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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.
April, 2004, TOKYO - I have appeared at Star Trek conventions throughout the world - in Europe, Latin America, and, of course, all over North America - except for the one obvious place for me. I had never done a Star Trek convention in Japan. I speak Japanese. I visit Japan frequently. I even attended summer school in Tokyo in my youth. Most relevantly, I am an American proud of my Japanese ancestry. Yet, I have never been invited to appear at a Star Trek convention in Japan - until I got a call last year from an entrepreneur/Star Trek fan named Kyouichi Iwahori.
Iwahori-san flew into Los Angeles for a lunch meeting to share with me his plans to open a shop for collectors of sci-fi movie props in Tokyo and to produce the very first Star Trek convention ever held in Japan. He is a man of grand visions. And, I learned, he is a man who achieves his dreams. His business credentials were evident, and, as I spoke with him, I quickly sensed that he was a genuinely knowledgeable Star Trek fan as well. He knew each episode of the show, line for line, action for action. He even owned a yacht that he had named Star Trek.
I flew into Narita International Airport to be greeted by Iwahori-san and his team of crack professionals. On our way to the hotel, I was informed that there would be a delay in the opening of his Hollywood Prop Shop due to some construction problems but that there would instead be a gala pre-opening party across the street from the shop. That was fine with me.
The convention was to be held in the town of Toyama, where Iwahori-san controls the Civic Auditorium. We were to stay at a hot springs spa resort overnight in that town. That sounded fabulous. This would be a wonderful visit to Japan.
Toyama is on the Japan Sea side of Japan less than an hour flight northwest of Tokyo. It is fabled for its superb seafood as well as its natural mineral springs. That night we dined at an enchanting rustic inn sampling the many exotic delicacies unique to the area. Where else can one savor the subtle flavors of a "fire fly squid," a squid caught only at night by the glow that it sends out, or a fat, bug-eyed fish as delicious as it is ugly. The spa resort was reached after a winding night drive up to the top of a rugged mountain. I was exhausted after my travels. Changing into a "yukata," or cotton sleeping kimono, I went straight to bed.
There can be no more glorious way to greet the new day than a morning soak in a steaming outdoor mineral spring. Gazing out at rugged, ancient rock outcroppings and gnarled old pine trees with the town of Toyama off in the distance below was the most relaxing way to prepare for a full day of a Star Trek convention.
The elements that make up a Star Trek convention are the same the world over - the autographs, the talk, and the promotional visits to the local radio stations and newspaper offices. There are, however, cultural distinctions with each one. For this Star Trek convention in Japan, I dressed in my suit and tie. The talk was formally organized. Iwahori-san conducted an interview/conversation with me on stage which was projected on a giant video screen behind us to accommodate the audience in the vast auditorium. At the end of our conversation a cute young fan came onstage and presented me with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers bigger than he was. There was much bowing up and down. Backstage, he gave me a sketch of the Starship Enterprise that he had drawn himself. The autograph line was well planned and orderly and the fans were politely enthusiastic. This was distinctively a Japanese Star Trek convention - as punctual and efficient as their fabled bullet train operation. This is one convention that will remain in my memory. I will have to share my experience of this convention with my colleagues from the show. I know they will want to do one here too - but they'll have to start brushing up their Japanese.
We flew back to Tokyo that evening. As we drove into the great metropolis from the airport, I was dazzled by the soaring new office towers that had gone up in formerly low rise districts of the city. Shinagawa was now a shining new city of corporate headquarters. Roppongi, a lively entertainment district now had a new mega-complex of luxury hotels, apartments, international shopping, an art museum and a towering centerpiece high rise tower visible from anywhere in Tokyo. The economic vitality of this city never fails to impress me.
Iwahori-san's collector store, The Hollywood Prop Shop, was almost ready to open - but not quite. The display shelves and counters were not yet in. Some of the merchandise had not yet arrived. There was the hustle and bustle of staff in hectic preparation. After a quick inspection of the premises, I quickly got out of their way. The shop was well located - right in the busy Nishi Roppongi district. It should do well. If the gala pre-opening party was any indicator, the venture should be a smash success. Star Trek fans I had met on previous visits to Japan were there to greet me as an old friend. Stars of Japanese action movies were mingling with wealthy collectors. The buffet table was laden with delectable Chinese food. The speeches were generously congratulatory. The evening was a happy launching of an enterprise boldly going where Star Trek had not ever gone before - to the very heart of sci-fi collectors' Tokyo.
Iwahori-san topped off the trip with a final unforgettable experience. It was a visit to the futuristic National Museum of Emerging Science and Innovation. The museum showcases a vision of humankind's future of exploration, balanced with care for the environment; of experimental daring tempered by awareness of its consequences. Going through the exhibits was, at once, inspiring and challenging.
The Director and Chief Executive Officer of the institution was no less than a man who had himself been out in space, Japan's astronaut, Mamoru Mohri. I had met him on a visit to Okinawa in November 2000. My great luck on this call was that it happened to coincide with the visit of another space scientist, the woman astronaut from Japan, Chiaki Mukai. It would have been a rare treat just to visit an astronaut but to meet two astronauts - both from Japan - was an unexpected stroke of good fortune. Director Mohri amusingly observed that he considered me his "senior" because he saw me out in the galaxy years before he ever got out in space to the International Space Station. I demurred. I stated that Astronaut Mohri is a 20th century spaceman and I, as Sulu, played a 23rd century star trekker, so, in fact, he is three hundred years my "senior" - and my inspiration as well.
Life moves in fascinating ways. We were brought together in this museum of the future by the vision and genius of Gene Roddenberry who gave birth to "Star Trek." His creation merged time and space and still continues to have an effect. A student in Japan saw an actor portraying a spaceman of the future on television some years back. Today, he, as a genuine astronaut, and that actor share a convivial visit - 21st century fact and 20th century vision, meeting at a museum of the future in Tokyo, Japan. The power of human imagination makes wondrous things happen. Domo arigato Iwahori-san for your fantastic hospitality and my very best wishes for the success of your enterprise.
March, 2004, NEW YORK CITY - To a theater lover, New York is the proverbial candy store of a delighted child. The happy dilemma is "what to see and what show has seats available." February is usually a slow month for Broadway theaters so the chances are good. And, for the child I always seem to become when I'm in New York, my luck was with me. I was able to get great seats for some wonderful shows - two musicals and two dramas.
"Fiddler on the Roof" is a musical I saw ages ago starring the great Zero Mostel. It was an unforgettable performance in a transportingly moving production. The revival of "Fiddler," this time starring Alfred Molina as Tevye, was wonderful. The music, especially, "Sunrise, Sunset," was as moving as I had always remembered it. The choreography by Jerome Robbins was as lively a copy of the original as I had seen. It did not, however, replace my still glowing memory of the first production. The key is the central performance - the role of Tevye. Zero Mostel's was both bigger than life and, at the same time, so achingly human. You truly believed that he had conversations with God. Mostel's Tevye had that rare quality called soul. Alfred Molina turned in a fine performance in the current revival, but the ghost of Zero Mostel's Tevye always seemed to be hovering over him.
The other musical I caught was "The Boy from Oz" about the life, the music, and the struggles of the flamboyantly gay Australian musical performer, Peter Allen. This, unlike the revival of "Fiddler," was a production where the star was the whole show. Hugh Jackman as Peter Allen was a dazzling dynamo that compelled audience attention and commanded center stage. He sang, he danced, and he was Peter Allen. What a brilliant theater talent he is! He was so completely the glitzy Peter Allen that it was hard to ever imagine him as Wolverine in the movie "X-Men." Yet, he was! Stunningly so! Reading the program bio, I learned that he had also won Britain's Olivier award playing the quintessential American cowboy, Curley, in Britain's National Theater production of "Oklahoma" in London as well as Australia's top theater award as Joe Gillis in the Australian production of "Sunset Boulevard." "The Boy from Oz" is a musical that belongs to Hugh Jackman as much as "Fiddler on the Roof" still belongs to Zero Mostel.
All the plays I saw this trip were ones in which the actors made the show. The actors were the reason for the play's success. And the most luminous performance of all was that by an artist named Jefferson Mays. He was the entire cast in a one-man drama titled, "I Am My Own Wife" about the harrowing life of a transvestite during the years of Nazi domination of Germany. It was a virtuoso performance that combined voice, movement, and body with dramatic imagination. Mays became the very embodiment of a man living in a woman's body with dignity, resilience, and the wit of a survivor. He made a complex and unusual character touchingly human and, indeed, inspiring. Jefferson Mays' performance was a consummate demonstration of the actor's craft.
The final play I saw was one of my favorites and a classic of American theater, Tennessee Williams' "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof." On the marquee was an all-star cast, Ashley Judd, Jason Patrick, and Ned Beatty as Big Daddy. Two performers shone in this starry production - Jason Patrick and Ned Beatty. Tennessee Williams' plays always contrast opposites: the strong and the weak, the sensitive and the brutal, the beautiful and the vile.
Jason Patrick as Brick, the ex-football hero now a deeply troubled and perhaps homosexual husband of a desperate wife and Ned Beatty as his coarse, powerful, and determined father are the opposites here. One is the sensitive soul and the other is the brute. Yet, both Patrick and Beatty suggest the complexities in their characters. Patrick's Brick has a tensile core of strength and Beatty's Big Daddy reveals his hidden dread of mortality. Theirs were richly textured, deeply felt performances that should be candidates for Tony award consideration in a few months. It was disappointing that Ashley Judd couldn't rise to the level set by her two fine colleagues. Nevertheless, "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" was a production that had me on my feet shouting "bravo, bravo, bravo," as the actors took their curtain call. Broadway can be proud to have this American classic back on the boards.
I left New York exhilarated. "The play's the thing," Shakespeare wrote. But it is still brilliant actors that make the play.