Leonard (30 page)

The last words he said to his fans, in the form of a tweet to his more than one million followers, was “A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP.”

LLAP. Live long and prosper. Spock's words. In those final days of his life, Leonard and his creation, Mr. Spock, had become virtually indistinguishable.

Rabbi John L. Rosove, Susan's first cousin, described his death: “His family had gathered around him in a ring of love. Leonard smiled, and then he was gone. It was a gentle passing, as easy as a ‘hair being lifted from a cup of milk,' as the Talmud describes the moment of death.”

Millions of people mourned him, knowing a good man had left this earth for another voyage. President Barack Obama issued this statement, “Long before being nerdy was cool, there was Leonard Nimoy. Leonard was a lifelong lover of the arts and humanities, a supporter of the sciences, generous with his talent and his time. And of course, Leonard was Spock. Cool, logical, big-eared and level-headed, the center of
Star Trek
's optimistic, inclusive vision of humanity's future.

“I loved Spock.”

For the president of the United States to say something like that about a kid from inner-city Boston is pretty cool, indeed.

I was in Florida, one of the major celebrity guests at a major Red Cross fund-raising dinner, when Leonard died. Rather than missing that event, which raised a great deal of money to help people in need, I decided to attend the dinner and fly back the next day, although it meant missing Leonard's funeral. The funeral was scheduled for Sunday morning. I've always been one of those people who believed in honoring people while they are alive. I have always believed that we should mourn the dead but celebrate life. I received a great deal of criticism for that decision. In fact, at the dinner, I asked the more than one thousand people there to pause and remember not just Leonard but my friend Maury Hurley, a wonderful writer and producer who also had died that week. And my daughters represented our family at the funeral.

There are times in life when being a celebrity can be painful. The fact that rather than being able to mourn the death of my dear friend in my own way, I had to deal with this controversy was one of them.

I think about Leonard. I miss him. Even when we weren't in close touch, he was always in my life. And when I think about Leonard and all the adventures we had together, I remember his own lust for life; I remember his desire to explore and experience life in all its infinite wonders. I think of his spiritual side, in which he never stopped searching for answers he knew he would never find. I think of his generosity and his commitment to fight for equal justice for everyone. I think of his never-ending passion for the arts and his quest to nurture creativity in young people. And I think of him standing in front of me, his palm held high, his fingers separated in the Vulcan salute, smiling knowingly.

Fifty years is a lifetime that passes in an instant. I can close my eyes and see him, young and handsome, tall and taciturn. He's there, in my mind; his light step, his sardonic humor, his passion for his work. I hear his voice in all its richness, infused with an endless curiosity, and the sounds of his unhappiness as well as his laughter.

I look back and the reflection I see is my own life. The young actor that I was, hard of body, sound of mind, excited about the possibilities. Fifty years ago no one, no one, could have envisioned what was about to happen to us: This miracle that is
Star Trek
and a friendship that grew from it and lasted almost half a century. The fact that my contribution to
Star Trek
is done carries with it a great sadness, but that is nothing compared to the devastation of Leonard's death before we could resolve the fraying ropes of our friendship. I am filled with sadness at the realization it will never be put back together.

There is a photograph of Leonard and myself that I especially love. In it, both of us are doubled over in laughter, and it was laughter at each other. With Leonard, you earned his laughter. We were at a convention, on a stage answering questions. There had been no preparation, our answers were spontaneous, and they were intended both to respond to the audience but also to delight each other with references to the secrets we shared. There was no filtering, no guidance, but in that photograph we so clearly had found the essence of our friendship and were mutually reveling in it. It was a moment of pure and utter enjoyment for who we were, what we had achieved together, the bond we shared—not just with each other but with the greater
Star Trek
audience—and the joy we found in each other's company.

When I think about our relationship, when I think about the fact we are celebrating the 50th anniversary of
Star Trek
, that's what I choose to remember.

Leonard had a wonderful philosophy. Steve Guttenberg told me about one night he'd had dinner with Leonard and Susan. “I was busy waxing philosophic about life when Leonard stopped me. ‘You just don't understand,' Leonard said. ‘The world is your oyster.' That was a long time ago, and I've never forgotten those words. I've thought about them, and what I took from that was that life is a gift, and every moment is important. That I should try to make the most of every day. Go, go and have a good time.”

“Find your bliss,” Leonard said, quoting Joseph Campbell. “This planet and this civilization is in need. I see it as a time of need. I spoke at Boston University's commencement a couple of years ago, and I said to give us the best of what you have, we need it. We crave it, we need what you have to offer. It's important that you focus on what you can bring to the party. The rest will take care of itself, hopefully.”

In his play,
Vincent,
Leonard drew from the letters of Vincent van Gogh. There was one letter that he quoted, which seems so appropriate on so many levels: “I am a man of passions … I am a stranger on earth, hide not thy commandments from me. There is an old belief, and it is a good belief, that our life is a pilgrim's progress and that we are strangers on earth … The end of our pilgrimage is the entering in our Father's house, where are many mansions, where He has gone before us to prepare a place for us…”

LLAP, my friend, my dear, dear friend.

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

There are many people I would like to acknowledge, but this book would not exist without David Fisher, with whom I have worked before and hope to work with after (soon, David, because there isn't much time left). With a deep bow and a wave of my hand, I acknowledge my cowriter, David Fisher.

I would also like to express my appreciation to the many people who so willingly gave their time and their memories to assist me in paying tribute to Leonard, among them Richard Arnold, Joe D'Agosta, John de Lancie, Dorothy Fontana, Steve Guttenberg, Leonard Sachs, Jean-Michel Richaud, George Takei, Adam Nimoy, and the others who chose to do so without credit.

As always, I appreciate my valued assistant, Kathleen Hays, who manages to bring order to a hectic life, and my agent, Carmen Lavia.

From publisher St. Martin's Press, I would like to thank executive editor Peter Joseph, who shared his vision for this book with me, and Melanie Fried, who gets it done, whatever it is, as well as Tom Dunne, for his long and honorable career in publishing that has led to this book.

I also would like to bring the attention of readers to the Archives of American Television (ATT), for “Capturing Television History, One Voice at a Time.” The AAT has very quietly gone about building the great oral history of television in existence and has made it available to both serious researchers and the rest of us fans. As someone who has both participated in the collection of that history and utilized it as a resource, I remain in awe of what they have done and continue doing and urge readers to visit their site (
http://www.emmytvlegends.org
)!

David Fisher would like to thank Casson Masters and Scribecorp, the best friend of every writer who needs a transcription done. And most important his beautiful, always supportive wife, Laura Stevens Fisher, who is always there, wherever
there
is, at exactly the right time (as well as their faithful dog, Willow!).

In 1966, the Starship
Enterprise
set out on its mission to take viewers to places where no man has gone before. As Captain James T. Kirk, I was accompanied by Leonard Nimoy's Mister Spock; we began a voyage, and a friendship, that would last almost fifty years. During our Star Trek we relied on many futuristic devices that have actually become part of our daily life. Here Leonard and I are playing a game of tri-dimensional chess.

Our creator, producer Gene Roddenberry, used the creatures of the universe to explore complex themes on Earth from the meaning of love to the horrors of racism. What made the show work was not gimmicks or monsters, but very human relationships. In the 1982 movie
The Wrath of Khan,
the dispassionate Spock sacrificed his own life to save the crew. When we filmed this scene, in which we say good-bye to each other, both Leonard and I believed we were ending our amazing voyages into the future.

The original cast was reassembled for the 1979 feature film
Star Trek: The Motion Picture.
There was considerable doubt a movie audience would support the remake of a television show—but among the celebration of the show's 50th anniversary in 2016 is the release of the 13th feature film,
Star Trek Beyond.
Included in this picture (from left) George Takei, James Doohan, Grace Lee Whitney, Nichelle Nichols, Stephen Collins, DeForest Kelley, Majel Barrett, myself, Leonard, Persis Khambatta, and Walter Koenig.

There had never been a character like the half-human half-Vulcan Commander Spock, a brilliant scientist and logician practically devoid of emotion. It was fascinating for me to watch as show after show Leonard discovered and revealed the layers of this half-human being.