September 8, 1966. I’m waiting with bated breath in front of the family black and white TV for this exciting new science fiction show called Star Trek. I was blown away. Each
episode got better and more interesting. This vision of the future of diverse people working together, Black, white, Asian and even alien, without making a big deal of it. Like there was nothing unusual. Everyone was treated equally (ok, there was a white guy in charge, but it was still groundbreaking). Many episodes were amazing examples of real science fiction.
Just when we were really getting into it, it vanished. Only to return in 1973 in cartoon form; good stories, cheap animation.
Then, in 1979, it came to the big screen. One of the few times I teared up in a movie theater was when the Enterprise was first revealed on the screen. The rest is history.
Now there is lots of Trek, some better than others. Hordes of people flock to conventions and cosplay has become an art form. There are probably millions of people worldwide who call themselves Trekkies.
But I was a Trekkie before most of them were born. I was a Trekkie before many of their parents were born. I was a Trekkie before the term “Trekkie” existed.
My first “real life” trek experience was during a trip to Washington DC in 1976. While visiting the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum I was flabbergasted to see the Enterprise, the 11-foot model used in filming the original series, hanging from the ceiling.
In 1986, I hosted my first Star Trek party. I rented a Captain Kirk tunic from a costume rental shop and programmed my Commodore 64 computer to make Star Trek sounds. I lived in University Park, 30 miles south of Chicago at the time. One friend drove 60 miles to attend. We watched The Space Seed and Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn on video.
In 1990, I helped start a science fiction club. We called ourselves Imaginares Science Fiction and Fantasy Club. Members ranged in age from 12-years-old to over 70. We read books, watched movies, and it was while hanging around these folks that I became a true, convention-attending, uniform-wearing Trekkie. Even my then 12-year old daughter got involved.
We drove nearly an hour all the way to North Chicago to have dinner at a restaurant with a Trek-type theme. We attended Star Trek and Dr. Who conventions. And once a year, the club would host something we called a Galactic Feast, where we served food items from the far reaches of the galaxy.
Some of the delicacies we served were Romulan Ale (Vernors Ginger Ale dyed blue), Whole Roasted Tribble in Klingon Black Sauce (meatballs with an olive inside served in black colored tomato sauce), Klingon gagh (squid ink noodles with extra olive oil for sliminess), Celluar Peptide Cake with Mint Frosting and Odo (loose orange Jello served in a bucket – you were warned to eat up before he wakes up). We also appeared in the local newspapers a couple of times.
Possibly the coolest thing; we were approached by the manager of a local movie theater. We got to see Star Trek: Generations for free in exchange for passing out posters in the lobby while wearing our uniforms.
Conventions were very different in the 1990’s. You paid $15 or $20 to get in. There were usually two guests of honor and the entry fee included admission to the auditorium to hear them speak and a free autograph (you just had to wait in a very, very long line).
The whole feel was different. More fun than commercial. The first convention I attended featured Nichelle Nichols and Marina Sirtis. After Ms. Nichols signed a photo for me, she graciously agreed to take a photo with me. I just stood there while another person took the picture with my disposable film camera (no smartphones yet).
The same thing happened at another convention when James Doohan appeared. After he signed the photo, I sheepishly
asked if he would take a photo with me. He grinned and said, “Come on around here, laddie!” I sat next to him at his table while someone snapped the picture. No photo op fee.
A convention with Jeri Ryan included a photo op as part of the price of admission. You could stand next to her while a convention volunteer took the picture with your camera. They did not allow flash, but provided lighting, which wasn’t enough for my disposable camera; the picture did not come out.
When I walked up to her table for an autograph, she asked me who to make it out to. I asked her to sign it for Annika.
“Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?” she asked.
I said, no, that Annika was my daughter’s name.
Her face lit up with a big smile and she wrote: “To Annika, from one to another. Resistance is Futile!”
I made a color copy that Annika took to school, where she was the envy of her class.
I’ve done lots of other Trek related things; my wife and I went to the Star Trek Experience in Las Vegas. I had a random encounter with Walter Koenig at a comic con. And at a very small convention event, we met Bobby Clark, the man who played the original Gorn.
This is already too long, so I’ll end it here. Suffice it so say, I have been and always will be—a Trekkie!
Click here to see part of my Trek Collection along with an article about The Galactic Feast.
Trekkie Memories
