In honor of William Shatner's 80th birthday...
People who know me will have a hard time believing this, but I used to be something of a geek.
In fact, a Trekkie. A spotty, con-going, yard'o'beer-at-the-Brew-Burger New York Trekkie.
Back in '72 before Adam Malin and Creation homogenized the convention experience, there used to be a 'commuter hotel' called the Commodore built right over Grand Central Station, a dark, cavernous, ancient hostel. Joanie Winston and a bunch of others organized one of the earliest Star Trek cons there, and I had volunteered to help with 'security', imagining that my little yellow 'staff' ribbon would be all I needed to hobnob with the high and mighty and maybe get a shot at a green dancing girl.
We expected maybe 2,500 fans to show up.
Try 25,000.
Then Leonard Nimoy made a surprise appearance and a Star Trek convention turned into Zulu. Thundering feet and one long screaming war cry:
"LEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOONNNNNAAAAARRRRDDD!"
Most of the convention committee had locked themselves in the con suite and weren't coming out. The fire marshal is throwing screaming tantrums. Joanie Winston and maybe twenty of us idiots in the yellow badges are running ourselves ragged trying to keep the savages on the other side of the mealie bags. Nimoy-crazed fans are finding their way through every nook and cranny of the hotel like water through a wicker basket. We got zero sleep for two straight days.
Then William Shatner comes to town to shoot an episode of Dick Clark's $25,000 Dollar Pyramid.
Now I won't say that William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy were in any way competitive (twice). I won't say that William Shatner was in any way fond of the adoration of crowds (again).
What I will say is WE were NOT going to get stampeded by a gajillion hormone-crazed tweenies A SECOND TIME.
By this point we knew the layout of the Commodore like Charlie knew the tunnels of Cu Chi. So Joanie rounds up as many of us yellow badges as are still mobile and arranges to meet Shatner at the side entrance to the Commodore lobby. The plan is to bring Shatner up through the service corridors of the hotel to the ballroom floor and into the ballroom before anyone knows he's their.
Shatner shows up, "Hi, Bill!" "Hi, Joanie!" We head off into the service corridors. The yellow badge stumbling along at the head of the cortége, who has no had a minute's sleep or downtime in two days, stops for a moment to get his bearings —
— and Shatner says "Follow me!" and takes off into the bowels of the Commodore Hotel... which he has never seen before.
We yell "Bill, wait! We're protecting you!" and take off after him. Left turn, right turn, down stairs around more corners, down more stairs...
...suddenly we realize the walls have changed. They are not faceless concrete anymore, They are old, ugly, roughly shaped stone blocks. I mean ancient. Orson Welles stumbles past, being chased by British military police and weird zither music.
William Shatner has led us clean out of the Commodore and into the service tunnels of Grand Central Station beneath it.
And one of the yellow badges — the Fifth Amendment does not require me to say who — said, "Let's leave him here..."
Happy Birthday, Bill Shatner!
