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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.
January, 2005, LOS ANGELES - What other city would name itself after the state that it is in so that its name is repeated twice? New York, New York is the only city I know. Only a brash, self-assertive metropolis like New York City has such chutzpah. But, that repetition can also become the chill-induced shiver that comes from chattering teeth trying to say New York in bitter cold. I went to New York, New York in the middle of a deep freeze to catch up on a few plays. A huge blizzard had been predicted but I went anyway. New York in a winter snowstorm was both beautiful and nasty.
Looking out the hotel window and watching the sky fill up with dancing soft flakes that look like tiny bits of torn-up tissue paper was nature's poetry. Watching Central Park transform itself into a frosted winter wonderland was magical. The nasty part was when I went outside and tried to get to Central Park. The frozen sidewalks became treacherous ice sheets. The slushy street crossings turned people into clumsy ballet dancers attempting great leaps that rarely reached their mark. And, I am a southern Californian. We are like exotic hothouse plants suddenly plunged into frigid winter air. We don't take well to it. I froze.
The theaters of New York, however, fill my body with joy and warm my soul. The hottest drama I saw was one I had once seen as a teenager on the fabled television series, Playhouse 90 - "Twelve Angry Men" by Reginald Rose. This courtroom drama moved me decades ago on television and it was even more powerful on stage. Philip Bosco was a standout in a large cast of fine actors. Its run has been extended, so if you should be in New York, New York, do try to catch it. You're in for a great evening of drama.
Stephen Sondheim's "Pacific Overtures" is one of my favorite musicals and it was enjoying a revival on Broadway. What made this current production special for me was that I had actor friends performing in it plus the fact that I had performed in a concert reading of it in Dayton, Ohio. I knew the play well. The role I played, the Reciter, was being played by the gifted actor, B.D. Wong. Years before he won a Tony Award for his stunning turn on Broadway in "M. Butterfly," he was cast as my son in an episode of the television series, "Black's Magic." And now, here was my "son" on Broadway reciting the words I had spoken in Dayton, Ohio, a few years back. As I watched his engaging performance, I glowed with paternal pride. Friends from East West Players in Los Angeles, Sab Shimono and Michael Lee, were brilliant in principal roles. Good friend, Alvin Ing, was sheer delight as the murderous mother of the Shogun who poisons him with her chrysanthemum tea. Alan Muraoka, who was with me in the Dayton production, was his wonderful self as a councilor and a merchant. I would love to recommend this production of "Pacific Overtures" to you but, alas, I saw it near the end of its run and it is no longer playing. However, a captivating and more than a bit naughty puppet musical - of all things - titled "Avenue Q," is a big hit and should be around for a long time. I loved it.
A gripping drama from Britain's National Theater, "Democracy" by Michael Frayn, was another impressive play. It is about a spy in the inner circle of German Chancellor Willy Brandt's office before the collapse of the Berlin Wall. Richard Thomas, who you might remember as "John Boy" from the television series, "The Waltons," was superb as the mole, as was Michael Cumpsty as his handler. There is rich fare on Broadway this year. My only disappointment was the over-hyped musical, "Wicked." Perhaps it was because we didn't see it with the original award-winning cast, but I thought it was hackneyed, mechanical, and an extravagant waste of talent, labor, and money.
The repetitive New York, New York also became a repeated reality for me this month because no sooner had I returned to Los Angeles but I was called back to New York for a quick meeting. Within a week, I was on a plane headed back to frozen New York City. On arrival, however, I learned that the trip was unnecessary. The meeting had to be cancelled. Rather than disappointment, this was for me another serendipitous turn of events - few more days to whoopee in New York, New York. Now the repeated New York, New York took on a happy, celebratory rhythm.
I decided to celebrate with a day at the newly redesigned Museum of Modern Art. I loved the old building and especially the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Sculpture Garden. I wondered what had been done to it. Might we have lost something we were fond of? A bit apprehensively, I entered the redesigned building. I was stunned. The new Museum was spectacular. The building had been transformed into an architectural sculpture. The building itself had now become the largest art piece at MOMA. Japanese architect, Yoshio Taniguchi, had taken space and shaped it as an elegant minimalist walk through sculpture. 
The space flowed; it stretched horizontally, it eddied into intimate galleries, most dramatically, the space soared vertically. This is Manhattan; the most vertical urban statement in the world and the architecture captured that New York spirit of reaching for the sky. This verticality is most elegantly expressed in the central gallery, a shaft about four stories high and in it stands a single piece of sculpture, Broken Obelisk by Barnett Newman. The vertical space gives soaring context to the sculpture and the perpendicular inverted obelisk perched on a pyramid inhabits and elegantly compliments the gallery space. Space and the art in it becomes one. There is a comprehensive display of the many museums throughout Japan designed by Yoshio Taniguchi in the special exhibits gallery.
The unexpected and subsequently cancelled meeting in New York made this month a genuinely double New York, New York beginning of this year. It was a cold but wonderful beginning.
I returned home to Los Angeles, however, to learn that there was to be an ending as well. The long run of Star Trek on television was to come to a close. "Star Trek: Enterprise" had been cancelled. Immediately, I thought of how the actors on the show must be feeling now. I know the sadness and the feeling of disappointment they must be experiencing. I suffered those same emotions so long ago.
I remembered how we hoped against hope that we would be picked up. I remembered the anticipation and anxiety. I remembered the disappointment and hurt. Those actors on "Star Trek: Enterprise" were now going to be between engagements," "at leisure" - they were unemployed! Then I thought of the fans that had trekked along with us now for generations. Some had been with us from the very beginning in September of 1966, from the original series on through four spin-offs series. They, the fans, are the ones who really created the phenomenon of Star Trek. They are the real pillars of the series. I know how hurt they must be feeling. But I also know the history of Star Trek. Back in 1969, we thought we were done with Star Trek. The series, the journey, had ended - except for the reruns. Little did I know then. I think I've learned something from history since. As Spock once said, "There are always possibilities." As it turned out - there were.
December, 2004, LOS ANGELES - I hope you all enjoyed a happy holiday season. We celebrated Christmas with family and friends up in my cabin on a ridge overlooking the pine forest of the White Mountains of Arizona. On the day after Christmas, as we were relaxing after the day of merry making, news reports of a huge earthquake off the coast of Indonesia flashed on the television screen. The initial announcement was that it was an 8.9 tremor. We Californians immediately recognized that as a giant quake. Thankfully, we were in Arizona, where earthquakes hardly ever occur. The damages and fatalities in Indonesia must be horrible, we all speculated. Then, the toll of lives lost was reported to be in the thousands. It sounded terrible. Soon, more pictures appeared on the screen. We saw scenes that seemed like something out of a science fiction movie. Vacationers on the beach calmly watching in fascination as the waters strangely ebbed out to sea revealing boulders and rocks as an enormous wall of water loomed up in the distance. Then, the odd phenomenon growing and growing more ominously as it approached closer and closer to the beach. Then the monstrous mountain of water crashing down in a gigantic cataclysm engulfing everything in its path - people, boats, houses, buildings. Everything. Anything in its path was swept up, mangled up, and washed away. It was devastation on a scale beyond belief. This was what is called a tsunami - a Japanese word for massive killer waves produced by great undersea disturbances. The earthquake off Indonesia had produced deadly tsunamis that ravaged all the South Asian nations along the Indian Ocean and as far away as the east coast of Africa.
The Richter scale number has now been revised up to an incredible 9.0. The death toll numbers have also continued to climb - tens of thousands at first, then fifty thousand, then a staggering seventy-five thousand. The enormity of the number of human lives lost became inconceivable. As I write this column, the number of fatalities is at 155,000 dead and countless more are missing.
Now, the challenge is to help the survivors. The lack of food, water, medicine and the danger of disease spreading have become the great perils. This is a human calamity of inconceivable proportions.
We must do all we can to help in this global catastrophe. I immediately connected with the American Red Cross and made a financial contribution to the International Response Fund. I urge you all to pitch in and support the many proven humanitarian organizations that are working to help the devastated people of South Asia. Please know the history of the group to which you make your contribution. Make sure that they are experienced and established aid organizations. This is the time of year when we celebrate by sharing our blessings. We are so blessed and the survivors of the tsunami are so overwhelmed. I hope our compassion can swell to tsunami proportions to help these desperate survivors. Please send money to aid them. From what I have learned, money is the most effective way of sending aid. Donated clothing, blankets, and canned foods, as generous as they may be, require the additional cost of transportation and the logistics of distribution. Contributions of money can cut through all that. It will buy the most needed aid in the regions of need and cost-effectively deliver them to the survivors. The compassion from our heart should be expressed with the good sense of our minds.
When we witness random horrors like that of the tsunami, we have to be so grateful for the blessing that we enjoyed during a safe holiday season. I thought of the blessing of my December spree in London preceding the holidays. I appreciate so much more now the familiar sight of the giant Christmas tree dominating Trafalgar Square - always there, always sparkling, always welcoming me to a Dickensian holiday in London. I love and savor so much more now, the holiday hubbub in the London air; the delight on the faces of the people in the galleries at the National Gallery, where the admission is always free to see some of the greatest works of art in the world. As I take that bracing walk across Waterloo Bridge over the Thames, I enjoy more deeply now the spectacular vista of the London skyline from St. Paul's Cathedral spanning all the way over to Big Ben and the Parliament Building. Even as I approach the ugliest building in London, the National Theater on the South Bank, I'm comforted by the thought that the best theater in the English language is housed in that hideously menacing concrete fortress. And, as wonderful a theater town as London is, it can also palm off some of the worst productions that I have ever seen - on this trip - of all plays - "Romeo and Juliet" by William Shakespeare! I also saw the most theatrically imaginative production of Stephen Sondheim's "Sweeny Todd." At the curtain call, I found myself leaping up and enthusiastically joining in shouting, "Bravo, bravo, bravo!"
A special blessing I squeezed into this London trip was a quick excursion to Paris by Eurostar. The three-hour train dash through the chunnel never fails to impress me. To cross the English Channel by a manmade underwater tunnel, the impossible dream of many centuries, always thrills me.
Paris is to me the greatest urban achievement of humankind. I love the grand boulevards as well as the narrow cobbled alleyways. I love the regal orderliness of the Tuilleries Garden as well as the tiny courtyard gardens. I thrill at the grandeur of the Beaux Art palaces as well as the charm of ancient buildings that seem to lean over from the weight of centuries.
Most of all, the great pleasure of Paris - dining - whether at premiere gastronomic temples like Ledoyen or small family-run brasseries on I'lle St. Louis, is always unsurpassed. It seems impossible to get a bad meal in Paris.
We are so blessed. We share our blessings with loving family and friends during this holiday season. It is heartbreaking that there are so many people in South Asia who have lost so much - they even lost their family and their friends. Let us share our blessings with our larger human family. Let us give generously. The need is so great.
November, 2004, LOS ANGELES - It came with no advance notice. The phone rang. I picked up the receiver. It was the Vice Consul of Japan in Los Angeles, Yuko Kaifu, calling to inform me that I was to be honored by the Government of Japan. I was to be granted the Order of the Rising Sun with Gold Rays and Rosette at an audience with His Majesty, Emperor Akihito, at the Imperial Palace in Tokyo. I was stunned! Out of the clear blue sky, with no forewarning, I, an American, was not only going to be given an international recognition by the Government of Japan, but granted an audience with the Emperor! I must have stammered some clumsy words of appreciation and hung up. I was so shocked I can't clearly remember what I said.
It still seemed like a dream as I flew over the white cotton clouds of the Pacific on my way to Tokyo. The letter from the Consul General of Japan's office that followed the phone call said the decoration was for my years of promoting U.S.-Japan relations. It said that my service with the Japanese American Citizens' League, the Japan-U.S. Friendship Commission as President Bill Clinton's appointee, the Japan-U.S Conference on Cultural and Educational Interchange, and my work with the Japanese American National Museum were appreciated, recognized, and honored by the Government of Japan. All those activities could surely be considered altruistic public service but they also integrated my pride in my Japanese ancestry with my American nationality. Most of all, I enjoyed being engaged with and contributing to all of those activities. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I would be flying to Tokyo to be granted a decoration by the Emperor of Japan in the Imperial Palace for activities I enjoyed and found personally engaging.
The street alongside the moat surrounding the Imperial Palace is the favorite running route for runners in central Tokyo. It's the longest stretch without a cross street. I have run it often when I've been in Tokyo. On this occasion, however, I was going across the bridge over the moat onto the Palace grounds. There were dignitaries from many other countries who were also being honored. I chatted briefly with honorees from Canada, Australia, Brazil, Pakistan, and Mexico among many others who were gathered on the palace grounds. Three of us were Americans, one from St. Louis and two from Los Angeles. Staff from the Imperial Household, wearing somewhat Napoleonic looking coats with double rows of gold buttons down the front, were everywhere answering questions, giving directions, and organizing us.
We were lined up in formation and escorted up the grand staircase to the Imperial Audience Hall. If Japanese minimalism could be described as grandly elegant, this room had to be it. Two sides of the vast room were horizontal shoji screens. Both end walls were entirely covered by woven tapestry with only a pale hint of pastel clouds in the design. About a half-dozen crystal chandeliers of contemporary design hung from the ceiling. In the center of the room was a low, carpeted platform. There was no other furnishing. A man in a gold-buttoned coat announced the Grand Chamberlain and an extraordinarily tall, slim, imperious-looking man stepped forward. He wore a formal swallowtail coat. He instructed, in softly commanding tones, the procedure that was to be followed in the ceremony. Gold-buttoned staffers quietly sidled up to those who did not understand Japanese to whisper translations into their ears.
We were told when the Emperor would make his entrance, how we were to bow, when we were to bow, how often and how long we were to hold our bows. Then he stepped away and grandly announced the entrance of His Majesty, the Emperor. Silently, seemingly automatically, the shoji screen slid open. It revealed a magnificent garden with a placid lake. I could see the Emperor walking down the veranda as he approached the opened shoji screen. We all bowed in unison as instructed. We rose when he entered the audience hall. He too was dressed formally in a swallowtail coat. There were a few more bows as he stepped up onto the low dais. We bowed again before he began to speak. In contrast to the Grand Chamberlain, the Emperor's voice was warm, affable, and somewhat high pitched.
He maintained a gracious smile throughout. He thanked all of us for the services we had rendered in promoting friendship between our nations and Japan and wished us good fortune in our future endeavors. With those simple congratulatory words, he stepped down and smilingly passed in review before us. The opposite shoji screens noiselessly slid open. The Emperor turned at the opened screens, smiled and nodded back to us. We again bowed down in unison. When we rose up, we could see him regally walking away down the veranda.
That evening and for another day after, friends and relatives in Japan celebrated this extraordinary honor for me with every meal. They wanted to see and touch the splendid medal that I had received. One very busy friend could join me only for a late night drink after work. As he toasted me in the rooftop lounge of the Imperial Hotel overlooking Tokyo, the lights of the city seemed to be sparkling in happy celebration with us. If only my parents could have lived to share these moments with me, I thought. How complete this honor would have been.
I had to cut my stay in Tokyo short because I had a professional engagement scheduled in Honolulu, Hawaii. The location was as if it had been perfectly pre-planned - half way back from Tokyo to Los Angeles. I had been engaged to narrate Aaron Copeland's "Lincoln Portrait" with the Honolulu Symphony Orchestra on Veterans' Day Weekend at the Blaisdell Concert Hall. The concert itself seemed as if it had been perfectly pre-arranged for this Japanese American - an American note to follow a decoration from the Government of Japan. This Veterans' Day concert in Honolulu was celebrating a great American President and honoring all those throughout history who had fought for our democracy.
The singularly American music of a groundbreaking American composer with the immortal words of a great American President, Abraham Lincoln - and I had the honor of speaking them. It was one honor following another - one Japanese and this one, American. The concert with the Honolulu Symphony Orchestra was a great popular success and I received laudatory reviews. Of course, there were the Star Trek fans who crowded around the dressing room door for autographs after the concert. The flight back to Los Angeles felt like floating on the proverbial cloud nine.
My stay back in Los Angeles, however, had to be abbreviated. Two nights in my own bed and I was off again to another hotel bed - this time in Little Rock, Arkansas. It was the opening of the William Jefferson Clinton Presidential Center and Park. This is the official name of the President Bill Clinton Library. I was off to help celebrate this exciting and historic occasion.
I remembered the excitement of my flight to Bill Clinton's first inauguration back in January of 1993. We arrived in Washington D.C. to a gray, overcast sky. But, on the morning of the inauguration, the sum broke through and gave the new President from Arkansas a crisp, bright, golden inauguration. I called it, "the luck of Clinton." There was the sense of a new beginning with new ideas and new energy. There was optimism in the crisp inaugural air for the future of America.
Indeed, Bill Clinton's two-term presidency was filled with extraordinary achievements. The fresh initiatives and reforms he brought to government transformed the nation. Despite all the turbulence during his tenure, he left the nation with a surplus. Mindful of his human weaknesses, I am still a Bill Clinton admirer. He gave me the opportunity to serve on the Japan-U.S. Friendship Commission, an independent Federal agency. He invited me to my first State Dinner at the White House. Bill Clinton was the President who corrected a grievous oversight of over a half-century by honoring 19 Japanese American veterans of Word War II with the highest military recognition the nation can grant, the Medal of Honor. Among those 19 veterans is the U.S. Senator from Hawaii, Daniel Inouye, who lost his right arm on a bloody battlefield in Italy.
The Clinton Presidential Center is the repository, museum, and library of the records of his presidency. I am a part of the content of the Center and had contributed financially to the building as well. I feel I am a part of the William Jefferson Clinton Presidential Center.
I arrived in Little Rock excited as well as with a sense of history. The sky was gray and overcast - again, just as it was on his first inauguration. I assured everybody, "Don't worry. There's the luck of Clinton."
The morning of the opening of the Clinton Presidential Center was still gray and overcast. But I could see a patch of blue in the sky far to the south. Pointing it out to the people gathered for the opening, I reassured them, "Look over there. There's the luck of Clinton approaching." Alas, the tiny blue patch of sky drifted off in the opposite direction chased away by the ominously black rain clouds. Even before the program began, it started to rain. It was cold, icy rain. We were not only wet when the program began but visibly shivering under our ponchos. Then the rocker, Bono, began to sing. We didn't need to hear him howl out at us, "When the rain came, when the rain came." We knew. We were sitting in the pouring rain, wet and freezing. It got so cold we thought we were in danger of hypothermia. The four Presidents, Jimmy Carter, George H.W. Bush, George W. Bush, and Bill Clinton were yet to be introduced. It would be an extraordinary moment - four presidents all in the same place at the same time. But, we couldn't take the cold any longer. We fled back to the hotel to watch them introduced on television. The four presidents smiled bravely but we knew how uncomfortable they must have been. They were good soldiers. They all showed themselves to be extraordinary people. Their collective grace, humor, warmth, and eloquent mutual respect made us all feel proud to be Americans. The four men truly are presidential. We applauded all four U.S. Presidents from the warmth and cozy comfort of our hotel.
The gala reception the night before in the Presidential Center that preceded the opening, however, was a glittering affair. The new building glowed in celebratory lights. Fireworks exploded like exotic flowers in the darkened Arkansas sky. There were political luminaries everywhere. I spotted Leon Panetta, Joe Lockhart, and Paul Begala from the Clinton administration; George Stephanopoulos and Geraldo Rivera from the media; Howard Dean from the presidential primaries; and Jessie Jackson, former California governor, Gray Davis, and the former Mayor of Detroit, Dennis Archer were among the celebrants. It was rumored that Brad Pitt and Barbra Streisand were also there but I didn't see them. I really didn't need to see Bono to have him sing to us the coming of the rain. It was a dazzling and rainless opening reception.
The Presidential Center is a magnificent museum overlooking the Arkansas River on one side and a sensitively restored historic structure, the Old Choctaw Railroad Station, which is now the Clinton School of Public Service, on the opposite side. It also contains the library for researchers as well as the repository of the papers from the Clinton years. The William Jefferson Clinton Presidential Center is a new landmark of Little Rock and a proud center of learning and inspiration to build a better future for America.