December, 2000, OSAKA, Japan - A trip to Japan is like a continuous time warp back and forth through history, from the past to the cutting-edge present, then back to the ancient. My mission was history based. The international opening of the Japanese American National Museum's traveling exhibit on the history of the Japanese Americans of Hawaii at the Okinawa Prefectural Museum in Okinawa, Japan.
My arrival in Japan was at Kansai International Airport, a stunningly contemporary facility built on a vast man-made island in Osaka Bay. The Japanese flair for efficiency and design, rationality melded with style, made the normally punishing process of an international transit a smooth, in fact, pleasurable, experience. We sailed through customs, exchanged our dollars for yen, had a tasty light snack of buckwheat noodles all in stylish comfort, and we were on our way to our destination, Okinawa.
The opening of the museum's exhibit was a great success. A large contingent of museum supporters and staff were in attendance, including Irene Hirano, the museum's president and executive director. U.S. Ambassador to Japan, Thomas Foley, U.S. Senator from Hawaii, Daniel Inouye, Lt. Governor of Hawaii, Mazie Hirono, and Governor Inamine of Okinawa were our honored guests together with more than 250 other Americans who had traveled to be with us for the opening. As the only American to speak at the ceremony in both Japanese and English, I became something of the bridge to mutual understanding that is the point of our exhibit.
The following day was back to the future. The museum sponsored a special educational program at the National Okinawa Youth Center on Tokashiki Island, a fast jetfoil ride away from the main island. The program featured two astronauts from NASA, Daniel Tani, a Japanese American from Chicago, and Mamoru Mohri, a Japanese astronaut who has flown two NASA space missions in the past two years. The program had the eyes and imagination of the young people of Okinawa soaring to the stars.
From Okinawa, I flew to the southern Japan city of Fukuoka because of my personal interest in architecture. I had read that American architect Jon Jerde had designed a remarkable project in Fukuoka called Canal City. Remarkable it is! Jerde has designed a fancifully futuristic commercial complex incorporating one of the many canals of Fukuoka. There are restaurants and shops galore, offices and educational facilities and a dazzling multiplex cinema and a grand theater for Broadway musicals - indeed a traveling production of Disney's "Lion King" was the next production booked. Whimsically geometric structures snake and undulate following the curves of the canal. The canal itself spouted jets of water five stories up. Lights bubbled and flickered or glowed and subtly illuminated the contours of the fanciful buildings. There were performers on little peninsulas out on the canal. But the cascade of people flowing up and down the escalators and stairways made simple people watching just as entertaining. Jerde's creation is an architectural Broadway musical. And my actor's instincts led me to book my hotel reservation at the Hyatt Grand right smack center stage in the middle of the whole colorful production. I lived for two days and two nights in an architect's theatrical fantasy.
Then a super-fast bullet train sped me right back into history. When it stopped, we transferred to an old-fashioned ferry that sailed leisurely toward the legendary shrine island of Miyajima shrouded in the mist of history. As a matter of fact, there was a light mist in the air as we approached the famous floating torii gate to Itsukushima Shrine that seems to mystically rest on water. Legend has it that because the island is considered sacred, there were no births or deaths allowed on it. That all had to take place on the mainland. Even today, there is no hospital on the island. However, at the ferry station, we did take a taxi, instead of the rickshaw, to our lodging. As we were driven through the narrow passageways of the village of Miyajima, it felt as though we were passing through the set of a samurai movie. A short way up the hillside and we arrived at a magnificent Japanese villa. This was the historic Iwaso Inn, one of the great lodges of Japan. We were gracefully ushered by a charming kimono-clad chambermaid to a classically formal Japanese room. Beyond the veranda lay a serene view of a maple forest. I could have sat meditating on that veranda all day. But we had so much we wanted to do.
It was autumn and the forest had turned a spectacular palette of reds, oranges, and yellows as well as the deep greens of the evergreens. We took a cable ride high over the spectacularly painted forest to the topmost point of the island. We fed the famously hungry tame deers that roam the island of Miyajima. We trooped through the shrine with the day-tripping tourist horde. Exhausted, we returned to our inn. I soaked in the hot Japanese bath gazing up at the steam wafting through the pine branches. Every tired muscle in my body seemed to melt into blessed relaxation.
Shortly after I had changed into my formal kimono provided by the inn, a gentle knock came on our sliding door. Our chambermaid was ready to serve us dinner. The low, spacious lacquered table in our room became the stage for a seemingly endless parade of small, artfully arranged dishes presented with elegance and grace. This was the renowned "kaiseki" dinner of ancient Japan. When the last delicious morsel had been served, the chambermaid suggested that we go for an after dinner stroll on the island. Miyajima at night, she urged, is something quite special.
She was so right. The island was magically transformed. The hurly burly of the day-trippers had disappeared and in its place was a tranquil scene of kimono-clad people quietly admiring the illuminated shrine and pagoda. The reflection of the shrine on the calm, dark water made it seem almost supernatural. On our way back, we ambled past the detached villa of our inn that was reserved for the emperor. Emperor Hirohito himself, we were told, had regularly stayed there. When we returned to our room, the lacquered table had vanished and in its place futon beds had neatly been arranged. That night, I slept deeply dreaming the dream of some past emperor.
Another quick bullet train ride the next day and we were in the shining new metropolis of Hiroshima. This city, flattened by the devastation of the atomic bomb over half a century ago, has rebuilt itself into a modern urban center of broad, tree-lined boulevards, tall glassy buildings and, at its focal point, a leafy park dedicated to international peace, the center of which is the Peace Museum. The exhibit there is a deeply moving chronicle of the human suffering as a result of the dropping of the bomb.
In Hiroshima, I was back to wearing my hat as the chairman of the Japanese American National Museum. After Okinawa, we want to tour our exhibit throughout Japan. It is currently set for Osaka in March of 2001. Because a large number of Japanese immigrants came from Hiroshima, as indeed my maternal grandparents did, we would very much like to see our exhibit visit there. I had met Governor Yuzan Fujita of Hiroshima on a previous visit and so had arranged to meet with him again to gain his support and guidance finding a way to get our exhibit to Hiroshima. The Governor greeted me warmly and, after I made my request, he immediately had ideas of a venue to be considered. He called for his personal car and driver and promptly dispatched me to examine his suggested site. Transported in the luxurious comfort of the Governor's car, I toured a handsome new exhibition hall. I now feel rather confident that the people of Hiroshima will be viewing our exhibit.
After visits with relatives in Hiroshima, I was back on the bullet train for my final stop on this trip, Osaka. The Second City of Japan is an overwhelming metropolis of congested traffic, bustling commerce and energetic people. And this is where the popularity of Star Trek in Japan is enormous. Through Russ Haslage of the Excelsior campaign, fans in Osaka had contacted me, and a charming young lady, Sachie Kubo, had made arrangements, to show me their city.
When I checked into my hotel room, the view that greeted me through my window was of the great Osaka Castle, the most spectacular historic structure in Japan. Circled by a wide moat protecting a lush park-like area, then looming up on a base of gigantic boulders amazingly fitted together, the castle sparkled in the sun with its golden embellishments. I had to go across immediately to tour it.
Crossing the arched bridge over the moat felt like the prelude to entry into the past. This was the very place where great battles were fought by the most powerful shogun in Japan's history, Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Stepping into this storied precinct, I felt as though I were going back in time. That illusion was immediately smashed when a trendy young runner jogged by wearing a shiny spandex running outfit, then another wearing earphones with a thin metallic antenna bobbing over his head. I learned that the park inside the moat was one of the popular running paths of Osaka. As I walked through the outer entrance of the castle and the gigantic wood gate studded with black iron braces, I recognized it immediately from the television mini-epic, "Shogun." I remembered that this was where it was filmed on location. We trudged up a seemingly endless series of gray granite steps to the castle's main entrance. As we huffed and puffed, our straining muscles let us know how impregnable this castle must have been to the warlords who attacked it. We paid our admission and walked in. I stood there stunned. In front of us was a bank of elevators! There were video displays on the history of the castle built right into the walls! And I felt the comforting warmth of forced air heating in this ancient castle! I learned from a brochure that this historic castle had been completely rebuilt just a few years ago -- with all modern conveniences to boot. With a slight sense of disillusionment, we took the elevator to the top of the castle. The view was great. We were taking in the panoramic vista of modern day Osaka from the highest point of the castle, when I heard an American accented voice shout at me, "My god! You're Mr. Sulu, aren't you?" With one excited exclamation, I was brought from my fantasies at the pinnacle of this recently rebuilt ancient castle, back to my very own present day reality. The cameras flashed as I posed for pictures with American Star Trek fans touring in Osaka.
I spent the following day with Japanese Star Trek fans in Osaka. Four beaming faces were waiting in the hotel lobby that morning to show me the sights of this city. Sachie Kubo and Masanori Mizuumi were from Osaka but I was both flattered and moved to discover that Yoshimitsu Murata and Youichi Nieda, whom I had met on a previous trip to Tokyo earlier this year, had traveled all the way down from Tokyo to share the day with me.
It was a fun-filled day of roaming through a vibrant and engaging metropolis of busy marketplaces and elegant shops, raucous entertainment quarters and traditional bunraku theater and temples and shrines. We even saw a traditional wedding ceremony taking place at one of the temples. That evening, about a dozen more fans joined us at a restaurant for a lovely dinner of Japanese hot pot and conversations about the Excelsior campaign. The savory steam that wafted up from the bubbling pot of vegetables, seafood, noodles and other delicious morsels seemed to warm new friendships and enhance old ones.
All to soon, our 10-day trip to Japan was coming to an end. The next afternoon, we were on the express train to Kansai International Airport for our flight to Los Angeles - home to prepare for the holidays. As I write this on my laptop in the airport lounge in Osaka, I'm reminded of the many events of this past year. Much has happened, great and small. We have much to be thankful for. And much we need to do in the future. May I wish you all the joys and blessings of this holiday season.
September, 2004, LOS ANGELES - In this age of jet travel, time is shortened, work is intensified, and we cover many bases. We dash from one place to another on varying missions in a very full month. And as usual, September had me on quick trips to New York for a meeting and to Emeryville, California, for a voice-over job. But travel can also transport in time as well as to a place. Last month, I went back to my boyhood.
I traveled to a place called Rohwer in southeast Arkansas where I spent a part of my childhood years. It is a place of memories for me - memories that glow with a golden haze. I remember the lush bayous filled with strange sounds and creepy, crawly creatures. I remember catching pollywogs in a ditch and watching them miraculously sprout legs and eventually turn into frogs. I remember waking up one magical winter morning and discovering everything covered in white - cold, soft snow. I also remember the barbed wire fence that kept me confined in that camp. I traveled back to a time of innocence, a time when I was quite unaware of the devastation that had befallen my parents and 120,000 other Japanese Americans. It was World War II and our crime was that we just happened to "look like the enemy."
A child is incredibly adaptable to the most abnormal of conditions. To me, the tall guard towers and the barbed wire fence that incarcerated my family and me became part of my normal landscape. What would be abnormal in normal times became my normality. It became normal for me to line up three times a day to eat in a noisy mess hall. It became normal for me to go with Daddy to a communal shower and bathe with many men. It became normal for me to go to school in a black, tarpaper-covered barrack. I learned to recite the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag within sight of armed sentries watching over us. I was too young to appreciate the irony as I recited the words, "with liberty and justice for all."
The return to Arkansas was undeniably filled with many emotions - but this time with deeper understanding and an overpowering sense of uplift. The pilgrimage to Rohwer was on the final day of a richly enlightening week in Little Rock, Arkansas. A week-long series of programs called "Life Interrupted: The Japanese American Experience in World War II Arkansas" was being capped with a long bus caravan that rolled past mile after mile of ripening cotton fields to Camp Rohwer as well as to a second internment camp in Arkansas called Camp Jerome.
The week was awe-inspiring. Over 1,300 people, many of them former internees with their children and grandchildren, had gathered in Little Rock from all over the nation. There were lawyers, educators, historians, politicians, and others from all walks of life. The Japanese American National Museum, working in partnership with the University of Arkansas at Little Rock opened eight exhibits in four different venues located throughout the city. The principal exhibits; "America's Concentration Camp" and "Against Their Will: The Japanese American Experience in WWII Arkansas" are in the Statehouse Convention Center. The stirring story of young Japanese Americans who went from unjust incarceration behind barbed wire fences to fight heroically for the United States are told by three deeply moving exhibits in the Douglas MacArthur Museum of Military History. A handsome and affecting art exhibit of the paintings of Henry Sugimoto, who was incarcerated in both of the two Arkansas camps, can be viewed at the Cox Arts Center and two exhibits on the arts and crafts in the internment camps are at the Fine Arts Building of the University of Arkansas at Little Rock.
Saturday was a one-day symposium composed of twenty-seven sessions with discussions that ranged from democracy to civil rights to military service to historic preservation. For me, the most daunting part of the day's program was the luncheon. President Bill Clinton, the former governor of Arkansas, was on the printed program as our luncheon keynote speaker. As we all knew by that time, his emergency heart surgery in New York had sidelined him from all public activities. I was asked to substitute for him - substitute for the silver tongued former President of the United States! The challenge was as awesome as the honor. I had to rise to the honor.
I began by sharing the heartwarming joy I felt on meeting people I had not seen in decades and of people who remembered me as a little boy but that I - try as I might - could not. I talked of my fond memories of a boyhood in Rohwer. I talked of the stinging irony I felt on seeing the crumbling old monument in the cemetery at Rohwer - a memorial to Japanese American soldiers who went from internment camps to perish in a war fighting for democracy and are now buried at the site of their incarceration. I talked of an invitation I received in the year 2000 from President Clinton to the White House to witness the granting of nineteen medals of honor, the highest military recognition of the nation, to nineteen Japanese American veterans of World War II. Fifty-five years before, at the end of the war, these men had been recognized with the Distinguished Service Cross, the second-highest military honor, for their heroic deeds. However, after a review mandated by order of Congress in 1996, it was found that their acts of valor eminently merited the highest honor. Only wartime prejudice had reduced their tribute. Among these extraordinary members of the Greatest Generation receiving the Medal of Honor was the senior U.S. Senator from Hawaii, Senator Daniel Inouye, who lost his right arm on a bloody battlefield in Italy. These men and all the Japanese American veterans of World War II had transformed this nation. They made my America today a reality.
I talked of the challenges of our democratic ideals. It takes courageous, principled people to struggle to fulfill those ideals. Throughout the history of our nation, injustices were battled by the disenfranchised. African Americans struggled against slavery, then Jim Crow laws, and other discrimination to transform this nation. Women, who were denied any role in leadership, struggled to gain equality and justice and helped to transform this nation. In the history of the American southwest, Latinos had endured a host of injustices but still they struggled to fulfill the ideals of our nation. I talked that day in Little Rock about our democracy as a dynamic work-in-progress. All of us, the great diversity of this land, working in concert as Americans carry out the promise of our American ideals. When I finished, the audience rose up in a standing ovation. That week in Little Rock, Arkansas will forever be an unforgettable benchmark in my life.
The "Life Interrupted" programs that examine a dark chapter of American history were themselves history making. We have profoundly important lessons for our times today to be learned from the exhibits, the symposium, and the pilgrimage. My heartfelt gratitude goes to the Winthrop Rockefeller Foundation whose generous support made it possible for us to bring history so relevantly alive.
A great bonus of the trip to Little Rock was a preview peek at the dazzling new William Jefferson Clinton Library and Presidential Center set to open on November 18th. The hard-hat tour of the Clinton library, museum, and school of public service was wonderfully tantalizing. The modern steel and glass building is a sleek symbol of the "bridge to the 21st century" that President Clinton so often spoke about. The sensitively restored old Choctaw Railway Station in a landscaped park, which will house the Clinton School of Public Service, is the very symbol of history brought back into the current of contemporary life. I toured the work-in-progress with a few students working hard on the Grand Opening and Dedication of this newest of Presidential Centers, Mike Eady and Sara Beth Crow. I promised Mike and Sara Beth that I would return to Little Rock for that history-making day in November. I told them I have my own roots in Arkansas.
July, 2004, LOS ANGELES - My travel schedule in July had me covering about a quarter of this planet from Tokyo, Japan, to the east coast cities of Washington DC, New York, and Boston and finishing up the month at a Star Trek convention in a blazingly hot Las Vegas, Nevada.
The most personally affecting journey, however, was my first trip of the month during the Fourth of July weekend. On that holiday weekend when we Americans celebrate our liberty and freedom, I joined a pilgrimage to a former U.S. internment camp where my family and I, together with 18,000 other Japanese Americans, were imprisoned during World War II.
The camp is in northern California, almost at the Oregon border. It has an almost mockingly poetic name, Camp Tule Lake. It was there in a barbed wire camp built on a wind-swept dry lake bed that I spent two and a half years of my boyhood after a year and a half in another internment camp in Arkansas.
The pilgrimage was made up of bus caravans that came from Sacramento, San Francisco, San Jose, Oakland and Berkeley, California. We, from Los Angeles, joined the one from Sacramento. On the buses were survivors of the internment, most of them elderly now, young Japanese Americans intent on understanding the experience of their grandparents and parents, scholars of the internment, both white and Asian, a few filmmakers and one or two African Americans. It was a good spectrum of the nation on a journey back to a dark chapter of American history. This was my second pilgrimage to Tule Lake. Eight years ago, in 1996, I made my first journey back since our family was released from that camp exactly fifty years before. That pilgrimage was also on a Fourth of July weekend. The symbolism was irresistible.
The tar paper barracks that we lived in are all gone now - long removed or destroyed by time. With the guidance of an authority, I retraced a dirt road to an area where our barrack once must have been. I recognized the view of Abalone Mountain and Castle Rock from that barren site. This must have been where my home was, so long ago. The mountains were the only landmark I was able to remember. One of the few remaining structures from the camp was the concrete stockade, a jail within an internment camp. These pilgrimages back to a little remembered time in our history help enlarge my appreciation of the preciousness of our American liberty and my awareness of its fragility. They also deepen my understanding of the painful human price paid by such failures of our democracy.
The most poignant part of the pilgrimage was the memorial service held at the old cemetery site for those who died during their incarceration. Tribute was paid to those who passed in all 10 internment camps with candles lit by representatives from each of the camps. I was honored to represent Camp Rohwer in Arkansas, where my family and I were held before being brought to Camp Tule Lake. As we paid our respects to those who passed in these camps during World War II, my thoughts were also with those Arab Americans today who are being detained without the due process to which we are all entitled. I resolved as an American to work to ensure that the fundamental ideals of this nation shall prevail over today's challenges of terrorism.
The most joyous part of the pilgrimage was a cultural program held in the newly restored Art Deco movie theater in the nearby town of Klamath Falls, Oregon. The performers were former internees and their descendants. The audience was made up of those on the pilgrimage and the people of the town of Klamath Falls. I served as the master of ceremony as well as a reader of a poem written by a former internee/poet. There were musical acts, dramatic readings, and dance performances. About a thousand people - former internees and those on the pilgrimage shared a happy evening of cultural performances with the town folks of a rural southern Oregon community. The applause after each act was loud and appreciative. It was, to me, the sweet sound of a healed nation and the true spirit of America.
The trip to Tokyo was to promote the fall release in Japan of the DVD version of the original Star Trek television series. The promotional campaign involved back-to-back series of print, television, and radio interviews culminating in a massive public event in a chamber hall of the central Tokyo Railway Station. Fans from throughout Japan gathered, many in Starfleet uniforms, others in USS Excelsior T-shirts, to celebrate a unique Star Trek event. The master of ceremonies was a hyper-animated Japanese comedian in Starfleet uniform accompanied by a bevy of lovely young girls dressed as Starfleet yeomen. The applause when I was introduced was thunderous. It was an extraordinary sensation to be talking in Japanese about a television series on which I had worked almost forty years ago in Hollywood to young fans in Japan, many of whom had not yet been born at the time.
The enthusiasm, the devotion, and the love I felt from them were as real and as palpable as that from fans in North America, South America or Europe. What made this so special was the fact that this event was in the country from which my grandparents came to America about one hundred years ago. Never in their wildest imagination could they have dreamed that their grandson would be so affectionately received as an actor in this, my ancestral land. What an amazing world we live in! And what an astonishing global phenomenon Star Trek has become.
The trips to the East Coast cities were a combination of business and pleasure. Washington DC was for a meeting of a task force on which I have been asked to serve. New York is always my destination for great theater and excitement as well as the nerve center of work and business. After the business part of my mission was completed, it was theater every evening. The most impressive drama I caught was Arthur Miller's "After The Fall" starring Peter Krause from the television series, "Six Feet Under." Krause was fine but the most striking performance in the play was that of Carla Gugino in the role inspired by Marilyn Monroe. Her characterization of an insecure woman, initially charming and poignantly eager to please, who, with power, grows into a terrifying monster, was commanding.
The most stirring musical was award winning playwright, Tony Kushner's "Caroline, or Change." I'm amazed by this artist who blew me away with "Angels in America" and now transported me musically to his native Louisiana in the 50's with a heartrending story of the relationship of a black housekeeper and a young Jewish boy, the son of her employer. Tonya Pinkins' performance as Caroline was soulfully moving. Other shows I caught were "Wonderful Town," "Sly Fox" with Richard Dreyfus and gifted Rene' Auberjonois in a hilariously delightful characterization, and "Frogs," starring Nathan Lane. I always leave New York feeling so enriched.
Changing to my political hat, I flew to Boston for the Democratic National Convention. I was not a delegate this year, but I served as the master of ceremony for one of the after parties. I thought it was a terrific convention. The speeches were stirring, former President Bill Clinton was masterful, and Senator John Kerry gave the best speech I had heard him make. We need a strong leader who can truly lead in a complex and diverse world; one who can address the historic deficit that this nation has been plunged into and create genuine jobs for working Americans. As you might guess, I am a Democrat and I have great feelings in my bones that we will elect a new president in November - President John Kerry.
The final trip of the month was to Las Vegas and a Star Trek convention. How comfortable these conventions have become! After all the hurly burly of the many trips, even with a slight jet-lag fog, I can still function easily surrounded by understanding and loving fans. I can get the names of familiar faces mixed up and still get a forgiving hug. I can growl out that old coal miners' song, "Sixteen Tons" and still get standing ovations. What terrific people fans are! I love the fans and I love these conventions that are like massive family reunions. July was a full, hectic and enriching month and how wonderful it is to recover and relax with fans at a Star Trek convention.
June, 2004, SEATTLE - Imagination is that wondrous medium that propels us into the future of human society - into marvels of science, technology, and human affairs. Within the laws of science, imagination has produced wonders undreamed of. Within the disciplines of technology, imagination has transformed the world. Within all the complexities of human nature, imagination has created a civil society.
Yet, there is the imagination that still pushes at limitations. That is the imagination that drives beyond boundaries into the realm of science fiction. Freed from constraints, this imagination then truly enters the sphere of exploration. It investigates relevant issues with greater clarity. It gains deeper insights, a larger awareness. It expresses our greatest hopes as well as our darkest fears. This is the imagination that takes us into the land of science fiction. I found this land, alive and vibrant, in Seattle, Washington.
The landmark symbol of Seattle is the still futuristic-looking floating disk in the sky called the Space Needle. Seattle is the home of Microsoft and Boeing. Science and imagination are at the foundation of this city's economy. So it is eminently fitting that Seattle celebrates science fiction. And it was celebrated in exuberant style with the opening of the fabulous, new Science Fiction Museum and Hall of Fame on June 16, 2004.
Nichelle Nichols and I were invited as guests to the gala opening night party of the spectacular museum. Located at the foot of the Space Needle, the building was designed by the award-winning architect, Frank Gehry. We were driven right up to the entrance - and I was taken aback! The building looked like a pile of shiny, multi-colored shards and bent pieces of a space ship crash. I felt like we were entering a stunningly glamorous disaster area. I know that imagination involves daring, the taking of risks - and this looked like a risk that failed. Risks and failures are a part of science fiction. I love the architecture of Frank Gehry's new Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles. It is a dazzling monument to imagination. I don't think the Science Fiction Museum in Seattle is one of his successes.
But the content of the museum was stunning in the most extraordinary way. It brims with sci-fi wonders. The galleries are filled with the history of science fiction: first edition books by legends, rare tomes such as Ray Bradbury's "The Martian Chronicles" and "Fahrenheit 451," and H.G. Wells' "The Time Machine." There are film and television artifacts - models, costumes, props and posters - from "Blade Runner," "Planet of the Apes," "The Day the Earth Stood Still," "Close Encounters of the Third Kind," "ET," and many others. There are imaginative original artworks illustrating visions of the future, art that dates back to the late 1800s. And, of course, there are one-of-a-kind memorabilia from our "Star Trek." There is Captain Kirk's Command Chair, which has its own interesting history in which I played a small part. The set of the television U.S.S. Enterprise had been donated to my alma mater, the UCLA film department. It was used for a few student film projects and then, neglectfully allowed to dry and age in the hot southern Californian sun. A staff carpenter, a secret Trek fan, decided to "rescue" it by taking it home and storing it in his garage. Sadly, he died shortly after. Years later, just by happenstance, I shared a table with his widow at a charity fund raising dinner. She told me of "this old Star Trek chair" her husband left her in the garage that she didn't know what to do with. I informed her of a Beverly Hills auction house that was preparing a Sci-Fi collectors' sale. She checked into it and had the chair's authenticity verified. It was the genuine article. So the Captain's Chair was auctioned off and sold - at a handsome price - to Paul Allen, one of the billionaire founders of Microsoft and the Founder of the Science Fiction Museum and Hall of Fame. It is now on display as a part of the museum's permanent collection. Nichelle and I had the honor of validating the "Star Trek" exhibit by autographing a model of the Starship Enterprise. I felt further honored by being featured in two of the museum's video commentaries that run continuously as a part of the exhibit.
The opening night party was great fun - food, music, and dear, but rarely seen friends. It was great visiting with John and Bjo Trimble, the dedicated Star Trek fans who launched a crazy campaign to save a faltering television sci-fi show and ultimately succeeded. They called it the "Star Trek Lives" campaign. Forrest Ackerman, the legendary sci-fi collector was there, now reduced by age to a wheelchair. But age cannot wither, nor time diminish, this man's enthusiasm and delight in people and the fans of this imaginative genre. We talked of the time, years ago, when he opened up his astoundingly vast collection to me for a private showing. It was a grand night of nostalgic reminiscences about the future.
The Science Fiction Museum and Hall of Fame is a tribute, not only to science fiction, but to the imagination that sets the goals for the human future. This museum cherishes and preserves that history of imagination and its achievements and, at the same time, inspires the imagination of the young minds of the future. In the shiny wreckage of a venturesome architectural vision resides the new home of future-oriented imagination.
Seattle, at the same time, has opened a fantastically imaginative architectural success. Its new Seattle Central Library is a stunningly innovative structure that works as smoothly and as silently as a machine and looks as fun and colorful as a staggered stack of giant books. As visually arresting as the zigzag levels are, they also are organized in a most rational arrangement. The reading rooms jut out to capture the most natural light for better reading and energy conservation while the book storage levels are "stacked" centrally for easy access on a ramped grade. The children's book department is on the street level with the auditorium and meeting rooms in the windowless hill side. This achievement of Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas is a new world landmark that further anchors Seattle as the city of imagination and creativity. What a great place to be poised to launch into the future.