Surveyor 1

During my thirty-one years at the Kennedy Space Center I spent six of them working at what was then called Unmanned Launch Operations, or ULO; first for a two-year stint, and later on a four.

I did no real work on the first two American manned space programs, Mercury and Gemini, but did work the Apollo Program from very early to the end, and the Space Shuttle Program from before the first launch until I retired at the end of 1996. That second for-year period at ULO occurred during the interregnum between the end of the Apollo Program and the first launch of the Shuttle.

The US is again in such a waiting period, with no American manned launches planned before 2016, or quite possibly 2017. And these will be limited to ferrying crew members to and from the International Space Station. The more ambitious program in work, developing a vehicle and spacecraft capable of sending humans to the Moon or Mars, is years to a decade away from its first manned flight -- and that assumes the program doesn't eventually get canceled as too expensive.

Unmanned launches, though, remain quite busy. The local newspaper, "Florida Today", serves both the Kennedy Space Center and Cape Canaveral areas, hence provides more extensive coverage of unmanned launches than probably any other paper. I get to keep up, at a surface level, with what's happening with my old outfit -- now morphed into primarily commercial operations, with NASA buying launches like any other entity when it's time to launch a scientific, weather, or other government-funded spacecraft. The Air Force also uses these contractors for military launches, including the GPS satellites that provide an extremely valuable service most of us now take for granted.

I had been at KSC for only about six months, working for a support contractor as a tech writer in a general writers pool, when I was abruptly offered a transfer --including a nice promotion -- to a position then called "Project Writer" for the Atlas-Centaur Program. This included manning a console during launches, the responsibility there being to listen to the countdown progress on several channels, take notes on major events and problems, and update the electronic countdown status board at the head of the launch control center.

Between launches I prepared the NASA pre-launch technical documents (working with several engineering departments who provided the basic data, of course), and the after-launch mission report documents.

I received that promotion, after a rather short period of work as a general writer, over the heads of several other writers with more seniority and experience. My particular background made my managers think I would probably be successful in what was one of the most difficult jobs they had to support. They were, of course, right. And that first two years made some important differences in my life.

The second time I manned a console for an Atlas-Centaur launch was May 30, 1966. The payload was Surveyor 1, which became the first successful soft landing by a US spacecraft on another planetary body, the Moon (the Russians had gotten there four months earlier, but with a much less capable spacecraft). Unlike the robotic landers of today, Surveyors couldn't move. But Surveyor 1 did return 11,000 photographs of the lunar surface, providing a great deal of the data the Apollo Program needed to prepare for that historic landing by Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin in 1969.

I took advantage of the experience to do a science article (well illustrated with photos, including the status board in the launch control center), and it became my first sale to John Campbell at "Analog." I followed it with several more science articles, then began selling him science fiction as well.

The "Analog" article, which circulated widely at KSC, brought me to the attention of some high-level NASA and contractor managers. That launched me into a secondary line of work -- ghost-writing science papers for these executives.  Those, and other more mundane work, eventually led to a position in NASA itself. I retired as Deputy Chief of the Education Office.

Though I spent my last eighteen years at KSC working in other areas, I've always been thankful for those six at ULO. They opened up career paths nor previously available to me, and led to what I enjoy now -- a retirement in which I'm still writing fiction (no more science articles; too demanding) and a happy life.

Hitchhikers Guide to Retirement

I retired from NASA (as Deputy Chief, KSC Education Office) at the end of 1996. I've now been retired more years than I worked for any one employer (the longest two, NASA 13, Boeing 11). And in some ways these so-called 'Golden Years' are indeed the best of my life. But there are also drawbacks and disappointments aplenty.

A few of the drawbacks can be attributed to the rapid pace of change in today's world. (Ray Kurzweil, now chief developer of future programs at Google, is fond of pointing out that that not only is the world rapidly changing, the pace of change itself  has gotten faster.) Some of the disappointments, I like to think, derive from internal change, my personal maturation and growth. Books are a good example. 

During my last twenty-five or so working years I accumulated a lot of books. Most went on the shelves with the expectation of reading after retirement, when I would have more time. My demanding job, a second family with two young daughters, and a driving need to devote all the spare hours I could find to free-lance writing limited my reading.

After retirement, as planned, I started pulling some of those waiting books off the shelves. And, time after time, discovered I couldn't finish one. (I've become willing to abandon a book fairly quickly if it doesn't grab me early and hold my interest.) Far too often, a novel that had looked interesting twenty years ago no longer held any appeal. This was particularly true in science fiction. I'm not going to mention names, but book after book I had anticipated enjoying, I no longer wanted to read. These varied from big names in the field to bright-future newcomers, but they shared one common characteristic. I found them boring.

The world of audio visual (AV) entertainment and information has been among the fastest changing industries in a fast-changing world. We went from LP vinyl to tape to CD to DVD to streaming AV (with of course a lot of overlaps) in just a few decades. And, as you might expect from Kurzweil's observation, each major change happened with less time between than the one before. The amount of music, entertainment and education/information increased greatly along the way, with access to same gaining almost exponentially in so-called developing or undeveloped countries.

Today I have millions of songs instantly available from several streaming sources, a hundred-thousand movies offered by some of the same companies, and a million amateur but often quite good AV productions on YouTube and others; some free, others for relatively small monthly fees. I've pretty much stopped buying CDs and DVDs. Why should I, when I can reach any one I want from the streaming services to which I subscribe. The 'Cloud' is the new home entertainment center. And it's cheaper by far than buying and building your own library.

From the time my father gave me my quarter allowance on Saturday, and I hitch-hiked to the only movie theater in the county, nine miles away on U.S. 90, I've loved movies. I paid a dime to get in, which bought me a western, a cartoon short, and usually a newsreel. The fifteen remaining cents (coke or popcorn was never even under consideration) left me with a choice. Buy a science fiction magazine from one of the stands at the two drugstores and depend on hitching a ride to get home, or ride the Greyhound bus for fifteen cents. The magazine always won, if a new one was available. And I never once walked the nine miles home. Someone always stopped for a preteen boy with his thumb out.

I wrote in an earlier blog post that most of us don't appreciate how much our lives have improved, despite the fact the 'middle-class' hasn't gotten a raise in thirty years. Today I can buy more good books than I have time to read, watch more movies (on a 60-in HD screen) than my eyes and butt can last through, and enjoy TV series where each episode is better than the movies I saw as a kid. (Not to mention a plethora of often fascinating popular science and informative documentary programs.) This richness of second-hand experience is part of makes these 'golden years' highly worthwhile -- but also cuts into my reading time.

I don't know how it goes with you, but I can truthfully say that preteen boy with his thumb out never dreamed that one day he would live such a rich and rewarding life. Perspective is all.

Photo credit: PMGreen

Inside Blockhouse 26

Stephen Pinker, a Harvard professor and author of several popular science books (The Blank Slate being perhaps the best known) last year wrote a short but potent article discussing the ongoing clashes between science and popular culture, religion, and the humanities. Pinker offers a coherent, insightful and penetrating look at these conflicts. For those of you interested in the real sciences, this is well worth five minutes of your day.

Sad to say, the conflicts haven't diminished much since the article appeared. If anything, the anti-science movement in the USA has grown stronger. Far too many people seem to vote based on what they feel in their gut (a nasty place, full of bile, partially digested food, and waste products), rather than reasoned decisions, reached after careful deliberation in the organ where decisions should be made, the brain.

But speaking of real science, I've always believed that one of the more important functions of science fiction is to serve as an inspiration to actual working scientists; science fiction can look ahead, provide glimpses of what could be, not just what is. One of the better examples of this can be seen by anyone who tours the Cape Canaveral Air Force Station. On the walls inside Blockhouse 26, which controlled the launch of the first successful American satellite, Explorer 1, you will see several plaques with quotes from famous science fiction writers. One, I recall, was from the works of Jules Verne; the others fade from memory.

If you're able to arrange such a tour (and the Air Force used to do them every weekend; best check now to see if they're still available), let me inform you that the pretty blinking status lights on the consoles have been restored for your viewing pleasure; we escorts turned them on and off as we entered and left the control room. If you can't make it, there's a quite decent YouTube video immediately available, though it shows only the control center, and not the exterior rooms in the blockhouse where the plaques hang.

Photo credit: LC-26_equipment by Bubba73 (You talkin' to me?), (Jud McCranie) is licensed under CC 3.0 / Resized from original

Donald A. Wollheim, DAW Books, and Me

Most people are unaware that I'm the author of the first DAW novel.

The reason that fact is not well know is fairly straightforward. Don wanted to start his new line with some big names. He persuaded two of the then biggest, Andre Norton and A.E. van Vogt, to contribute to the opening set of four monthly books (a schedule DAW rigorously maintained after the startup). So a collection from Andre Norton, Spell Of The Witch World , became DAW Book No. 1, and my novel, The Mind Behind The Eye, DAW Book No. 2. Brian Ball's The Probability Man became No. 3, and the second big name's eponymous The Book Of A.E. Van Vogt No. 4.

Don had accepted my novel, then titled Gold The Man, while at ACE. I learned this (news to me, because he hadn't yet informed my agent) when I met Don for the first time, at the 1971 World Science Fiction Convention in Boston. I wasn't that thrilled that my novel would be published as an original paperback by ACE, at that time a notoriously chintzy publisher. In England it had been published in hardback by Gollancz, under my original  title. (Don wanted a more SF oriented title, and changed it).  But of course I smiled,  and said how pleased I was. Actually, I had hoped and expected that my agent, Lurton Blassingame, would place it with a better house.

But then something very unexpected happened. I received a call from Don Wollheim saying he and wife (and co-editor) Elsie were coming to Orlando, and would like to see me while that close. I of course agreed, and a few days later Don and Elsie were sitting at my kitchen table.
I learned that Don and Elsie had driven to Merritt Island from Casselberry, where they had just persuaded Andre Norton to provide a book for DAW, the new publishing house they were planning to start. And Don wanted to take my novel with him when he left ACE, to publish under the new imprint. Since I hadn't yet signed a contract, this remained possible.

After a brief discussion on money and terms, I learned that DAW would pay about the same as ACE. I agreed to go with the new house, and to inform my agent of the decision. And then we celebrated by going out for dinner at a nice seafood restaurant in Port Canaveral. There I learned that one bit of knowledge Blassingame had shared with me didn't apply in all cases. In New York on the way to that Boston convention, I had scheduled a lunch with my agent and an editor. As we walked to the restaurant to meet said editor I asked Blassingame about protocol. Lurton told me the editor, who had an expense account, was always expected to pick up the check. If he didn't, the agent did. The writer never paid.

When the check arrived at the end of an excellent dinner, landing in the center of the table, Don suddenly became very interested in the medium-high waves coming in off the Atlantic. Perhaps he had good night vision, and saw a mermaid (braless) cavorting in the foam. At any rate, after waiting a couple of minutes I picked up the check. We returned home, and  Don and Elsie left for Orlando, where they were spending the night.

To be fair, at World Con Toronto II in 1973, with DAW well established and thriving, I met with Don, Elsie and a small number of other DAW writers for lunch. When that check came, Elsie tugged on Don's arm and suggested that perhaps DAW should pick up the bill. Somewhat grudgingly, he agreed. Elsie was the more generous and outgoing of the two, a very nice person. Don could be curmudgeonly on occasion. But the one time I asked him for a personal favor, that Kelly Freas be assigned the cover for my second DAW Book (a pb reprint of my Doubleday hardcover, Conscience Interplanetary), he agreed (again grudgingly, because Kelly demanded and got $50 more per cover than their other artists). I bought the original from Kelly, and it hangs in our living room today.

Don and Elsie are both gone now, but DAW Books lives on, and is apparently doing well. Don had a long career as an editor and anthologist (with I think Elsie frequently working at his side, often without recognition), and remains an important figure in the field. And though it hasn't been chronicled  in the books on SF history as terribly important, I'm proud of the fact the first novel DAW published was one of mine.

No Grandson On The Moon

My signature rests on the Moon.

While it contributed nothing to the American space program, I get a lot of personal satisfaction from the above. It came about this way.

Shortly before John Young, Charles Duke and Ken Mattingly lifted off on the Apollo 16 mission, many people at the Kennedy Space Center presented them with  a 'bon voyage and good wishes' card.  The physical card was quite large, with hundreds of signatures; and every ounce counts on a lunar lander. The card was reduced to a single microfiche, weighing less than an ounce, and that's what actually went aboard the lunar lander. (The microfiche itself was photographed, and paper copies distributed to all signers. What you see here is the front of the card.) When the upper half of the lander lifted off to return Young and Duke to the orbiting Command Service Module where Mattingly waited, the microfiche stayed behind in the bottom half.

None of my duties at KSC ever brought me into contact with Duke or Mattingly, but I did meet John Young. He and Robert Crippen (who later became my boss when appointed Director of The Kennedy Space Center) served on the task force preparing the NASA report on the loss of Challenger, where I was the lead writer. Later I invited Young to be keynote speaker at the 1992 World Science Fiction Convention in Orlando (I was on the Con staff as liaison to NASA), and he accepted. When commercial travel arrangements somehow fell through, Young hopped into a NASA jet and flew himself to Orlando. He gave a fine keynote speech, much appreciated by the audience.

I also met Charles Bolden, now the Administrator of NASA. At the time he was a Colonel in the Marines, a fighter test pilot detached to NASA. I spent two days escorting Charley on employee motivation visits, while he was stationed at KSC for a year as astronaut-in-residence. A great guy, Charley, friendly and approachable. He strongly impressed me with his support for education (I worked in the KSC Education Office) and his willingness to speak with anybody. I remember once a janitor, sweeping the floor in the foyer of a building we had just entered, dropped his broom and engaged Charley in conversation. The only relation between the two was that both were black men. After several minutes I had to urge Charley to move on, because we were holding up a large group waiting for us inside.

Charles Bolden returned to the Marines after completing four Space Shuttle missions, two as pilot and the next two as commander. He continued to rise in the ranks, finally retiring as a major general. He came back to NASA when President Obama appointed him Administrator, with an easy confirmation by the U.S. Senate. Now he oversees a NASA that has completed the Space Shuttle program and entered a time of radical change, where private contractors, using their own space vehicles, will soon be ferrying astronauts to the International Space Station.

The only wholly NASA manned space flight program still in work is the Space Launch System (SLS), which will not likely fly its first crewed mission for another decade -- if ever. SLS is essentially a larger and more capable Saturn V, with a larger and more capable Orion spacecraft riding on top. The whole 'bigger and better' concept has many critics, me among them. I think this program is more likely to be canceled than completed, and actual missions to an asteroid, the Moon and Mars unlikely. I'm disappointed NASA couldn't come up with a more original and innovative way of resuming human exploration of the inner solar system. Several alternatives have been suggested, but none gotten very far.

Knowing how difficult human space flight really is, I had no expectations that I'd one day take a commercial passenger spaceship to the Moon, and walk over to stare at the Apollo 16 Lunar Module base, still holding the microfiche (hopefully undamaged). But I did think my grandson, perhaps . . . Now I can no longer support even that hope. I'm pessimistic that SLS will survive long enough to put people on the Moon again, and expect that unmanned robots will remain the only way to explore other planets for the foreseeable future. (The fact they are doing incredible work is one of the major arguments for canceling SLS and putting the money into more robots.)

I have no easy solutions to offer that will get humans back into exploring deep space. Wish I did.

Who Really Wrote Hard Choices?

                       
While Hillary Clinton was on her recent Hard Choices book tour, a writer/editor I know asked a perhaps difficult question: Who, he wondered, wrote it for her?

Clearly, the writer presumed Hillary had not in fact written the book she was signing as her own. Having a book ghost-written for them is a common practice with celebrities, some of whom give credit to the help (including a by-line), many of whom do not. I of course know nothing of Hilary's actual role in writing Hard Choices, but I do have a lot of experience in ghost-writing. So I found his question interesting.

Hillary's publisher at Simon &Schuster, Jonathan Karp, says in a letter to potential readers:

"The author worked on Hard Choices from February 2013 through May 2014, mostly on the third floor of her home in Chappaqua, New York. The book principally covers her four years as America's 67th Secretary of State, but those experiences are informed by events throughout her entire public life, which she also describes. As her editor, I'm pleased to report that Secretary Clinton addressed every topic I raised while working on the manuscript, through numerous drafts."

I seriously doubt that "worked on" included Hillary actually sitting down at a keyboard and spending the necessary thousands of hours researching, evaluating, and then pounding out 650 pages, including "numerous drafts". Hillary is a public figure, with commitments and obligations that keep her rather busy. She also seems to be laying the groundwork for a run for the Presidency in 2016; again, time and energy required. These factors lead me to suspect she had help from someone like me, a hired professional; perhaps more than one. But does that mean Hillary didn't actually write the book?

During my years at the Kennedy Space Center I wrote over twenty science papers for NASA and contractor executives (never a full length book). These always dealt with work performed under that manager's general direction. I put all the words (plus diagrams, illustrations, etc.) on paper. Of course my name never appeared when these were published, usually in the proceedings issued by the aerospace conference where the executive presented the paper. But in most cases the exec told me what he wanted, provided source materials, went over early drafts, and made suggestions and recommendations. He (and they were all 'he's') usually had my paper vetted by some of the working engineers on his staff, and their suggestions/corrections were incorporated. The final product was far more my work than the exec's, but he served as collaborator and overseer. To say that I 'wrote the paper for him' would be an oversimplification and exaggeration.

And if you want to know why the execs liked and wanted these papers (in addition to the usual enhanced status from peers and in the general aerospace community), they justified trips to present them at aerospace conferences in (off the top of my head), France, England, Italy, Japan and Russia; though most were presented in the U.S.

This is of course conjecture on my part, but nevertheless I'd bet next month's SS check that Hillary did have help. Based on my own experience, I'd also bet that she worked closely with whoever sat in front of the keyboard, in the manner described above. I'd bet she told him/her what she wanted, supplied the source materials, worked closely with said writer during production, and guided the author toward the final result. (She may even have first-drafted key parts herself, if they were relatively short.) The final manuscript said what she wanted to say. In the larger and truer sense, it is her work.

If I'm right in my conjectures, based on my own experiences, it isn't really fair to say that someone 'wrote the book for her' . . . and come election time, if she's on the ballot Hillary still gets my vote.

Photo by Marc Nozell used under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license

Moving Left

I recently saw a posting in "Politico" that struck me as so close to my own feelings as to what's happening in the USA that, for this post, I'm deferring to another writer. Concise, and very much to the point, it parallels my own convictions as to what's gone wrong. And, again like myself, the author has no pat and easy answers to offer. But the first step in solving any problem is obtaining a clear understanding of the issues involved. Here, in admittedly abbreviated form, we have that. At minimum, it helps explain why two/thirds of Americans, over multiple polls for several years, believe that our country has been on a 'wrong path' for decades now. Personally, I think it started with Reagan's 'trickle-down' theory of economic progress. And I see no end in sight.

When You Have A Choice . . .

People other than his devoted fans know Leonard Cohen primarily thru a few of his songs that became major hits, prominent among them "Suzanne", "Bird On The Wire", "Marianne" and "Hallelujah". Many others, including some recorded by other artists, such as Judy Collins and James Taylor, were also quite popular.

Most people are unaware that Cohen began his career as a poet. He published two books of poems while quite young, and also two novels, The Favourite Game (1963) and Beautiful Losers (1966).  I read the latter, and was much impressed (it's still on my shelves). Here, I thought then, is a very fine new writer who's going to become rich, famous, and win lots of prizes. I looked forward with great anticipation to his next novel. I would have had a long wait. Apparently he never wrote another.

I was partially right, though. Leonard Cohen did become rich and famous. But he did it by turning away from writing. Both Beautiful Losers and Parasites Of Heaven, another poetry collection published in the same year, received mixed reviews and sold poorly. The novel gained nowhere near the recognition and sales it deserved.

In the early 1960s Cohen left his native Canada and moved to the Greek island of Hydra, where he lived a rather reclusive life while writing poetry and novels. The path his career took later seems to indicate that, sometime after the reviews and sales figures were in on Beautiful Losers, Cohen made a conscious decision to turn away from writing fiction.

Cohen had from his youth been interested in music -- having his own 'boy band' while still in his teens -- and become an accomplished guitar player. He moved to New York in the later 1960s and began singing some of his own songs in various folk venues. He came to the attention of an executive at Columbia Records, who signed him. His first album,  "Songs of Leonard Cohen", appeared in 1967. And, apparently, he never looked back.

Shedding the 'reclusive' persona he had adopted as a poet/writer, Cohen began performing at concerts and on various other stages.  In 1970 he went on his first tour, and while he couldn't fill football stadiums, as did The Rolling Stones, or Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street band, he did fill concert halls and auditoriums. He continued to tour intermittently, sometimes with other singers, until 2013.

If Leonard Cohen doesn't write another song, or sing it, he's had a very successful career as a singer/songwriter. Which is interesting it itself, since he has a voice that sounds like a foghorn coming from the bottom of a well, with a range about equal to that of a pond frog on a lily pad. Yet he has millions of devoted fans (me definitely included; I have almost all of his commercially produced albums, or access to them thru Google Play). It's the beauty of his compositions, the marvelous prose poems set to music, that entice and compel. They may sound better when sung by artists with great voices, like Judy Collins, but nevertheless Cohen has his own charm as a singer.

Leonard Cohen, as a very young man, demonstrated major talent as a poet, fiction writer and songwriter. Apparently he made the choice to abandon fiction writing for poetry and a career as a performing singer/songwriter.

If you, dear reader, are young, your final career choice not yet made, and you have more than one talent -- don't choose fiction writing. It's a work-filled life, pays poorly, and for the vast majority of us, brings neither fame nor fortune. The appeal of fiction (not including the A/V format) is slowly but steadily fading, losing ground to numerous other entertainment options. My advice, as someone whose writing career now exceeds fifty years since first commercial publication: Don't fade with fiction.

Photo Credit:  Leonard Cohen @ Coachella 2009 by Redfishingboat (Mick O) is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

Roger Elwood And Me (Part 2)

(...continued from Part 1)

I met Elwood a couple of times at Cons, and in person he was a perfectly congenial chap. Other writers have spoken of difficulties with Elwood, some regarding story content and a few of payment problems.  I encountered neither, though of course, as with all publishers, I had to accept on faith that the account statements were accurate.

When Harlequin authorized the new SF line I received a call from Elwood wanting a novel, and soon. I had one in work and agreed to send it to him, via my agent, when finished. I had started this, my fifth SF novel, as a work of some ambition. I wanted to explore, in fictional form, the consequences of having a very strong sex drive, one built into each individual and an important factor in any species chances of long-term survival. My approach was to contrast homo sapiens with an equally intelligent species that reproduced without sex, hence had no such drives or resultant passions (and/or pathologies and psychological problems traceable to the sex drive). Such a species obviously must have drives that provide reproduction and a desire for individual survival, or they wouldn't' have lasted long enough to become intelligent.

Of course the novel had to be structured as an adventure story, to keep readers interested enough to turn pages. But as a part-time free-lancer, writing at night and on weekends, it took me a long time to produce a novel. This one, as planned, would take at least a year. And Elwood wanted it like now. So I changed my approach, and wrote the novel as a straight adventure story. I preserved the sexless intelligent aliens, but did not explore any of the ancillary deeper questions.

The resultant novel was a perfectly decent SF adventure story. The one I had planned could, I believe, have been an outstanding SF novel. Hopefully, a work at least somewhat comparable as a trailblazer to Le Guins' The Left Hand Of Darkness, or Phil Farmer's The Lovers and Night Of Light. Now that novel will never be written, at least not by me. (And it makes me wonder how many other novels got 'dumbed down' to fulfill Elwood's needs. He wanted 60,000 words maximum; not that much room to explore complex themes without becoming didactic.)

Roger Elwood served only as acquisitions editor for the new line; Harlequin staffers did the actual editing. The Laser Books were designed to look alike, with great covers by Kelly Freas usually featuring an inset profile of a major character. (My novel The Horde, Laser Book 27, has a head view of me, somewhat glorified [Kelly was painting from memory], as the major human character.)

I ran into Ray Nelson, author of Laser Book 13, Blake's Progress, at a Con a few months after my novel appeared. Ray mentioned that his book, mine, and one other had earned good reviews. But I never saw these.

By the time the series ended (57 published, at a rate of three a month) the overall line had not fared well with the critics. Despite this, I was told later that Harlequin made a profit, but a much lower one than from their romances. So they killed Laser Books.

Several authors did more than one Laser novel, but I didn't. I had been too traumatized, by the worst experience in my life as a writer, to even consider it. When the editor in charge of the Laser line at Harlequin received my mss., he turned it over to his assistant to copy-edit. She started rewriting instead; and let's just say she knew nothing of science and little of fiction writing. Never before or since have I seen such butchery. About three-quarters through she realized she had gotten completely lost; starting new plotlines and then dropping them, cutting sections vitally needed for the main story, etc. So she stopped copy-editing at that point and just sent me the marked- up mss.

To say that I blew my top would be to understate my rage. I wrote a letter to the head editor at Harlequin that really should have been printed on asbestos. I demanded that my novel be restored to its original version, that the editors be reprimanded, etc. And it was! All her copy-edits were removed, and the novel printed just as I had written it.

Not long after this contretemps, I met the Laser editor and his assistant (a young woman so lovely it took will power not to drop chin and just gape) when they attended a writers' workshop in Tampa, where I was a guest lecturer. Despite my letter (or perhaps because of it), when meeting me in person she was very nice, as was the male editor. (Apologies, hope feelings not hurt, etc.) But next year at that same workshop they were missing, and their boss to whom I had complained came instead. He told me Harlequin had fired both. (I doubt the young lovely chose me alone for slaughter; other writers must have complained as well. But the boss editor said my letter had been the tipping point.) So I was instrumental, for the first and only time in my life, in getting an editor (plus lovely assistant) fired. She, I am sure, had no trouble finding another job.

I note that Harlequin is trying again, with their Carina Press imprint publishing both science fiction and fantasy as e-books. I wish them luck. Harlequin/Laser had at least one virtue, in addition to the great Kelly Freas covers. They paid promptly, and well.

Roger Elwood and Me (Part 1)

Phoenix rooster and hen by Anjwalker is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 / Resized from original

In the 1960s a character named Roger Elwood appeared on the SF scene. He had an uncanny ability to convince publishers, including several that until then had shown little interest in the genre, that they could make money publishing original anthologies. And during the next 20 years, Elwood became the dominant anthologist of his time. Then he moved into novels, persuading romance publisher Harlequin to publish a series of original paperback SF novels, all in the same basic format and with usually excellent covers by the late great Kelly Freas.

I don't remember how I first came to submit a story to Elwood; probably he called and asked me to contribute to some pre-sold anthology. But he liked my work, and during the seventies I sold him half-a-dozen stories, each time on request for an original, usually themed, anthology. Elwood paid advances at about the same rate as the better SF magazines, with the possibility of royalty payments if the books sold well (and I did get a few small royalty checks).

According to the reviews and fan critiques of the time, these anthologies varied greatly in quality. I always read all the stories in the ones in which I appeared, but no others; just didn't have the free time. I'm happy to say I thought all those I read were at least good, with some bordering on excellent.  For example:

My story "The Birdlover" appeared in SHOWCASE in 1973. The collection also featured stories by Robert Silverberg, Barry Malzberg, Joe Haldeman, Carol Emshwiller, Gene Wolfe, Joanna Russ, Ray Lafferty and Ben Bova, among others. Elwood had accepted "The Birdlover" with considerable trepidation. But he had asked for it, and so published it without attempting any sort of censorship.  (The story contains no strong language or explicit sex; the controversy stemmed from the basic theme, dominance of a hapless human by an intelligent avian species using sex as a control mechanism.) "The Birdlover" became my most noticed, talked-about (perhaps 'notorious' would serve here) story to that time.

Not that long after SHOWCASE saw print, I was a guest at a Con in Tennessee. At the first dinner Andy Offutt, serving as MC, introduced the 'notables' present. When he got to me Andy said, "And here's my . . . my friend from Florida, Joe Green!"  But I had noticed the hesitation, so as soon as I could I cornered Andy and asked him what he had omitted. Andy replied, "I was going to say, 'And here's my chicken-fuckin' friend from Florida!' But I lost my nerve at the last minute and couldn't say it."

Another of my stories featuring human/alien sex, "Encounter With A Carnivore", appeared in EPOCH in 1975, a massive anthology Elwood co-edited with Robert Silverberg.  I learned later in conversation with Bob Silverberg that he, not Elwood, had selected my story; had, in fact, chosen most if not all the contents. This one included stories by, among others, Lafferty, Malzberg, Wilhelm, R.R. Martin, LeGuin, Pohl, Niven, Aldiss, Simak, Benford and Russ, as well as a short novel by Vance. In my not too humble opinion, EPOCH remains one of the best original anthologies ever published.

The 'Elwood Period' also saw the demise of some fine original series, Silverberg's NEW DIMENSIONS and Damon Knight's ORBIT among them. Some fans and critics laid much of the blame on Elwood, for overselling the market and causing losses on his and other anthologies at many publishing houses.

Elwood also had some personality quirks and apparently sincere beliefs, including devout Christianity, that he let creep into his work. While I never had any problems with attempted censorship, other writers did, and reported same. When the serious attacks on Elwood began, accusing him of being a prude, a censor, a religious bigot, etc., he defended himself thusly: "Whaddaya mean I'm a prude and a bigot! I published Joe Green's 'The Birdlover!'"

(to be continued...)

Why It's Hard To Write SF Today

In late 2013 IBM published an article featuring some interesting forecasts on learning in the future, and other speculations.

If one or all of these come true, they will strongly affect each of us individually, and society as a whole. IBM also says the communications technology gap between developed and undeveloped countries will narrow, with many benefits and some drawbacks for western societies. The fact that cell phones and smart phones are becoming ubiquitous in countries normally thought of as still 'developing' serves as a prime example.

These highly likely upcoming changes make writing realistic and believable science fiction, particularly in the short forms, very difficult. If you ignore all these highly probable changes in stories set in the near future, you are being unfaithful to a basic premise of SF. If you pick winners and losers, and write your story incorporating the results of these choices, half your wordage will be needed to explain the changes and make them seem believable. The result may be good SF, but likely a dull story. And ten years later you'll learn you were wrong anyway.

Starting in the 1930's with Doc Smith, Robert Heinlein, Edmond Hamilton and others, far-future GIGANTIC! science fiction gained popularity. These writers, and those that followed them right up to the present, think nothing of expanding the Roman Empire to galactic dimensions, smashing stars if the local denizens irritate you, or traveling backward in time to see the "big bang" for yourself if your first-choice vacation plans for this year don't work out. These far-flung vistas captured and enthralled teen-age minds everywhere (including mine) for over half a century. And SF was the only place to find them.
Today I turn on my TV and go to the "Science Channel". It features several fine programs, but a favorite is "Through The Wormhole" with Morgan Freeman. In a resonant baritone this excellent speaker (and equally fine actor) conducts you through realms of speculation that would make John W. Campbell reach for the aspirin box, and A.E. van Vogt sit up and say "Why didn't I think of that!" With clear explanations and helpful graphics, this program unabashedly tackles such subjects as alternate dimensions, dark energy and dark matter, the birth and coming death of the whole damn universe, as well as more mundane and immediate subjects such the robots taking over tomorrow  (to discover as usual that they don't really need us any more), and the consequences of everyone living to a healthy 200 (I'm for that!).

I've been writing and selling SF for over half a century now (and am still writing and selling). I had already lost interest in writing the 'Big SF' story before weekly TV exceeded my most far-out speculations, while calling it 'science' and not fiction. And the future is rushing toward us so fast that speculation may become reality between acceptance and printing, and readers think the story shoulda' appeared in "Popular Mechanics" instead of "Analog" or "Asimov's".

Many former primarily SF writers have turned to writing fantasy. Think I'll go there myself (in fact, under one of my pseudonyms, I already have).

Sir Arthur At The Kennedy Space Center

Arthur C. Clarke (who died Sir Arthur, after receiving a well-deserved knighthood) was a casual but long-term friend. He often had dinner at the Greenhouse when visiting the Kennedy Space Center. (He also attended the Apollo 11 prelaunch party at the Greenhouse, a tale told elsewhere.) A large briefing room at the KSC Visitors Center had been named "Room 2001" in his honor, and the NASA branch stationed there dubbed their conference room "2010". Just before I retired I persuaded the manager of the Astronauts Memorial Foundation, also at the Visitors Center, to name their major presentation area "Room 2061", to complete the trilogy. (I don't know if he followed through.)

Working behind the scenes, I usually managed to get myself assigned as Clarke's official escort. The last time he came (August 1994) before I retired in 1996, he had some difficulty walking, and needed a wheelchair for long distances. He managed the short walks in and out of buildings by holding on to my shoulder.

Clarke was at KSC this time primarily to attend a press conference, in his capacity as a member of the Diane Fossey Gorilla Fund Board of Trustees. The NASA connection with Fossey was the Space Radar Laboratory-1, which had flown in the cargo bay of a Shuttle Orbiter the previous April, obtainiing some excellent multi-use data on gorilla habitats. But as with most distinguished guests, his itinerary included visits to several sites of major interest.

Over the course of most of a day, while being driven from site to site (KSC is very big, and spread out), we had several chances to chat. The subject of the then-extant SF mags came up. Clarke told me he faithfully subscribed to ALL of them -- but they just went directly on to his library shelves. He didn't actually read them; couldn't find the time.

The press conference came at the end of the day, when Clarke was visibly tiring. The local press turned out in force, probably 30 or more; an unusually high number for anything less than a launch. I escorted Clarke to the table on the dais, which he shared with some other people associated with the Gorilla Fund, and took a seat in front.

The press conference itself was fairly routine, except that the press concentrated their attention on Clarke and almost ignored the others. He perked up a little while sitting and answering questions. At the end of the standard 30-minute conference I stood up and announced that we would take two more questions, and then had to go.

The two questions came, the conference officially ended -- and then half or more of the reporters present hurriedly dug into their rucksacks or tote bags, pulled out copies of Arthur C. Clarke books, and rushed the table for autographs!

Press people, by and large, are a skeptical lot. This uncoordinated, spontaneous rush to get their books autographed while they had the chance warmed the intake valves of this cynical old heart. Clarke, although a little startled, seemed happy to comply. So I sat back down, and for another ten or twelve minutes, Clarke autographed books. Then, finally, I could get him out of the building and into our waiting limousine.

I had already escorted Arthur to see several people and places, including a meeting with the highest local dignitaries in the KSC Center Director's office. But it was that demonstration of genuine, unforced admiration on the part of the press corps that I most like to remember.

Reaching for the Stars

Image credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech

Earlier this year the local paper, "Florida TODAY" -- highly space-oriented, since its territory includes the Cape Canaveral Air Force Station and NASA's Kennedy Space Center -- carried a front page story that brought back vivid memories. The article said that space scientists, working from accumulated and analyzed data, had finally agreed that the Voyager I spacecraft entered interstellar space on August 25, 2012. Up until then the exact time had been a matter of dispute. The spacecraft is still operating, and expected to have enough power to keep sending back reports from at least one sensor until about 2025.

In 1977 I manned a console as a member of the Atlas/Centaur launch team. I also prepared the A/C technical documents, including the "NASA Fact Sheet(s)" distributed in advance of each launch. These were a compilation and distillation of the most important basic data on both spacecraft and launch vehicle. They were carefully written for the layman, explaining the mission in terms understandable to most high school juniors. These fact sheets became very popular with non-technical Kennedy Space Center personnel, the general public, and in particular the news media (the last for obvious reasons -- a lot of their work done for them).

Although I wasn't a member of their teams, the Delta and Titan/Centaur managers tasked me with preparing fact sheets for their missions as well. The larger and much more powerful Titan/Centaur had been chosen as the launch vehicle for the Voyagers because of the weight of the highly sophisticated (for their time) robot explorers, and the unusually high velocity required to reach Jupiter in only 18 months.

After a close-up exploration of Jupiter and several of its moons, Voyager I went on to Saturn for another flyby, then headed into interstellar space. The last was basically frosting on the cake, as was the famous photo Voyager I took on February 14, 1990, looking back at the Solar System (showing Earth as a "pale blue dot"). The two most important mission objectives had been successfully accomplished. Few expected this hardy explorer to still be functioning and reporting back when its escape velocity of 17 kilometers per second (in relation to the Sun) took it into interstellar space. But it's there, and with another decade (hopefully) of life expectancy.

The accomplishments of the Voyagers have been reported and widely discussed in the media. For me, they trigger reflection and thoughts on perspectives. Mine is that of a teenager reading science fiction in the 1940s, never dreaming that mankind would land on the Moon in my lifetime (by 2050, maybe?). And sending a robot into interstellar space was in the far, far future, something my great-grandchildren might try. And yet I not only lived to see both, I actually played a small role in these two great scientific adventures. Those of you growing up at a time when you rather expected to see men walking on the Moon, or robots reporting back from interstellar space, may have an entirely different perspective.

Sometimes the glamor and excitement of manned space flight overshadows the accomplishment of the Voyagers, Pioneers, and other doughty robotic explorers. But in many ways, unmanned spacecraft have contributed more to our knowledge of the solar system and galaxy than the manned programs. We've now had robot explorers do close-up, highly instrumented flybys of all eight planets, and one is on its way to the disenfranchised Pluto/Charon system. These accomplishments are worthy of more respect than they have received from the world at large. Just ask any astronomer or space scientist which has contributed the most to human knowledge.

We Are All Rich

The public has lately heard a lot about income inequality in this country (and it's about time!). Over the last 30-plus years, starting around the time of the Reagan administration (January 1981), the financial statistics tell us all the vastly increased wealth of the country has gone to the very rich, the top two per cent. Income for the middle-class and poor has stagnated, or gone down. This seems undeniably true, but nevertheless the middle-class has grown immeasurably richer over those same years, and even most of the poor are better off..

Let's start with the fact I'm composing this essay on a keyboard attached to a computer. (I could just dictate it, but my fingers don't jump into as many sidelights as my brain and tongue.) When finished it will be posted on the Internet, on my personal blog, available to pretty much the whole modern world. In 1980 the Internet was In its infancy, and few predicted it would grow into the largest organization ever known. Today the 'Net, and the millions of jobs/income and associated industries it supports, enriches the lives of billions of people. I think it safe to say few developments in human history have so quickly changed the world, and how we live in it. This was made possible by mass production advances that brought prices down to where all but the poorest can afford computers and 'Net access.

Second, let's look at mass entertainment. Today I pay eight dollars a month for Netflix, which provides me with more good movies (though separating good from schlocky can take time) than I have leisure to watch. That's on top of the 400 channels (many of which also offer movies) provided for a much larger fee by my cable company. These include everything from tedious reality shows to excellent TV series to informative and educational science and nature programs. All this on a 60-inch high definition screen that probably equals the movie theater experience of my misspent youth. And I can watch the daily news of the world while eating dinner and having my evening cocktail in the comfort of an easy chair.

With the ongoing implementation of Obama Care, the great majority of U.S. citizens will soon have medical insurance, and the high-quality care it provides. Modern medicine has progressed by leaps and bounds since 1980 (not that some sharp demarcation occurred then; this is a continuing process). The new or greatly improved machines available now are too numerous and complicated to spell out. If you see a doctor very often, you know of them. As a a result of both increased knowledge and better care, most people now live longer, healthier lives. And that gives us more time to relax (or retire) and enjoy the 'Net and movies.

On-line formal education is now a reality. You can earn a college diploma from your room at home. Robots are replacing humans in many dull, repetitive tasks -- think auto assembly lines -- while humans perform the far more interesting and lucrative jobs of preparing the distant study class materials and designing and building the assembly robots. And cellphones. Ah, our second brains! Who wants to live without them? Some of these improvements are in their infancy and have a way to go, but they got an impressive start over the last thirty years.

Add up how much the lives of almost all of us have changed. Look back on the ancient days of pre-1980, and compare our lives then and now. We in the middle-class have better health, longer lives, more decent entertainment, and increased leisure and retirement time in which to enjoy them. I think these developments make us all much richer, even if our dollar income hasn't gone up enough to notice.

And now let's adjust that pay inequality anyway, and pay down the national debt that burdens rich, middle-class and poor alike.


Photo credit:  Patrice Green & NASA TV (NASA Ames Studies Aerodynamics of 2014 FIFA World Cup Soccer Ball)

Extra! Extra! Keep Readin' All About It?

On October 1, 2012, four newspapers owned by Advance Publications, “The Birmingham News”, the Mobile “Press-Register”, “The Huntsville Times” and the New Orleans major newspaper, “The Times-Picayune”, all moved to a three-day publication schedule. This move, along with similar cutbacks and reductions in other newspapers nationwide (usually caused by a serious drop in advertising revenue) led many to predict the imminent demise of the daily newspaper.

That prediction seems to have been somewhat premature, though it’s true many are still struggling. The respected “Washington Post” was recently sold, and the venerable “Boston Globe” has encountered problems. So have many more of the larger newspapers. But some have successfully adjusted to decreased revenue by cutting staff, reducing other expenses, and upping subscription prices. And many smaller papers have hung in there, and survived.

Our local newspaper, “Florida TODAY”, recently did a thorough revamp, including changing the B section to a reduced version, usually six or eight pages, of “USA TODAY”. Parent company Gannett did the same with 34 more local papers they own. Counting the mini-versions along with the much larger stand-alone, “USA TODAY” now claims a daily circulation of nearly 3.3 million, the largest of any US newspaper. And hopefully, adding the “USA TODAY” segment at no extra charge will help these smaller papers “live long and prosper”.

The A section of “Florida TODAY” changed to emphasize local news, including business activities, social affairs, and the comics. Sports still has its own section, and includes national and international coverage along with local news. The “USA TODAY” section provides national and world news, including financial and entertainment segments.

“Florida TODAY” began life as just “TODAY”, before Gannett President Allan Neuharth , who started this new paper as the local publisher and rode its success to the top spot in Gannett, decided to also create the first general interest national newspaper.  He and his team modeled  “USA TODAY” on  “TODAY”, and then added “Florida” to the local title for greater differentiation.  

The fact that my local paper seems back on equilibrium is encouraging. “Florida TODAY” isn't a large paper, serving primarily our county of over half a million, with substantial sales in the smaller county south of us. It now costs close to a dollar a day for the print version, home delivered. A digital version, read on your Kindle, other tablet or smart phone, costs much less.

In an era in which anyone can go on-line and claim to be dispensing 'news', I think the old standards of verification from several sources, and/or confirmation by direct contact, have taken a severe hit. We need the discipline and rigor of professional reporters if the ‘news’ is to have any real value. We can get personal opinion (as opposed to a reporting of reasonably well established facts) from the innumerable commentators on television.

Otherwise we're riding the Shockwave, while Standing On Zanzibar. And the Winter Of Our Discontent grows colder.

Photo credit:  Patrice Green

Congress Stems Science

Kenneth R. Miller has written a thoughtful examination of science in America today, and its waning appeal to both the aspiring student and the general public. (I’m not a scientist but a writer, primarily of science fiction. But I have always believed that one of the secondary but important purposes of science fiction is to serve as a handmaiden to real science.) 

The root causes of this decline appear to have gained the attention of the Obama administration. Recognizing that our future as a great nation is at stake, the federal government has begun a new emphasis on the importance of science (broad scale) in public education.

The above ties in with the observations of some of our more thoughtful pundits that the 'best and brightest' of today's college students too often see careers in finance as the path toward a happy life. Far too many seem clueless in understanding that enjoying the work you do each day is far more important (and less prone to producing ulcers) than doing work you dislike, the purpose of which is to amass more money than you actually need. This is a disturbing trend in a country that, in the last century, led the world in science and technology. 

In another article Sam Stein points out the deleterious effects of the Fed budget sequestration on scientific research. This is a fairly thorough examination of one of the less obvious ways our dysfunctional Congress is hurting our country, and the world. Our leadership in scientific research is slowly but surely eroding. 

And a corollary -- A quite good source of foreign exchange will also fade away. Our local (fairly small) hi-tech college, The Florida Institute of Technology, recently reported that one-third of their full-time students are from other countries. I suspect much larger and better known science-oriented schools, such as MIT, Cal Tech, Stanford, etc., also have large foreign student populations. (Luckily for us, some unknown but apparently sizable percentage elect to become citizens and put their expensively acquired skills to work here.) When their parents/sponsors decide to send them elsewhere (a trend that seems to have already started, but is still in its infancy), the US will lose a significant source of foreign exchange income.

I worked for 13 years in the NASA Education Office at the Kennedy Space Center, retiring as Deputy Chief. Our two major functions were to help professional teachers better understand science and technology (with an emphasis on the space program) and encourage students to undertake careers in STEM (science, technology, engineering and
mathematics); again with an emphasis on the space program. I have no statistics on how many of the students we worked with followed through and became scientists, engineers or mathematicians. I hope it was very many.

A devotion to science and technology is one of the major reasons our country has gotten to where it is today. But if our best young minds choose careers in finance, we won’t be there tomorrow. And that worries me. The idea that gaining large sums of money is the key to personal happiness has become endemic in our society.  That concept needs some serious re-thinking. A life devoted to performing useful and productive work, work that you enjoy, is much more likely to provide that elusive quality called ‘happiness’. And the “pursuit of happiness” was one of the founding principles on which our country was created.

Seeing Through Heaven

I saw in a recent NASA budget announcement that apparently Congress will continue funding the James Webb space telescope, the planned successor to the Hubble. And NASA recently published a beautiful Hubble photo titled “Ten-Thousand Galaxies”. The two announcements reminded me that I wrote the first document on the planned checkout of the Hubble, at the then-intended launch site, Cape Canaveral. (It was actually launched on the Space Shuttle (April 12, 1990) because its final weight exceeded the capacity of the planned unmanned vehicle, the Titan II. That first, early document proved mostly a waste of time and effort for myself and the NASA spacecraft checkout engineer who ordered it and worked with me on it.)

And seeing the photo showing ten-thousand galaxies brought to mind a marvelous 1920s story that beautifully illustrates why I’m an atheist, and why Christian fundamentalists are so sadly, unbelievably mistaken in their faith. But we’ll get to that.

About the time of the last Apollo Mission (Apollo-Soyuz, launched July 15, 1975) I returned to NASA Unmanned Launch Operations on Cape Canaveral. I had worked there through 1966-67, but returned to KSC HQ to work on the Apollo Program. In the long interregnum between that last manned Apollo flight and the first Shuttle launch (April 12, 1981, and remarkable because this was the first time a new and untried vehicle carried a live crew), I spent four years back at my old job as Project Writer for the Atlas/Centaur program. I also did numerous outside jobs, such as science papers for NASA and contractor executives and that Hubble document.

I played no further direct part in the launch of the Hubble, but supported it in indirect ways after I returned to KSC HQ in 1978, as a contractor tech writer in the general support group for the Space Shuttle. I did a presentation on the Hubble at a science fiction convention in Atlanta. I suffered embarrassment, as did everyone else associated with the project, when the main mirror proved to have a flaw, and rejoiced with astronomy fans everywhere when NASA was able to correct the problem with an ingenious fix (STS-61, December 1993). And Hubble went on to become, without much doubt, the most productive single telescope in human history. (Though, hopefully, the Webb will exceed it.)

Those were my major contributions to the Hubble. So back to the photo of ten-thousand galaxies. In 1927 Wilbur D. Steele, a very fine writer now perhaps unjustly forgotten, wrote a story about a young minister who got his first look through a large telescope. Hubble, and others, had recently proven that what had been considered nebulae, gas clouds, or smears on the lens were in fact separate, entire galaxies, incredibly far away and unbelievably numerous (billions and billions, as Carl Sagan would say). The young minister saw, with his own eyes, the true size and scope of the known universe. He had until then accepted the basic Christian tenets that God was omniscient and omnipotent, the ruler of all things. What he saw made him lost his faith. No conceivable being could watch all the sparrows fall in a vastness of that magnitude.

This being 1927, and Steele wanting to see his story published (and draw a nice check), in the end the young missionary regained his faith. In our more cynical time, we are much less inclined to accept the clearly unbelievable. I became an atheist at fourteen, without having read the story. But faith is a form of willing blindness, and those who place faith above reason will not care one whit what the facts prove. And to them I can only say, Go With God.

Photo credit: NASA

World's Richest People Meet, Muse On How To Spread The Wealth

This unusual story caught my attention this week because it seems so at variance from the regular disparaging reports on the rich. Here we find hope. The slow but obvious and steady trend in the USA, moving from a democratic system of governance to an oligarchy of the rich, can be stopped. The erosion of the historically great driving force in the USA, its middle class, can be reversed.

The present socioeconomic system in the USA draws upon both socialism and capitalism. I like to think it utilizes some of the best aspects of both, while avoiding the worst. This carefully balanced system brought citizens of the USA a huge increase in living standards in the decades after WW II, making life – and, it should be noted, longer lives for most – better for everyone. But now that growth has stagnated. Over the last thirty or forty years, as has been frequently pointed out, the balance of power has shifted toward capitalism. And many (though by no means all) of the very rich are using their increasing percentage of the national wealth to corrupt the processes of democratic governance. Left to continue present practices, in the end they will rule the country, and votes and elections will mean very little.

I haven’t read Thomas Piketty’s book Capital in the Twenty-First Century, but the numerous reviews and criticisms (and his first short defense) indicate it lays out the best and most convincing case yet that most of the vastly increased national wealth of the past several decades has flowed directly to the very rich. Piketty’s book should be the final nail in the Reagan-era belief in “trickle-down economics”.

One of the more interesting aspects of this conference is that its founder makes no bones of the fact she believes making the needed changes will serve the interests of the very rich, as well as everyone else. She recognizes that unfettered capitalism will eventually lead to an unsustainable system, and the final result could be revolt, revolution, and quite possibly anarchy and chaos. The fact you are very rich means nothing if you are standing on a stool with a rope around your neck. ‘Spreading the wealth’, letting the middle class and poor in on the immense benefits provided by science and modern technology, will stabilize existing governmental and social systems.

Enlightened self-interest, as seen here (and of course acted upon), can bring the USA economic system back into balance. More long-term planning by USA businesses, with much less emphasis on the quarterly report and short-term profits, can return us to something approaching the tremendous growth of the post WW II years.

I hope the avaricious billionaires who are steadily asserting their control over this country will read the article, and take a hint.

Photo credit:  Patrice Green

Meat And Money

The Ray Kurzweil free newsletter to which I’ve subscribed for many years has two items this week of strong interest to science fiction fans. One deals with an early success in growing meat in a lab – no living animals required. The second addresses the likely future of retailing. Both illustrate that the pace of change in industrialized societies continues unabated, and that one of Kurzweil’s major predictions, that the pace itself is speeding up, is coming true.

Factory grown meat is an old SF future projection standby. I’ve used it myself. Natural selection made us homo saps omnivores (check your teeth), and meat is a part of our nature-developed diet. But we humans are no longer as tightly bound to nature and heredity’s dictates as are almost all other animals; we have far more free choice. A large and steadily growing number of us have chosen to stop eating animal flesh. But that can be a very unhealthy choice, since certain vital nutrients are normally available only in animal tissue. (And our inherited taste buds just plain like! many varieties of meat.) Lab-grown meat, which could presumably be textured, flavored, supplemented by the addition of specific needed amino acids, etc.), can be an attractive alternative. And, moral questions aside, factory-grown meat would eliminate the extremely inefficient present system of raising untold millions of animals each year for slaughter. Most of the immense amounts of grain and other animal fodder saved could be fed directly to people. 

This would, of course, put thousands if not millions of people now engaged in raising, slaughtering, and butchering animals out of business. But some can be trained for jobs in the new meat factories, and the others, hopefully, will find better and less bloody jobs. 

Economic experts call the USA a consumer-driven society. If we all stopped buying anything other than what we need to survive – food, shelter, transportation, health care – the economy would collapse. Probably half or more of us wouldn’t have jobs. Most of us want more than the basic necessities, and the economy supplies us with the money to purchase lots of nice ‘extras’. All that spending adds up to what is commonly called a ‘standard of living’ – in our case a good one, but no longer among the world’s tops We get all those goodies through a system of production and distribution called retail trade. Ray Kurzweil predicts some major changes coming up, where we will be buying many of the gadgets –er, life-enhancing added values -- he talks about here. (For those of you not familiar with Kurzweil’s work, he’s said most of this before, in other forums. Ray is now working as a VP at Google, incidentally, in their creative future thinking department. He should be right at home there.)’ 

Here’s the full original article.

New Story: A Killing In Kind

This week I have a new story up in the third issue of “Fiction Vale”, a very promising new ezine which may have what it takes to last in a crowded and competitive field. The magazine is not free; costs four dollars per issue. It can be downloaded to a Kindle, or most other ‘smart’ devices, including probably your cell phone. You can also read the magazine on your computer, though you first may have to do what I did, visit Amazon and download their free Kindle application. (I have a Kindle, but prefer the much larger computer screen.) I encourage all you devoted Joseph Green fans to buy this issue, not only to read my story but all the others. And help a relatively new worthwhile ezine that is just getting its sealegs. 

On arrival you can learn a great deal about "FictionVale" before  deciding whether or not to buy. Scroll down past the intro material to the list of contributors, and you will see my devilishly handso -- smiling face. In addition to a short bio, each entry has a link to another site or individual blog where the writer can promote himself. Following the list of contributors, they provide a lot of information on the magazine and future plans. It looks to be an interesting venture, and I hope it succeeds.

Two other items of strong interest caught my attention this week. One was on the belated credit being given to Henry Miller, an important but neglected figure in American literature (in my not-too-humble opinion). At first dismissed as just another pornographer, his novels were not allowed into the USA until after Bennett Cerf led the eventually successful fight to get James Joyce’s Ulysses  past the censors (in its thousand-plus pages this great novel included a single appearance of the word ‘fuck’. ) The movie “Henry and June”, which I remember as being quite popular, probably did more to revive Henry Miller’s reputation than any number of book reviews.

The second item I found interesting on Huffpost (and if you are of the liberal/progressive persuasion and don’t subscribe to the free Huffpost, you are missing a lot. Arianna Huffington is one of the few celebrities of whom I know who began her public life as a conservative, then  had the intelligence and moral conscience to morph into a progressive). This one covers a study that seems to establish as fact what I perhaps already dimly sensed – that someone who gets up in the morning with some purpose in mind, the desire to accomplish something he or she deems worthwhile, betters his chances of staying alive. Something to think about, especially if you are retired and have allowed your life to become aimless and without purpose. 

Until next week, and more useless (but I hope interesting) meanderings.

Past Sins Remembered

The First Geosynchronous Satellite ~Image Credit: NASA

NASA began development of new communication satellites in 1960, based on the hypothesis that geosynchronous satellites, which orbit Earth 22,300 miles (35,900 km) above the ground, offered the best location because the high orbit allowed the satellites' orbital speed to match the rotation speed of Earth and therefore remain essentially stable over the same spot. 

In my feckless youth I once made a mathematical mistake, a technical error. Unfortunately, mine became embedded in the public consciousness throughout most of the world, and remains there today. I was reminded of this when reading an on-line European magazine report on a then-recent space launch. The figure they gave for the planned geosynchronous orbit was wrong -- and that's my fault.

It came about this way.

In 1971 I was working for Boeing as a tech writer, supporting NASA's Unmanned Launch Operations Directorate (ULO) on Cape Canaveral. My title was "Project Writer," and it meant I did all the technical documentation for the NASA branch responsible for Atlas-Centaur vehicles. I also manned a console during launches. Two other experienced tech writers supported the Delta and Atlas-Agena branches, and we all worked with the branch that managed the spacecraft. The contractors who built and launched the three vehicles had their own tech writing staffs, and produced different, though sometimes overlapping, launch documentation.

I had worked in ULO for two previous years, 1966 and '67, in the same position, before transferring to Kennedy Space Center to support the Apollo Program. Though operating in the giant shadow of Apollo, and not drawing that much interest from the general public, ULO had continued to grow during my four-year absence. 

The primary growth area was communications satellites, with a increasing emphasis on those designed to operate from geosynchronous orbits. (Which would be called "Clarke" orbits, if this was a just world. Arthur C. Clarke published the first article pointing out that three equidistant satellites in geosynchronous orbit could provide communications to most of the inhabited world; see "Wireless World", Oct. 1945).

"Geosynchronous" means positioned over the equator and moving in line with it, at the exact altitude and orbital velocity that completes one orbit in 24 hours. Since the equator also rotates once during those 24 hours, the net effect is that the satellite appears to remain motionless in the sky. This is very desirable for people sending up data to be retransmitted over a large area, such as television and radio signals.

One of my more rewarding duties as Project Writer was to prepare a little sheet of basic facts on each planned launch of the Atlas-Centaur. Written in layman's language, it provided a fairly complete overview. This fact sheet had begun as a one-page basic list, but when I took over I expanded it to provide a comprehensive overview of the entire mission. It grew very popular, and I was asked to prepare one for Delta launches as well -- though another writer handled all the purely technical documentation. (The Atlas-Agena program had been killed.)

Shortly after I arrived back at ULO, the Atlas-Centaur was scheduled to launch an INTELSAT communications satellite into geosynchronous orbit. When I did my usual study of the voluminous technical documentation in preparation for writing the mission fact sheet, I had my first encounter with geosync orbit parameters. I knew the general operating concepts, of course, but here were the exact figures for this particular mission. The INTELSAT was to be injected into an orbit with an apogee (high point) of about 22,400 statute miles above the Earth's surface, and a perigee (low point) of under 22,200 miles. That was the acceptable range. The spacecraft's own small thrusters would refine whatever orbit was actually achieved to reach the satellite's final height, which was not given.

The general public didn't care that much about preliminary orbital altitudes. I knew they would want the planned final one, which would be somewhere between the apogee and perigee. And I needed to round off the actual figure to the nearest hundred miles. That was as close as most people, and in particular the news media (who had started asking for my fact sheets after they became popular) would ever remember. So, within the range of 22,400 and 22,200, I selected 22,300 miles as the figure for the planned final altitude, and used that.

My fact sheet sailed through the routine checks by NASA engineering managers without a problem, and was published. The idea of a satellite that could sit apparently motionless in the sky was still very new. INTELSATs, the first satellite system designed to provide communications over the entire world, were receiving a lot of attention. Story after story appeared in the media about the advantages of geosynchronous orbit. And all of them used the figure I had supplied as the correct altitude, 22,300 miles. Within a year or two, it had become the established figure. Everyone, from knowledgeable newsmen to devoted space program fans, used it. Even NASA people doing briefings for the press and public adopted it.

ULO continued to launch vehicles, the only U.S. action around after the last manned flight for Apollo, the Soyuz Test Project in 1975. Among these were several in the swiftly growing area of spacecraft designed to operate from geosynchronous orbit.  And going over the orbital parameters for another one, a year or so after my first, I discovered something.

There is such a physical dimension as a perfect geosynchronous orbit altitude. Few spacecraft attain it or rigorously hold to it, because it isn't that important. A satellite can move slowly up or down in orbit (the only visible effect of not being in a perfect circle) fifty miles or so, without seriously affecting the antennas transmitting to it from the ground, or the coverage area of its broadcast signal. Spacecraft operators don't waste precious fuel trying to keep a satellite at an exact altitude; here, close is good enough.

But the perfect altitude for a Clarke orbit, it turns out, is 22,237 statute miles above mean sea level. (And it is of interest to note that the master visionary, in his "Wireless World" article, called for an orbit with an estimated radius of 42,000 kilometers from the center of the earth. That works out to about 22,100 miles above mean sea level; very close.) That meant I should have rounded off geosynchronous altitude as 22,200 miles above the Earth, the closest hundred. Using 22,300 miles had been a mistake.

By the time I recognized my error, the 22,300 figure had become thoroughly established. Everyone was using it, even engineers and others who were experts in orbital mechanics and knew better. I tried to correct the mistake by using the exact planned apogee and perigee figures on ensuing factsheets, but it was too late. The news media ignored the exact figures, sticking with the incorrect final planned altitude of 22,300 miles.

When I saw the European magazine using the 23,300 mile figure, decades later, I realized it has obviously become a world-wide standard.  It should be 22,200, but tell that to anyone except someone with expertise in orbital mechanics, and you will start an argument.

It's wrong. And it's all my fault.

It's probably also my only real claim to lasting infamy -- except that no one but a few people to whom I've spoken, and the readers of the fanzine "Challenger", which published an earlier version of this article in Issue 20, know the facts

Ah, well.