Month: September 2010

Yes, folks. I was there.

I know, it’s hard to imagine somebody as cool and as non-geeky like myself would go to a Star Trek Convention. Well, it was 1972, I was very young, and I went with my sister, Jill, my brother, Mark, and my Mom (Mom had a secret crush on DeForest Kelley). The convention was held in the second floor ballroom of the Staler-Hilton Hotel on a cold weekend in January.

My family and I jumped on the subway and breathlessly raced down to the westside of Manhattan. At the hotel the convention staff stamped our hand with an ink ‘tattoo’ and we rode the escalator to the second-floor ballroom. The place was packed. Then an unexpected party-pooper ruined everything—the fire marshall of the FDNY announced it was over capacity and thus a fire hazard and some people would have to leave. The FDNY proceeded to kick people out and a small riot broke out. Meanwhile, in the confusion of the combative crowd I ran into a school friend of mine. We both had our 35mm Pentax SLR cameras around our necks. He and I stood at the top of the escalator and watched a fireman trying to single-handedly control a bunch of angry Trekkies in the lobby. “A riot always makes a good shot,” he said, as he snapped picture after picture of flailing arms and bulging eyeballs in the crowd.

Once the riot had subsided it was time to enjoy the convention. There were a few tables selling Star Trek memorabilia scattered around the room. My mother complained it was mostly junk, but yet she still bought a pair of rubber Spock ears. And she was right, it was junk. The damn Spock ears were impossible to get over your ears. There were people walking around dressed in full make-up and costume of various alien characters from the TV show.

At some point the stars of Star Trek made an appearance for their fans. On a stage in the ballroom, Nichele Nichols who played Ahora walked out in a floor length evening gown. She spoke for a little while and then DeForest Kelley (Dr McCoy), George Takei, James Doohan (Scotty) came out. Kelley had laryngitis, and a fan gave him a cough drop. The last star on the stage was William Shatner. He talked about growing up in Canada and how he started off as a stage actor in Shakespearean plays. For the next 30-minutes the cast answered questions from the audience, and that was that.

Next, my mother, sister, brother, and I separated to check out various venues at the convention. My mother wandered into a room where a man was giving a lecture on the Klingon Empire. He gave a power-point presentation of the Klingons space ships, pointing out the engine room, command center, etc. Then he went on to discuss the proper pronunciation of the Klingon language. When my mother came out of the lecture room, she rolled her eyes and said, “Geez, he was talking about the Klingons like they really exist.”

In another room, a very famous science-fiction writer (who shall remain nameless) who had written one of the Star Trek episodes, was giving a talk to a small crowd. Suddenly, a man in the audience began to heckle the writer. This lead into a war of words. The writer angrily said, “Don’t think because I’m wearing a turtleneck sweater that I won’t come down there and kick your ass.”

I don’t remember how long I was at the convention, but I stayed ’til the end. The event was wrapped up with a encore appearance of the Star Trek cast. The crowd had dwindled and only a few fans remained behind. We all sat crossed-leg on the ballroom floor. Suddenly, the MC on the stage pointed over my head and said, “We have Candice Bergen in the audience.” Everyone turned their heads to look in my direction and I turned around, too, and sitting directly behind me was the actress Candice Bergen. She was holding a Nikon SLR camera and looked very embarrassed to be recognized.

I can still remember some of the audience’s questions. One young man asked Shatner “Will there be gay people in space?” And Shatner gave a politically-correct polite answer. Then someone asked Shatner if he had enjoyed himself at the convention. Well, he cleared his throat and commented on how rude and hostile everyone had been. He added, even the people asking him questions had a chip-on-their shoulders (I have to agree with Shatner it was a rough crowd).

And on that note the first Star Trek Convention came to a close.

Were you at the 1972 Star Trek Convention? If so, what were your experiences?

Podcast originally aired September 17th 2010:

Tonight’s guest is TOM PAYNE, the author of the book “The Template of Time: Decoding Our Destiny”. The Bible’s hidden time code holds the answers to some of life’s greatest questions, such as: “What is our destination?” and “When will we get there?” In The Template of Time, Tom Payne relies on eight years of intensive research as he shares a comprehensive, chronological study of the quirky time patterns scattered throughout the Bible that, when assembled, create an eternal template upon which history unfolds. Just as atmospheric patterns suggest tomorrow’s weather forecast, the historical patterns of the template suggest future outcomes while ruling out coincidence and chance. While illustrating how some forecasts have already come true, Payne examines the various time cycles that clearly demonstrate how the rhythms of history are leading to future surprises. As he follows the development of the Roman Empire and its prophesied conflict with the people of God, Payne proves that, as we approach the culmination of processes two thousand years in the making, everyone will be affected. www.thetemplateoftime.com

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One day, in New York City, a concerned son had not heard from his elderly father in several days. He was not answering the phone, and he was not answering the door bell. So, the son called the cops.

The cops who responded to the job wanted to gain entry to the house. This way they could verify that either the man was not there, or perhaps in need of medical assistance, or a dozen other reasons that would explain why he wasn’t answering the door. They tried to open the front door, but it was bolted shut. Then they tried to open the windows, but they couldn’t, because all the windows in the front and back of the house were locked and painted shut. The cops tried to open the back door, but they couldn’t, because the back door was also locked and painted shut. Plus, the son said, there was a heavy generator pinned against the back door.

So, the cops went back to the front door and decided to use a halogen tool to pry the door open. When the door was pried open there was a chain blocking the door, and bolt-cutters were used to cut it off. Finally, the cops entered the house. They went from room to room looking for the old man. In the bedroom, they found him dead in his bed. He had been stabbed numerous times—the victim of a homicide.

A few days later, the detective who was investigating the murder, spoke to the cops who had broken into the house. “I don’t get it,” said the detective, scratching his head. “How did the murderer get out of the house?”

The detective went over the crime scene with a fine tooth comb—and, besides the fact that the back door and all the windows were painted shut, & that the chain was on the door—there was no basement, no secret tunnels, no break in the walls, floors, ceilings, etc. So, how did the perpetrator exit the house?

“Are you sure the chain was on the door?” asked the detective.
“Yup,” the cops said. “We had to cut it off.”

Well, I think I have a theory: the man stabbed himself to death. What? You say. Well, listen to this: I handled a job where a woman had committed suicide. She grabbed a butcher knife from the kitchen, went down to the basement, and laid down on the bed. But instead of slitting her wrists, she wanted to slit her jugular vein, a major artery in the neck. The woman took the knife and hacked away at her neck and throat. She hacked! Hacked! Hacked!

When I went down to the basement to look at the body, I found her laying peacefully on the bed with her hands folded across her chest. The butcher knife was laying next to her side. Her throat was sliced wide open, and the only thing keeping her head attached to her body was her spinal cord, still intact. In spite of the massive wound, there was no blood.

The medic, who was in the room with me, said, “She got everything but the jugular vein”. And then he pointed out the artery to me, a long white fleshy “cord” running along the left side of her neck.

So, if it’s possible for someone to chop their own head off, why not stab yourself to death?

(Concerning the story of the stabbed man in the bed, I just thought of something: the storyteller never mentioned to me if the “murder” weapon was, or was not, at the scene. If the knife was gone, then maybe I should make this a paranormal story)