When I Met Gene Roddenberry ...

When I learned that I would have the opportunity to sketch Gene Roddenberry, the creator of Star Trek, I was overjoyed. I was a university student and a freelance artist tasked with the pleasant responsibility of drawing portraits of celebrities visiting the campus. My illustrations appeared in various newspapers and other publications. Roddenberry would be introducing a movie featuring bloopers from the wildly popular television series.

My First Sketch of Gene Roddenberry

Two of my fellow students and I met Roddenberry at the airport. On the automobile trip to the university, I got busy with my pad of paper and my pen. Roddenberry was difficult to draw. He was so animated that I had difficulty capturing the movements of his face. He smiled brilliantly and often. He tossed his head to laugh. He quickly turned to peer through a car window and rapidly spun back to speak to a student in the front seat. He would not hold still! I could see that I had my work cut out for me.

I tried not to pay attention to what he was saying, but his stories were so doggone funny that I could not resist being caught up in the aura of Roddenberry’s good nature. He shared anecdote after anecdote about the practical jokes that he played on his wife Majel, who was Nurse Chapel on the Enterprise, and the pranks she played on him as payback. Some were on the set; others, off.

In the seconds between stories, I kept thinking, “How do I put this guy on paper?” His face was too mobile, too protean. Well, I did a lousy job of it!

My first sketch, made during the hour-long journey to the campus, was so poor a representation of the countenance before me that I would not show it to Roddenberry until he had begged me repeatedly. When he finally viewed it, he laughed, “You got my double chin!”

Just prior to Roddenberry’s talk before a standing-room-only crowd, my brother, a true Trekkie, used fishing line to hang his model of the Enterprise from the podium where Roddenberry would stand. This was in the days before models were fancy, and my brother had rigged up custom LED lights that flashed around the starship. Nice!

Roddenberry had the audience in the palm of his hand, and the bloopers were uproarious.

After the show, Rodenberry invited his three student hosts to have dinner with him. We drove him to a plush restaurant. The server took his drink order then carded us students. I was the only one under the legal drinking age. She asked me to leave the restaurant. Roddenberry’s face fell.

“You mean he can’t have dinner with us?” Roddenberry asked.

“No, he has to leave,” the server replied.

“If he doesn’t have a drink, he can stay here. Right?” Roddenberry continued the line of questioning.

The server gave Roddenberry a stern look. “No, he has to leave,” she repeated.

“Do you know who I am?” Roddenberry inquired.

“No,” the server admitted.

“I’m Gene Roddenberry. Have you ever seen Star Trek?”

“Yes, I love it!” the server broke into a smile. “I recognize your name.”

“Then can he stay?” Roddenberry leaned forward.

“No, I’m sorry, Mr. Roddenberry. I’m afraid he has to leave. It’s the law.”

In a gesture of exasperation, Roddenberry thrust his hands outward and exclaimed, “But he’s my son!”

“Well, if he’s your son, then he can stay,” the server said.

I was dazzled! I don’t even remember what I ate, but I recall the evening as one of the most exciting and most amusing events of my life. I tried to sketch Roddenberry, but the subdued lighting made the task too difficult. Besides, I was having too good a time to work at an illustration. I never finished the sketch, but I can see that it was far better than the portrait that I did complete. Roddenberry’s mischief flashes in the merry eyes of the unfinished work!

 

Unfinished Mirthful Portrait of Gene Roddenberry by Robert T. Rhode

We students dropped off Roddenberry at his hotel. On our way back to the campus, we conspired. At midnight, we met again and headed back to Roddenberry’s hotel. As quiet as the proverbial church mice, we taped newspapers across his door, so that, when he would attempt to emerge in the morning, he would confront a wall of newsprint. He loved practical jokes, didn’t he?

The next morning, we were anxious to learn what he thought of our escapade. When we reached his door, there was no trace of the newspaper or tape. Roddenberry greeted us with the same radiant smile and happy-go-lucky demeanor that we had come to love about him.

We chauffeured him to the airport, said our goodbyes, and returned to the university. We were sad to see him go. A week or so later, we attended a regular meeting of the board that sponsored guest speakers. The college official that ran the meetings began by saying that he had wonderful surprises for us students. He then distributed Enterprise flight deck officer certificates to the three of us. Roddenberry had signed them personally and had sent them to the campus.

Next, the official looked slowly around the table at each of us before he said, “Mr. Roddenberry also mailed this.” He displayed a large envelope from which he withdrew a thick sheaf of newspaper with tell-tale pieces of tape protruding here and there. “He included this note, which explains that he discovered these newspapers attached to his door. He thought they might belong to you, and he thought you might want them back, as he had no use for them.”

We wanted to crawl under our chairs. We could hear Roddenberry’s distant laughter echoing. I still do.