For me, it was definitely Carl Sagan. He spoke at USF back in the early eighties (and graciously signed my copy of "Cosmos" for me). I was already a huge fan of his intellect, and was delighted to discover that he was also just a genuinely nice guy.
Dr. Sagan popped back into my head because I just saw another scientist attempting to explain the possibility of a fourth dimension and why we three-dimensional beings would not be capable of perceiving it. I think the theory is valid, but it struck me as such a clumsy explanation when compared to the one offered by Sagan about 25 years ago.
To explain how we three-dimensional beings might perceive fourth-dimensional ones, he asked us to consider how a two-dimensional being might perceive us. He spread a bunch of little paper circles representing the occupants of what he called "Flatland" (these weren't truly two-dimensional, of course, because even paper has some degree of thickness, but it was close enough to make his point). Their whole perception, he explained, would be horizontal. If a three-dimensional object existed in their world, they would be unaware of it because they would only be capable of perceiving a two-dimensional slice of it. He set a tennis ball in among the paper. After a moment, when his meaning sank in, the entire audience went "Ahhhhh!" as though they'd just seen a magician perform a particularly fine magic trick.
Such almost-absurdly simple explanations of complex theories were Sagan's trademark, and I remember a lot of "serious" scientists of his era sneering at his popularity, as though resentful that his remarkable knack for communicating in layman's terms opened up a previously exclusive club to the rest of us (and I suspect that the guy I just heard trying to explain the fourth dimension--in terminology that would've probably shot over the head of Stephen Hawking--would agree with them). That is Sagan's legacy. He not only made science accessible, he made it entertaining. His Cosmos: A Personal Voyage series was seen by over 600 million people, in over 60 countries, making it the most widely watched PBS program in history.
Carl Sagan literally opened up new worlds for a lot of people, myself included, and that two hour speech I had the honor of attending is one of my most treasured memories.
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The jury is still out on whether or not our new president can deliver on political promises, but he certainly can deliver speeches that inspire.
(I)n my life, I have also learned that hope is found in unlikely places; that inspiration often comes not from those with the most power or celebrity, but from the dreams and aspirations of Americans who are anything but ordinary.
I can hardly believe that, in my enthusiasm to describe my Gregory Peck encounter, I failed to mention a speaker I caught last September at a small stadium in Dunedin, Florida (walking distance from my home) that will probably become even more significant as time goes by: Barack Obama!
The SciFi Channel's New Year's Day Twilight Zone marathon reminded me, I also saw Rod Serling, a writer I've always admired very much, in the early-seventies. I remember him commenting on a particular TZ episode in which two lone survivors of a world war from opposing sides had to find a way to make peace and start a new world, and having one of them comment that "the smarter one of us will eventually have to learn the language of the other." It was a sentiment echoed years later by the Horse Whisperer (who theorized that it was much easier for a human to learn the language of a horse than to teach a horse the language of humans) and I always found that idea to be oddly profound.
I heard Gene Roddenberry speak back in the late sixties. At the time, even some of my fellow- gadget lovers in the audience raised a brow when he stated that such Star Trekian devices as ion drive, stealth technology, computer voice recognition, hypospray inoculations, cell phones, and tricoders would eventually become realities, possibly within their lifetimes. I especially remember his explaining why he chose to call the Star Trek weapon of choice the "phaser" instead of the originally suggested "laser." He believed that laser technology, then strictly experimental, was on the brink of becoming so commonplace that it would become ridiculous for the series to present it as cutting-edge weaponry technology of the late-23rd Century. And again, he was absolutely correct.
I saw Gregory Peck speak (my hero, see my bio) in Vero Beach during his "Conversations" tour. He was every inch the gracious gentleman I'd always imagined him to be and, at 83, just as sharp as a tack. The second portion of his show was dedicated to taking questions from the audience, and a really incredible moment came when this terribly nervous woman asked if he happened to recall having met a young lady at a dinner party about forty years earlier. This got a giggle from the crowd and from Mr. Peck as well. He answered that there had been quite a few young ladies and quite a few dinner parties in those forty years. "Well," she elaborated, "you took THIS one home."
Needless to say, that brought down the house. While she tried to backpedal above the laughter, saying that he had given her a RIDE home, nothing more, Mr. Peck just kept quietly studying her face. Then he said, "Peggy Mailey?" And, sure enough, that was her name.
There was a dinner following the show, and when I saw Mr. Peck already seated at his table while the rest of the crowd was still mingling, I approached him. He asked if I'd excuse him if he didn't stand up, which allowed me the opportunity to ask him if he'd excuse me if I did sit down. There was assigned seating, but nobody asked me to move, so I was treated to this kind of fantasy evening, dining right at the left-elbow of my childhood hero.
During the course of the dinner, I told him a story about having seen "To Kill a Mockingbird" on television when I was three-years-old and being so taken with his character that I griped to my mother, "I wish Atticus Finch was MY father!" My own father was very much alive and the comment was horribly insensitive, even for a child, but if my mother took offense, it wasn't apparent in her response. She said, "Believe me, kid, I wish he was too." (The sexual allusion was above my three-year-old head at the time, but a few years later, I got the joke.)
Two years after this memorable night, I had the opportunity to attend another of his shows, this time in Fort Worth, along with a new internet friend who, as a child star in the seventies, had appeared in a film with him called "Shoot Out." Because I was with her, I was invited backstage after the show, and pretty much just stood back taking photos while she (and a long line of others) spoke with him. Then I noticed him staring at me. I lowered the camera and he kept staring, long enough that all the people angling for his attention turned to see what he was looking at.
Then he smiled, snapped his fingers, and said, "You're Elizabeth, from Vero Beach, aren't you?"
He motioned for me to come over, and put his arm around my shoulder, and began telling a woman (who I later found was his press agent) that I was the young lady he had to thank for that amusing story he had used at one of his previous shows. For the benefit of everyone else, he then repeated, almost verbatim, the story I had told him two years earlier.
So, yeah, I'd have to say that Gregory Peck was the most memorable speaker I ever saw in person. And although I didn't have time to pass the forty-year test that "Peggy Mailey" did, I'll always be gratified to know that, for at least two years, I was in some way memorable to him, as well. :)