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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.
November, 2003, LOS ANGELES - The firestorm of the century raged through southern California last month. Its fury seared across more than 280,000 acres. At least 20 people were killed. More than 1,000 homes were destroyed. Property damage is estimated in the billions. The hell-fires were in the rural and suburban regions of Los Angeles, San Bernardino, and San Diego counties, but even those of us in the urban areas were not spared the anguish. The air we breathed was foul and acrid with smoke. Gray soot settled everywhere. At night, the distant skies glowed ominously orange. Then the rains came. Up in the mountains, it even snowed. The fires were out. Gloriously sunny blue skies returned to southern California. But, the tragedy of the people who lost everything - homes, loved ones and memories - is heart wrenching. In the spirit of neighbors helping one another, we have all vowed to help rebuild the homes and communities of our fire-ravaged fellow Californians more vibrantly than before.
A magnificent symbol of that spirit of regeneration emerged from the aftermath of the firestorm. It was the opening of a stunning landmark, Walt Disney Concert Hall, the new home of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, designed by architect Frank Gehry. The building's stainless steel exterior gleams brilliantly in sunlight, soft and luminously in moon light; its sides swoop and swerve like the petals of some exotic alien flower. The concert hall is a silver blossom that bloomed on the cultural hilltop of downtown Los Angeles alongside the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, the Mark Taper Forum, the Ahmanson Theater, and the Museum of Contemporary Art.
I went to the first concert of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, Mahler's Symphony No. 2 in C minor, "Resurrection," anxious to know if the acoustics of this new Disney Concert Hall is as fine as the critics had reported. The selection of Mahler's "Resurrection" was inspired. The theme of regeneration was so appropriate for a Los Angeles that had just suffered the devastation of a firestorm. And the acoustics of the new concert hall would be fully tested by this Mahler piece. The first sting of the violin attack cut through the air like an audible knife. The cello section responded sonorously. In a myriad ways - from the solo voice of the mezzo soprano to the full throated one hundred twenty voice chorale, from the delicate filigree of the flute to the thunderous, kettle drum pounding final movement, the concert hall played like the finest of instruments. I would venture to say that Disney Hall is among the best, if not the premiere, concert hall of the world.
October began for me jet lagged in England. The first few days were in Milton Keynes to participate in a massive autograph event called Collectormania. It was the perfect antidote for jet lag - signing my name over and over and over again for about seven hours every day. It was exhausting but, at the same time, a great opportunity to say "hello" to familiar faces from past conventions.
Recovered and refreshed, I began a tour of two of the stately manors - actually an abbey and a castle - of old England. The first was Woburn Abbey, the ancestral home of the Duke of Bedford. The grand buildings were magnificently and sensitively maintained and herds of deer roamed the vast grounds of the estate. Next was Warwick Castle, the home of the Earl of Warwick. I had first visited this historic landmark about forty years ago and remember being saddened to see a brochure at the entrance advertising dinner in the baronial banqueting hall with the then-current Earl of Warwick. How the mighty have fallen, I thought. The Earl was reduced to entertaining tourists for a fee. On this visit, I discovered that the fall had been even more melancholy. In 1978, Warwick Castle was sold to the Tussaud Group, the operators of the Madam Tussaud Wax Museums. Actually, I found that the Castle had been greatly improved by the new owners. Over twenty million in pound sterling had been spent to repair, restore, and refurbish the castle since its acquisition by the Tussaud Group. The Castle's long and distinguished history was brought more vibrantly alive. Life-like wax figures of the people who had lived or visited there - people like Queen Victoria, her son, Prince Edward, who later became King on the death of his mother, a 23-year-old Winston Churchill who had visited there, and, from our recent time, a ravishingly elegant Princess Diana brought an engaging new dimension to the visit experience. If one were to visit only one castle in England, I would strongly recommend Warwick Castle.
With jet lag completely shaken off, I dove into the theater scene. Stratford-upon-Avon is the birthplace of William Shakespeare and the home of the best interpreters of his works, the Royal Shakespeare Company. A few nights with the Company included a wonderful production of "As You Like It" and the most original interpretation of "Taming of the Shrew" that I had ever seen. I also enjoyed visiting the cemetery of Old Trinity Church savoring memories of my student days at the Shakespeare Institute when I spent many an afternoon reading the works of the great playwright in that cemetery alongside the River Avon.
Then into London for the grand banquet table of theater, dining and just plain fooling around. I went to the National Theater for a revival of "Tales from the Vienna Woods," the Drury Lane Theater for a Cole Porter musical, "Anything Goes" and the Donmar Warehouse for John Osborne's rarely produced play, "The Hotel in Amsterdam." I dined at my favorite London restaurant, Rule's, a homey family run French place, Mon Plaisure, and a hip French bistro upstairs in Covent Garden. Selfridges has a fantastic conveyor belt sushi bar that snakes around all over the place. I fall in love with this cosmopolitan, ever-fascinating city every time I'm there.
I had to abbreviate my visit on my agent's summon to come back for a work assignment, a guest role in a Canadian television series titled "Alienated." My agent said it was a role only I could play - a character named "George Takei." I flew back to learn that I was to again fly, this time to Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, for the filming. I arrived in Victoria in a pelting rainstorm. My first scenes were outdoors, so, of course, they had to be changed to work in the downpour. I played those scenes holding a drenched newspaper over my sopping wet head. I was chilled to the bones and courted my death of a cold. The people I performed with, however, were as warm and great to work with, as the weather was wet. "Alienated" airs only in Canada, alas, but the producer assured me that they are working vigorously to sell the series to the U.S. and British TV markets.
I returned from Canada to travel again for a long scheduled board meeting. Thankfully, this time I didn't have to board a plane. This meeting was to be on a cruise ship to Ensenada, Mexico - one day for the board meeting onboard the ship and one day free in Ensenada. We put pleasure before work and had our day of whoopee first. One of the unique natural phenomenons of the world, we were told, is the blowhole of Ensenada called "la bufadora." The guide told us that there are only three such marvels - one in Australia, another in Hawaii and this one in Ensenada. So, we took one of dozens of tourist shuttle buses to this highly touted wonder of the world. When we arrived after an hour's journey, there already was a crowd of tourists marching to the fabled landmark. We joined them and arrived at a cliff looking out at the ocean and a magnificent set of rock outcroppings. It was a beautiful sight. The highly hyped natural wonder, however, was a disappointment. Apparently, we were there when the tide was off. All we saw was a light spray spit up from the blowhole. A small redeeming feature was a pale rainbow that I was able to detect in the thin mist that sprayed up with each incoming tide. That made the trek worthwhile.
The return journey from Ensenada was the workday, the day of strategic planning and budget oversight. We worked as hard as we had played the day before. When we arrived back in Long Beach Harbor the following morning, an eerie sight greeted us. The morning sun hung ominously in the smoky sky like some malignant red planet. The newspaper headline read, "Wildfires Destroy Homes." It was a homecoming fraught with foreboding. The firestorm was raging through southern California.
October, 2003, LONDON - I apologize for the tardiness of this month's installment of my report. September was a hectic month with two out-of-town trips - one to San Francisco and the other to Honolulu - again. It was only two months ago that I was in Hawaii, and, now, here I am on the opposite side of this planet.
I write this report to you from London, through the fog of jet lag. This travel woe called jet lag is a curse suffered uniquely by our generation. Through the vast span of history, only we are afflicted by this technologically created nuisance. Whether by horseback, stagecoach, train, or car, people a generation ago traveled at a pace in rhythm with the natural movement of the sun. Whether by canoe, three-masted schooner, or ocean liner, voyages then were made in cadence with the regular lapping of the waves. Now, technological advances have made it possible for us to hurtle through time zones and international date lines. For this abuse of the normal rhythm of nature, we are punished. We feel dazed and sleepy at the most inconvenient times and wide awake in the middle of the night, alert and utterly unable to sleep. So, through this bleary, modern-day travel fog, I will do my best to briefly recap some of the highlights of my September.
The trip to San Francisco was to campaign for a candidate for Mayor of the city, Tom Ammiano. This campaign is the second time up for Tom. He came in second by a heartbreaking margin the last time around, almost knocking out a grizzled, old politico, the former Speaker of the California Assembly. People have asked me why I campaign for a candidate for mayor of a city not my home. First, Tom Ammiano, the current President of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, is a dedicated public servant with proven leadership qualities. A former schoolteacher, he is a passionate advocate for improved education. He is a strong voice for the voiceless underprivileged. And, having had a career as a stand-up comic in San Francisco clubs, Tom is a hilariously engaging campaigner. Most of all, I love the city by the bay - my father's hometown. I want San Francisco to have an outstanding Mayor to help make it an even more wonderful city. So, to all you voters in that endlessly fascinating city - vote for Tom Ammiano for Mayor.
Campaigning for Tom was also a great excuse for enjoying one of my favorite cities. San Francisco is a great eating town - almost like Paris. Restaurants are a good measure of the greatness of a city and San Francisco has more than its share. And, like all great cities, San Francisco is constantly changing. It is a dynamic urban organism.
New landmarks are built and old ones restored. The latest transformation is the spectacular renovation of the historic Ferry Building at the foot of Market Street. Just over a hundred years old, the distinctive structure with its iconic clock tower was a busy transportation center of cross-bay traffic in the early part of the last century. With the construction of the Golden Gate Bridge and the Bay Bridge in the mid 30's, traffic fell off and the building went into decline. Then, to add injury to insult, during the roadway building mania of the 1950's, the massively grotesque, double decked, elevated, Embarcadero Freeway was built right across the face of this graceful landmark obliterating it from view. We don't like earthquakes in California. There is, however, on some blessed occasion, good that can come from a disastrous earth shaking. The 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake caused extensive damage to the freeway requiring its demolition. The Ferry Building and the shining waters of the bay were once again visible. Work commenced on the restoration of the Ferry Building and the roadway in front of it. I had read in the newspaper that the work had just recently been completed. My visit to the restored Ferry Building on a Sunday morning was thrilling. There, where the ugly freeway had stood, was an urbane, palm lined roadway vibrant with people. There was a bicycle race going on along the embarcadero. Inside, the sensitively restored Ferry Building was filled with shops, markets and, of course, wonderful restaurants sending out savory aromas. On the side facing the bay, tables spilled out onto the wharf for waterside dining. It was exhilarating.
The Ferry Building of old was back, handsomer and more effervescent than I ever remembered it. The historic mosaic of the seal of the State of California had been moved but it was gloriously restored and happy in its new location basking under a bright sunny skylight. As I have done so often, I again left my heart in San Francisco - with my fingers crossed that when I return, I'll be able to call Tom Ammiano, "Mr. Mayor."
The trip to Honolulu was for a Board of Trustees meeting of the Japanese American National Museum. Because our trustees come from all over the nation, we move our meetings around the country to be fair to all members of the Board. Our last one was in Chicago. For some mysterious reason, our Honolulu meetings always seem to get outstanding attendance. The torturous part of a meeting in Honolulu is the meeting itself. To be confined in a windowless hotel conference room discussing policy, strategic planning, and fund raising, knowing that beaches, pools, and fun activities are just outside was tormenting. But we soldiered on valiantly. The meetings were productive and, after the business was concluded, I was able to enjoy the spectacular tropical sunsets from my hotel room window. In the evening, I threw myself into the fun. The "aloha" hospitality of the Hawaiians was, true to legend, leis, hulas and delicious food. It was delightful. But, alas, my Hawaii stay had to be abbreviated so that I could catch another flight - this one to England.
So here I am, in foggy London - not the misty, pea soup kind for which London is justly famous but the jet lag induced kind. Somehow, even in this addled state, I've been able to produce a report on my September activities. My next report on this sojourn in England will be from Los Angeles and, hopefully, fully recovered from this jet-age nuisance.
September, 2003, LOS ANGELES - The month of August had for me as its bookends, two massive Star Trek conventions. It began with the yearly Creation Convention in Las Vegas, Nevada, and finished with a colossal extravaganza -- the biggest convention that I have ever attended -- called Dragon Con in Atlanta, Georgia. And set right in the middle of the month was a delightful trip to Louisville, Kentucky, for Easter Seal fundraising events. August was a good month. It was a month of trekking around the country to have fun with supporters and for me to be a supporter of a good cause.
People have often asked me why I do Star Trek conventions. I do them to express my appreciation to the fans for their support. It's a great opportunity to say thank you. I consider the conventions to be an amazing phenomenon. What other show, now more than 37 years old, attracts thousands of multi-generational, multi-national and multi-lingual fans to cities all around this planet to celebrate together? These fans gather for a multitude of reasons, but, at its core, they all share the shining vision of the future that Gene Roddenberry had depicted on Star Trek. I was fortunate in being a part of that future and have enjoyed and been enriched by that association.
The fans' support for Star Trek also extended to backing for each of the individual actors involved. It is very flattering. But, in addition to that ego-warming compliment, their devotion has enhanced our career opportunities as well. I have been able to work on international films - of Australia, Britain, South Korea, and the Philippines. I have been able to work on stage in Scotland and England as well as throughout the U.S. I have worked on films that have taken me on locations as far east as Bucharest, Romania, and as far west as Brisbane, Australia. I know that this is, in large part, because of the backing of the fans of Star Trek. The conventions are great opportunities to personally thank them for that support. Over the years that I've been on the convention circuit, I've come to know many of the regular attendees and they have become friends. So, very simply, the conventions are great fun. They are weekends of whoopee with friends!
None, however, have been as colossal as the convention in Atlanta called Dragon Con from which I just returned. Early estimates were that there were over 30,000 fans attending. I believe it! The turnout was incredible. The convention completely took over two mega-hotels, each with more than 1,000 rooms as well as many other hotels nearby. The streets outside and the hotel lobbies became an enormous flood of people - as well as strange alien life forms.
The Dragon Con experience was as surreal as it was massive. Saturday morning began with a parade down the main street of downtown Atlanta, Peachtree Street. I was at the head of the parade - a very ordinary human Grand Marshall riding a convertible driven by a husky, blonde Klingon warrior. Then, to the stirring sounds of bagpipes, came the most bizarre procession of life forms ever seen on this planet. There was a nine-foot tall insect-like creature spouting steam. There were ethereal beings, pale and gossamer. There were morbid life forms dripping what looked like blood. There was an unruly battalion of Klingon warriors followed by a disciplined platoon of Imperial Storm Troopers looking shiny, white, and lethal. This spectacle of a myriad galactic life forms continued on and on. I finished early so I rushed up to my hotel room balcony and viewed the whole unearthly demonstration from above. This surreal exhibition, however, was not confined just to the parade. The onlookers from the sidewalk appeared as "creatively" put together as the fantastical creatures marching past - all this on a humid Atlanta morning in late August.
That afternoon, Vaughn Armstrong, J.G. Hertzler, and I judged what was called the Miss Klingon Empire Beauty Pageant. Isn't the combination of the word Klingon with beauty an oxymoron? Or, is it just my human prejudice? The victor in this weird and wonderful contest was a belligerently buxom combatant who disgustingly demonstrated her deadly cooking skills. It was outlandish good fun. On Sunday evening, Walter Koenig and I served as the masters of ceremony of the Dragon Con Masquerade. It was another phantasmagoric spectacle. Thank heaven I did not have judging duties at this one.
Dragon Con was a singular experience. However, as at all Star Trek conventions, there were many familiar faces there. The attendees were largely from the South, but there were fans from all over the U.S. as well as a few from abroad. It was good to see Marcus Erbar from Germany who brought photos and a gift from his friend, Johannes. Thank you, Johannes. I would guess that Marcus was the one who had traveled the farthest for this convention.
My trip to Louisville, Kentucky, in the middle of the month was, not only to enjoy a convivial time with supporters, but myself to be a supporter as well. At the invitation of actor and Kentuckian, Conrad Bachmann, I flew to Louisville for a series of fund-raisers for Cardinal Hill Rehabilitation Center supported by the Easter Seals campaign. Cardinal Hill is a clinic that provides rehabilitation programs for children and young people afflicted by disabilities due to a variety of illnesses such as multiple sclerosis, cerebral palsy, and spinal cord injuries. I must say, Kentuckians know how to raise-funds for an important charity while, at the same time, have fun combined with that fabled southern hospitality all in one gracious weekend.
Joining me was a host of actors and musical performers. It was great to meet actor Ed O'Ross, who played the Russian suitor in one of my favorite television series, "Six Feet Under." It was, however, a bit odd to hear him talking in his normal American speech instead of his extremely convincing Russian accent. It's a tribute to his talent that he had me believing that he was a real Russian immigrant. Although I'm not a soap opera viewer, I found myself spending a lot of time with the scintillating, Patrika Darbo, of "Days of Our Lives" and her husband, Rolf, as well as her television husband from the show, Kevin Spirtas. They were, each in their own matchless way, witty, engaging, and great company. During our stay in Louisville, we visited the Louisville Slugger Baseball Museum and Factory, Churchill Downs Race Track and the Kentucky Derby Museum where we enjoyed a tour of the stables and the handsome racehorses. One of the highlights was the opportunity to view glass artists at work at the Kentucky Glassworks. I couldn't resist buying two of their sparkling creations.
The fund-raising events were spread over three evenings. The first was a delightfully entertaining one-man show with Jack Benny impersonator Eddie Carroll. The second was an evening of Bourbon and food tasting, with some of the most popular restaurants of Louisville contributing their most delectable offerings. The weekend concluded with a dazzling gala, the Lily Ball, in the Medallion Ballroom of the historic Seelbach Hilton Hotel. All proceeds went to support the work of the Cardinal Hill Center.
It was impressive seeing the people of Louisville come out in such great numbers to support a vital cause. There was a spirit of community - the businesses, the volunteers, and certainly, the people of Louisville who turned out in such numbers to contribute to the work of an important community institution. It was a privilege to be able to be a part of this splendid effort. I want to especially salute Brian Cullinan, president of Ned Beatty Hope for Children Classic for his devoted work for the charity.
As I write this, I am eagerly anticipating the airing of a television film in which I portray the U.S. Secretary of Transportation, Norman Mineta in "D.C. 9/11: Time of Crisis." It airs on Sunday evening, September 7. The film is a reminder of the horrors we suffered two years ago on September 11. It is also a powerful commentary on our democracy that I play a man who grew up in an American internment camp sixty years ago and is now serving as a member of the President's cabinet. I invite your comments on this film.
August, 2003, LOS ANGELES - Winston Churchill said of history, "the farther back I look, the farther forward I can see." He believed that the lessons learned from history could prepare us to meet the challenges that we face in the future. Last month, I literally lived the value of Churchill's wisdom with a trip to Williamsburg, Virginia.
As if the 'transporter' from Star Trek had 'beamed' me back in time, I was living in the year 1774, just before the War for Independence from the onerous rule of the English King, George III. As a historic preservationist, I'd always wanted to visit Williamsburg, the colonial capital of Virginia, famous for its historic buildings that had been preserved, restored or recreated to pre-revolutionary times. I'd read that there would be guides authentically dressed to the period. However, I didn't realize how complete that experience back in time would be.
The buildings were magnificently restored. What was truly impressive was the recreation of the context of the times. At the very center of Williamsburg was the Governor's Palace - as it was called. It was a substantial mansion but certainly not a palace in the grand European sense. But to the colonists, this imposing residence was the very symbol of opulence and the King's might. The houses of even the wealthy colonials seemed modest in contrast. Anchoring both ends of the main street, Duke of Gloucester, were the two significant structures of the capital, the Wren Building of the College of William and Mary, the seat of learning, at one end and the Capitol with the House of Burgesses, the seat of governance, at the other end. In the House of Burgesses, we sat in the seats that the Virginia representatives sat as we listened to the authentically clad historic interpreter recount all that transpired in this great hall. She pointed to a youngster and said that he may be sitting in the very seat from which Patrick Henry thundered against the King's taxes. He giggled self-consciously. She pointed to another teen-ager and said that she could be seated where Thomas Jefferson sat. She touched the wood of her seat with renewed awe. The docent personalized the past. She made history vibrantly real to a group of twenty-first century tourists. As the crowd moved on, I lingered in the great hall admiring the architecture. The docent approached me smiling. This faithful representative of history clad in colonial garb then, unexpectedly, broke the time barrier. Very discreetly, she whispered, "I have been a life-long Star Trek fans and was delighted to see you in the group. Would it be possible to get your autograph?" It was charming. I, who had depicted the future in fiction, connected with this wonderful spokesperson for the past. Arleen Donikowsky is a woman who spans the centuries with equal devotion to the past and the future.
There were no cars in the historic district. If one didn't walk, there were horse drawn carriages for those who were willing to pay. Most people walked - as did most people then. When one talked to the people dressed in colonial garb, they talked as people of their time. The shocking news that they shared with us was the report of some up in Boston who had dressed up as Indians and dumped English tea into Boston Harbor as a protest against the King's unjust tax. The people of Williamsburg certainly shared the sense of outrage against the tax. However, dumping the tea into the harbor, they thought, was rather "extreme." At noon, there was a fife and drum parade down Duke of Gloucester Street and we got a good sense of the martial spirit of the colonists. There were people dressed as colonials who spoke with Scottish or Hungarian accents because they had recently arrived as immigrants to America - as indeed there were immigrants back then. When we toured the houses of the wealthy, there were black slaves that did the cooking and cleaning. But they told us of others who had been freed and worked as blacksmiths or craftsmen. We visited a carpenter's workshop where furniture for the town was made in the traditional way. In this city of many races, backgrounds and social station, there was warmth, civility, graciousness, and a sense of community. We had dinner in historic eating establishments like the 18th century chophouse, King's Arm Tavern or Christiana Campbell's Tavern, which was George Washington's favorite, where menus offered traditional fare of the time. Costumed musicians playing the lute or other quaint period instruments provided the entertainment as we dined.
The three day visit was truly "beaming back" into history. The sights, sounds, tastes, and spirit of colonial Williamsburg surrounded us completely. We got a real sense of the colonial spirit of mutual caring when we were caught in a sudden summer storm one evening just as we were leaving the historic district. Sopping wet, we were dashing back to our hotel when suddenly a lone s.u.v. came driving down the road. The driver opened the car window and shouted, "Here, use these," threw out umbrellas and drove off - no charge, no request for their return, just a simple gesture of kindness. We accepted the umbrellas with drenched gratitude. The colonial spirit of mutual help carried over into the 21st century.
From my visit to Williamsburg, I got a renewed understanding of the daily struggles and challenges faced by the Virginia colonists. Whatever their station, everyone had a role to fulfill and a responsibility to the community. There was a spirit of interdependence and mutual assistance and, at the same time, a pressing hunger for justice. The leaders then were extraordinary men of principal and vision. American democracy was born out of this mix. The ringing words, "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal" were articulated out of the fusion of the spirit and events of these times. Yes, they lived with slavery. Yes, only educated landowners could vote. Yes, the women had no role in leadership. Yes, there were inconsistencies with the realities of the times. Yet, out of those societal discrepancies rose the vision of a nation of shining ideals, the framework for America. Our democracy is a continuing work in progress - and through the years, we have been making progress.
So, as a Californian, I am troubled by the mockery that is being made of our democratic electoral procedure by the irresponsibility of the recall of a recently re-elected governor. The recall is an important citizens' tool in a democracy to be used, as the constitution states, in cases of "malfeasance in office." It is not a tool to be used by bad losers of a legitimate election. I did not vote for the governor. I do not like him despite the fact that he and I are of the same political party. However, in a democracy, we accept the will of the majority and prepare for the next election to get rid of a bad politician. Just because you lost an election, that does not mean the losing minority has the right to recall him eight months later. I do not like President George Bush. I didn't vote for him. I feel he has been a disaster for the nation and the economy. He didn't even win the popular vote. However, the Supreme Court in a lawful procedure appointed him. Therefore, I have accepted that fact as part of the process and have waited to work for his replacement with the next election.
It is rather ironic that I am advocating the replacement of President Bush because last April I played a member of his cabinet, Secretary of Transportation Norman Mineta, in a television film which will be aired on Showtime cable channel on Sunday evening, September 7. It is titled, "DC 9/11: Time of Crisis," and is about the Bush administration during the days immediately following the horrors of September 11, 2001. My friend, Timothy Bottoms, plays President Bush. It is a tense drama of the response of the Bush administration to the trauma of horrific events. I hope you will all be able to catch it.