February, 2001, LOS ANGELES - I continue to be captivated by the popularity and the longevity of the Star Trek phenomenon. It remains a pervasive factor in my life, whether professionally, personally or in my public service activities. And this gift has serendipitously expanded my horizon and enriched my life.
A direct professional tie-in can be viewed on February 18th when an episode of "V.I.P." starring Pamela Anderson is aired on the Fox network. I play the voice of an omniscient super computer that was programmed by a brilliant techno-genius who is a fervent Captain Sulu fan. Hence, my casting as the voice of the computer.
The Star Trek conventions, of course, keep on trekking. My first convention of this year was in the charming city of Portland, Oregon. It was a lively gathering on a cold, damp weekend. Long-time fans mingled with a growing number of young, first-time conventioneers. And, as well, the con gave me the chance to indulge my preservationist interest and again explore the imaginatively restored turn-of-the-century historic district of Portland.
I did voice work last week on a feature film project, cryptically titled, "Noon Blue Apple." I play a mysterious voice that haunts the mind of the lead character. No direct Star Trek connection here other than the fact that the director knew of my work from the original series.
But Star Trek has also afforded me the opportunity to contribute more effectively in a myriad of other areas not related to my professional career. This month, I was honored to serve as the star of a fund-raising dinner to help build a planetarium on the campus of Long Beach City College. With this facility, young students will be able to expand their study of the heavens and let their imaginations soar to the stars. Clearly, without the Star Trek association, I would not have been able to support this important cause as effectively as I was able.
On another occasion this month, I addressed a group of young interns at the Japanese American National Museum on volunteerism. Here again, I was able to connect with them more successfully as Captain Sulu of Star Trek than as the Chairman of the Board of the Museum.
We have a mayoral election coming up this spring in the city of Los Angeles, my hometown. I am supporting the former Speaker of the California Assembly, Antonio Villaraigosa. I know that I was asked to speak at his press conference largely because of the draw of my Star Trek linkage. As well, when I spoke at the Japanese seniors' intermediate care facility, Keiro Services, Star Trek combined with my association with the Japanese American National Museum, were the factors that attracted the large audience of seniors. I chatted with one lady who was 104 years old. She was born in 1896 - having lived in three centuries! In so many unexpected ways, my association with Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry's visionary creation has opened doors that have expanded my life horizon.
But when any hint of self-importance might begin to creep into me and I start believing that my Star Trek association is free entrée to anything, a humbling reminder always seems to bring me back to reality.
This month, my niece, Akemi Takei, sportscaster for KING-TV in Seattle, got married to David Louchheim, a radio sportscaster, on a beautiful beach in Maui, Hawaii. It was a singularly romantic affair, the bride and groom barefoot, with waves crashing in on lava rock outcroppings behind them. The reception was held at a hilltop restaurant overlooking the Wailea Country Club and the turquoise blue Pacific beyond. As we sipped cocktails, nibbled hors d'oeuvres and waited for the sun to set, I slowly became aware of a generational divide. The parents of my niece and David's friends were thrilled to meet me. They were eager to have their pictures taken with me. They told me they were long-time Star Trek fans from back in their college days. The young people, however -- Akemi and David's friends -- were gracious and friendly but rather blasé. In fact, some weren't really that familiar with Star Trek. They, I realized, were the post-Star Trek generation. The passage of time brings with it the larger context of life.
I was forcefully reminded again of the larger context of life on a hike into the crater of the now-dormant volcano, Haleakala on Maui. The crater is vast. And it is heart-stoppingly beautiful. There is a narrow, lava gravel trail that leads down to the bottom. It was irresistible. I had to go down into it. As I tramped down the sere landscape, rich with the burnt colors of inert lava, I imagined what this scene must have been like millennia ago. It was, we were told by a ranger, an inferno of blasting, bubbling, molten red lava. For centuries it spewed up flaming magma from the belly of the earth forming the island of Maui. This place was a hellhole of exploding liquid fire. But now, it was dead calm. Only this scorched and arid crater of unearthly colors remains.As I huffed and puffed my way back up to the volcano's rim - 10,000-feet above sea level -- I thought of the ardent excitement of the middle-aged Star Trek fans of the evening before, and, in contrast, the nonchalant affability of their children. Intense fire and cool, youthful calm. There didn't seem to be that much difference between the human generations and geologic time.
March, 2001, LOS ANGELES - Since 1991, I've been working from time to time with a gifted symphony conductor, David Warble, on a project that has become increasingly fulfilling. He asked me then to provide the narration for a symphonic composition by Johan de Meij inspired by the great Tolkien classic, "The Lord of the Rings." It was an intriguing offer. The trilogy is an epic adventure of imagination. But how can that complex heroic fantasy be summarized in a musical narration? This was, I rationalized to myself, to be in concert with orchestral music. That should help bridge the inevitable gaps in the narration. More out of curiosity, mixed with a dash of actor's audacity, I agreed to do it.
The concert was to be performed with the California Wind Orchestra at the Orange County Performing Arts Center, a dazzling new cultural complex south of Los Angeles. The venue, too, was an attraction. Performing there would be a prestigious addition to my credits.
At the rehearsal, I heard the music for the first time. I was blown away! It was soaring. It was dark. It was rousing and lyrical. Altogether, it was richly complex. At that instant, I realized what an extraordinary privilege it was to be working with Dave Warble on this project. The music embodied the splendor and the intricacies of the classic story. The concert was a great success. Since that presentation, I have been performing with him and the glorious music of Johan de Meij all over the country.
Last month took us to Long Island, New York, to perform with the Long Island Philharmonic at the Tilles Center. This time, Dave, the crafty showman that he is, built the evening around symphonic music that have their source in science fiction. The program opened with Gustav Holst's "The Planets." There was John Williams' music from "Star Wars: Episode One-The Phantom Menace." And, of course, "Star Trek" with the works of four composers, Alexander Courage, Jerry Goldsmith, Jay Chattaway and Dennis McCarthy who contributed to the body of "Star Trek" music. The final number on the program was "The Lord of the Rings." The evening was a sell-out success -- in no small part because of the huge turnout of Star Trek fans. After the performance, I visited with many friends and long-time fans.
Thanks to the concert, I had the opportunity to spend some time in the greatest performing arts center in the nation, Manhattan. As I am addicted to doing in New York City, I lived in the theaters. I was finally able to catch up with "Kiss Me Kate," a show I had attempted to see many times before and been disappointed because no tickets could be had. It was a wonderful production, great fun and well worth the tenacious effort to get the tickets. "Dirty Blonde," with Kathy Najimy was both hilarious and moving. The most surprising was "The Full Monty." In the face of the obviously sexually suggestive title, playwright Terrence McNally had written a moving drama of the devastating impact of unemployment on marriages, on a father-son relationship and on one's sense of self-worth. And the music was terrific. It's the best transposition of a popular movie to the musical stage that I have seen. At the Public Theater downtown, I saw a powerful drama by Jessica Hagedorn titled "Dogeaters." Her inspired metaphor for the tortured recent history of the Philippines was soap opera with all its over-the-top emotions and gravely extravagant morality. This edgy drama was galvanized by razor sharp performances by gifted actors like Alec Mapa, Hill Harper, Mia Katigbak and Jo Jo Gonzales. Every production I saw on this visit was -- each in its own way -- superb.
This Manhattan sojourn also gave me the chance to get together with New York friends. A special treat was having lunch with Pat Suzuki, an actress who I worked with some time ago in New York in a production of "Year of the Dragon." This vivacious singer/actress made her splash on Broadway as the star of the original production of Rogers and Hammerstein's "Flower Drum Song." The Japanese American National Museum will be honoring her with the Lifetime Achievement Award next month so I was able to share our plans for the event with her. But without discussions of awards and honors, lunch with Pat is always an entertainment in itself. These were the delightful bonuses I got from travelling to New York for the concert version of "The Lord of the Rings" -- so, thank you Dave Warble.
I gave myself another bonus last week - a weekend in another lively theater city, San Francisco. I saw a marvelous production by the American Conservatory Theater of the award winning British play, "Goodnight Children Everywhere." When I see an American play in London, I'm always impressed by the British actors' amazing ability to do American accents so credibly. Well, the cast of "Goodnight Children Everywhere" does American actors proud. The British accents of these American players were not only astonishingly convincing but specifically south London and one fine actor, Jesse Pennington, even captured the subtle influence that his character having lived in Alberta, Canada, for five years had on his south London accent. The drama was about the resilience of and the heavy cost to children who were moved out of London during World War II to avoid the Nazi air bombings.
The other play of the weekend had enjoyed great success all over the country, in part, I supposed, because of it eye-catching title -- " The Vagina Monologues." I discovered the title to be an absolutely precise description of an evocative play, a passionate assertion of women's sexual individualism. And it was blessed by a company of marvelous actors; Kathleen Califant, who was superb in the prize winning drama, "Angels in America," Lorri Holt, a fine San Francisco actor, and Jill Eikenberry, whom I loved in the television series, "L.A. Law."
Some of the best bonuses though are serendipitous. Just by chance, I happened across one of the people that make San Francisco such a wonderfully unforgettable town. It happened on a trolley.
Almost equal to my love of theater is my passion for all modes of public transportation. And San Francisco is the quintessential city of public transit. It has subways, buses, ferries, light rail and, of course, the fabled cable cars of song and legend. I love riding them all.
San Francisco just added another reason for me to love it more. They installed a new trolley line along the bayshore from the old Ferry Building to the fisherman's wharf area where the ugly Embarcadero Freeway used to be. The freeway had been torn down after the devastation of the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, opening up the beautiful bay to the city. A silver lining can be found even in the awful rubbles of an earthquake. Not only that, but San Francisco, true to its style, placed on the new tracks a system of historic trolley cars. They searched the world over for old trolleys and found them in places like Buenos Aires, Paris and Sydney, Australia. They even bought up the streetcar named Desire from the city of New Orleans. The new trolley route along San Francisco Bay is lined with stately palm trees. A stylish and urbane city has become even more enchanting.
A red trolley came rattling down Market Street. It looked like the kind I used to ride in Los Angeles as a boy. I hopped on and tried to slide my dollar into the fare slot. "My god," the conductor shouted at me. I thought I'd done something wrong. "You're Sulu! Captain Sulu!" he shouted with delight. Immediately, I realized that I had been recognized -- even with my sunglasses on. He stopped me from pushing my dollar in and insisted, "This ride is on me. You've given me some wonderful rides on Star Trek so this one is on me." He absolutely wouldn't allow me to pay my fare. I thanked him and sat down in front near the conductor. From that point on, he regaled not only me, but the entire car with the history of the new trolley system, his love of his job, his passion for San Francisco and his long-time devotion to Star Trek. He told us about his little daughter who he takes with him to the sights around his beautiful city. He had everyone on his car smiling. Then he asked me to sign a piece of paper. I was more than happy to reciprocate for his joyful hospitality. I asked him for his name and he told me it was David Sparks. What a perfect name, I told him, for such a sparkling personality, the sparkplug of the trolley and the spark that lit up the spirits of his passengers.
This city is the captivating city that it is because San Franciscans love San Francisco. And David Sparks is the quintessential San Franciscan. Thank you, David, for a memorable trek in your unforgettable city.
May, 2001, LOS ANGELES - On the first day of April, I boarded American Airlines Flight 140, nonstop from Los Angeles to Paris, France. April in Paris! My spirits soared with the plane as it rose up into the clouds. Where else but Paris, the quintessential city of light and life, to celebrate the beginning of spring.
I landed at Charles De Gaulle Airport in golden sunshine to be told by my Paris friend, Olivier Jalabert, that the sun was a rare and welcome phenomenon. Paris had been inundated by relentless rain throughout the previous month. I revealed to him that this was my southern Californian gift that I brought to Paris in my luggage. He thanked me effusively for my sunny generosity. This was going to be a glorious week.
Seven days in Paris flies by like the sparkle of a transporter. As I write this now, a month away from that dream-like week, the memories seem wrapped in golden haze. I'm still savoring Sunday brunch under a Tiepolo ceiling in the grand dining salon of the Musee Jacquemart Andre. This was the great town mansion that served as Louis Jordan's Paris estate in the classic film, "Gigi." Glowing memories of dining on Duck a'la Orange at the fabled Tour d'Argent with a glorious view of Notre Dame below. Ambling down the Champs Elysee on a Sunday afternoon together with aluminum wrapped Paris marathoners who had just finished the grueling run at the Arc de Triomphe. Strolling across the classic beaux arts bridge, Pont Alexandre, at night when -- precisely at 10 p.m. -- the Eiffel Tower begins to explode in an effervescence of sparkling lights. Glowing, luminous memories.
Some of my best Parisian experiences were serendipitous -- accidental discoveries or chance happenings. On a previous visit, we just happened to be at the basilica of Sacre Coeur, one of the highest points in Paris, on Bastille Day to learn that fireworks would be set off that evening. We laid down on the hillside grass and waited until the darkened sky turned into a Miro painting of exploding, swirling cascades of colored lights. Singularly Parisian serendipity.
On this trip, we saw the River Seine as we had never seen it before. As Olivier had told us, it had been raining heavily in Paris and the Seine had turned into a torrential force of nature. Those charming pedestrian footpaths alongside the river, where old men snooze with their fishing poles and lovers meet under the willow trees, were completely flooded over. The willow trees looked like long-haired maidens in distress clinging on for dear life bobbing against the oncoming assault of the flood. The tourist boats that cruise up and down the Seine had to be temporarily cancelled.
Our last evening in Paris was a convivial dinner hosted by Olivier, who is manager of Album, an intriguing collectibles store on Boulevard Saint Germain. The dinner was in a rustic restaurant called Les Bouchons. Among his guests was Alain Carraze, a witty television talk show host. I visited on his show and had a wonderful time chatting with him about my Star Trek experiences. Alas, it had to be in English. I speak only tourist French, but, fortunately for me, he spoke delightful English. The evening was congenial with good conversation and great food. I think it's impossible not to eat well in Paris. And at Les Bouchons we ate well surrounded by history. The heavy timbered restaurant was in a centuries old, pre-revolutionary structure on a narrow, cobbled street called Rue d' Hotel Colbert right off the Seine.
In exchange for my gift of California sunshine, I came home laden with another collection of glowing memories. Au revoir, Paris and merci boucoup, Olivier.
Almost immediately after returning from Paris -- before I could even shake off my jetlag -- I was on a Japan Air Lines 747 to Osaka, Japan. My mission was the opening of the Japanese American National Museum's traveling exhibit "From Bento to Mixed Plate" at the National Museum of Ethnology in Osaka. This was the second venue for the exhibit after its first opening in Japan last November in Okinawa.
I landed at the beautiful Kansai Airport built on a man-made island on Osaka Bay. Kansai is the most well-planned airport that I've had the pleasure of passing through. There is excellent traffic flow, smooth passport control, good signage, efficient taxi, train and other transportation connections, a fine hotel, restaurants galore and all the services a traveler would need. The only problem is that the island is sinking. Apparently, the engineers' calculations were a bit off. The airport is slowly descending back into the waters of the bay. But until that time, Kansai will be my favorite airport.
Japan's National Museum of Ethnology is on the grounds of the 1970 World Expo that was held in Osaka. When I arrived at the old Expo grounds, I immediately recognized the giant theme sculpture and some of the exposition buildings from my visit back in 1970. But there had been many new structures built since the exposition, among them the National Museum of Ethnology. The surrounding areas also had become quite urbanized. I thought of the plans the city of Hannover, Germany, has for the grounds of their World Expo just concluded last year.
The opening ceremony for our traveling exhibit was a big success. We were honored to have the Chancellor of Seijo University, Dr. Nagayo Homma, and a colleague of mine on the Japan-United States Conference on Cultural and Educational Interchange, travel down from Tokyo to join us. The reception that followed was convivial and celebratory. Sake toasts followed one after another. The press was great. The exhibit is well launched in Osaka. Its next stop in Japan is Hiroshima.
April was the perfect time to be in Japan. It is the very peak of cherry blossom season. And right outside my hotel, the Imperial, along the beautiful Ogawa River, is the best place for cherry blossom viewing. Sachie Kubo, of the Japan Excelsior campaign, who lives in Osaka, had called and kindly offered to personally escort me on my cherry blossom viewing. She and other fans had given me a wonderful time in Osaka last November when I was passing through on my way back from Okinawa.
I had imagined Japanese cherry blossom viewing to be a tranquil, contemplative, almost poetic, experience. How wrong I was! Cherry blossom viewing in Osaka was the most raucous, congested, massive aesthetic experience I had ever encountered. It seemed as if the whole nation of Japan had turned out to view the cherry blossoms outside the Imperial Hotel. Once we were swept up in the solid, shoving, mass of humanity, free will was gone. One had to go with the flow. There were policemen with bullhorns urging the crowd to keep moving on. But the cherry blossoms were simply breathtaking. I had never seen such variety, the shades of pale pinks and whites. I had never witnessed blossoms in such abundant density. At times, we seemed to be flowing through a heavenly tunnel of pink white clouds. It was gorgeous, almost surreal and absolutely unforgettable. Sachie-san, domo arigato.
I arrived back in Los Angeles to be greeted by a script for a new television series titled "Chronicle." The series is about a New York tabloid newspaper and its crew of journalists that cover paraphenomenal events. My guest starring role in the episode titled, "Here There Be Dragons," scheduled to air this summer on the Sci Fi Channel, was that of a Chinese immigrant father whose daughter, it is suspected, might be involved with a dragon inhabiting the sewers of Chinatown. The drama is played with straight-faced seriousness. I thought it might be fun. But I was baffled by the location. It was to be filmed in San Diego, California! A New York story on location in palmy, balmy San Diego? Now, that is paraphenomenal. I phoned my agent to find out why but he couldn't explain this mystery of Hollywood either. Oh well, I thought. After all the jetting about I'd been doing this month, a quick relaxing train ride down the coast to San Diego would be much preferable to another long cross country sit on a plane to New York.
Arriving in San Diego, I was picked up at the Santa Fe Train Depot and taken directly to what the driver called, "the studio" for my wardrobe fitting. There the mystery was cleared up. "Chronicle" is produced by Stu Segall, an entrepreneur who had indeed developed a studio complex in San Diego consisting of six soundstages with all the necessary support facilities. The series was keeping film activities humming at his facility. For exterior shots, sections of downtown San Diego, with clever camouflaging of palm trees, was passing for dense, gritty New York City. How fitting for a show dealing with paraphenomena.
The week in San Diego was the perfect antidote to a month of globe girding air flights - back in make-up and in front of the cameras. The regulars on "Chronicle," Chad Willett, Rena Sofer and Reno Wilson are bright, talented and personable young performers and it was a pleasure working with them.
The weekend there was pure tonic. I went to the award winning regional theater, the Globe Theater, and enjoyed a wonderful production of "Dinner with Friends." Taking the title to heart, I had dinner with friends - Sam and Lydia Irvine at their son Ken's fabulous restaurant, Chez Loma in a charming Victorian house on Coronado Island.
The month began in Paris dining on extraordinary French cuisine with friends and concluded with superb California cuisine with friends on Coronado Island. April was a magnificent global banquet table with friends.