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Science Fiction/Fantasy

[May 8, 1963] Breathing New Life (The Second Sex in SFF, Part VI)

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by Gideon Marcus

I didn't start Galactic Journey with the intention of it being a champion for progressive change.  It just sort of happened.  Our joining what's now being called the Second Wave of Feminism, and our frequent spotlight of woman and minority writers and characters, happened by degrees.  I like a broad range of ideas and viewpoints, and it often takes an outsider to write works outside the mainstream.  This is a big reason why we started covering British science fiction, and I'm glad we did.  They are just entering what some have called a "New Wave," featuring some far out concepts and a more literary style. 

Another reason for Galactic Journey's evolving focus is the make-up of our staff.  Most of the team are women (about half of the articles are written by women), and we come from a diverse set of backgrounds and cultures.  That makes us pretty unusual for even this modern year of 1963, and it follows that our tastes would be eclectic. 

Of course, finding unusual authors can still be challenge — particularly these days.  It is a rare month that the number of magazines featuring woman authors requires two fingers to count, and even though Cele Goldsmith has made a name for herself editing Amazing and Fantastic, her magazines don't often contain woman-penned pieces. 

Nevertheless, women still make up a vital population within our genre, both professionally and as fans.  In fact, several new female authors have come on the scene since the last edition of The Second Sex in SFF, many of whom have made a big splash, and who may well herald the beginning of a new upswing.  Let's meet the new group:

Madeleine L'Engle

L'Engle, who had only published one SF story back in '56, had determined to give up writing as a lost cause.  After all, rejections are demoralizing (I grok!) and the income she was making just wasn't worth the time spent.  But then the idea for A Wrinkle in Time came to her in '59, and she persevered through more than 30 rejections to publish what was one of the most spectacular sff books of 1962.  I understand it's on the short list for the Newberry this year, and it certainly earned last year's Galactic Star for best novel. 

So three cheers for L'Engle, who shows that the key to success is perseverance. 

Ursula K. Le Guin

This newly minted author currently has two stories under her belt, both of them published in Fantastic.  Her first, April in Paris so impressed us that we awarded her the Galactic Star.  While Le Guin has not yet received any official accolades for her work, we suspect it's only a matter of time.

Karen Anderson

Anderson began her professional sf career writing with her husband, the rather famous Poul, in 1958.  However, her fanac days started long before then, and her costumage at Worldcon is legendary.  Since last year, she has burst out as an author and poet in her own right, mostly composing works with mythological themes.  A talent on the edge of greatness, Karen has just begun to write.

Gertrude Friedberg

Some authors are renowned in other fields, only occasionally dabbling in our genre.  One such writer is Gertrude Frieberg (formerly Tonkonogy), who is much better known for her plays, Three Cornered Moon and Town House and the collection Short Story 2 (which features several of her works) than her single SF piece, The Short and Happy Death of George Frumkin .  Still, we're happy she took the detour and hope she comes back some day!

Sonya Dorman

I know very little about Sonya Dorman other than she hails from Connecticut, is fond of dogs, and is just beginning her sf writing career.  Her first, The Putnam Tradition showed great promise.  I hope we see more from her soon.

Cele Goldsmith

Let's wrap up with a star who is neither newcomer nor author, and yet, whose impact on the genre has been profound.

Goldsmith's career is a fascinating one.  She started out in '55, at age 22, as a secretary for Howard Browne, who was editor of Amazing and Fantastic.  Browne abandoned ship for a Hollywood career that year, and Paul Fairman took over, retaining Goldsmith.  When he left for other pastures in 1958, Goldsmith ascended to the editorship of two magazines with proud but tarnished reputations. 

In the last five years (coincidentally, the same span of time that the Journey has existed), she has turned both magazines around.  In particular, I like the work that comes out in Fantastic, but Amazing often has worthy stuff, too.  For this outstanding work, her magazines have perennially been nominated for the Hugo, and she, herself, won a Special Committee Award at the last Worldcon.  She is truly an inspiration, proof that neither age nor origin are insurmountable barriers to success.

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Magazine

[May 6, 1963] The more things change… (June 1963 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Around the world, events herald a heightened rate of change.  Civil Rights marchers and boycotters in Birmingham, Alabama have been met with fire hoses, attack dogs, and mass incarceration.  Casualty reports for servicemen killed in Vietnam are becoming a weekly occurrence.  In a more hopeful vein, the nuclear test ban group at the United Nations appears to be making good progress, and it has been reported that the White House and Kremlin will soon be bridged by a "Hot Line:" a secure teletype link for instant communications.

And yet, within the latest pages of Galaxy, a magazine that established the vanguard of new-type science fiction when it came out in October 1950, it appears that time has stood still.  The proud progressive flagship appears to be faltering, following in the footsteps of Campbell's reactionary Analog.  It's not all bad, exactly.  It's just nothing new…and some of it is really bad.  Is it a momentary blip?  Or is Editor Pohl saving the avante-garde stuff for his other two magazines?

In any event, here it is, the June 1963 Galaxy:

Here Gather the Stars (Part 1 of 2), by Clifford Simak

A century after the American Civil War, Union soldier Enoch Wallace is found to still be alive on his Wisconsin family homestead.  Amazingly, he has retained his youth, as has his home, despite the age-decay of the nearby farmhouses.  The government puts the solider under 24-hour surveillance.  Yet, all they are able to learn of the reclusive man is that he no longer farms, goes for a walk for an hour a day, potters in his garden for short periods, and his only "friends" are the mailman and a deaf-mute young woman, a sort of local witch.

We soon learn, however, that Wallace's home is actually a galactic way station, a transfer point for teleporting aliens.  Both the home and Wallace (when he is inside) are freed from the ravages of time.  Day-in and day-out, members of an incredibly diverse collection of extra-terrestrials are translated across the light years into the station's holding tanks.  These are essentially copies of originals — great energies create new beings at each station, killing the earlier copies.  The corpses are then discarded.  It's a grisly kind of travel, when one thinks about it, and it certainly leaves little room for an eternal soul that clings to a physical form. 

Simak is one of the great veterans of our field, and he has been a staple of Galaxy since its inception.  He is unmatched when it comes to evoking a bucolic charm, and he has a sensitive touch when conveying people (human or otherwise).  This particular tale begins promisingly, but it meanders a bit, and it frequently repeats itself.  Either over-padded or under-edited, it could do with about 15% fewer words.  Three stars so far, but I have a feeling the next half will be better.

The Cool War, by Andrew Fetler

In contrast to Simak, Fetler is a newish author and a decidedly minor one.  He's finally made the jump from IF to Galaxy (a step up in pay and prestige), but I don't know how he earned it with this piece, a satire in which robots are used to replace political notables.  It's not very coherent, and it's not at all fun.  One star. 

For Your Information, by Willy Ley

This month's science article is surprisingly good.  The surprise isn't that Willy wrote a good piece — he's the reason I became a Galaxy subscriber in the first place, 13 years ago.  No, it's because I hadn't expected to be interested in the subject matter.

The topic is sounding rockets, those missiles that carry scientific packages into space but not into orbit.  They tend to get little press compared to their bigger cousins, and I've been as guilty of neglecting them as everyone else.  Yet hundreds of these little guys are launched each year by more than a dozen countries, and the scientific return they offer is staggering, particularly in consideration of their low cost.  Plus, the development of these small boosters has direct application to the creation of big ones.

Four stars.  Worth reading.

End as a Hero, by Keith Laumer

Kayle, a space-traveling psychologist is captured by the mind-controlling Gool and implanted with a mission to destroy the Terran Federation at its source: Earth.  But the aliens have picked the wrong subject for this treasonous task.  For Kayle has erected barriers to suggestion while giving himself access to the Gool mind-trust, thus turning the tides.  Now the race is on — can he make it back to Earth and give humanity the secret to instantaneous teleportation before his military colleagues kill him out of an abundance of caution?  And is Kayle really the one calling the shots, or is it just part of a many-layered Gool plot?

It's a strange Rube Goldberg of a tale, and if you stop to think about it, it falls apart.  Yet Laumer is quite a good writer., and sort of makes it work.  Think of it as a straight Retief story.  Three stars.

The Faithful Wilf, by Gordon Dickson

The interstellar Nick and Nora are back in their third diplomatic mystery adventure.  Unfortunately, unlike the last one (which appeared in a truly excellent issue of Galaxy), Wilf is wretched.  The female half of the pair is ignobly reduced to whining and simpering, and the story is told so elliptically that I'm still not quite sure what happened.  It's a shame because Dickson, when he wants to, is one of the genre's better writers.  But he only wants to about a third of the time…  One star.

The Sellers of the Dream, by John Jakes

Last up is an "if this goes on tale," taking the trend of planned obsolescence to its ludicrous end.  Not only are clothes, furniture, and cars all disposed of on an annual basis, but even personalities and bodies are swapped.  Not by stodgy males, of course, but that will come soon enough.  Sellers is the story of an industrial spy who discovers that this year's body model is, in fact, a tragically altered ex-fiancee. 

Thus begins a most improbable scheme to save the captive woman that leads our hero to the wastes of Manhattan, a decrepit penal colony for reactionaries who cling to the notion that things have permanent value.  Along the way, the spy learns the awful secret behind the 21st Century economy. 

Author John Jakes has flitted across the various SF magazines for more than a decade.  He occasionally produces a work of art.  More frequently, he write mediocre space-filler.  Sellers is neither.  While the story doesn't make a lot of sense, the satire is worthy, and I found myself interested the whole way.  Call it an idea piece.  Three stars.

In the end, this month's Galaxy probably won't make you cancel your subscription, but it will leave you pining for change.  Well, every month brings new opportunities (or in the case of this bimonthly magazine, every other month.).  Until then…

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Science / Space Race

[Apr. 29, 1963] When a malfunction isn't (the flight of Saturn I #4 and other space tidbits)

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by Gideon Marcus

Baby's first step… Take Four

Out in Huntsville, Alabama, Von Braun's team is busy making the biggest rockets ever conceived.  The three-stage Saturn V, with five of the biggest engines ever made, will take people to the Moon before the decade is out.  But NASA's is justifiably leery of running before walking.  Moreover, there is use for a yet smaller (but still huge!) rocket for orbital Apollo testing and, also, practice building and launching Saturn rocket components.

Enter the two-stage Saturn I, whose first stage has eight engines, like the Nova, but they are much smaller.  Still, altogether, they produce 1.5 million pounds of thrust — that's six times more than the Atlas that will put Gordo Cooper's Mercury into orbit next month.  The Saturn I's second stage will likely also be the third stage on the Saturn V.

The Saturn I has had the most successful testing program of any rocket that I know of.  It's also one of the most maddeningly slow testing programs (I'm not really complaining — methodical is good, and it's not as if Apollo's ready to fly, anyway). 

The fourth in the series lifted off March 28, and they still aren't fueling the second stage.  They've essentially all been tests of stage #1.  This particular test was interesting because they shut off one of the engines on purpose during the flight to see if the other engines could compensate for the loss.  SA-4 continued to work perfectly, zooming to an altitude of 129 kilometers.

SA-4 was the last of the first-stage-only tests.  Henceforth, we'll get to see what the full stack can do. 

A breath of very thin fresh air

We tend to ignore most of the atmosphere.  After all, the air we breathe and most of the weather are confined to the first few kilometers above the Earth.  But the upper regions of the atmosphere contain the ozone layer, which shields us from deadly radiations; the ionosphere, which bounces radio waves back to Earth; beautiful and mysterious noctilucent clouds, only visible after sunset; and of course, spacecraft have to travel through it on their way up and down.  Knowing the makeup of our atmosphere gives us clues to understand climate, the history of the Earth, the interaction of our planet and the sun, and much more.

And yet, aside from the TIROS weather satellites, which only study the lowest level of the atmosphere, there has never been a dedicated atmospheric study satellite.  Sure, we've launched probes to detect radiation and charged particles and the Earth's magnetosphere.  Some have investigated the propagation of radio waves through the ionosphere.  But none have gone into space just to sample the thin air of the upper atmosphere and find out what's up there and how much.

Until now. 

Explorer 17 is a big, sputnik-looking ball loaded with a bunch of pressure gauges and other instruments.  Its sole purpose is to measure the the pressure and make-up of the upper atmosphere, from about 170 kilometers up. 

Launched on April 3rd, in its first few days of operation, the probe has more than tripled all previous measurements of neutral gases in Earth's upper atmosphere to date.  For instance, the satellite has discovered that the earth is surrounded by a belt of neutral helium at an altitude of from 250 to 1000 miles, a belt no one was sure it existed.  We suspected it, of course — helium, produced in the Earth's crust by the natural radioactive decay of heavy elements, is very light.  Just as helium balloons go up and up, free helium's normal fate is to eventually escape Earth's gravitational influence, leaving behind the heavier gasses. 

This is the first time this hypothesis had a chance to be proven, and by measuring the density of this helium, we should be able to get an idea of how much helium is generated by the Earth each year.  This, in turn, will tell us something about how much radioactive material is left on Earth.  Isn't that neat?  We send a probe far up into space to learn more about what's going on down here.  Your tax dollar hard at work.

The Cosmos opening up for Kosmos

Pop quiz — what did the Soviets accomplish last year in the Space Race?  Right.  The Soviets made big news with the flashy dual mission of Vostoks 3 and 4.  Anything else?  Can you recall a single space accomplishment for the Communists?  In 1962, the United States launched Telstar, the Orbiting Solar Observatory (OSO), three Explorer science probes, three Ranger moon probes, Mariner 2 to Venus, and a couple dozen military satellites, not to mention the orbital Mercury flights of John Glenn, Scott Carpenter, and Wally Schirra.

This year is a different story.  We Americans haven't slackened our pace, but the Russians have finally picked up theirs.  They've got a probe on its way to Mars, as well as a new series of satellites called Kosmos.  This month, they launched three, getting up to Kosmos 16.  They are touted as science satellites, but there has been precious little data from them made public or that's worked its way into scientific papers.  This suggests that the Kosmos program is really a civilian front for a military program.  That's the fundamental difference between the Western and Eastern space efforts.  While the American military takes up its share of the national space budget, we still make sure there's room for pure science.  The Soviets have chosen between guns and science in favor of the former (though, to be fair, if we could only afford one option, would we have made the same choice?)

So why did it take so long for the Soviets to get into the groove after having such a seemingly commanding lead in the Space Race?  And just what are the Kosmos satellites really doing up there? 

According to a NASA scientist, the lack of announced flights doesn't mean the Russians didn't try.  Our Communist friends are notorious for talking only about their successes.  In fact, the Soviets were trying a new four-stage version of the booster that launched Sputnik and Vostok, and the fourth stage kept failing.  There might have been a few failed moon missions in there, too, that we never heard about.  We probably only learned about Luna 4, launched April 2, because it took off just fine — it just missed its target (the Soviet reporting after lunar flyby was notably subdued). 

As for what Kosmos is, Aviation Weekly and Space Report suggests the series is really two types of satellites based on weight and orbital trajectory.  One is a small class of probe that stays up for months.  They could be akin to our Explorers, but again, they don't produce science (whereas ours have revolutionized our knowledge of near-Earth space).  More likely, they are engineering satellites designed to test various components for future missions: communications, cameras, navigation.

The other class is big — as big as the manned Vostoks.  They only fly a few days, too, and their orbits cover most of the globe.  These could be unmanned tests of the next generation of Soviet manned spacecraft.  But they also could be repurposed Vostoks designed to conduct spy missions.  Perhaps the Soviet Union is sending up cosmonauts with camera in hand (as we have done on the Mercury missions).  Sure, it's more expensive than our Discoverer spy sats, but everything's free in a command economy, right?

In any event, the world once again has two active space superpowers.  What happens next is anyone's guess…




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Magazine

[April 27, 1963] Built to Last?  (May 1963 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

The modern world is wonderful.  There's so much luxury at our fingertips that it boggles the imagination of those of us who remember living even a few decades ago.  Back when then were things we just couldn't get our hands on, no matter how much time or money we had. 

These days, we can cross the world in half a day, thanks to jets.  Supermarkets are filled with aisles and aisles of national and local products.  Television lets us view events as they happen, from Mercury launches to Macy's Parades.

Most importantly, not only do our newsstands have all of the latest science fiction books and magazines, but now they've also got the classics of our childhood.  Yes, all of the Edgar Rice Burroughs books we grew up on are finally being reprinted.  Tarzan's Africa, John Cartner's Mars, Innes' Pellucidar, Billings' Caspak — such a bounty!  (You can bet that I'll be spending the next several weekends reliving the joys of my youth.)

If this trend continues, we can assume that our children and grandchildren will not only have Burroughs, Wells, Verne, Shelley, and Baum to read, but also reprinted copies of our present-day science fiction, as well as the SF of the future (their present).  Perhaps they'll all be available via some computerized library — tens of thousands of volumes in a breadbox-shaped device, for instance.

The question, then, is whether or not our children will remember our current era fondly enough to want reprints from it.  Well, if this month's Analog be a representative sample, the answer is a definitive…maybe.

Observational Difficulties, by George W. Harper

This month's non-fiction article is as dry as lunar dust, but the subject matter is fascinating.  Harper talks about how difficult it is to tell much about a planet when all you've got to examine is some fuzzy telescope pictures, a few spectrographs, and the vivid imaginations of thousands of observers. 

From the evidence he's collected, Harper concludes that the Red Planet has an atmosphere about 10% as thick as Earth's, mostly made of nitrogen.  He conjectures that erosion and a lack of active geology has created a landscape of smooth plateaus and gentle valleys. 

Most interestingly, he is certain that Mars will be riddled with craters, like the Moon.  After all, Mars must have been subject to the same early bombardment as Earth and its satellite, and there's not a lot of weather to break down impact sites.  Harper goes on to say that it is these craters which we on Earth have mistaken for "cities" at the junctures of the Martian "canals" (which he thinks are probably ejected residue from ancient impacts).

I've never read this hypothesis advanced by any anyone else, but it makes a lot of sense.  I guess when the Soviet "Mars 1" reaches its destination next month, we'll finally get a definitive answer.  Three stars.

The Dueling Machine, by Ben Bova and Myron R. Lewis

In the far future, personal disputes are resolved by a telepathic dueling machine.  It recreates perfectly any setting, any agreed-upon weapons, and participants can battle until one suffers a simulated death, safe in the knowledge that no one actually dies in the process.  But when one unscrupulous government learns how to use the device to assassinate duelists, its up to the inventor to find out how it's being done and, more importantly, how to stop it.

This exciting premise is dragged down by an overlong and, frankly, boring presentation.  And the fact that Ellison did this idea much better in his The Silver Corridor, which came out in the September 1956 Infinity.  Two stars.

Oneness, by James H. Schmitz

It is the future.  Sixty years before, the scientists of the Martian penal colony had invented a stardrive, enabling the escape of nearly 20,000 exiles to a host of other worlds.  Now, one of them has returned to face the "Machine," Earth's autocratic government, and negotiate a peace treaty.  The proud leaders of Terra capture the emissary with the intention of torturing the secret of star travel out of him, but the star people have learned the secrets of "Oneness," the psychic bond, and the Machine soon learns that hurting the prisoner means hurting themselves.  Under such conditions, can a meeting of the minds occur?

It's an old-fashioned story, as one might expect from a pulp-master like Schmitz, but I liked its vividness and brisk pace.  Four stars.

Expediter, by Mack Reynolds

A young citizen of the Peoples Republic of the United Balkans is brought before the Supreme Leader for a special duty: he is to find out why, in an age when the factories report record output, and the farms produce vast surpluses of food, there are still shortages of commercial goods as well as surly discontent amongst the people.  To accomplish this task, the fellow is given a blank check and infinite power. 

It's a silly fairy tale of a story, and of course, it turns out that the problem is the short-sighted, self-interested politicians who simply don't have the technical knowledge to run a modern state.  "Technological society should be left to the engineers!" is the unconvincing moral of this tale. 

Still, as flat as the story's premise may fall, Reynolds still does his excellent job of rendering an alien society, particularly one behind the Iron Curtain.  Perhaps, instead of writing SF, he should become a travelogue writer.  Three stars.

The Ming Vase, by E. C. Tubb

A clairvoyant breaks out of a secret government facility to steal art of great beauty.  Has he turned criminal?  Flipped sides?  Or simply cracked?  And how do you catch someone who sees the future…unless he wants to be caught?

A perfectly decent potboiler, perfectly suited to Analog, the magazine about psychic science fiction.  Three stars.

The Last of the Romany, by Norman Spinrad

Spinrad hits it out of the park with his first tale, portraying a nomad bohemian's efforts to find (or make) more of his kind in a mechanized, homogenized, stultified world.

It's a beautiful piece that I'd expect to have been published in a more fanciful, literary venue like F&SF.  In the mag that Campbell built, it just stands out all the more starkly for its quality and lack of psionic silliness.  Five stars.

Analog thus garners a solid, if psi-tinged 3.2 stars this month.  Compare that to New Worlds and Worlds of Tomorrow, which beat Analog with 3.5 and 3.3 scores, respectively.  On the other hand, Analog beat F&SF (3 stars), Fantastic (2.9), IF and Amazing (both 2.4), and it had (arguably) the best story.

Women wrote just four of the fifty pieces that came out this month.  Four and five-star stories, if printed on their own, would fill two good-sized magazines (out of the seven that came out).

On the one hand, this record hardly suggests that our children and their children will regard May 1963 as a Golden Age of SF.  On the other hand, Sturgeon's Law says 90% of everything is crap, and this month, 28% of what was published was not-crap.  Maybe our grandchildren will rejoice at the reprints after all…




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Book

[Apr. 19, 1963] One way Via (Wallace West's book, River of Time)

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by Gideon Marcus

Time travel.  It's been a fixture of science fiction ever since H.G. Wells wrote the seminal work, The Time Machine.  And what could be a more seductive topic?  Instead of being confined to our plodding day-by-day, one-way march to the future, one could take great leaps in any direction — forward and back.

Wells' book dealt only with trips to the far future, a feat that is both more technologically feasibly and less fraught with challenges than journeys to the past.  After all, it would just take a sophisticated suspended animation system and a timer, and one could sleep one's way to a different time.  Going backwards requires a direct confrontation with a host of physical laws. 

Moreover, any trip you take to the past brings you face to face with your own history.  Your very presence inserts a variable that wasn't there before, one with endless possibilities for destroying your present.  Take the classic Grandfather Paradox: You go back in time and kill your grandfather. before he has children.  How do you still exist?  And if you don't exist, how do you kill your grandfather?

Some books take the premise seriously.  John Brunner's Times without Number, for instance, has all the time jaunts causing an increasingly unstable timeline, ending in the un-invention of time travel, itself!  Such would seem the inevitable fate of any universe in which time travel is possible.

Wallace West's new book, River of Time takes a different, more fanciful tack.  Instead of needing a machine to sail the time stream, instead, the past and present have something of a symbiotic relationship.  When times are troubled, a gateway to the past is formed to a similar crisis in the past.  Resolution of one fixes the other.

So it is that Ralph Graves, an overweight, under-achieving 23 year old with a Master's in Physics and a lowly news-writing gig, ends up driving his car into the Revolutionary War.  The 1964 he left was in the midst of a Cold War on the verge of heating up.  This dire situation is mirrored in 18th Century America, where the rebels are in dire straits. Returning to the present, Graves channels Paine, writing a stemwinder of a speech that gets picked up and rebroadcast across the country, raising national morale.  The result: supplies reach the ragged colonials in time for them to withstand the onslaught of the Redcoats, and the Revolution is saved.

This is just prelude to the novel's main story-line, one that teams Ralph with thin and nervous chemist, Larry Adams, all-American fighter jock and engineer, Hugh Woltman, and temperamentally stable psychologist, Mary Peale.  Just as tensions snap between East and West and the bombs begin to fall, the mother of all time rents appears sending Ralph and his group back to a crisis of similarly great proportion: just after the assassination of Julius Caesar.  Can this misplaced modern squad save the Roman Republic and, thereby, the 20th Century?

First things first: River of time is a fun book, and if its premise be fantastic, so much the better.  West has a deft, light style that paints complete pictures with enviable economy of words.  The book moves.  The first third of the book comprises two enjoyable self-contained bits that were published as short stories in 1950 and 1954.  They're a lot of fun, and the second piece is remarkable in that it conceives an effect of time travel I've not seen before or since.

As good as the earlier sections are, the book really shines when present meets past on the steps of the Senate.  Our heroes cleverly parlay their collection of parcels from 1965 into a better order for the Mediterranean in a rewarding romp.  I particularly loved the abundance of strong female characters: level-headed Mary; Publia, canny wife of Cicero; and Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile.  All are vital to the success of the enterprise. 

Alas, while I would love to give my highest rating to West's latest, I'm afraid there's a component that mars the package.  It is demonstrated early on that Mary Peale is highly susceptible to suggestion, and even though she does many important and vital things throughout the story, much of what she does, and her ultimate fate, are influenced by factors beyond her control.  I found her lack of agency disturbing.

To sum up, River of Time is a quick and enjoyable read, a worthy addition to the ever-growing library of time-travel related stories.  Four stars.

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Magazine

[Apr. 17, 1963] Would-be poetical (May 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Science fiction has risen from its much maligned, pulpish roots to general recognition and even acclaim.  Names like Heinlein, MacLean, Anderson, Asimov, and St. Clair are now commonly known.  They are the vanguard of the several hundred men and women actively writing in our genre.

One name that comes up again and again on the lips of the non-SF fan, when you query them about the SF they have read, is Ray Bradbury.  Thoroughly raised in and part of the "Golden Age" of science fiction, he has remained as he always was — a writer of fantastic tales.  And yet, he's popular with the masses, and the reputation of our genre is greater for it.  Thus, it's no surprise that Bradbury was chosen to have this month's F&SF devoted to him.

That said, I don't like Bradbury.  Or, at least, I don't like what he writes.

Maybe it's because he insists that he doesn't write science fiction, which is true.  His stuff has the trappings of SF, but it follows none of the rules of science.  That kind of scientific laziness always bugs me.  The only person I feel who can get away with enjoying the benefits of our genre while dislaiming association is Harlan Ellison, whose writing really is that good.

Or maybe it's because, as Kingsley Amis put it (and as William F. Nolan quotes in his mini-biography included in this issue), Bradbury writes with "that particular kind of sub-whimsical, would-be poetical badness that goes straight to the heart of the Sunday reviewer."  I've never read a Bradbury story that I didn't think could have been better rendered by, say, Ted Sturgeon. 

Or maybe it's just sour grapes.  After all, Bradbury is two years younger than me and much more famous.  Heck, I've barely gotten to the point of accomplishment he was at twenty-three years ago!  On the other hand, I don't feel that resentment for, say, Asimov (another lettered colleague of similar age).

Anyway, I suspected an issue about Bradbury would be a bad one, and in fact, it's not a great one.  Still, there is stuff worth reading.  And if you're a fan of Ray's, well, this will be a treat:

Bradbury: Prose Poet in the Age of Space, William F. Nolan

Bradbury's Boswell is a minor SF writer, fairly recent to the scene.  Nolan became pals with Ray in his fandom days in the early '50s, and he is sufficiently versed with Bradbury's career to write a perfectly fine biography.  Worth reading.  Four stars.

Bright Phoenix, by Ray Bradbury

F&SF editor Davidson has apparently persuaded Ray to part with a couple of pieces of "desk fiction" — stuff that didn't sell, but which now has value since the author is famous.  Phoenix is the original version of The Fireman, set at the beginning of the government campaign to burn seditious (i.e. all) books.  The Grand Censor's efforts are thwarted by the grassroots project whereby library patrons take it upon themselves to memorize the contents of the books, thus preserving the knowledge.

It's a mawkish, overdone story, but at the same time, it accomplishes in less than ten pages what it took Bradbury more than a hundred to do in his later book.  Had I not known of The Fireman, and had I read this in 1948 (when it was originally written), I might well have given it four stars.  As it is, it's redundant and a bit smug.  Three stars.

To the Chicago Abyss, Ray Bradbury

This longer piece is a variation on the same theme.  An old man, one of the few who remembers a pre-apocalyptic past, continually runs afoul of the authorities by recounting fond memories to those who would vicariously remember a better yesterday.  It's another story that pretends to mean more than it says, but doesn't.  Three stars.

An Index to Works of Ray Bradbury, William F. Nolan

As it says on the tin — an impressive litany of Bradbury's 200+ works of fiction.  Look on his works, ye Mighty, and despair. 

Mrs. Pigafetta Swims Well, Reginald Bretnor

From the writers of the increasingly desperate Ferdinand Feghoot puns comes an amusing tale of an opera-singer bewitched by a jealous Mediterranean mermaid.  Told in a charming Italian accent, it is an inoffensive trifle.  Three stars.

Newton Said, Jack Thomas Leahy

New authors are the vigor and the bane of our genre.  We need them to carry on the legacy and to keep things fresh.  At the same time, one never knows if they'll be any good, and first stories are often the worst stories (with the notable exception of Daniel Keyes' superlative Flowers for Algernon). 

So it is with Jack Thomas Leahy's meandering piece, built on affected whimsy and not much else, of the face-off between a doddering transmogrifying elf and his alchemically inclined son.  One star.

Underfollow, John Jakes

This one's even worse.  A citizen of Earth, for a century under the thumb of alien conquerors, decides he's tired of the bad portrayal of humans on alien-produced television shows.  He tries to do something about it.  His attempts backfire.  I read it twice, and I still don't get it.  I didn't enjoy it either time.  One star.

Atomic Reaction, Ron Webb

Deserves a razzberry as long as the poem.  Two seconds should suffice.  One star.

Now Wakes the Sea, J. G. Ballard

British author Ballard has a thing for the sea (viz. his recent, highly acclaimed The Drowned World).  This particular story starts out well, with a man, every night, dreaming of an ever-encroaching sea that threatens to engulf his inland town.  It's atmospheric and genuinely engaging, but the pay-off is disappointing.  Colour in search of a plot.  Three stars.

Watch the Bug-Eyed Monster, Don White

Don White has a taste for the satirical.  Here, he takes on stories that start like, "Zlat was the best novaship pilot in the 81 galaxies," by starting his story with, "Zlat was the best novaship pilot in the 81 galaxies."  The problem is, a satire needs to say something new, not just repeat the same badness.  One star.

Treaty in Tartessos, Karen Anderson

Now things are getting better.  In Ancient Greece, the age-old rivalry between humans and centaurs has reached an unsustainable point, and an innovative solution is required.  A beautifully written metaphor for the conflict between the civilized and the pastoral whose only flaw is a gimmicky ending.  Four stars.

Just Mooning Around, Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor presents a most interesting piece on the tug of war over moons between the sun and its planets.  The conclusion, in which the status of our "moon" is discussed, is an astonishing one.  Five stars.

No Trading Voyage, Doris Pitkin Buck

A lovely piece on the troubled trampings of a dispossed starfaring race called humanity.  Four stars.

Niña Sol, Felix Marti-Ibanez

The Brazilian author who so impressed me a few months back has returned with an even better tale.  Writing in that poetic, slightly foreign style that one only gets from a perfectly fluent non-native speaker, Mr. Ibanez presents us a love story set in Peru between an artist and a Sun Elemental.  Beautiful stuff.  Maybe Bradbury should go to Rio for a few years.  Four stars verging on five.

If you're a Bradbury fan, then the emotional and fantastic character of this month's issue will greatly appeal to you.  And even if you're not, there's enough good stuff at the ends to justify the expenditure of 40 cents. 




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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[April 11, 1963] A Myriad of Musicks (the state of popular music in 1963)

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by Gideon Marcus

Humans like to categorize things.  Types of people, varieties of animals, kinds of music, boundaries of epochs.  As an historian, I find the latter particularly interesting.  The transition between ages is often insensible to those living in them.  After the fact, we tend to compact them into tidily bounded intervals.  The Gay '90s.  The Roaring Twenties.  The Depression.  The War Years. 

Decades from now, historians will debate when the "'50s" truly began and ended.  Did they start with the armistice in Korea?  Did they end with the election of Kennedy?  Looking around, it's hard to draw a sharp line between Ike's decade and the current one.  Things are changing, no doubt, but it's much of a muchness.  The battle for Civil Rights continues.  The Cold War endures. 

If anything, this year feels like an interlude, that time of uncertain winds before the clouds march confidently in a new direction.  You hear it in the political rhetoric.  You see it in the fashion, with the flared skirts of last decade still living (though decreasingly) alongside the pencil-cut of the '60s. 

And you particularly notice it in the musical trends.  For instance, many of the genres of '50s are still with us.  There are lots of new ones, however, competing for time on the airwaves.  The last time this happened, it was 1955.  For a brief time, swing, schmaltz, rock, and calypso competed for our ears' attentions.  Once more, we have an unprecedented level of sonic diversity:

Pop

Pop, as a genre, has been around for several years.  Ricky Nelson, Neil Sedaka, Bobby Darin were all big in the late '50s, and they're still tops today.  A couple of big changes have occurred over the last few years.  In 1960, we saw women entering the field more frequently.  Ingenues like Rosie Hamlin (who recorded Angel Baby just a few miles from my house, Linda Scott, Brenda Lee (straddling the country line), and Kathy Young.  Not to mention Little Peggy March (I will Follow Him) and Eydie Gorme…singing about the one Latin music form still popular in the States:


Blame it on the Bossanova, by Eydie Gorme

Individual girl singers seem to have peaked in popularity last year, though, giving way to Black girl-groups like the Chiffons, the Crystals, the Shirelles, and the Ronettes, which also began hitting the charts around 1960.


He's so Fine, by the Chiffons

Producer Phil Spector is a big force behind these groups, introducing a new concept in music called "The Wall of Sound" that loops in huge numbers of strings and layered vocals to weave a rich tapestry of music.  You can hear his work in hits like…


He's sure the boy I love, by the Crystals

And on the other side of the Pond, we have British artists that sometimes get airplay over here.  Occasionally, I hear an import from Cliff Richards, the crooner front-man for The Shadows.  His latest soundtrack topped the charts in the UK for a while, though it's since been knocked off by a newcomer band that is still virtually unknown in the States:


Please Please Me, by the Beatles

Motown

Both a style and a label, Motown is a Detroit-based record company producing a slick evolution of DooWop, Soul, and R&B feauturing hits like:


Let me go the Right Way, by The Supremes


Laughing Boy, by Mary Wells


Come and Get these Memories, by Martha and the Vandellas

I have a feeling this may be the next big thing…if it can break out of the Steel belt and the Negro stations.

Surf

Out of the prototypical instrumental music days of the late '50s, typified by folks like Duane Eddy and Link Wray, the genre has come full flower.  It started in 1960 with the Ventures and The Shadows, with their intricate renditions of standards like Ghostriders in the Sky and Apache.  Then someone figured out how to send strummy vibrato into a speaker (probably Dick Dale, the self-crowned "King of the Surf Guitar), and now the airwaves are filled with that fluttery, tubular, sound that's straight out of the ocean.  Numbers like:


Miserlou, by Dick Dale


Pipeline, by The Chantays


Surf Rider, by The Lively Ones

Country

With the recent death of the Queen of the Grand Ole Opry, Patsy Cline, it's worth taking stock of who our luminaries in the Country genre.  This is a genre I've been a fan of ever since The Sons of the Pioneers and Hank Williams were twanging Western and Honky Tonk. 


Patsy Cline's Crazy, written by Willie Nelson

Another country star who came out of the 50s and is still going strong is (my favorite), Wanda Jackson:


Whirlpool (sounds like a modern redo of Funnel of Love)

And you've probably heard Skeeter Davis' latest country-pop crossover hit:


The End of the World, by Skeeter Davis

Folk

Out of the culturally meaningful, commentary-laden folk songs of the 1950s, two main movements have formed.  The first, exemplified by new star, Bob Dylan, hews closely to its roots.  Dylan's voice is as friendly as a buzzsaw, and his guitar is unadorned.  But what he sings sounds like the truth.


Song to Woody by Bob Dylan

The second is the harmonious, still simple, but beautifully polished works by earnest bands like The Kingston Trio and Peter, Paul, and Mary, as well as more playful stuff, for instance by The Rooftop Singers. 


The New Frontier by The Kingston Trio


Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter, Paul, and Mary


Walk Right In by The Rooftop Singers

It's difficult to tell which school will in out in the end, but as the 1960s promise to be a turbulent decade, with the fight for Civil Rights and the wars in Indochina heating up, one can bet Folk will be with us throughout.

Jazz

Once king in the 30s and 40s, Jazz has become more of an aesthete's bag.  There are dedicated stations and a semi-regular TV show, Jazz Casual, and plenty of records, but Jazz is definitely not found on the popular airwaves.

Plenty of older artists, like Count Basie, Dexter Gordon, and Duke Ellington remain active, along with mid-rangers like John Coltrane, Earl Bostic, and Dave Brubeck. 


Cheesecake, by Dexter Gordon

The new big thing (though it's been around since the '50s) is "Free Jazz" or "avante-garde" which cares not for fixed chord progressions and time signatures.  At its free-est, it's almost incomprehensible, but tamed, it's exotic and vibrant.


Congo Call, by Prince Lasha

Straddling the jazz and Latin line is Cal Tjader, a '50s vibraphone phenomenon who continues to be popular (you should see my nephew, David, cut a rug to this stuff…)


Cuban Fantasy, by Cal Tjader

—

Of course, this is just a thumbnail sketch of what's out there, and I haven't even touched foreign movements like Jamaican Ska or Brasilian Bossanova.  With so many different genres struggling to catch the public's ear, it's hard to place bets on which ones will be ascendant in the years to come.  For now, sit back, relax, and enjoy the unrivalled musical diversity while it lasts. 

What's YOUR favorite genre/artist?

(If you want to hear these hits and more, tune in to KGJ — Galactic Journey radio plays the newest and the mostest!)
–

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Magazine

[April 9, 1963] IFfy… (May 1963 IF Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Every month, science fiction stories come out in little digest-sized magazines.  It used to be that this was pretty much the only way one got their SF fix, and in the early '50s, there were some forty magazines jostling for newsstand space.  Nowadays, SF is increasingly sold in book form, and the numbers of the digests have been much reduced.  This is, in many ways, for the good.  There just wasn't enough quality to fill over three dozen monthly publications.

That said, though there are now fewer than ten regular SF mags, editors still can find it challenging to fill them all with the good stuff.  Editor Fred Pohl, who helms three magazines, has this problem in a big way.  He saves the exceptional stories and known authors (and the high per word rates) for his flagship digest, Galaxy, and also for his newest endeavor, Worlds of Tomorrow.  That leaves IF the straggler, filled with new authors and experimental works. 

Sometimes it succeeds.  Other times, like this month, it is clear that the little sister in Pohl's family of digests got the short end of the stick.  There's nothing stellar in the May 1963 IF, but some real clunkers, as you'll see.  I earned my pay (such as it is) this month!

The Green World, by Hal Clement

Hal Clement (or Harry Stubbs, if you want to know the name behind the pseudonym) has made a name for himself as a writer of ultrahard science fiction, lovingly depicting the nuts and bolts of accurate space-borne adventure.  The Green Planet details the archaeological and paleontological pursuits of a human expedition on an alien planet.  The puzzle is simple — how can a world not more than 50 million years old possess an advanced ecosystem and a hyper-evolved predator species? 

Clement's novella, which comprises half the issue, is not short on technical description.  What it lacks, however, is interesting characters and a compelling narrative.  I bounced off this story several times.  Each time, I asked myself, "Is it me?"  No, it's not.  It's a boring story, and the pay-off, three final pages that read like a cheat, aren't worth the time investment.  One star.

Die, Shadow!, by Algis Budrys

Every once in a while, you get a story that is absolutely beautiful, filled with lyrical writing, and yet, you're not quite sure what the hell just happened.  Budrys' tale of a modern-day Rip van Winkle, who sleeps tens of thousands of years after an attempted landing on Venus, is one of those.  I enjoyed reading it, but it was a little too subtle for me.  Still, it's probably the best piece in the issue (and perhaps more appropriate to Fantastic).  Three stars.

Rundown, by Robert Lory

Be kind to the worn-out bum begging for a dime — that coin might literally spell the difference between life and death.  A nicely done, if rather inconsequential vignette, from a first-time author.  Three stars.

Singleminded, by John Brunner

In the midst of a ratcheted-up Cold War, a stranded moon-ferry pilot is rescued by a chatty Soviet lass.  The meet cute is spoiled, by turns, first by the unshakable paranoia the pilot feels for the Communist, and second by the silly, incongruous ending.  I suspect only one of those was the writer's intention.  Three stars.

Nonpolitical New Frontiers, by Theodore Sturgeon
ans. Al Landau, gideon marcus, hal clement, harry s
Sturgeon continues to write rather uninspired, overly familiar non-fiction articles for IF.  In this one, Ted points out that fascinating science doesn't require rockets or foreign planets — even the lowly nematode is plenty interesting.  Three stars.

Another Earth, by David Evans and Al Landau

When I was 14, (mumblety-mumblety) years ago, I wrote what I thought was a clever and unique science fiction story.  It featured a colony starship with a cargo of spores and seeds that, through some improbable circumstance, travels in time and ends up in orbit around a planet that turns out to be primeval Earth.  The Captain decides to seed the lifeless planet, ("Let the land produce…") thus recreating the Biblical Genesis. 

I did not realize that Biblically inspired stories were (even then) hardly original.  In particular, the Adam and Eve myth gets revisited every so often.  It's such a hoary subject that these stories are now told with a wink (viz. Robert F. Young's Jupiter Found and R.A. Lafferty's In the Garden).

Why this long preface?  Because the overlong story that took two authors (and one undiscerning editor) to vomit onto the back pages of IF is just a retelling of the Noah myth.  An obvious one.  A bad one.  One star.

Turning Point, by Poul Anderson

Last up, the story the cover illustrates features a concept you won't find in Analog.  A crew of terran explorers finds a planet of aliens that, despite their primitive level of culture, are far more intelligent than humans.  The story lasts just long enough for us to see the solution we hatch to avoid our culture being eclipsed by these obviously superior extraterrestrials.  Not bad, but it suffers for the aliens being identical to humans.  Three stars.

Thus ends the worst showing from IF in three years.  Here's a suggestion: raise the cover price to 50 cents and pay more than a cent-and-a-half per word?

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Magazine

[April 1, 1963] Stuck in the Past (April 1963 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

The world is a topsy-turvy place.  Whether it's a coup in Guatemala, or pro-Peronista unrest in Argentina, or a slow-motion civil war in Indochina, one can't open the newspaper without seeing evidence of disorder.  Even at home, it's clear that the battle for Civil Rights is just getting started, with the Southern Christian Leadership Conference planning a sit-in campaign in Birmingham, Alabama, the most segregated city in the country.  It's been a long time coming, but there's no question that many folks (on the wrong side of history) are upset at the changing order of things. 

So it's no wonder that some turn to the old familiar pleasures to escape from reality.  And while most science fiction magazines are now flirting with a new, literary style (particularly F&SF), a direction the British are starting to call "The New Wave," Analog Science Fact – Science Fiction sticks stolidly to the same recipe it's employed since the early 1950s: Psi, Hokum, and Conservatism. 

I suppose some might find the April 1963 Analog comforting, but I just found it a slog.  What do you think?

Which Stars Have Planets?, by Stanley Leinwoll

You'd think an article with a name like this would be right up my alley, but it turns out to be some metaphysics about planets causing sunspots.  Because, you see, Jupiter's orbital period of 12 years is close to the solar sunspot cycle of 11 years.  And if you add up the orbital periods of Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, and divide by four, you get 11 years. 

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?!?

Nothing.  Not a damned thing.  The latter observation is numerological folderol, and the former is meaningless given that sunspots don't only show up on the side facing Jupiter.

Two stars for the pretty pictures.

"What'll You Give?", by Winston Sanders

Last month, Editor Campbell wrote a piece about how the gas giants of our solar system were untapped reservoirs of chemical wealth just waiting to be exploited.  "Winston Sanders" (a frequent pseudonym of Poul Anderson) has obliged Campbell by writing about a Jupiter mining mission in which a deep-diving spacecraft encounters trouble while scooping the ammonia and methane from the giant planet's atmosphere. 

By all rights, it should be an exciting piece, and yet, it almost completely fails to be.  A tidbit the Young Traveler taught me as I was writing my latest novel: don't assume your audience will find the technical details fascinating.  You have to make them relevant to the characters, described through their reactions. 

I could have done without the hackneyed nationality depictions, too.  Three stars, because the topic is good.  The execution is less so.

Sonny, by Rick Raphael

Hayseed army recruit plays havoc with local electrical systems when he telepaths home instead of writing like everyone else.  The military sends him to Russia to send mental postcards.

It's as dumb and smug as it sounds — the most Campbellian piece of the issue.  It is in English, however.

Two stars.

Last Resort, by Stephen Bartholomew

Things start well-enough in this story about an astronaut slowly but fatally losing air from his capsule.  I liked the bit about using a balloon to find the leak (it drifts to the hole, you see), but all trace of verisimilitude is lost when the spaceman lights not one but two cigarettes during the crisis!  Maybe smokes of the future don't burn oxygen. 

And, of course, the story is "solved" with psi.  Because this is Analog.

Two stars.

Frigid Fracas (Part 2 of 2), by Mack Reynolds

After Middle Middle class mercenary, Major Joe Mauser, utterly louses up his chance at joining the ranks of the Uppers through military daring, he signs up with the underground movement whose aim is to tear the class system down altogether.  He is dispatched to the Sov-world capital of Budapest with the cover of being a liaison, but he's really an agent to see if the Workers' Paradise is similarly inclined to revolution.

This, the fourth installment in this particular future history, is rich on color but poor in credibility, and there's a lot more talking than doing.  It's not as disappointing as Reynolds' recent "Africa" series, but I expected a better conclusion to a promising saga.

Three stars.

Iceberg From Earth, by J. T. McIntosh

Iceberg is an espionage potboiler whose setting is a trio of colonized planets that, blessedly, isn't Earth, Mars, and Venus.  I did appreciate that the hero agent was a woman (the iceberg); I was sad that she wasn't the viewpoint character — instead, it was a rather lackluster and anti-woman fellow spy.  I did like the solar system McIntosh created, though.  Three stars.

A Slight Case of Limbo, by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.

Lastly, if not quite leastly, is this tale about a stout-hearted guy with a weak heart who gives his life to save another.  Except that the other is an alien who swaps the human's ticker with a machine, which turns out to be a mixed blessing.  The story meanders all over the place, and the ending is right out of a mediocre episode of Twilight Zone.  Still, it's not bad — I think I was just disappointed that the Simakian beginning had a Serlingian end.  Three stars.

And so we've come to the end of the April digests (though technically, Analog is now a slick).  Campbell's mag clocks in at a sad 2.6 stars.  Galaxy is the clear champion, at 3.5 stars.  Fantasy and Science Fiction, Fantastic, and New Worlds are all pleasantly above water at 3.2, and Amazing trails badly at 2.1.

Four of 41 fiction pieces were by women — par for the course.  There were enough 4 and 5-star stories to fill two good digests, my favorite of which was On the Fourth Planet, by Jesse Bone.

Speaking of quality, I am proud to announce that Galactic Journey is a finalist for the Best Fanzine Hugo!  Thanks to all who of you who nominated us, and I hope we'll have your continued support come Labor Day.  Either way, we're just happy to have you along for the ride. 

What have you enjoyed the most about the Journey?

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Science / Space Race

[March 24, 1963] Bumper Crop (A bounty of exciting space results)

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by Gideon Marcus

February and March have been virtually barren of space shots, and if Gordo Cooper's Mercury flight gets postponed into May, April will be more of the same.  It's a terrible week to be a reporter on the space beat, right?

Wrong!

I've said it before and I'll say it again.  Rocket launches may make for good television, what with the fire, the smoke, and the stately ascent of an overgrown pencil into orbit…but the real excitement lies in the scientific results.  And this month has seen a tremendous harvest, expanding our knowledge of the heavens to new (pardon the pun) heights.  Enjoy this suite of stories, and tell me if I'm not right…

How hot is it?

Mariner 2 went silent more than two months ago, but scientists are still poring over the literal reams of data returned since its rendezvous with Venus.  The first interplanetary mission was a tremendous success, revealing a great deal about the Planet of Love, whose secrets were heretofore protected by distance and a shroud of clouds. 

Here's the biggie: Preliminary reports suggested that the surface temperature of "Earth's Twin" is more than 400 degrees Fahrenheit.  It turns out that was a conservative estimate.  In fact, the rocky, dry landscape of Venus swelters at 800 degrees — possibly even hotter than the day side of sun-baked first planet, Mercury.  It's because the planet's dense carbon dioxide atmosphere acts like a heat blanket.  There's no respite on the night side of the hot world either; the thick air spreads the temperatures out evenly.

Thus, virtually every story written about Venus has been rendered obsolete.  Will Mariner 3 destroy our conception of Mars, too?

Just checking the lights

On February 25, the Department of Defense turned little Solrad 1 back on after 22 months of being off-line.  The probe had been launched in conjunction with a navigation satellite, Transit, back in June 1960.  For weeks, it had provided our first measurements of the sun's X-ray output (energy in that wavelength being blocked by the Earth's atmosphere and, thus, undetectable from the ground).  DoD has given no explanation for why the probe has been reactivated, or why it was turned off in the first place.  Maybe there's a classified payload involved?

Radio News from the Great White Spacecraft

Last September, the Canadians launched their first satellite — the "top-sounder," Alouette, whose mission was to measure the radio-reflective regions of our atmosphere from above.  The results are in, and to any HAM or communications buff, its huge news.

It turns out that the boundaries of the ionosphere are rougher at higher latitudes than at lower latitudes.  Moreover, Alouette has determined that the Van Allen Belts, great girdles of radiation around our planet, dip closer to the Earth at higher latitudes.  This heats up the ionosphere and causes the roughness-causing instability. — the more active the electrons, the poorer the radio reflection.  Now we finally know why radio communication is less reliable way up north.  The next step will be learning how to compensate for this phenomenon so that communication, both civil and military, can be made more reliable.

Sun Stroke Warning

After a year in orbit, NASA's Orbiting Solar Observatory is still going strong, with 11 of 13 experiments still functioning.  The satellite has probably returned more scientifically useful data than all of the ground-based solar observatories to date (certainly in the UV and X Ray spectra, which is blocked by the atmosphere).

Moreover, OSO 1 has returned a startling result.  It turns out that solar flares, giant bursts of energy that affect the Earth's magnetic field, causing radio storms and aurorae, are preceded by little microflares.  The sequence and pattern of these precursors may be predictable, in which case, OSO will give excellent advance warning of these distruptive events.

Tax money at work, indeed!

Galaxy, Galaxy, Burning Bright

In the late 1950s, astronomers began discovering some of the brightest objects in the universe.  It wasn't their visible twinkle that impressed so much as their tremendous radio outbursts.  What could these mysterious "quasi-stellar sources" be?

Now we have a pretty good guess, thanks to a recent scientific paper.  Cal Tech observers using the Mt. Wilson and Mt. Palomar observatories turned their gaze to object 3C 273, a thirtheenth magnitude object in the constellation of Virgo.  It turns out that 3C 273's spectrum exhibits a tremendous "red shift," that is to say, all of the light coming from it has wavelengths stretched beyond what one would expect.  This is similar to the decrease in pitch of a railroad whistle as the engine zooms away from a listener.

The only way an object could have such a redshift is if it were of galactic proportions and receding from us at nearly 50,000 km/sec.  This would place it almost 200,000,000 light years away, making it one of the most distant (and therefore, oldest) objects ever identified.

At some point, astronomer Hubble's contention that the universe is expanding is likely to be confirmed.  These quasi-stellar objects ("quasars"?) therefore represent signposts from a very young, very tiny universe.  What exciting times we live in!

Five years of Beep, Beep

St. Patricks Day, 1958 — Vanguard 1 was the fourth satellite in orbit, but it was the first civilian satellite, and it is the oldest one to remain up there.  In fact, it is the only one of the 24 probes launched in the 1950s that still works.

What has a grapefruit-sized metal ball equipped with a radio beacon done for us?  Well, plenty, actually.  Because it has been tracked in orbit so long, not only have we learned quite a bit about the shape of the Earth (the variations in Vanguard's orbit are due to varying gravities on the Earth, the measurement of which is called "geodetics"), but the satellite's slow decay also tells us a lot about the density of the atmosphere several hundred miles up.

So, while Sputnik and Explorer might have had the first laughs, Vanguard looks likely to have the last for a good long time.

Telstar's little brother does us proud

RCA's Relay 1, launched in December, is America's second commercial communications satellite.  It ran into trouble immediately upon launch, its batteries producing too little current to operate its transmitter.  Turns out it was a faulty regulator on one of the transponders; the bright engineers switched to the back-up (this is why you carry a spare!), and Relay was broadcasting programs across the Atlantic by January.  660 orbits into its mission and 500 beamed programs later, NASA announces that Relay has completed all tests. 

Nevertheless, why abandon a perfectly good orbital TV station?  Relay will continue to be used to transmit shows transcontinentally, especially now that Telstar has finally gone silent (February 21).  There is even talk that Relay could broadcast the Tokyo Olympics in 1964, if it lasts that long!

In a sea of Blue, a drop of Red

On March 12, 3-12 at the Spring Recognition Dinner of Miracle Mile Association, in Los Angeles, Cal Tech President, Lee DuBridge, noted that the United States has put 118 probes into space, while the Russians have only lofted 34 (that we know of).  He also pointed out that virtually no scientific papers have resulted from the Soviets' "science satellites." 

As if in reply, on March 21 the Soviets finally, after 89 days without a space shot, launched Kosmos 13.  (To be fair, it's been kind of quiet on the American side, too).  The probe was described as designed to "continue outer space research."  No description of payload nor weight specifications were given.  Its orbit is one that allows it to cover much of the world.  While it may be that some of the Kosmos series are truly scientific probes, you can bet that, like America's Discoverer program, the Kosmos label is a blind to cover the Russians' use of spy satellites.  Oh well.  Turnabout is fair play, right?

[Next up, don't miss Mark Yon's spotlight of this month's New Worlds!  And if I saw you at Wondercon, do drop me a line…]

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