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[Nov. 14, 1959] Disappointments and Weirdness (Glenn L. Martin and The Twilight Zone)

Have no fear, for The Traveler has returned from Orlando safe and sound.  My apologies for not submitting this article earlier, but I did not have easy access to a typewriter or my editor while on my vacation. 

I have come home to my brand new typewriter, however, and it is time to tell you all about the local Glenn L. Martin Company plant… and to wrap up the last four weeks' worth of that television sensation, The Twilight Zone!

First off, the plant.  Martin has become one of this nation's leading developer of rocket systems including the Titan and the Atlas, both of which have been tapped for service with the manned space program.  Their Orlando plant opened in December 1957, and I was looking forward to seeing some boosters in the process of manufacture.

Nothing doing.  The Orlando plant is specifically for the production of smaller weapons systems including the Lacrosse and Pershing artillery missiles (for the Army), the Bullpup air-to-surface missile (for the Navy), and the Missile Master, an electronic air defense control system.  Worse yet, all of the work is secret, for obvious reasons, and I was turned away at the gate.  So much for the inside view!  At least I had a lovely time in the Orlando sun, which looks much like San Diego's sun, with my cousin and her family.

Also, I got home in time to watch The Twilight Zone last night, so I now have four episodes to talk about.  Ready for a preview?

The fourth episode of The Twilight Zone was The Sixteen Millimeter Shrine, in which Ida Lupino, playing an aging star of the screen, shuts herself off from he world to watch endless replays of her old movies.  Unable to face an aging reality and the reality of aging, she ultimately disappears into one of her films.  The end is telegraphed from the beginning, and this was one of the show's poorer entries.

Walking Distance, episode five, fares a bit better.  A 36-year old ad-man (played by a 46-year old Gig Young) flees from the city, desperate to recapture the simplicity of his small town pre-teen days.  He returns to his stomping grounds to find them unchanged—in fact, he has gone back in time.  He even meets himself and his family, whereupon his father urges him to return to the present and let his younger self enjoy an unshared youth.  It's not bad, but it is mawkish and somewhat drawn out.

I'm a sucker for “deal with the Devil” stories, so I enjoyed Escape Clause: A thoroughly unlikable hypochondriac played by David Wayne bargains his soul for invulernability and immortality.  The fellow had only been concerned with himself before the exchange, and such remains the case afterward.  Rather than focusing on a myriad of fantasized ailments, he instead throws himself into a series of would-be fatal accidents in an attempt to chase thrills.  He quickly tires of the game and becomes just as miserable as he had been. 

Things look up when his wife ends up in a fatal accidental fall.  Our “hero” calls the police and confesses to the crime, hoping to get the Chair, which he would endure with ease and a smirk on his face.  Instead, he receives life imprisonment.  Oh the irony.  In his final act, the prisoner beseeches Old Nick to take his life prematurely, and off he goes—to Hell, presumably.

That ending frustrated me.  Were I immortal and stuck in prison, I'm sure I'd find little difficulty (and excitement) in breaking free.  But, as my daughter noted, the fellow hadn't much soul to begin with; selling it to Satan couldn't improve matters.  It's no wonder Wayne's character was doomed to disappointment.

Finally, we've got the brand-new The Lonely.  A convict is incarcerated on an asteroid; a supply ship comes every three months, but besides that, he has only a few books and a diary to keep him company.  Though the prisoner is innocent of the murder for which he was convicted, a pardon seems unlikely.  The supply ship captain takes pity on the convict some four years into his sentence and gives him an unusual gift—a robot in the shape of a woman.

I actually don't want to spoil this one in the event it gets rerun mid-season.  Jack Warden does an excellent job with his role as the convict.  The episode kept us guessing throughout.  It has the setup of Eric Russell's Panic Button and much of the plot of John Rackham's If You Wish.  These stories were so recently published that I have to wonder if they did not directly inspire the show.

Back shortly with a wrap-up of the new Galaxy.  Stay tuned!


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P.S. Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!



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[Nov. 10, 1959] Orlando Oranges and Space Slips

Greetings from sunny Orlando, Florida!

I know what you're thinking: why travel across the country to central Florida, which at first glance has little to offer to the tourist?

Firstly, my only first cousin on my father's side lives here with her family.  Secondly, Orlando is home to the Martin Marrietta manufacturing plant—and guess who has a free pass to see the Titan and Atlas rocket assembly lines?

Also, I wanted to see the place before it is destroyed in next month's atomic holocaust.  Or at least before Fidel's revolution travels to the mainland.  I imagine it will hit Florida before other states.

As you can see, Orlando has gotten its Christmas decorations up early.  Someday Christmas will precede Halloween, I predict.

I haven't had a chance to tour much, so I'll save the meat of my sightseeing report for next time.  In the meantime, here's a Space News round-up:

(Note that neither of these stories happened in Florida, which just figures since it is one of the rare times I'm actually in the state)

As you know from reading this column, there are two competing manned space programs in this country.  Sadly, one of them has suffered a setback: On its third mission, the rocket plane X-15 experienced an explosion in mid-flight.  Luckily, pilot Scott Crossfield managed to dump his fuel in a jiffy and get the plane on the ground in one piece.  He's fine, and the plane will fly again, but it won't go up until it's known precisely what happened.

The Air Force has also had a mishap: Discoverer 7, their capsule-return spacecraft designed for biological sample return (which hasn't carried an actual biological sample in several flights) got up into orbit just fine; but then it started to tumble, and the boys in blue couldn't get the capsule to separate from the rest of the craft.

While I may be cynical about the stated purpose of the Discoverer program, it does underline how technically complicated even an unmanned mission can be.  Getting the rockets to work is only one of many problems to be tackled before we can think of sending a person into space.

I will try to have an update in two days' time, but it may have to wait until I get back home.  I've a brand-new typewriter waiting for me there!


Note: I love comments (you can do so anonymously), and I always try to reply.
P.S. Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!



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[Nov. 6, 1959] In someone else's skin for a while (December 1959 Galaxy)

Whenever I read the book review columns by Floyd Gold, Damon Knight, Groff Conklin, etc., or the science articles by Willy Ley and Isaac Asimov, I’m always as fascinated by the little personal details they disclose as the information and opinions they provide.  It’s a glimpse into their lives that humanizes their viewpoint.  Anecdotes make fun reading, too.

Since I assume all of my readers (bless the five of you!) feel similarly, otherwise why bother reading my column, I thought I’d share a little bit about how information gets into my brain prior to article composition.

My issues all come by mail subscription now as it is significantly cheaper than buying them on the newsstand and more consistent.  It means I’m no longer hunting the newsstands for other magazines, but now that there are so few active digests, this seems the best way to go. 

I have an evening ritual that I’ve preserved since my teen years, particularly in the Fall and Winter when the sun sets early.  After coming home from work, the rays of sunlight slanted sharply against my driveway, I pull out my portable radio and a beverage, rest my back against a tree or lamppost, and read until the sun dips below the horizon.  Here in Southern California, we get a nice mix of White, Negro, and Latin stations, so I can listen to all the latest Rock ‘n Roll and Rumba as well as the insipid croonings of Paul Anka and Pat Boone.  It makes for a delightful half hour of escape from the real world better than M, reefer, or any other drug you’d care to mention.

What have I been reading, you ask?  This bi-month’s issue of Galaxy, of course—December 1959 to be exact.  Galaxy is the most consistent of the four magazines to which I have subscriptions, generally falling in the upper middle of the pack.


EMSH

As always, I started with Willy Ley’s column.  I’m impressed that after ten years of writing, he still finds interesting topics to teach about.  In this one, he discusses the (probably) extinct Giant Sloth and the efforts naturalists have made over the centuries to learn more about the creature.  I love paleontology, so it was right up my alley.  By the way, for the overly curious, this piece I read while soaking in a nice hot bath over the weekend.

Leading the book is Robert Sheckley’s newest, Prospector’s Special.  The setting is Venus , where a handful of hardscrabble miners brave the blazing heat and sandwolves of the Venusian deserts in the hopes of finding a vein of Goldenstone.  It’s one of those stories where the protagonist runs into worse and worse luck and has to use wits to survive to the end, which has a suitably happy ending.  Bob is invariably good, particularly at this kind of story, and I polished this one off in the same aforementioned bath. 


DILLON

Rosel George Brown continues to be almost good, which is frustrating, indeed.  Her Flower Arrangement is the first-person narrated story of a rather dim housewife and how the bouquet she and her kindergartener made turned out to unlock the secrets of the universe.  It comes from a refreshing female perspective, but it’s just a bit too silly and affected to work well. 


DILLON

Con Blomberg’s only written one other story, and that one appeared in Galaxy two years ago.  His Sales Talk is interesting, about two salesmen who try to sell a recalcitrant unemployed fellow on the joys of living vicariously through the taped memories of others.  The would-be mark makes a compelling argument against the dangers of becoming a worthless consumer.  There is, of course, a twist, which I half-predicted before the end. 

There's an interesting point to the story.  In the first place, it predicts a “post-scarcity” economy.  Let me explain: There are three sectors to the economy.  They are Agricultural, Manufacturing, and Service.  Until a few hundred years ago, Agricultural was far and away the dominant sector, with most people relying on subsistence farming.  Then the Industrial Revolution hit, and the peasants moved to the city to work on the assembly line, while farming became more and more mechanized, requiring fewer people.  As industry became more efficient, the Service sector grew—waiters, courtesans, attorneys, doctors, advertisers, artists, etc. 

But what happens when industry and agriculture become fully mechanized?  What if robots take over the Service sector?  What is left for humans to produce?  The world only has so much need for art, music, politics, and religion.  In a post-scarcity economy, most of us will become consumers, so the more pessimistic predictions go.  And all we'll do all day is lie around living other people's dreams, predicts Blomberg.


MORROW

Is the idea that plugging oneself into a memory-tape machine, experiencing all five senses and the feelings of the original senser, all that different from watching a film or reading a good story?  After all, both take you out of reality for a while, make you feel along with the protagonists.  When full “Electronic Living” becomes possible, will it really be a revolution or just evolution?  Food for thought.

That’s what I’ve got so far.  Stay tuned soon for further reviews of this extra-thick magazine.  You’ll next hear from me in sunny Orlando, Florida!


Note: I love comments (you can do so anonymously), and I always try to reply.
P.S. Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!



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[Nov. 2, 1959] Technical Difficulties II

Hello, all.  My editor is nice enough to let me publish a quick note in lieu of an article.

My typewriter has given up the ghost, which has made it prohibitively difficult to submit for the column.  I'll have a new one in the next couple of days, after which I promise I shall make up for lost time.

In the meantime, please enjoy my prior pieces, catch yourself up, and I'll have plenty to talk about shortly.

Thanks for reading!

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[Oct. 30, 1959] Tricks and Treats (November 1959 if Science Fiction

The new IF Science Fiction magazine, now under the Galaxy aegis, is an odd duck.  Not quite a literary book, like F&SF, not an antediluvian throwback like Astounding, and not as polished as its older brother, Galaxy, IF is nevertheless generally a worthy read.

I don’t think it’s just a repository for substandard Galaxy submissions—the stories in IF are different in style and tone.  I think, if anything, it’s more of a showcase for experimental stuff and new authors.

As such, we get to see a lot of fresh faces, but not necessarily the best tales.  Here are my impressions from the November issue, the third under Gold/Pohl’s editorial helm:

First up is If You Wish, by John Rackham, in which a confirmed bachelor botanist secluded in a space-based greenhouse, is burdened with a female-form robot assistant, with whom he (grudgingly) falls in love.  Traditionally, IF has stuck its best submissions right up front, but not this time.  It’s not bad, exactly, and there is some quite good writing in here, as well as a lot of interesting and detailed stuff on Venusian botany, but it reads a bit like a wish-fulfillment daydream.  It also strikes me as overly fannish that the robot’s name is “Susan Calvin,” and direct reference is made to Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics. 

On the other hand, the two characters are pretty well-drawn, the protagonist is unfailingly a gentleman, albeit a somewhat neurotic one, and in the end, it’s Susan who’s in control of the situation the whole time.  By the way, if you don’t spot the “twist” in the first few pages, you’re not trying.

Miriam Allen deFord has been around for a while.  Her Nor Snow Nor Rain starts out so well, but it ends with a whimper.  A retiring postal worker comes upon a mystery on his last day—the office to which he must deliver his last parcels doesn’t exist!  Being a science fiction fan (the first I’ve read about in a science fiction story, and a nice piece of portraying someone with multiple interests), he comes up with a number of explanations, which serve as effective red herrings.

Sadly, the actual explanation is the least interesting and the most hackneyed.  Again, good writing but flawed execution.

I did not like Good-by, Gloria by “Ted Bain” (really the prolific Britisher, E.C.Tubb).  Spacers working for an insufferably perfect captain decide to leave stranded an insufferably perfect female castaway, who has bootstrapped herself a la Tarzan, for fear that she and the captain will have insufferably perfect children.  It’s supposed to be funny; it comes off as heartless.  And dumb. 

The talented J.T.McIntosh’ Return of a Prodigal is an altogether different matter.  It is more bitter than sweet, but it’s also defiant and triumphant, and it stars a very compelling female lead.  In brief: about six generations from now, the Moon is colonized.  It turns out that a decent proportion of humanity suffers from incurable and potentially fatal spacesickness.  As a result, the Moon colony (the beautifully conceived and described Luna City) becomes a haven for hereditary “viaphobes,” those who cannot go anywhere else to live.  They are a proud bunch, and they refuse to admit that they have a disorder; they can leave whenever they want, they maintain.

At the tender age of 18, a girl named Clare, overshadowed by her pretty older sister, Emma, decides to go to New York on Earth and expose viaphobia publicly.  The ensuing article shames the lunar residents, and Clare is essentially banished.  Some ten years later, after a failed marriage on a colony world, Clare returns to Luna City, and that is where the story begins.

I don’t want to spoil any more, even though I do not have permission from Mr. McIntosh to distribute the tale.  All I can say is that it’s worth finding and reading.  I’m not sure if it’s a 4 or 5 star story, but I suspect I will go for 5 since there’s nothing wrong with it—it’s just a little hard to take at times.

Wynne Whiteford has the next entry: The Gelzek Business.  Alien female engineer and temptress convinces two men to back production of her gizmos despite her secretiveness regarding their actual function.  It’s an unsatisfying story, one of the weaker entries.  I’m still waiting for an unflawed Whiteford piece. 

Jerry Sohl's Counterweight, about the extreme measures taken to keep several thousand colonists sane on a year-long trip to an interstellar colony, is diverting, well-written, but unremarkable.  The solution, having one of the crew commit a slew of crimes to invoke the wrath of the passengers, seems awfully silly. 

I did enjoy E.C. Tubb's other story in this book, the thriller, Orange.  On a world with the universe's most valuable substance, guarded by a race of psionic aliens, money is king.  And the only way to make money is to own a trading concession.  One can duel a concession-holder for such a prize, which makes life interesting indeed.  This story details one such duel and the unorthodox way in which it turns out.  It's the most Galaxy-style of all of the stories in this ish, I think.

All told, the November issue comes up a 3-star mag.  This is misleading, however, given the wide inconsistency of its contents.  IF may end up being one of the greats someday.  It's certainly a damnsight better than Astounding.

Sorry about the late edition.  I didn't have much to report on before, and now my typewriter is busted.  Expect the next update in a few days.  At least the next lovely crop of magazines has arrived in my mail.

Happy Halloween, everyone!

(Note: It is not clear who drew the internal artwork–credit goes to "Harrison, Morrow, and Emsh."  I'm guessing the art for Prodigal is Emsh's.


Note: I love comments (you can do so anonymously), and I always try to reply.
P.S. Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!



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[Oct. 24, 1959] Bleah! (November 1959 Astounding–the worst yet!)

I've found the bottom, and it isn't the Mariana Trench.

They say fifty cents won't buy you what it used to, and that's certainly true of Astounding, a science fiction digest.  The November issue, which has a hastily pasted price of four bits on its cover (replacing the original 35 cents) is, without a doubt, the worst pile of garbage I've read in a very long time.

I'll spare you the gory details and give you a quick thumbnail sketch of its contents.  Opening the ish is the first part of a two-part story, The Best Made Plans.  I didn't even make it through the first half of this first part.  So dull was the tale, so linearly and prosaicly was it told, that I can't even remember what it's about.  I'll read the summary next month and, perhaps, try again.

Eric Frank Russell's Panic Button features two exploring aliens who happen across a lone Terran on an otherwise uninhabited planet.  Upon finding him, the human pushes a blue button, which frightens off the aliens.  This is all part of a brilliant human scheme to seed the planets of the universe with convicts equipped with panic buttons.  The assumption (proven correct, of course; aliens are so dumb, says editor Campbell) is that the button must do something and the lone humans must be there for a reason, and the overactive imaginations of the would-be conquering aliens do the rest. 

And this is one of the book's better stories!

Then you've got A Filbert is a Nut, by newcomer Rick Raphael.  In this one, a crazy person makes atom bombs out of clay that work.  Or does he?  Passable–for 1953 Imagination, perhaps.

Randall Garrett's The Unnecessary Man should have been titled "The Unnecessary Story."  Young man learns that democracy is a sham and the galaxy is run by a dictatorship.  But it's a benevolent one, so that's okay.  Bleah.

I've never heard of Richard Sabia before, and if his I was a Teen-age Secret Weapon is any indication, I hope I don't see him again.  Yokel causes harm to anyone around him.  He is eventually inducted into the army, dropped off to be captured by the enemy, and Communism's collapse ensues.  Lousy.

Finally, we have Robert Silverberg's Certainty, which is almost decent.  Alien ship lands on a human outpost planet, and the crew of the garrison ship is helpless against the intruders' mind-control powers.  Again, it's the sort of thing I'd expect from a decade-old lesser mag.

As for the Analytical Laboratory for the far-superior August issue, the readers' results are well in line with mine, with Leinster's The Alien's a clear winner.

I'm sorry I don't have anything cheery to report.  It took me most of the month to get through this awful, 1.5 star book.  I'm about ready to cancel my subscription…


Note: I love comments (you can do so anonymously), and I always try to reply.
P.S. Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!



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[Oct. 22, 1959] Fiat Libro! (A Canticle for Leibowitz)

Walter M. Miller Jr.’s A Canticle for Leibowitz is a melancholy masterpiece.

Every so often, a science fiction novel comes around that transcends the genre and gives lie to the assertion that non-mainstream fiction is somehow literarily inferior.  When this happens, the field gains a bit of respectability and, hopefully, attracts more great authors to its fold.

Miller’s three-part novel was originally published as three separate stories in Fantasy and Science Fiction, and I am given to understand that they have been much improved in book form.  In brief summary, Canticle tells the story of seventeen centuries of history after an atomic apocalypse nearly destroys humanity.  The protagonists are monks associated with an abbey of the Catholic Church which, as it did in the Dark Ages after the fall of the Western Roman Empire, keeps the flame of knowledge kindled even as the world sinks to barbarism around it.

In the first part, Fiat Homo, a 26th century novitiate discovers a fallout shelter that bears relics of the long-departed, venerable Leibowitz, in whose honor the novitiate’s abbey has been founded.  It is more of a mood piece than anything else, and if not for the setting, could have been a tale of any 7th century monastery.

Fiat Lux is a 32nd century story tale that takes place during a Renaissance.  As abbey monks re-invent the arc light, a natural philosopher from a would-be continental empire visits the compound to conduct research.  His coming presages an invasion by the empire’s ruler as prelude to a bid for American conquest.  This was my favorite section of the book, capturing that flush of excitement that accompanies a great scientific leap forward.  It also has, I think, the best-drawn characters.

Part 3, Fiat Voluntas Tua, takes place in the 37th century.  Humanity has surpassed the achievements of the 20th century, with robot highways and interstellar colonies.  Yet the old rivalries between East and West remain, and the Superpowers are just a hair-trigger away from a second Diluvium Ignis.  The Church stands ready to launch an mission (of the religious variety) to the stars to preserve itself through the impending catastrophe.  I enjoyed this part the least, though it is by no means unworthy.

Canticle moves at a majestic, unhurried pace, and yet also a page-turner–no mean feat.  Throughout is this feeling of inexorability, that humanity is doomed to a certain cycle of events so long as we remain human.  The book is the embodiment of Santayana's now-famous aphorism, "Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it."  My wife found the premise depressing, but I saw (and I think Miller intended us to see) that sliver of hope in the Church's final peregrine mission.  Canticle's Church is the one element of humanity whose purpose was to preserve humanity's memories, after all. 

Miller makes liberal use of Latin, which is translated directly, obliquely, and sometimes not at all.  For those of us who took college Latin, it poses no great difficulty, but the new breed of uncultured students may find it challenging.  It cannot be denied that it lends a distinct and authentic flavor to the proceedings.

Interestingly, one character (aside from the erstwhile Leibowitz) appears in all three parts of the book: Lazarus, the Wandering Jew.  Wry and wistful, he lends an earthy element to otherwise rather majestic proceedings as he carries the virtual entirety of the mantle of Judaism as he waits for Him to return to Earth.  I liked Lazarus, but I may be a little biased on the matter.

In sum, Canticle is a superb piece of fiction: spiritual, daring, by turns tense, prosaic, horrifying, and humorous.  I'll be very surprised if it isn't nominated for next year's Hugo.

(By the way, this article marks a full year since I began this column!  Many thanks to those of you who have stuck with me.  You keep me writing.)


Note: I love comments (you can do so anonymously), and I always try to reply.
P.S. Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!



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[Oct. 20, 1959] The Twilight Zone and the Far Side (Television and Luna 3)

Twilight Zone, the new television science fiction/fantasy serial program, continues to be excellent.  As a result, Friday night's activities now revolve around ensuring that the family can tune in.

Here's a quick recap:

Episode 2, One for the Angels features aged sidewalk peddler Lou Bookman, beloved by the neighborhood children.  Unfortunately for all concerned, his hours are numbered; a certain Mr. Death has been dispatched to ensure that the salesman's departure occurs according to schedule.  Of course, the huckster has other plans, but cheating Death has its own set of consequences…

There were no surprises in this episode, at least not to me, but I did enjoy the characterization of Mr. Death a great deal.

Episode 3, Mr. Denton on Doomsday, follows the eponymous Al Denton, a former gunfighter turned alcoholic both for his protection and that of those who would challenge him (and lose).  An encounter with a new gun and a mysterious snake oil salesman named Dr. Fate sobers Denton up, but also appears to set him back on his old destructive path. 

I did not see the twist coming in this episode, and it's a good one.  And if you like oaters, you'll especially enjoy this outing.

My daughter summed up the last fortnight's viewing with this: "The great thing about this show is it takes all your deepest fears and sets them on their head."  I think I may have her start writing my columns from now on.

In other news, Luna 3 has finally returned a dozen vacation slides from its jaunt around the Moon.  At first glance, it looks as if the back side is quite a bit different from the front.  Significantly, there are far fewer of the gray splotches or "maria" (seas).  The Soviet news source, T.A.S.S., has been typically tight-lipped regarding the primary question on everyone's lips: is the far side where the Moon keeps all the cheese?

Seriously, I have not read anything in the press regarding data from Lunik's other scientific instruments.  These are the results I was really excited about.  It is rumored that previous releases were incorrect and that Luna 3's only experiment was the camera.  That's a shame, if true, though one cannot deny the moment of that lone experiment's success.

Next up: A Canticle for Leibowitz! See you soon.


Note: I love comments (you can do so anonymously), and I always try to reply.

P.S. Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!


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[Oct. 15, 1959] Space to Grow (Explorer 7 and some naysaying)

Here's a couple of interesting space news items:

Firstly, a new Explorer (#7) has soared into the sky.  This one was launched at the tip of a Juno II rocket, the kind that sent Pioneer 4 past the Moon and into solar orbit.  Whereas Explorer 6 was known as "The Windmill," the quite different Explorer 7 has been nicknamed "The Gyroscope."  Though the craft bears the same Explorer designation as its predecessor, it was actually made by NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratories, the (somehwhat) friendly rival of Space Technology Laboratories, darling of the U.S. Air Force.

Explorer 7 is a lovely, complex satellite, with a battery of scientific instrumentation.  Not only will it probe the radiation and micrometeoric environment of space, as prior spacecraft have done, it also wields a new experiment designed to measure the heat budget of the Earth.  Simply, it will help determine how much of the sun's energy is absorbed and reflected by our planet, measuring quantitatively the sun's effect on the Earth.  Pretty neat stuff!  I will definitely report on the science as it is published.

Secondly, Explorer 6 has finally gone silent, but even mute, it has proven useful.  On October 13, the Air Force shot a plane-launched Bold Orion anti-missile rocket at it to test our ability to intercept Soviet missiles in flight.  I can't get exact figures, but it got pretty close, apparently.  Probably close enough that, if the rocket had a little nuclear bomb on it, it could destroy an enemy missile.

Meanwhile, in the "why bother" department, a piece in the Miami News caught my attention.  The first, titled Space Science Called Foolish, has Brown University Professor Emeritus Dr. Charles A. Krause humbugging all over the space program.  "There's a lot of nonsense going on in the field of space science," the esteemed doctor opined. "I'm for forgetting this nonsense and keeping our earth science up to date."  He went on to say, "Space is a vacuum, void of matter or gas.  There is nothing to be gotten out of a vacuum.  We can get a lot out of the Earth."

Apparently, Dr. Krause is not aware that the Earth's upper atmosphere and magnetic field, integral parts of this planet, can only be surveyed from space.  Moreover, he is blissfully ignorant that there is plenty to be gotten from a vacuum, one far better than any that can be manufactured on Earth.  In any event, the Sun, the Moon, the planets, the asteroids, meteors, comets, micrometeoroids, charged particles, solar wind, etc. all exist in space.  It is hardly devoid of matter or gas.  Understanding how they move and interact perfects our knowledge of Earth-bound physics.

In short, Dr. Krause is a schmuck.  And so are the editors of the Miami News.

Oh, and here's another one: Rockets too Puny for Moon.  It's less inflammatory, but it is already out of date.  The seminal quote is, "U.S. guidance systems are on par with those of Russia.  The weight-carrying capacity of our moon rockets is not."  The unknown author's point is that, until we get beefier rockets, we can't send guidance good enough to get a probe on the moon. 

Given that the new Atlas Able will be launching before the end of the year, this defeatism seems misplaced.  I guess we'll see.


Footage from a new TV show, Destination Space


Note: I love comments (you can do so anonymously), and I always try to reply.

P.S. Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!


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[Oct. 12, 1959] Seattle's finest (GGC, a fairer science fiction convention)

Seattle really knows how to throw a science fiction convention.

I had been saddened that I hadn't gotten to join Bjo Trimble in her caravan across the country to Detention last month.  After once again experiencing the joy that is GGC (the acronym was never explained to me), all of my regrets disappeared.

I mentioned in my last article that GGC is quite remarkable.  Much of the attendance is female, and the emphasis is on female creators and protagonists in our niches of the literary and cinematic worlds.  There were lectures on our woman science fiction luminaries, with Judith Merril and Katherine MacLean particularly prominent.  There was an update on the state of women in the sciences.  Someone from Space Technology Laboratories talked about scientist Frankie van der Wal and engineer Jenny Sanders: the former directed the Mouse In Able project that launched rodents atop several Thor-Able test rockets; the latter is the first woman to work at Cape Canaveral.  There was also a spotlight on women in comic books, Wonder Woman being the obvious example, but with much also made of newcomers Supergirl and Lady Blackhawk.

For those who couldn't attend the convention (and for those who did and want to see themselves), here is a selection of photographs, on which I rushed development to get quickly to press.  I did not get pictures of the science-fiction play or the costume masquerade–the light level was too low, but I did get a nice selection of attendees.  Take a look!

A superheroine, by the name of Bluebird (a new character, apparently).

This is Nick, a gentleman with whom I had a pleasant conversation, and behind him are a number of attendees playing various card games.

Michael is an interesting chap.  He is part of a growing group of people who finds solace in the past, reveling in past literature, culture, and clothing (he appears to be from the 1920s).  It's a seductive idea, though I'm certainly not about to go in for that sort of thing.

Miss Molly (good Golly!) is a vendor for a small publishing group called Northwest Press.  They print, among many things, comic books of a rather progressive and subversive nature.  Avante garde indeed!

I'm sure you've all seen Walt Disney's newest masterpiece, Sleeping Beauty.  These costumes are exquisite.

(These are the best I could find amongst my rolls of film, but perhaps other attendees have contributions they'd like to make.  There were certainly plenty of snapshots to take!)

In many ways, the convention was a glimpse into the future of society and fandom.  Someday soon, women and men will work in all arenas of life as equal partners, heading shoulder to shoulder to the stars.  I can't wait for this golden time to arrive.

Until then, at least we have GGC.  See you next year…


Note: I love comments (you can do so anonymously), and I always try to reply.

P.S. Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!


(Confused?  Click here for an explanation as to what's really going on)

This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth, where it has comment count unavailable comments. Please comment here or there.