Just five months separated our births in 1966, and it could be said that we came of age together, as the show gained mass popularity in syndication in the 70s, and was later revived in movie series form in the 80s.
As the Original Series turns 50 today, much has been written about why the show built such a cult following, certainly more than any other TV show in history, more than most movies and perhaps more than most sports franchises. Yes, people during the dark wartime 60s probably appreciated the glimpse of a non-dystopian future. And yes, decent people probably enjoyed the idea of a group of ethnically diverse liberals working together to make the universe a better place.
But entertainment isn't philanthropy. There's one simple reason people were drawn to the show: It was cool.
Gene Roddenberry and his production team, particularly set and prop designer Matt Jeffries were highly successful in creating a consistent and believably futuristic universe for the characters to inhabit that was colorful and often dazzling.
And yes, it was cool. And not in a geeky, sciencey way.
Captain James T. Kirk, after all, was living every guy's dream: He got to work in a big La-Z-Boy chair with a built in phone, in front of a giant flat screen TV (ahead of its time), always with cool stuff to watch. He got to travel with his two wingmen and meet beautiful women. His two best friends were a walking computer who always had the answers and a doctor who can patch him up after bar fights. (Neither of whom were romantic rivals.) He also had a mechanic on hand to fix his ride. He had authority over others, even people older than him, and while he was a military man, he didn't take that very seriously. No one ever saluted him, and some even called him Jim.
All he's missing is a beer.
From the boots and the flip phones to the phaser guns and colorful tunics and minidresses, a different world than the tin-foil spacesuits of earlier sci-fi. Everyone looked cool and seemed to have fun, even when they were desperately trying to save the ship from the latest curiosity-borne catastrophe.
Although it dealt with serious topics and contained plenty of action, it never took itself too seriously. A few of the episodes, notably "The Trouble With Tribbles" and "A Piece of the Action" were played entirely for laughs. In fact there were comic elements in almost every episode, with playful music often overlapping the scenes in which they tease Spock.
So despite some subtle social themes that reflected Roddenberry's liberalism, people started watching "Star Trek" for the same reason that decades later they'd be fixated on "Friends." The cast interacted so well, you wanted to fantasize that you were part of it. And the costumes and sets made it easier for you to lose yourself in that world than in, say, the living room of Darren and Samantha Stevens on "Bewitched" or the ridiculous Isle of Gilligan.
Maybe that's why 50 years later people who weren't born when the show began, even as original cast members begin to die off, still want to be immersed in that world, flocking to conventions in full regalia and cramming their minds full of trivia. They like making a difference and sharing deep thoughts, but not as much as they like cool, funny stuff.
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