I Spoke To ‘Star Trek’ Legend Walter Koenig Before He Died. It Changed My Life

Walter Koenig has passed away at 90. For millions of Star Trek fans around the world, the news isn’t just sad; it’s a reminder of the fact that although the classic show debuted 60 years ago and has a strong, enduring legacy, fewer and fewer living humans are left who actually participated in that world-changing series. With Koenig’s death, only William Shatner and George Takei remain. Koenig’s passing hits hard, not because he didn’t live a full life, but because, I believe, he was perhaps the most underrated member of the TOS gang — and not just because the character of Chekov is iconic, but because Koenig himself was a true original.

For those who might only know Koenig as the guy who played Chekov on the original Star Trek TV series and in seven feature films, you do have a small inkling of what made Koenig so great. But there is something you may not know: He was incredibly funny, a fantastic writer, and in his later years, a sort of kind, angry uncle with a heart of gold. When researching my Star Trek history book, Phasers on Stun!, I spoke to Koenig in early 2021. He had agreed to do 15 minutes, and we ended up talking for an hour. There was nothing special about me as a journalist that made him go longer, and he didn’t ramble, and he wasn’t incoherent. Many questions he’d probably gotten a million times before. Koenig spoke to me for an hour because he was kind and because he clearly had something he wanted to say about what he believed was the power of certain kinds of science fiction.

When Koenig spoke to me in January 2021, the world was about one year into a global pandemic, and the chaos of the 2020 election was still very fresh and ongoing. And, at the start of our call, Koenig was cranky and pretty pessimistic about it all. But an odd thing happened during the course of our talk: in reminiscing about Star Trek, Koenig became more upbeat and more optimistic. And yet, he also pointed out that Star Trek’s appeal and importance isn’t just about the oft-repeated drumbeat about optimism and tolerance.

“That might not be its primary purpose,” Koenig said of Star Trek’s cultural impact versus its actual content. “If you look at the films we did, they were populated with battles and gunfights, because, very often, if you don’t do that stuff in your films you’re not going to be able to make money, and then not make more films. But there is some idealism there.”

Koenig, famously, was brought on Star Trek in its second season, and in doing that, Gene Roddenberry was killing two birds with one stone: Creating representation for a character of Russian heritage on the bridge of the Enterprise, but also bringing in a youthful person who mirrored the popular looks of some of the younger audience members. In other words, Chekov’s hairstyle was a nod to both The Beatles and The Monkees, proving that long before Lower Decks, Prodigy, or Starfleet Academy, Trek has always been thinking about how to reach out to a younger demographic. “In the ‘60s, when we had the very discouraging circumstances of Vietnam, we were looking for a way out; we're looking for hope,” Koenig said. “I think the idea of Star Trek was that there was an attempt to get things right.”

Koenig’s take on the legacy of The Original Series was also interesting, because, as he told me, he didn’t feel that it was really about any one specific episode, but rather, the fact that the diverse bridge crew meant that “we were all there.” The escapism, combined with the diverse characters and viewpoints, was for him the thing that made Trek special. “Look, not every script was brilliant,” he said with a laugh. “That wasn’t the point.”

What’s hard to convey about speaking to Koenig, and what makes his passing so difficult to process, is just how funny he could be with a certain tone of voice. At the start of our interview, I told him that I had met him at a convention in Phoenix in 1995 when I was 14, and though I had him sign a photo of himself as Chekov, I had told him that I loved him even more in Babylon 5. “Well, it’s good to hear from you again,” Koenig joked, as though we were long-lost friends. “I wondered what you were up to.”

This is how Walter Koenig was. He was that guy. Disarming, funny, but also the sort of guy who felt like he would take an inside joke really far if you wanted to. If fans have never read his memoirs — Chekov’s Enterprise or Beaming Up and Getting Off — now is the time to do so. His writing style is a combination of Harlan Ellison’s fury, mixed with a dark sense of humor that was unique to Koenig. When I told him the title of my book was “Phasers on Stun!” but that I was thinking of changing it, he encouraged me to keep it. “No, I like that,” he said. “It means we don’t have to kill each other after all.”

And so, that endorsement made me feel differently about my own writing and reporting, and allowed me to trust my instincts; a little bit of pulpy action in a title can be nice, as long as our hearts are in the right place. Because one thing Walter Koenig made it clear to me — something that he felt was the true meaning of life and Star Trek — came down to the idea of individual choice. Not a groupthink. Not a mob. But each person making better decisions for themselves.

“Ideals and philosophies change overnight,” Koenig told me. “I’ve seen it happen. I’m old. But we are not limited to go in one direction. There’s always a different way to go. We are still the masters of our fate.”

Rest in peace, Mr. Koenig. We’ll try to keep the universe from burning down without you.