slides

I spent a good portion of my youth collecting Star Trek junk. A light-and-sound Borg Ship still sits atop my CD shelves, and a very dusty Starship Enterprise (NCC-1701D) hovers above my head, mostly because I’ve had a bout of laziness that has lasted for 15 years that prevents me from taking it down. For all of my collecting and scouring the backs of every Star Trek magazine I could find to obtain a useless but encyclopedic knowledge of the whole Trek property, I’d never, ever heard of collectible Star Trek slides.

So, when a sheet of 16 Trek slides coincidentally fell into my possession a few months ago, I was fascinated. My first inclination was to question the intensity and abject loneliness of a geek who would create his own Star Trek slideshows to display on his living room wall – but closer inspection revealed that these were actually very professionally done 35mm slides, each one bearing a shot from the original Star Trek series. Some were clearly 16mm frames mounted into 35mm slide mounts. They weren’t even all memorable shots – an empty bridge, a phaser – nothing all that amazing.

Even curiouser was the inconsistency of the slides. Some were encased in thin plastic and labeled with the episode number, episode title, and the word ‘original’. Some were in thick, plastic tombs that seemed hand-labeled, and others still were mounted in traditional cardboard sleeves, some blank and others bearing markings of Kodak or Colorite. No matter what these were, I had the geekiest slideshow ever goin’ on, and one was even from the legendary ‘City on the Edge of Forever’ episode.

In 1969, issue #8 of fanzine ‘Inside Star Trek’ features an ad published by Gene And Majel Roddenberry’s own Star Trek Enterprises company for original 35mm film frames – original prints that actually ran through the on-set camera, or if you’re a mega-nerd, a piece of science fiction history. By ‘Inside Star Trek’ #11, the show was canceled.

Further digging reveals a stockpile of over 600 of these slides that were discovered and sold as recently as October of 2008, and auction details confirm that these authentic slides were referenced and explored on page 139 of The Star Trek Compendium. They’re comprised of everything that hit the cutting room floor pre-1969, and yeah, fans ate ‘em up, like this guy on Flickr who has a pretty great collection. So, there’s definitely a collection of real slides out there, but are these they? Or are these just the fevered weirdness I’d originally extrapolated? They don’t exactly match the samples I’ve seen, nor can I confirm that this enterprise continued after these early efforts using other materials.

There’s also a slide of the Transporter effect mixed in here. Unless this was an in-camera effect, it makes little sense that such a shot would be carefully composited and processed and then end up on the cutting room floor – especially mid-transport.

I loaded them into my 1960s Airequipt Automatic Slide Viewer – or at least the ones that fit into it – so even if I have no conclusive idea of what these might be, enjoy the slideshow.

While slides are entertaining — as Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players prove in their fun way — they were once one of the few ways a person could bring home a record of their trip, without having to take and develop dozens of pictures. Roadside attractions and theme parks alike would hire professional photographers to take pictures, give them free reign to get the best angle (and probably when no tourists were around to wander in the shot), so that when tourists visited their attraction, they didn’t have to be distracted by taking photos…the gift shop had plenty to take home, and the tourist can just enjoy themselves. I buy lots slides whenever I find them, mostly for the personal photos of slight historical value, and I have yet to find a slide collection that doesn’t have a large stretch of store-bought slides. I’ve got Knott’s Berry Farm, Washington DC, Disneyland from numerous angles, but today I’ll share with you something a bit more timely: The Tournament of Roses Parade.

The Tournament of Roses parade started in 1890, making the 1964 parade the 75th diamond anniversary for the parade. From looking at the content of the pictures, I believe that this collection is also interspersed with photos of the 1960 parade as well, but the slide frames don’t give much info on their origins. The Parade was first televised in 1947, and color TV had a pretty good foothold by 1964, but these slides would still be a step above anything a person could get without actually going to the parade themselves. Over the years the slides have gone red, a common problem with color negatives of the time (see example at right), but thanks to the magic of a transparency scanner and Photoshop, I got them pretty close to their original colors. Looking back, compared to the modern day Rose parade, there’s things they had back then that we don’t anymore:

Celebration of Nuclear Weapons: So soon we forget that the West Coast is home to much of our military-industrial complex, but today that phrase has a dark shadow over it. In the 60s, though, it was shining proof of the US’ world superiority, it was a source of jobs, community-building, and the bread-and-butter for many baby-boomer’s households growing up. The float on the left celebrates the Polaris missile, a sea-launched nuclear ICBM — the float’s name is the terrifying “Out Of The Blue.”

Ernest Borgnine: Promoting what appears to be McHale’s Navy, Borgnine was the only person listed on this slide, upstaging his fellow star, um, that whats-his-name guy that was always saying, “McHale!” Anyhow, the world is always better with a little Borgnine in it, and I’m sure any parade organizer would agree that Ernest Borgnine can make even a half-hearted parade a winner. Because there was both a TV series and a film, I’m not sure which one this might be for, but this slide is definitely not from the 1960 set.

Mermaids: Oh, I know there’s usually an Ariel somewhere on something Disneified, but women with full-body mermaid tails were quite common back in the day. They didn’t have to be any particular mermaid; they were just an average, everyday mythical creature participating in our festivities. Those were the days.
This is just my humble opinion, though — the Rose Bowl Parade has been the king of decorated floats for decades, and I can’t be one to complain about how it turned out. If you’d like to see more, click here to go view my collection in the Collector’s Quest Community. I’ll be uploading more as I scan, so check back — there’s a lot of them.

It was only this past Tuesday that Val waxed rhapsodical on a recently acquired box of slides from days gone by. I can’t say that I’m immune to the fuzzy, projected glow of the slideshow, having eagerly given up many summer evenings in the family living room with slides going back 20 and 30 years being projected above the fireplace, with the ever-present wreath hook embedded in the wall, usually taking out the slide subject’s eye or some other vital organ. My enthusiasm was usually not shared.

Family slides, as opposed to the commercial ones that Val discussed, are an intensely personal item. They’ve always seemed, at least to me, to be in the strange realm of ‘public secret’. Sure, no one was barred from looking at them and sharing in the visuals, but only the people in the slides themselves, as some kind of family unit, would really know the intimacy of the scene being projected onto the wall. Aunt Mildred’s husband had just died in this one, but this is the first time we saw her smile after that. That kid broke his arm ten seconds after that photo was taken when he fall off of the tire swing. Nothing was really going on then, but I made all the kids get together and smile so I could finish up the roll of film. It’s these secret narratives that thrill me, even if I wasn’t around to witness them firsthand. People were fatter, or thinner, back then. That was the old dog and the old car and the old wallpaper in the kitchen, and we don’t have those things anymore for various beautiful and horrible reasons.

I feel the same way about Polaroids, but not so much about general family photographs collected in albums – all for reasons I can’t clearly articulate or identify. All of this makes it even more strangely unsettling when you find a box of family slides at an estate sale or the Goodwill. I’ve always wanted find a new home and a new use for them. Jason Trachtenburg, a musician and artist, has embraced that idea to the fullest.

Using collections of found slides ranging from family vacations to corporate training seminars, the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players sing songs and play music while projecting slideshows of these ostensibly history-less items, giving them their own histories, often very humorous. It’s a great, ingenious utilization of something that’s been otherwise forgotten at the back of the thrift store and has no emotional interest for the average passersby. All of this is an inspired extension of the nostalgic ‘art by found object’ movement that’s always gaining in popularity.

Even neater is the fact that the whole family gets in on the action – Jason plays guitar and sings, wife Tina runs the slide projector, and young daughter Rachel plays the unmistakably impressive and poised drums. While musically sound at the same time as being completely entertaining, they also show a creative use for an established collection. I downloaded their first album from eMusic, which unfortunately did not include the visuals, which are almost essential for maximum enjoyment of their music – falling short of seeing them in person and witnessing the actual glow of the projector. I’d suggest exploring the actual CD, or grab what you can from the slew of free videos that they offer on their website!

I often find myself wondering ‘what the hell do I do now that I have this awesome collection of eclectic items?’, and while I know that the answer is usually ‘make something!’, it’s great to see that idea in full action.