small groups, we got separated anyway.
So I found myself in the empty and darkened Science Fiction Museum with a group that included Garrett Wang, Gary Graham, Alan Ruck (who played Captain Harriman of the Enterprise in Star Trek: Generations) and Garfield and Judith Reeves-Stevens, the celebrated writing team of Star Trek novels, Enterprise scripts and more. The Reeves-Stevens were on the same panel I was, and in the official program (with its cartoon cover of the Enterprise-D rescuing the Space Needle from a giant octopus) the final “i” in my name got transferred to the end of their name. That odd connection turned out to be a bit prophetic, for I wound up spending more time with Gar and Judith than anyone else.
Designated staff members, called “handlers” (an irony not lost on Walter Koenig, for one) were usually around to escort the actors to their next venue, but not this time. “So what do we do?” someone asked. We had just seen Alan Ruck play a more commanding leader in “Of Gods and Men” than his mostly hapless officer in “Generations,” so when he took a few steps in one direction, I suggested,” We follow the Captain.”
But Ruck turned back. “Yeah, except the Captain doesn’t know where he’s going.”
Even with no Kirk to the rescue, we eventually found a door to the outside that opened, and once outside the building, the location of the Space Needle was pretty obvious. Inside that structure, we were funneled into another elevator which shot with ear-splitting speed towards the top. But it stopped instead a floor short, where the doors opened on a crush of fans, many of them costumed. Some of the actors on the elevator looked like they’d been caught without their phasers. One hit the button, the doors closed and we continued upward. “When you see Vulcans and Klingons, that’s a sure sign” he said, “you don’t want to go out there.” It was funny, and it wasn’t. As much as Trek actors relate to their fans, a lot of enthusiasts in close quarters like that could be more than uncomfortable. Judith told me that William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy don’t dare even slow down for a fan when they make their way through airports, because if they do, a crowd quickly gathers and they may not get to their destination on time.
There was less of a crush on the top floor, though fans were coming up behind us and the place would soon be very crowded. But this was the circular lounge at the top of the Needle, with a spectacular view of Seattle, the clear night sky and a moon just past full. There were lots of desserts and cash bars scattered about, but not a lot of tables and even fewer chairs.
Eventually those ubiquitous plastic glasses of champagne were passed around, and in a chaotic crush and the glare of video lights, Eugene “Rod” Roddenberry proposed the fortieth anniversary toast, as did George Takei and Walter Koenig. The sound was terrible, however—Walter was completely inaudible where I was, not all that far away, with people shouting behind me that they couldn’t hear. Even George, who hardly needs a microphone in most circumstances, couldn’t be completely heard above the din. What I heard of Rod’s toast was gracious and generous.
Afterwards I saw Walter and his wife standing against the glass wall. After the crush on the floor below, I noticed at first how there seemed to be a space around them that no one was violating. I also thought that Walter looked very sad, but I obviously don't know him well enough to interpret his expressions. I started to say something to him, then worried I was intruding, but he responded, so I continued, but I still felt this sadness. Then I looked at his wife, and the concern on her face was so clear that I took it as confirmation that my impression was correct. Now I felt again I was intruding, so I moved along.
I of course have no idea what Walter was thinking or feeling, but I know what I thought about when I saw him. There were original cast members and other partners in that Enterprise who weren’t here but would toast this anniversary elsewhere. But there were those who couldn’t be here: Dee Kelley and James Doohan, and Gene Roddenberry, among others. All were honored in some way during this Celebration, but at this moment, I was aware of their absence.
I went out into the night air on the outer ring of the observation deck, and by the time I was back inside, the Klingon band was starting up. There was no problem hearing them.
It was time for me to go. But it turned out my evening wasn’t entirely over. I stopped at the information desk outside the elevators on the ground floor of the Space Needle to consult on bus schedules back to my West Seattle digs —some routes change at night. The young woman there went off to get definitive information on the exact wheres and whens, an incredibly nice thing to do, beyond the call of duty.
But also nearby were several convention staff people, including Leslie, sort of chief of talent operations, who lives in West Seattle as it turned out, and offered me a lift if I’d wait until she’d seen that all the actors who wanted to go back to their hotel were accounted for (some didn’t; I heard stories the next day about some late-night partying.) It was while I was waiting that I had a conversation with Sky Conway about “Of Gods and Men.”
Until recently, Leslie had been a principal staff person at the Science Fiction Museum, and had originally suggested that it host this celebration. I knew Seattle was a city that valued writers (like Portland and Vancouver, also rainy places), and I knew something about theatre there, but it also has a thriving science fiction community.
Anyway, after noting the noisy chaos of the Moment, it’s only fair to also note how unfailingly kind the staff was throughout the convention, most of which was managed efficiently and came off splendidly. Seattle also responded with a sellout crowd on Saturday. In fact, the people of Seattle I met were all pleasant and helpful. I noticed that all the people on the buses thanked the driver as they disembarked. What is this place, Canada? Maybe Starfleet HQ should be here.
The central moment of the Celebration was to honor almost the very moment of the anniversary. Within some negligible number of minutes, glasses of champagne were to be raised high atop the Space Needle in honor of the hour that the first Star Trek story entered American homes, and the forty years of the continuing saga since.
Well, it was a fine idea. It turned out to be a complex operation that became a genial bit of chaos—definitely less than it could have been, yet fitting in its own way. For me, it began in the Blue Room. It was decided that all the participants should gather there and go over to the Space Needle together. But since we had to go down to the second floor on the elevator in small groups, we got separated anyway.
So I found myself in the empty and darkened Science Fiction Museum with a group that included Garrett Wang, Gary Graham, Alan Ruck (who played Captain Harriman of the Enterprise in Star Trek: Generations) and Garfield and Judith Reeves-Stevens, the celebrated writing team of Star Trek novels, Enterprise scripts and more. The Reeves-Stevens were on the same panel I was, and in the official program (with its cartoon cover of the Enterprise-D rescuing the Space Needle from a giant octopus) the final “i” in my name got transferred to the end of their name. That odd connection turned out to be a bit prophetic, for I wound up spending more time with Gar and Judith than anyone else.
Designated staff members, called “handlers” (an irony not lost on Walter Koenig, for one) were usually around to escort the actors to their next venue, but not this time. “So what do we do?” someone asked. We had just seen Alan Ruck play a more commanding leader in “Of Gods and Men” than his mostly hapless officer in “Generations,” so when he took a few steps in one direction, I suggested,” We follow the Captain.”
But Ruck turned back. “Yeah, except the Captain doesn’t know where he’s going.”
Even with no Kirk to the rescue, we eventually found a door to the outside that opened, and once outside the building, the location of the Space Needle was pretty obvious. Inside that structure, we were funneled into another elevator which shot with ear-splitting speed towards the top. But it stopped instead a floor short, where the doors opened on a crush of fans, many of them costumed. Some of the actors on the elevator looked like they’d been caught without their phasers. One hit the button, the doors closed and we continued upward. “When you see Vulcans and Klingons, that’s a sure sign” he said, “you don’t want to go out there.” It was funny, and it wasn’t. As much as Trek actors relate to their fans, a lot of enthusiasts in close quarters like that could be more than uncomfortable. Judith told me that William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy don’t dare even slow down for a fan when they make their way through airports, because if they do, a crowd quickly gathers and they may not get to their destination on time.
There was less of a crush on the top floor, though fans were coming up behind us and the place would soon be very crowded. But this was the circular lounge at the top of the Needle, with a spectacular view of Seattle, the clear night sky and a moon just past full. There were lots of desserts and cash bars scattered about, but not a lot of tables and even fewer chairs.
Eventually those ubiquitous plastic glasses of champagne were passed around, and in a chaotic crush and the glare of video lights, Eugene “Rod” Roddenberry proposed the fortieth anniversary toast, as did George Takei and Walter Koenig. The sound was terrible, however—Walter was completely inaudible where I was, not all that far away, with people shouting behind me that they couldn’t hear. Even George, who hardly needs a microphone in most circumstances, couldn’t be completely heard above the din. What I heard of Rod’s toast was gracious and generous.
Afterwards I saw Walter and his wife standing against the glass wall. After the crush on the floor below, I noticed at first how there seemed to be a space around them that no one was violating. I also thought that Walter looked very sad, but I obviously don't know him well enough to interpret his expressions. I started to say something to him, then worried I was intruding, but he responded, so I continued, but I still felt this sadness. Then I looked at his wife, and the concern on her face was so clear that I took it as confirmation that my impression was correct. Now I felt again I was intruding, so I moved along.
I of course have no idea what Walter was thinking or feeling, but I know what I thought about when I saw him. There were original cast members and other partners in that Enterprise who weren’t here but would toast this anniversary elsewhere. But there were those who couldn’t be here: Dee Kelley and James Doohan, and Gene Roddenberry, among others. All were honored in some way during this Celebration, but at this moment, I was aware of their absence.
I went out into the night air on the outer ring of the observation deck, and by the time I was back inside, the Klingon band was starting up. There was no problem hearing them.
It was time for me to go. But it turned out my evening wasn’t entirely over. I stopped at the information desk outside the elevators on the ground floor of the Space Needle to consult on bus schedules back to my West Seattle digs —some routes change at night. The young woman there went off to get definitive information on the exact wheres and whens, an incredibly nice thing to do, beyond the call of duty.
But also nearby were several convention staff people, including Leslie, sort of chief of talent operations, who lives in West Seattle as it turned out, and offered me a lift if I’d wait until she’d seen that all the actors who wanted to go back to their hotel were accounted for (some didn’t; I heard stories the next day about some late-night partying.) It was while I was waiting that I had a conversation with Sky Conway about “Of Gods and Men.”
Until recently, Leslie had been a principal staff person at the Science Fiction Museum, and had originally suggested that it host this celebration. I knew Seattle was a city that valued writers (like Portland and Vancouver, also rainy places), and I knew something about theatre there, but it also has a thriving science fiction community.
Anyway, after noting the noisy chaos of the Moment, it’s only fair to also note how unfailingly kind the staff was throughout the convention, most of which was managed efficiently and came off splendidly. Seattle also responded with a sellout crowd on Saturday. In fact, the people of Seattle I met were all pleasant and helpful. I noticed that all the people on the buses thanked the driver as they disembarked. What is this place, Canada? Maybe Starfleet HQ should be here.
THE PLAY
Amy describes the banquet and Legacy Awards, one of which was given to Jeff Bezos, the founder of Google, whose mother showed off the cardboard communicator he made as a child.
On Sunday, the final event was to be an original Star Trek “radio play,” performed by many of the actors in attendance. I don’t know how many versions of this play were actually written or by whom, though I do know of one that at least some of the actors rejected because they didn’t want to play their Star Trek characters: they wanted to play themselves.
So apparently Jack Trevino (cowriter of “Of Gods and Men” with Sky Conway) cobbled together a spoof in which various former Trek actors audition for roles in the new Star Trek Paramount movie, making their case to J.J. Abrams himself.
It was played for laughs, but it was also on peoples’ minds. Up in the Blue Room, someone asked a group of actors whether they thought they’d get parts in the new movie. “I hope so,” one said, “but I doubt it. We’re marked men.” “Yes, right down the back,” another said, “with the Mark of Berman.”
The play was preceded by a video montage that suggested just how thoroughly Star Trek was part of this culture. That had more of an effect on me than the play—it was something I knew, of course, but seeing it rolled out like that was almost overwhelming.
As for the play, it had its moments. Some of the participants seemed less than enthusiastic—and not all that terrific at a cold reading (I don’t think they had anything approaching a rehearsal.) Ironically perhaps, one of the more solid performances was given by Rod Roddenberry as a Paramount executive—he kept the story on track, he read well and even ad-libbed effectively. (And I'm not saying that just because he liked the cap I wore.) Another standout in keeping it all moving was Grace Lee Whitney, the erstwhile Ensign Rand.
But the premise of the play actually was the search for a new Kirk, which allowed everyone to do their Shatner imitations, as well as their own signature lines. (George Takei repeated his deep-throated “Oh, my” about a dozen times from offstage.) Walter Koenig did an expansive takeoff of Shatner doing “Rocket Man,” to the audience’s delight. Garrett Wang did his imitations of Takei—and Shatner.
For an upbeat description of it all, check Amy. It seemed about half and half to me—half amusing, half pretty lame. A few of the actors seemed to be running away from it.
By then I was also starting to feel that Shatner-bashing was becoming too popular a reflex. Apparently some actors were especially happy to participate in “Of Gods and Men” because it depicted a universe without Kirk. I know several of the original series actors have real and legitimate issues concerning Shatner, and clearly they’ve been hurt. But especially after that notorious roast, it’s getting old, and it’s becoming much too dominant and public. I’ve never met William Shatner, nor did he or his people respond to my requests for an interview for my Times story, but it seems to me he’s a complex person, and he’s done a lot of good, as well as a lot of good work as an actor. Captain Kirk didn’t come out of a cereal box. It came out of him: good, bad, ugly and beautiful.
Amy describes the banquet and Legacy Awards, one of which was given to Jeff Bezos, the founder of Google, whose mother showed off the cardboard communicator he made as a child.
On Sunday, the final event was to be an original Star Trek “radio play,” performed by many of the actors in attendance. I don’t know how many versions of this play were actually written or by whom, though I do know of one that at least some of the actors rejected because they didn’t want to play their Star Trek characters: they wanted to play themselves.
So apparently Jack Trevino (cowriter of “Of Gods and Men” with Sky Conway) cobbled together a spoof in which various former Trek actors audition for roles in the new Star Trek Paramount movie, making their case to J.J. Abrams himself.
It was played for laughs, but it was also on peoples’ minds. Up in the Blue Room, someone asked a group of actors whether they thought they’d get parts in the new movie. “I hope so,” one said, “but I doubt it. We’re marked men.” “Yes, right down the back,” another said, “with the Mark of Berman.”
The play was preceded by a video montage that suggested just how thoroughly Star Trek was part of this culture. That had more of an effect on me than the play—it was something I knew, of course, but seeing it rolled out like that was almost overwhelming.
As for the play, it had its moments. Some of the participants seemed less than enthusiastic—and not all that terrific at a cold reading (I don’t think they had anything approaching a rehearsal.) Ironically perhaps, one of the more solid performances was given by Rod Roddenberry as a Paramount executive—he kept the story on track, he read well and even ad-libbed effectively. (And I'm not saying that just because he liked the cap I wore.) Another standout in keeping it all moving was Grace Lee Whitney, the erstwhile Ensign Rand.
But the premise of the play actually was the search for a new Kirk, which allowed everyone to do their Shatner imitations, as well as their own signature lines. (George Takei repeated his deep-throated “Oh, my” about a dozen times from offstage.) Walter Koenig did an expansive takeoff of Shatner doing “Rocket Man,” to the audience’s delight. Garrett Wang did his imitations of Takei—and Shatner.
For an upbeat description of it all, check Amy. It seemed about half and half to me—half amusing, half pretty lame. A few of the actors seemed to be running away from it.
By then I was also starting to feel that Shatner-bashing was becoming too popular a reflex. Apparently some actors were especially happy to participate in “Of Gods and Men” because it depicted a universe without Kirk. I know several of the original series actors have real and legitimate issues concerning Shatner, and clearly they’ve been hurt. But especially after that notorious roast, it’s getting old, and it’s becoming much too dominant and public. I’ve never met William Shatner, nor did he or his people respond to my requests for an interview for my Times story, but it seems to me he’s a complex person, and he’s done a lot of good, as well as a lot of good work as an actor. Captain Kirk didn’t come out of a cereal box. It came out of him: good, bad, ugly and beautiful.
THE PANELS
Just before the radio play, there was a brief montage on the screen covering the events of the Celebration. All of them featured the Star Trek stars. Though there was nothing of the many panels, they were a major part of the weekend, and I hope there were recordings of them and that they were kept, because they were often fascinating.
My panel was one of the first. Discussing “The Soul of Star Trek: The Prime Directive and Beyond” were Jeff Greenwald, author of Future Perfect: How Star Trek Conquered Planet Earth; Dave Marinaccio, author of All I really need to know I learned from watching Star Trek ; TNG writer Tracy Torme, and the aforementioned Star Trek novelists and Enterprise writers, Garfield and Judith Reeves-Stevens. (They've got several new projects and reprints--check their site at Reeves-Stevens.com.)
I frankly don’t remember much of what we all said, partly because my attention was divided by my moderator duties, and partly because I heard my fellow panelists on several other panels, and what they said on each has all blended together. I do remember we had a spirited discussion on war and peace in the Trek universe, in response to an audience question on whether Gene Roddenberry would have approved of some of the galactic war storylines, like the Dominion War in DS9.
If memory serves, Tracy Torme (who actually knew GR) thought he would have. I (who met him briefly once and was so tongue-tied by Majel Roddenberry's beauty that I barely could talk) didn’t think so. I believe that while Roddenberry accepted that there would be circumstances that required force, he knew the realities and the effects of war were so extreme and lasting that it was worth every possible effort to avoid it, and especially to find alternatives to warmaking. He knew that war was a barrier to a better future. I mentioned that in contrast to later writers, he and Gene Coon and other writers and producers for the original series had experienced the horrors of war first hand.
I think it was Jeff Greenwald who added that they had real war as a reference, but later writers had war movies---and that confirms a point I’ve made here before, and probably will again. On the other hand, Jeff noted on another panel that these same writers in their twenties and thirties had invented negotiating tactics for TNG and DS9 that the world’s politicians still haven’t figured out how to use as well. (I think it was in his book that U.S. Secretary of State Madeline Albright is quoted as praising TNG as the world’s most acclaimed model for conflict resolution.)
Jeff’s book, we both agreed, is just about the only book-length work of actual journalism on Star Trek and its impact in the world at large. These days he is the Executive Director of Ethical Traveler in Berkeley, working on human rights and environmental protection around the world. He’s a travel writer, and plays one on stage occasionally, and he looks like one. He’s got charm as well as shrewdness and intelligence, and had the knack for being in the right place at the right time during the Seattle weekend—all good qualities for a journalist to have.
He was on several panels discussing science and technology, Star Trek’s popular impact and other issues, but I was most taken with something he said about the interview he did with the Dalai Lama (A TNG fan) that seemed to have profoundly affected him. He told a story that wasn't in the chapter in his book about the encounter: in preparation for the interview, he had placed his tape recorder and notebook on a table near where the Dalai Lama would be sitting, but when the Dalai Lama entered he accidentally knocked the tape recorder to the floor. Before Jeff could move the Dalai Lama was on his hands and knees to retrieve it. Jeff tried to say he would get it but the Dalai Lama said, “No, no. Is my responsibility.”
I could see how a moment like that could change your life.
Jeff was a TNG man all the way—he did his book at the height of the Next Generation’s popularity. Dave Marinaccio is an all-out Original Series guy. He’s senior VP and Creative Director of an advertising agency in Arlington, Virginia, though there’s still a lot of Chicago in his voice and outlook. There’s a story he told I’ll get to in a minute.
Gar and Judith Reeves-Stevens were pretty much the first people I met, and by chance they were also the last—I ran into them at the airport as I was leaving, and we had a relaxing lunch there to cap the weekend. Especially for writers of such prominence they were very friendly and generous, and I enjoyed their insights and their company.
I also enjoyed meeting Greg Bear, the science fiction writer who lives in Seattle. Since returning, I’ve read his exceptional novel, Darwin’s Radio, and although I’m a little embarrassed about not having read it until now, in another way I’m glad I didn’t see it when it came out. Some of my reading since then—about evolutionary theory, the work of Lynn Margulis and others, as well as books with insights about the politics within the sciences—gave me a greater appreciation for the realism in this remarkable story.
I didn’t get to spend much time with the scientists in attendance, but again, Amy did, so her account is a good reference. I also took note that while there seemed to be an increased presence of very right wing fans on Star Trek boards over the past few years, they wouldn’t have found much support from the panels at this convention. And some discussion was overtly political, but the line was drawn from Star Trek to support for human and civil rights, environment and support for science and life-saving technology.
As for my own participation, I figure I did a fairly decent job as moderator of my one panel. On the plus side I kept about equal time for our discussion and audience questions, and I had us finish on time. The big minus was I forgot to give everyone an opportunity to mention their books or projects. I had originally planned to do that during my introduction of the panel, but it turned out we were all introduced by the Master of Ceremonies, Marc B. Lee. And then I just forgot.
As for what I said, I tried to suggest areas of discussion with my opening remarks, which were taken from my 40th anniversary essay here—they may have been the only prepared remarks for any panel. Judith later complimented me on elevating the discussion, and I immediately said, “Too much?” She gallantly said, no, but I’m not so sure. Not that I’m going to stop using the shared language of Star Trek to take me as far as it can into useful ideas for a better future. But at the Celebration, I saw again why Star Trek has been so important to many people, in very basic and very real ways.
For example, Dave Marinaccio told the story of a woman who had been abused by her stepfather, and Star Trek became her refuge. On Star Trek, people treated each other with dignity and care, which she had not experienced in real life. It was the kind of life she wanted. She met another Star Trek fan, who felt the same way. They married and had children. Star Trek gave them the model of a life, and in doing so, gave them a life. That’s a story repeated over and over.
Or the comment posted on this very blog by a reader called Brandon: “I'm a racially mixed individual--part Puerto Rican Part Irish, and I think that's part of the reason why I've developed suc a liking for Mister Spock. Moreover I've been using STAR TREK reruns as my safety valve for the last six years, escaping into a world where human beings have finally dealt with issues of racial hatred, economic inequality, and war as a first choice to every problem.”
Amy wrote about a panel moment that I also felt was mind-blowing—one to remember. There was a lively interchange on the Friday panel, “The Show That Changed the World,” but one panelist was conspicuously silent. He spoke perhaps only once, and the discussion went on, but what he said stood out like a beacon when I heard it. It was Dr. Martin Cooper, a communications technology pioneer and the father of the communicator—sorry, the cell phone. Here’s what he said, as Amy recorded it: "When I was young, the concept of being a dreamer was a very negative one. If you were a dreamer, you were useless. You didn't contribute anything to society. But Star Trek made dreaming legitimate, and I think that was a huge, huge contribution."
Most people still think dreamers are useless, and Star Trek fans even more so. So perhaps Star Trek fans dress up like aliens because they feel like aliens. They put on the Star Trek uniform because they wear it in their hearts. Star Trek may lead us to many profound insights and even to important commitments in our lives, but it is as support, model, an inspiration to creativity and even a kind of community that constitutes Star Trek’s continuing life, forty years on.
As for the future, I'll end the way I ended my opening remarks for my panel. John and Robert Kennedy adapted a line from a George Bernard Shaw play for their speeches--Robert Kennedy in particular used it to end his campaign speeches for the presidency in 1968. I adapt it once again for Star Trek's 40th anniversary: "Some see things as they are, and ask why. I see things as they may never be, and ask: why not?"
Just before the radio play, there was a brief montage on the screen covering the events of the Celebration. All of them featured the Star Trek stars. Though there was nothing of the many panels, they were a major part of the weekend, and I hope there were recordings of them and that they were kept, because they were often fascinating.
My panel was one of the first. Discussing “The Soul of Star Trek: The Prime Directive and Beyond” were Jeff Greenwald, author of Future Perfect: How Star Trek Conquered Planet Earth; Dave Marinaccio, author of All I really need to know I learned from watching Star Trek ; TNG writer Tracy Torme, and the aforementioned Star Trek novelists and Enterprise writers, Garfield and Judith Reeves-Stevens. (They've got several new projects and reprints--check their site at Reeves-Stevens.com.)
I frankly don’t remember much of what we all said, partly because my attention was divided by my moderator duties, and partly because I heard my fellow panelists on several other panels, and what they said on each has all blended together. I do remember we had a spirited discussion on war and peace in the Trek universe, in response to an audience question on whether Gene Roddenberry would have approved of some of the galactic war storylines, like the Dominion War in DS9.
If memory serves, Tracy Torme (who actually knew GR) thought he would have. I (who met him briefly once and was so tongue-tied by Majel Roddenberry's beauty that I barely could talk) didn’t think so. I believe that while Roddenberry accepted that there would be circumstances that required force, he knew the realities and the effects of war were so extreme and lasting that it was worth every possible effort to avoid it, and especially to find alternatives to warmaking. He knew that war was a barrier to a better future. I mentioned that in contrast to later writers, he and Gene Coon and other writers and producers for the original series had experienced the horrors of war first hand.
I think it was Jeff Greenwald who added that they had real war as a reference, but later writers had war movies---and that confirms a point I’ve made here before, and probably will again. On the other hand, Jeff noted on another panel that these same writers in their twenties and thirties had invented negotiating tactics for TNG and DS9 that the world’s politicians still haven’t figured out how to use as well. (I think it was in his book that U.S. Secretary of State Madeline Albright is quoted as praising TNG as the world’s most acclaimed model for conflict resolution.)
Jeff’s book, we both agreed, is just about the only book-length work of actual journalism on Star Trek and its impact in the world at large. These days he is the Executive Director of Ethical Traveler in Berkeley, working on human rights and environmental protection around the world. He’s a travel writer, and plays one on stage occasionally, and he looks like one. He’s got charm as well as shrewdness and intelligence, and had the knack for being in the right place at the right time during the Seattle weekend—all good qualities for a journalist to have.
He was on several panels discussing science and technology, Star Trek’s popular impact and other issues, but I was most taken with something he said about the interview he did with the Dalai Lama (A TNG fan) that seemed to have profoundly affected him. He told a story that wasn't in the chapter in his book about the encounter: in preparation for the interview, he had placed his tape recorder and notebook on a table near where the Dalai Lama would be sitting, but when the Dalai Lama entered he accidentally knocked the tape recorder to the floor. Before Jeff could move the Dalai Lama was on his hands and knees to retrieve it. Jeff tried to say he would get it but the Dalai Lama said, “No, no. Is my responsibility.”
I could see how a moment like that could change your life.
Jeff was a TNG man all the way—he did his book at the height of the Next Generation’s popularity. Dave Marinaccio is an all-out Original Series guy. He’s senior VP and Creative Director of an advertising agency in Arlington, Virginia, though there’s still a lot of Chicago in his voice and outlook. There’s a story he told I’ll get to in a minute.
Gar and Judith Reeves-Stevens were pretty much the first people I met, and by chance they were also the last—I ran into them at the airport as I was leaving, and we had a relaxing lunch there to cap the weekend. Especially for writers of such prominence they were very friendly and generous, and I enjoyed their insights and their company.
I also enjoyed meeting Greg Bear, the science fiction writer who lives in Seattle. Since returning, I’ve read his exceptional novel, Darwin’s Radio, and although I’m a little embarrassed about not having read it until now, in another way I’m glad I didn’t see it when it came out. Some of my reading since then—about evolutionary theory, the work of Lynn Margulis and others, as well as books with insights about the politics within the sciences—gave me a greater appreciation for the realism in this remarkable story.
I didn’t get to spend much time with the scientists in attendance, but again, Amy did, so her account is a good reference. I also took note that while there seemed to be an increased presence of very right wing fans on Star Trek boards over the past few years, they wouldn’t have found much support from the panels at this convention. And some discussion was overtly political, but the line was drawn from Star Trek to support for human and civil rights, environment and support for science and life-saving technology.
As for my own participation, I figure I did a fairly decent job as moderator of my one panel. On the plus side I kept about equal time for our discussion and audience questions, and I had us finish on time. The big minus was I forgot to give everyone an opportunity to mention their books or projects. I had originally planned to do that during my introduction of the panel, but it turned out we were all introduced by the Master of Ceremonies, Marc B. Lee. And then I just forgot.
As for what I said, I tried to suggest areas of discussion with my opening remarks, which were taken from my 40th anniversary essay here—they may have been the only prepared remarks for any panel. Judith later complimented me on elevating the discussion, and I immediately said, “Too much?” She gallantly said, no, but I’m not so sure. Not that I’m going to stop using the shared language of Star Trek to take me as far as it can into useful ideas for a better future. But at the Celebration, I saw again why Star Trek has been so important to many people, in very basic and very real ways.
For example, Dave Marinaccio told the story of a woman who had been abused by her stepfather, and Star Trek became her refuge. On Star Trek, people treated each other with dignity and care, which she had not experienced in real life. It was the kind of life she wanted. She met another Star Trek fan, who felt the same way. They married and had children. Star Trek gave them the model of a life, and in doing so, gave them a life. That’s a story repeated over and over.
Or the comment posted on this very blog by a reader called Brandon: “I'm a racially mixed individual--part Puerto Rican Part Irish, and I think that's part of the reason why I've developed suc a liking for Mister Spock. Moreover I've been using STAR TREK reruns as my safety valve for the last six years, escaping into a world where human beings have finally dealt with issues of racial hatred, economic inequality, and war as a first choice to every problem.”
Amy wrote about a panel moment that I also felt was mind-blowing—one to remember. There was a lively interchange on the Friday panel, “The Show That Changed the World,” but one panelist was conspicuously silent. He spoke perhaps only once, and the discussion went on, but what he said stood out like a beacon when I heard it. It was Dr. Martin Cooper, a communications technology pioneer and the father of the communicator—sorry, the cell phone. Here’s what he said, as Amy recorded it: "When I was young, the concept of being a dreamer was a very negative one. If you were a dreamer, you were useless. You didn't contribute anything to society. But Star Trek made dreaming legitimate, and I think that was a huge, huge contribution."
Most people still think dreamers are useless, and Star Trek fans even more so. So perhaps Star Trek fans dress up like aliens because they feel like aliens. They put on the Star Trek uniform because they wear it in their hearts. Star Trek may lead us to many profound insights and even to important commitments in our lives, but it is as support, model, an inspiration to creativity and even a kind of community that constitutes Star Trek’s continuing life, forty years on.
As for the future, I'll end the way I ended my opening remarks for my panel. John and Robert Kennedy adapted a line from a George Bernard Shaw play for their speeches--Robert Kennedy in particular used it to end his campaign speeches for the presidency in 1968. I adapt it once again for Star Trek's 40th anniversary: "Some see things as they are, and ask why. I see things as they may never be, and ask: why not?"
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