Starship Commanders

During my years at IBM, ROLM, Siemens, and Executive Media, my work as a speechwriter expanded to encompass writing and producing live corporate events. These were also known as business theater—recognition meetings, sales rallies, management conferences—for audiences ranging from a few hundred to more than 10,000. 

One of the benefits of being a producer is that the job enabled me to indulge my boyhood fantasies.

In creating program content that would excite and motivate audiences, I was influenced by my boyhood passion for science fiction. 

I had watched Captain Video on my family’s black-and-white Dumont and deported myself as one of his “Video Rangers.” 

I was in the movie theaters for the premieres of the 1950s sci-fi movies that are now classic: “The Thing” … “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” … “The Day the Earth Stood Still.”

So it was a natural for me to hire Jim Lovell, whose heroic performance brought the crippled Apollo 13 and its crew safely home. That’s him in the top photo, along with his team of lunar module pilot Fred Haise and command module pilot Jack Swigert.

Captain Lovell served as on-camera narrator of an identity video for the high-tech ROLM Corporation, which pioneered voicemail among other telecommunications innovations. 

I picked him up at SFO, noticing how he put on his seat belt first thing. As we drove down Route 101 past Moffett Field, he reminisced about testing planes tethered to an anchor post inside one of Moffett’s vast hangars.

In the car that day, I asked Captain Lovell the question that had burned since my days as a Video Ranger: “Just how strong is the thrust you feel when you lift off?”

His disappointing answer: “About the same as accelerating a car.” 

Heck, Captain Video had me believing the acceleration of lift-off practically flattened your eyeballs.

Captain Lovell was a delight to work with—affable, patient, and a natural on camera. I hired him a second time to speak to a ROLM recognition event about his near-fatal Apollo 13 experience.

Then there was Captain Kirk—William Shatner. You remember: “To boldly go . . . ”

 

On stage in front of six hundred or so top performers at a different ROLM recognition event, the CEO—a German national—talked with a video-projected Captain Kirk who was supposedly orbiting Earth in the Starship Enterprise. 

Then, using what’s known as a “laser cone” effect, we beamed Shatner down to the stage to join the CEO and help him conduct an awards ceremony.

Shatner turned out to be a not-so-good choice. 

For one thing, he toyed with the CEO and kept going off prompter. Shatner enjoyed tripping up the CEO, who was trying to follow a carefully crafted script to help him with what was his second language.

I came away thinking that Shatner seriously thinks he’s a starship commander.

The difference between the two? One of these starship commanders was a real hero. The other only played one on TV.