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Space Digest                Tue, 20 Jul 93       Volume 16 : Issue 893

Today's Topics:
      Electronic Journal of the ASA (EJASA) - July 1993 [Part 1]

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Date: Mon, 19 Jul 1993 18:15:10 GMT
From: Larry Klaes <[e-mail]>
Subject: Electronic Journal of the ASA (EJASA) - July 1993 [Part 1]
Newsgroups: sci.astro,sci.space,sci.misc,sci.geo.geology,alt.sci.planetary

                           THE ELECTRONIC JOURNAL OF
                   THE ASTRONOMICAL SOCIETY OF THE ATLANTIC

                       Volume 4, Number 12 - July 1993

                         ###########################

                              TABLE OF CONTENTS

                         ###########################

          * ASA Membership and Article Submission Information

          * The Great Moon Race: The Red Moon - Andrew J. LePage

          * 181st American Astronomical Society (AAS) Meeting

               - Paul Dickson and Mike Willmoth

                         ###########################

                         ASA MEMBERSHIP INFORMATION

        The Electronic Journal of the Astronomical Society of the Atlantic
    (EJASA) is published monthly by the Astronomical Society of the
    Atlantic, Incorporated.  The ASA is a non-profit organization dedicated
    to the advancement of amateur and professional astronomy and space
    exploration, as well as the social and educational needs of its members.

        ASA membership application is open to all with an interest in

    astronomy and space exploration.  Members receive the Journal of the
    ASA (hardcopy sent through United States Mail - Not a duplicate of this
    Electronic Journal) and the Astronomical League's REFLECTOR magazine.
    Members may also purchase discount subscriptions to ASTRONOMY and
    SKY & TELESCOPE magazines.

        For information on membership, you may contact the Society at any
    of the following addresses:

        Astronomical Society of the Atlantic (ASA)
        P. O. Box 15038
        Atlanta, Georgia  30333-9998
        U.S.A.

        [e-mail]

        ASA BBS: [phone], 300/1200/2400 Baud

        or telephone the Society Recording at [phone] to leave your
    address and/or receive the latest Society news.

        ASA Officers and Council -

        President - Eric Greene
        Vice President - Jeff Elledge
        Secretary - Ingrid Siegert-Tanghe
        Treasurer - Mike Burkhead
        Directors - Becky Long, Tano Scigliano, Bob Vickers
        Council - Bill Bagnuolo, Michele Bagnuolo, Don Barry, Bill Black,
                  Mike Burkhead, Jeff Elledge, Frank Guyton, Larry Klaes,
                  Ken Poshedly, Jim Rouse, Tano Scigliano, John Stauter,
                  Wess Stuckey, Harry Taylor, Gary Thompson, Cindy Weaver,
                  Bob Vickers


                             ARTICLE SUBMISSIONS

        Article submissions to the EJASA on astronomy and space exploration
    are most welcome.  Please send your on-line articles in ASCII format to
    Larry Klaes, EJASA Editor, at the following net addresses or the above
    Society addresses:

        [e-mail]
        or - ...!decwrl!verga.enet.dec.com!klaes
        or - [e-mail]
        or - [e-mail]

        You may also use the above addresses for EJASA back issue requests,
    letters to the editor, and ASA membership information.

        When sending your article submissions, please be certain to include
    either a network or regular mail address where you can be reached, a
    telephone number, and a brief biographical sketch.

        Back issues of the EJASA are also available from the ASA anonymous
    FTP site at chara.gsu.edu (131.96.5.29).  Directory: /ejasa

                                DISCLAIMER

        Submissions are welcome for consideration.  Articles submitted,
    unless otherwise stated, become the property of the Astronomical
    Society of the Atlantic, Incorporated.  Though the articles will not
    be used for profit, they are subject to editing, abridgment, and other
    changes.  Copying or reprinting of the EJASA, in part or in whole, is
    encouraged, provided clear attribution is made to the Astronomical
    Society of the Atlantic, the Electronic Journal, and the author(s).
    Opinions expressed in the EJASA are those of the authors' and not
    necessarily those of the ASA.  No responsibility is assumed by the
    ASA or the EJASA for any injury and/or damage to persons or property
    as a matter of products liability, negligence or otherwise, or from
    any use of operation of any methods, products, instructions, or ideas
    contained in the material herein.  This Journal is Copyright (c) 1993
    by the Astronomical Society of the Atlantic, Incorporated.


                        THE GREAT MOON RACE: THE RED MOON

                      Copyright (c) 1993 by Andrew J. LePage

        The author gives permission to any group or individual wishing
        to distribute this article, so long as proper credit is given
        and the article is reproduced in its entirety.

        As the year 1965 was drawing to a close, Soviet lunar probes were
    being launched from the Baikonur Cosmodrome as if from a celestial
    machine gun.  In typical Soviet aerospace engineering style, a lunar
    spacecraft would be launched, failures were analyzed, modifications
    would be made, and a new probe would be launched.  After a half decade
    of this cycle, the Soviets were very close to success.  LUNA 7 and 8
    both performed flawlessly until the ignition of their retrorockets:
    LUNA 7 fired its engines seconds too early while LUNA 8 fired its
    engines seconds too late.

        While the Soviets emphasized in-flight testing of their
    spacecraft, partly on the off-chance that one of the early flights
    might actually succeed - thus ensuring another space first - the
    United States emphasized ground testing.  As a result of the adverse
    American public reaction to the failures of the early lunar PIONEERs
    and the Block II RANGERs, NASA literally could not afford any more
    strings of in-flight failures.  The American people and Congress
    would not foot the bill for even more expensive lunar programs without
    an excellent chance for success.  Despite the differing political
    climates and engineering philosophies, by the beginning of 1966 both
    the Soviet Union and the United States were very close to landing
    their first unmanned spacecraft on the Moon.

        SURVEYOR is Readied

        As one Soviet lunar lander after another was launched during 1965,
    the United States continued development of SURVEYOR and its launch
    vehicle, the ATLAS-CENTAUR.  Following the failure of ATLAS-CENTAUR 5
    on March 2, 1965, ATLAS-CENTAUR 6 was a success.  Launched on August
    11, this test flight placed a 2,084-pound (946-kilogram) dynamic model
    of SURVEYOR directly into a 105 by 509,829-mile (169 by 820,315-kilo-
    meter) orbit that simulated the direct ascent trajectory the first
    SURVEYORs would use to reach the Moon.  With this successful mission,
    the first phase of CENTAUR development was completed and the ATLAS-
    CENTAUR was deemed ready for service.  Future test flights would be
    used to develop CENTAUR's in-orbit restart capability.

        Development of SURVEYOR itself was nearly completed at the same
    time.  The last balloon-borne drop test to verify the landing sequence
    was a success.  The first flight article, SURVEYOR A, had completed an
    extensive series of functional and environmental tests.  The launch of
    this first spacecraft was expected in the early spring of 1966.

        Meanwhile, plans for future SURVEYOR missions were being
    restructured.  After a thorough review, NASA decided to make use of
    the lighter 2,200-pound (1,000-kilogram) stripped-down "engineering"
    model of SURVEYOR for all seven scheduled flights, instead of just for
    the first four missions as previously planned.  It was felt that the
    lightly instrumented (and cheaper) lander was adequate to fulfill its
    primary objective of gathering information needed to verify the manned
    APOLLO Lunar Module (LM) design.  A decision to launch three follow-on
    missions using the more heavily instrumented SURVEYOR model was
    deferred pending further study.

        In its final form, SURVEYOR was the most advanced lunar spacecraft
    of its day.  The basic eight-foot (2.4-meter) tall structure consisted
    of a simple 59-pound (27-kilogram) tetrahedral frame made of tubular
    aluminum alloy members.  In each of the three lower corners was a
    landing leg equipped with an aircraft-style shock absorber and a
    footpad of crushable honeycomb aluminum.  The total span of the legs,
    once deployed, was 14 feet (4.3 meters).  Rising from the apex of the
    frame was a mast upon which was mounted a gimballed planar high-gain
    antenna (HGA) and a solar panel supplying an average of sixty watts of
    power to the lander's silver-zinc batteries.  From the footpads to the
    top of its mast, SURVEYOR stood ten feet (three meters) tall.

        Buried inside the spacecraft's frame was a Morton Thiokol-built
    36-inch (91-centimeter) diameter TE-M-364 solid propellant rocket
    motor that would provide between 8,000 and 10,000 pounds (36 to 45
    kilonewtons) of thrust.  This 1,444-pound (656-kilogram) motor would
    be used to negate most of SURVEYOR's motion towards the Moon as the
    lander approached the barren surface.

        SURVEYOR also carried a second propulsion system for midcourse
    corrections and attitude control during the main retrorocket burn for
    the final descent.  This system consisted of three vernier engines
    fueled by monoethylhydrazine hydrate with a mixture of ninety percent
    nitrogen tetraoxide and ten percent nitric acid serving as the
    oxidizer.  These engines were throttable, producing between 30 and
    104 pounds (130 and 460 newtons) of thrust each.  Yaw, pitch, and
    descent rate were controlled by selective throttling of the engines.
    Roll was controlled by a single gimballed vernier.  During the trans-
    lunar coast, SURVEYOR's attitude was controlled by a set of six
    nitrogen gas jets, each providing one ounce (0.27 newtons) of thrust.

        All the temperature sensitive electronics were carried in two
    thermal boxes.  These compartments were covered with 75 layers of
    aluminized mylar insulation and the tops were covered by mirrored
    glass thermal regulators.  Compartment A, which maintained the
    temperature between 40 and 125 degrees Fahrenheit (4 and 52 degrees
    Celsius), carried a redundant set of receivers and ten-watt radio
    transmitters, the batteries, their charge regulators, and some
    auxiliary equipment.

        The second box, Compartment B, was designed to maintain the
    temperature between 0 and 125 degrees Fahrenheit (-15 and 52 degrees
    Celsius).  This compartment carried the computer "brains" of the
    spacecraft, which controlled all aspects of the lander's operation
    using a total of 256 commands.  Mounted elsewhere on the frame were
    star sensors, a pair of radar antennae, low-gain antennae (LGA),
    propellant, and helium pressurization tanks.

        A total of 65 pounds (30 kilograms) of instrumentation were
    carried by the first SURVEYORs.  Most were engineering sensors such
    as strain gauges, accelerometers, rate gyros, temperature sensors,
    and so on to be used to make more than two hundred measurements of
    the spacecraft's performance and condition.  While not specifically
    designed for investigating the lunar environment, many of these
    measurements could be used to determine some of its basic properties.

        The only true scientific instruments were a pair of slow-scan
    television cameras.  One was pointed down to provide a RANGER-style
    view of the lunar surface and a footpad during landing.  These images
    would be transmitted during SURVEYOR's final approach to allow the
    landing site to be pinpointed, along with providing information on the
    surrounding terrain.  As it turned out, however, this camera was never
    used on the first two flights and was deleted altogether afterwards.
    It was felt that the upcoming LUNAR ORBITER missions would provide the
    needed detailed images to help interpret the SURVEYOR findings and put
    them in a geologic context.

        The second camera was mounted in a 65-inch (1.65-meter) tall mast
    on the spacecraft's framework.  The camera pointed up into a movable
    mirror that allowed the camera to view 360 degrees of azimuth and from
    sixty degrees below to fifty degrees above the normal plane of the
    camera.  This device was canted at a sixteen-degree angle to offer a
    clear view of the surface between two of the footpads out to the lunar
    horizon 1.5 miles (2.5 kilometers) away.

        The camera was fitted with a 25 to 100 millimeter (mm) zoom lens
    that offered a field of view of between 25.3 and 6.4 degrees.  The
    aperture could be set between f/4 and f/22 and the lens could be
    focused from four feet (1.2 meters) to infinity.  A shutter was also
    included so that various integration times could be used to obtain the
    ideal exposure.  The nominal exposure time was 150 milliseconds, but
    exposures as long as about thirty minutes could be accommodated.  The
    typical resolution of the camera was one millimeter at a distance of
    thirteen feet (four meters).

        The camera was also fitted with a filter wheel containing clear,
    colored, and polarizing filters.  With the aid of color calibration
    targets mounted at various points of the spacecraft, pictures taken
    through red, green, and blue filters could be reconstructed back on
    Earth to yield full-color views of the lunar surface.  Images taken
    with the polarization filters, when combined with information of the
    viewing geometry, could be used to determine the scattering
    characteristics of the lunar surface.

        The camera could only operate through remote control from Earth
    using a total of 25 commands.  The primary means of transmitting
    images was through the high-gain antenna.  Using this powerful
    antenna, an image would be broken up into six hundred scan lines and
    transmitted to the home planet in 3.6 seconds.  The less powerful
    low-gain antennae, which served as a backup, would permit an image
    to be broken up into only two hundred lines and would require 61.8
    seconds to transmit.

        Like RANGER, SURVEYOR was designed to make a direct descent to
    the lunar surface.  SURVEYOR was much more flexible than the Block
    II RANGER lander, however, since SURVEYOR could approach the lunar
    surface at a substantial angle off the local vertical.  This made
    most of the lunar hemisphere facing Earth accessible to this new
    lander.  Early flights, however, would be limited to the equatorial
    mare regions which, as a result of RANGER photography, appeared to
    be the safest landing sites for the early APOLLO missions.

        The typical SURVEYOR mission started with its launch from Cape
    Kennedy on the east coast of Florida.  Once the ATLAS-CENTAUR sent
    the lander on its way, SURVEYOR would deploy its landing gear and
    low-gain antennae, lock its solar panel onto the Sun, and then acquire
    its second celestial reference, the star Canopus.  During its over
    sixty-hour coast to the Moon, the probe would make as many as two
    mid-course burns of its vernier engines to fine tune its aim towards
    the Moon.

        Once within one thousand miles (1,600 kilometers) of the lunar
    surface, the lander would align its retrorocket along the flight path.
    The descent camera, if it was used, would start relaying images.  At
    a height of 200 miles (320 kilometers), an altitude-marking radar
    mounted inside the molybdenum nozzle of the retrorocket would be
    activated.  At a slant range of 60 miles (100 kilometers), the flight
    programmer would start a predetermined countdown and then ignite the
    three vernier engines, followed by the main retrorocket.  During the
    forty-second burn, attitude was maintained by the verniers and the
    speed was cut from over 5,800 miles per hour (2,600 meters per second)
    to only 250 miles per hour (110 meters per second) at an altitude of
    25 miles (40 kilometers).

        About eleven seconds after burnout, the high-strength steel
    retrorocket case was jettisoned and the Radar Altimeter and Doppler
    Velocity Sensor (RADVS) was activated.  Using data from RADVS, the
    onboard computer controlled the thrust of the vernier engines to
    further reduce the speed of the lander to only three miles per hour
    (1.3 meters per second) at an altitude of 14 feet (4.3 meters).  At
    this point, the verniers were shutdown and SURVEYOR dropped to the
    surface at a speed of 15 miles per hour (6.6 meters per second).

        Once on the lunar surface, the lander's onboard systems would be
    checked and the first two hundred line image showing the footpad would
    be taken and relayed back to Earth.  Over the course of the lunar day
    (equivalent to fourteen Earth days), several panoramas made of six
    hundred line images would be returned and observations of the surroun-
    ding terrain under various lighting conditions would be made.  Shortly
    after local sunset, the lander would be shut down.  Operations would
    begin following sunrise if the spacecraft survived the bitterly cold
    lunar night.

        The First Lunar Landing!

        Before SURVEYOR ever made it to the launch pad, the Soviets' luck
    finally turned.  After a successful launch into a 104 by 136-mile (167
    by 219-kilometer) Earth parking orbit, LUNA 9 headed towards the Moon
    on January 31, 1966.  The 3,387-pound (1,538-kilogram) spacecraft was
    of a totally different design than the American SURVEYOR.  The 8.9-foot
    (2.7-meter) tall spacecraft consisted of a two-part multi-mission bus
    and the payload.

        The bottom half of the main bus consisted of a propulsion module
    incorporating an Isayev Design Bureau-built KTDU-5A retrorocket.  It
    was topped with a torroidal aluminum alloy tank filled with an amine-
    based fuel and a 35-inch (90-centimeter) diameter spherical tank
    filled with the nitric acid oxidizer.  The total propellant load
    for a landing mission was about 1,800 pounds (800 kilograms).  Four
    outrigger vernier thrust chambers provided attitude control and
    thrust trimming during retrorocket fire as well as perform mid-course
    corrections.  In total, this propulsion system could provide 10,200
    pounds (45.5 kilonewtons) of thrust for a single 43-second burn.

        On top of the propulsion module was a cylindrical equipment
    module, which was pressurized to 1.2 Earth atmospheres.  This section
    contained communications equipment, power supplies, batteries, and
    spacecraft control systems.  This section also supported the Sun
    and Moon sensors needed for attitude reference.  Strapped to either
    side of this section were 660 pounds (300 kilograms) of lightly
    constructed, jettisonable packages containing radar equipment to
    initiate retrorocket fire and the in-flight attitude control system.
    This consisted of sets of nitrogen gas jets mounted on three arms
    and feeding off of three gas bottles.  Once the engines ignited,
    these items were no longer needed and were discarded to save weight
    for the descent.

        Mounted on top of this bus was the lander, which would be thrown
    from the stack upon contact with the lunar surface.  The lander was a
    sphere about 23 inches (58 centimeters) in diameter and weighing 220
    pounds (100 kilograms).  After the bottom-heavy lander rolled to a
    stop, four petals would open to stabilize it.  Inside were the lander's
    transmitter, batteries, and other equipment.  Like the American Block
    II RANGER lander, the interior temperature was maintained between 66
    and 86 degrees Fahrenheit (19 and 30 degrees Celsius) by a capsule of
    water.

        Two instruments were carried by the lander:  A simple SBM-10
    radiation detector and a facsimile-style panoramic camera similar to
    the cameras carried by the American VIKING Mars landers one decade
    later.  A mirror mounted in a three-inch (eight-centimeter) turret
    at the top of the lander some two feet (sixty centimeters) above the
    surface was used so that the camera could scan through 360 degrees of
    azimuth and from eighteen degrees below to eleven degrees above the
    horizon.  A full six thousand line panorama could be transmitted back
    to Earth in one hundred minutes.  The camera could focus on objects
    from as close as five feet (1.5 meters) to infinity with a maximum
    resolution of 0.06 to 0.08 inches (1.5 to 2 millimeters).  Small
    targets dangled from the four antennae to calibrate the camera and
    three thin mirrors provided stereoscopic views of small areas near
    the lander.

        After LUNA 9 separated from its escape stage, the nitrogen jets
    were fired to orient the spacecraft and start it rolling at one
    revolution every 1.5 minutes to even out the heat radiating from the
    Sun.  After being tracked for 31 hours and 47 minutes, the nitrogen
    jets were fired again to align the probe with the Moon and Sun.  A
    48-second course correction burn was performed, after which LUNA 9
    resumed its slow roll.

        Unlike the American lunar probes that could be oriented in any
    direction for their mid-course correction, the second generation LUNAs
    could only perform course correction burns perpendicular to its flight
    path, thus greatly simplifying the astro-orientation system.  Another
    simplification incorporated into the design was that the LUNA landers
    could only approach the lunar surface from near the local vertical,
    much like the Block II RANGER.  Also like the American lander, this
    constraint limited landings to equatorial sites near 64 degrees west
    longitude in the eastern part of Oceanus Procellarum.

        On February 3 - about one hour before landing - at an altitude of
    5,200 miles (8,300 kilometers), the nitrogen jets again fired to stop
    the descending craft's roll and orient it along the local vertical.
    The on-board radar triggered the terminal descent sequence at an
    altitude of 47 miles (75 kilometers) as the spacecraft speed increased
    to 5,800 miles per hour (2,600 meters per second).  The four outrigger
    engines fired, attitude reference was taken over by the onboard gyros,
    and the now useless side compartments were jettisoned.  At that moment
    the main retrorocket burst to life.  Sixteen feet (five meters) above
    the surface, a deployed sensor made contact with the surface and cast
    off the lunar lander as the main bus hit the surface at a speed of
    about fourteen miles per hour (six meters per second).

        The spherical lander bounced along the ground several times and
    finally came to rest at 18:45:30 Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) west of
    the crater Reiner at 7.13 degrees north latitude, 64.37 degrees west
    longitude.  Some 250 seconds after touchdown, the artificial petals
    opened and the spacecraft started transmitting back to Earth.  While
    this landing was not as elegant as SURVEYOR's, the Soviets did beat
    the Americans once again in the conquest of space.

        About seven hours after landing, the long process of returning
    the first panorama to Earth was begun.  The pictures showed that LUNA
    9 came to rest on a smooth area inside an 82-foot (25-meter) crater
    tilted at a 16.5 degree angle.  While the images had rather limited
    resolution, they did put to rest once and for all the notion that the
    Moon's surface was covered by a deep dust layer that would swallow
    any visiting spacecraft.

        Almost thirteen hours after taking its first panorama, LUNA 9
    was commanded to take a second one.  During the intervening time,
    the lander's position shifted slightly, allowing stereoscopic study
    of large portions of the landing site.  Three more panoramas were
    transmitted on February 5 and images of smaller areas were taken the
    following day.  Data from the radiation detector indicated that the
    radiation level at the surface was about thirty millirads per day.

        At 22:55 GMT on February 6, the lander's batteries were
    exhausted and the mission ended.  During LUNA 9's 76 hours and 10
    minutes on the lunar surface, it transmitted for a total of eight
    hours and five minutes during six communication sessions, returning
    nine images from the surface and radiation data.  The mission was
    a resounding success.  At best, the Americans would be the second
    nation to land on the Moon.

        The First in Orbit

        Being first to land on the surface of the Moon was not the
    Soviets' only goal.  On March 1, 1966, another lunar spacecraft was
    launched into a 119 by 140-mile (191 by 226-kilometer) Earth parking
    orbit.  Unfortunately, the escape stage failed to operate, stranding
    its payload - now designated KOSMOS 111 - in a quickly decaying orbit.
    On March 31, a second lunar payload was successfully launched towards
    the Moon and subsequently named LUNA 10.

        Unlike the previous second generation LUNA missions, this probe
    was not meant to land.  Instead of a lander, the multi-mission bus
    carried a 539-pound (245-kilogram) lunar orbiter.  On April 3, LUNA
    10 fired its main propulsion system to cut 1,900 miles per hour (850
    meters per second) off of its approach velocity.  This act allowed
    the probe to enter a 218 by 632-mile (350 by 1,017-kilometer) orbit
    inclined 71.9 degrees and having a period two minutes short of three
    hours.  Twenty minutes into its first orbit, the spacecraft's payload
    was spun up to two revolutions per minute and ejected from the now
    useless bus.

        The LUNA 10 orbiter was similar to many of the small KOSMOS-class
    Earth orbiting science satellites launched at that time.  Basically,
    the probe was a pressurized 2.5-foot (75-centimeter) wide, 4.9-foot
    (1.5-meter) long chamfered cylinder, deriving all of its power from
    internal batteries.  Unlike the American LUNAR ORBITER, only field and
    particle instrumentation were carried to study the near-lunar environ-
    ment.  These included a piezoelectric micrometeoroid detector with a
    collecting area of 13 square feet (1.2 square meters), capable of
    detecting particles as light as 2.5 trillionths of an ounce (0.07
    micrograms).  Two 0.6 by 1.2-inch (15 by 30-millimeter) plates served
    as infrared detectors to measure the temperature of the lunar surface.

        Various radiation detectors were carried, including a gamma-ray
    sensor sensitive to energies between 0.3 and 4 MeV (Mega-electron Volt)
    that could be used to assess the composition of the lunar surface.  A
    sensitive magnetometer mounted on a 4.9-foot (1.5-meter) boom was
    used to measure lunar magnetic fields.  Changes in radio transmission
    properties could be used to determine the characteristics of any
    thin gaseous medium near the surface.  Finally, the orbiter could
    be tracked to determine the mass distribution of the Moon.

        The mission of LUNA 10 was as much political as it was scientific.
    One of the probe's first tasks upon reaching orbit was to broadcast
    the Soviet anthem "Internationale" to the Twenty-Third Congress of the
    Communist Party then meeting in Russia.  The Soviets were first again
    and wanted the whole world to know it.  After 56 days in orbit and 219
    communication sessions, LUNA's batteries were exhausted.  The first
    lunar satellite was last known to be in a 235 by 612-mile (378 by 985-
    kilometer) orbit, perturbed by the highly irregular lunar gravitational
    field.

        This would prove to be the high water mark of Soviet lunar
    exploration in the Nineteen Sixties.  The Soviets achieved all the
    major firsts in the race to the Moon:  The first flyby, first impact,
    first farside photographs, first landing, and now the first lunar
    satellite.  After almost one decade of failures, delays, and, at
    best, coming in second, the United States was now poised to seize
    control of the Great Moon Race.

           Summary of Lunar Probe Launches, First Quarter 1966
    _________________________________________________________________
         Name      Launch         Country   Weight         Launch
                   Date                     lbs (kg)       Vehicle
    _________________________________________________________________

    LUNA 9         Jan 31, 1966   USSR      3387 (1538)    MOLNIYA
                   Lunar hard landing

    KOSMOS 111     Mar 1, 1966    USSR      3480 (1580)?   MOLNIYA
                   Possible failed lunar orbiter

    LUNA 10        Mar 31, 1966   USSR      3484 (1582)    MOLNIYA
                   Lunar orbiter
    ___________________________________________________________________
    Notes:  Probe names given in () are used if no official name exists.

        Weights given are the launch weights of the probes and do not
        include any additional equipment that may have been carried by
        the escape stage.
    ___________________________________________________________________

        Bibliography -

         Gatland, Kenneth, THE ILLUSTRATED ENCYCLOPEDIA OF SPACE
     TECHNOLOGY, 1988

         Gatland, Kenneth, ROBOT EXPLORERS, 1972

         Johnson, Nicholas, HANDBOOK OF SOVIET LUNAR AND PLANETARY
     EXPLORATION, 1979

         Mirabito, Michael M., THE EXPLORATION OF OUTER SPACE WITH
     CAMERAS, 1983

         Wilson, Andrew (Editor), INTERAVIA SPACE DIRECTORY 1989-90

         Wilson, Andrew, (JANE'S) SOLAR SYSTEM LOG, 1987

         MAJOR NASA LAUNCHES, Kennedy Space Center (KSC) Historical
    Report No. 1A, circa 1987

         NASA SPACECRAFT PROGRAMS, TRW Space Log, Fall 1965

         SPACECRAFT DETAILS, TRW Space Log, Summer 1966

         VECTORS, Volume X: SURVEYOR Commemorative Issue, 1968

        About the Author -

        Andrew J. LePage is a scientist at a small R&D company in the
    Boston, Massachusetts area involved in space science image and data
    analysis.  He has written many articles on the history of spaceflight
    and astronomy over the past few years that have been published in many
    magazines throughout North America and Europe.  Andrew has been a
    serious observer of the Soviet/CIS space program for over one dozen
    years.

        Andrew's Internet address is:  [e-mail]

        Andrew is the author of the following EJASA articles:

        "Mars 1994" - March 1990
        "The Great Moon Race: The Soviet Story, Part One" - December 1990
        "The Great Moon Race: The Soviet Story, Part Two" - January 1991
        "The Mystery of ZOND 2" - April 1991
        "The Great Moon Race: New Findings" - May 1991
        "The Great Moon Race: In the Beginning..." - May 1992
     "The Great Moon Race: The Commitment" - August 1992
        "The Great Moon Race: The Long Road to Success" - September 1992
        "Recent Soviet Lunar and Planetary Program Revelations" - May 1993


                  181ST AMERICAN ASTRONOMICAL SOCIETY MEETING

                       by Paul Dickson and Mike Willmoth

           Courtesy of Paul Dickson ([e-mail]),
         Editor of the Saguaro Astronomy Club's newsletter, SACNews,
         in Phoenix, Arizona.  This article appeared in the March 1993
         issue of SACNews.

        I began writing this article the night of the January 1993 SAC
    star party.  At that time, it was also the twelfth consecutive day
    with but a trace of rain for the city of Phoenix.  In total, it rained
    for fifteen days.  Arizona Route 85, the road over the Gila River to
    our Buckeye Hills observing site, was closed that night due to high
    water.  Not only was it raining, but we could not even get to the
    observing site.  These were two very good reasons not to attend the
    star party.

        The yearly average rain fall for Phoenix, newly raised after
    1992's totals, is 19.15 centimeters (7.66 inches).  For January, we
    received 13.05 centimeters (5.22 inches), the wettest January recorded
    and breaking a ninety-six year-old record.  In fact, if you combine
    both December and January, the total is 20.75 centimeters (8.3 inches).
    February was only slightly drier than January, but with yet another
    storm expected during the last week of the month, there would be even
    more rain and fewer stars.

        Fortunately, everything that happens in astronomy does not take
    place in the sky.  On the first week of January, Arizona State
    University (ASU) hosted the American Astronomical Society (AAS) winter
    meeting.  Aside from having perhaps one day (if that) of Arizona
    sunshine, the meeting went well.

        Local amateurs were recruited as volunteers by the Local
    Organizing Committee to help run the meeting.  Basically, we worked
    room lights, the audio/visual equipment, and signs.  All of this
    is trivial but very important in running a smooth meeting.  One
    ninety-minute session can have six presentations with the possibility
    of each presenter wanting to put their own slides into a slide tray
    that quickly becomes full.  In return for working the meeting, the
    volunteers were given free admission.

        The 181st meeting began on January 3, 1993.  Because I was a
    volunteer, it began one day earlier for me.  On that day (Saturday),
    every volunteer gathered bushy-tailed, if not very bright-eyed (after
    all, these were amateur astronomers and ten a.m. is early), at the
    Pointe South Mountain to learn how to operated the A/V equipment, room
    lights, and what to do if a light bulb burned out (do not touch, call
    the hotel personnel).  We then toured the hotel learning the locations
    of the conference rooms.  Later we began stuffing meeting packets with
    a pizza lunch interruption.

        Mike's first day was Sunday, working the registration desk.  Many
    notable astronomers arrived at the registration desk, where he got to
    hand out badges and registration packets filled with goodies.  Mike
    sold some of their AAS T-shirts.  Mike also worked Tuesday evening as
    a door sitter for the Carl Sagan talk.

        My first day was Monday, where I ran the A/V equipment for both
    the morning and afternoon sessions of the Historical Astronomy
    Division.  These sessions covered a large time range.  From the
    ancient Native American observatories in New Mexico and Argentina to
    the history of NASA's High Resolution Microwave Survey (HRMS) which
    began operating in October of 1992.  HRMS is NASA's new name for SETI,
    the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence, so it can get through
    Congress without causing a discussion about "Little Green Men" (LGM).

        One presentation of interest was an expansion of Ron Schorn's
    parallels between Simon Newcomb and Arthur Conan Doyle's Professor
    Moriarty in the Sherlock Holmes mysteries by B. E. Schaefer.  Not only
    can the exact descriptions of Moriarty be used to describe Newcomb,
    but also the descriptions of Colonel Moran similarly describe Doyle's
    friend Colonel Alfred Drayson.  The conclusion was that Professor
    Moriarty and Colonel Moran were both based on prominent members of
    the astronomical community.

        On Tuesday morning I worked at the registration desk until lunch
    time.  This did not allow me to attend any sessions.  I also had other
    things to do that afternoon.  The most notable occurrence for that
    morning was made so by its lack of being really noticeable.  Carl
    Sagan came and picked up his registration packet.  After he had left,
    those of us behind the desk wondered if we should have jokingly asked
    Carl if he wanted a ticket to attend the talk he was giving that night.

        On my way out at lunch time, I walked in front of a parked milk
    truck.  This was a large truck, just short of being a tractor trailer.
    As I passed in front of it, the vehicle started to slowly move.  I
    easily got well out of its way without increasing my walk.  Glancing
    back at the truck, I noticed the front door was open and at first
    thought the driver was just repositioning the truck.  However, after
    the truck had moved further, I could see in the cab that there was no
    one present.  One brave passerby attempted to climb into the truck but
    quickly abandoned the idea rather than be brushed off by a tree.  The
    truck proceeded to make a good attempt at pushing its way into two
    stationary automobiles parked less than nine meters (thirty feet)
    from where the truck started its brief journey.  No one was hurt.

        On Wednesday I was scheduled to work the signs for the Grand
    Ballroom.  Due to the position of the lights, slide projector, and
    signs, I ended up working the projector, too.  This session was long,
    mainly because it was really three sessions.  The first and last
    session had most of the attendees present.  No little pressure here.
    The worst part was the last session with the invited talk.  This
    session had slides and I ended up advancing them, rather than the
    speaker doing it.  This would have been fine except I had a hard time
    hearing the speaker over the slide projector.  I must have lived
    through it, though, for I am still here.

        Wednesday afternoon was even wilder.  I arrived in the session
    room with the microphones disconnected and the smell of smoke.  My
    first nasal impression was one of popcorn and later of burnt sugar.
    Since I discovered that there was feedback when the microphones were
    plugged in, I called the hotel's A/V department.  After adjusting the
    volume they said they would investigate the smoke smell.  Naturally,
    they never returned.  The High Energy Physics session went off without
    any problems.  There were no slides, but the control panel for the
    lights was behind the screen used for overheads.

        Thursday morning I had one short session to work signs.  I also
    worked the lights, since the control panel was between me and the
    sign, so it was no problem.  The person running the projector never
    got any slides for this session.

        Due to working only one short session, I attended the session in
    the Grand Ballroom.  It was entitled "The Wonderful World of Supernovae",
    given by A. V. Filippenko.  It covered the history of supernova studies
    of the Type Ia, Ib, Ic, and Type II.  Also covered were peculiarities
    of the Ia and the use of Type II supernovae as a direct measurement of
    celestial distance, hereby skipping the many steps of the cosmic
    distance ladder.

        Thursday afternoon I worked as a runner.  This is generally a
    backup position to perform whatever needed to be done.  I nearly had
    to run the slide projector when someone arrived late, but after they
    arrived I went back to just sitting around.  It was lucky I has a
    full packet from all the handouts at the Pavilion; I had read almost
    everything by the end of the day.

        The Pavilion was a big tent.  It was where the vendors were
    showing their wares and the papers were posted on bulletin boards.
    There were a lot of handouts, posters, CDs, and CD-ROMs given away.
    Book vendors were offering sale prices between ten to thirty percent
    off.  All told, I spent about one hundred dollars on books.  I wish
    I could have afforded to spend more.

        I overheard some other volunteers talking about one weird session
    that they covered.  It seems that one presenter spent most of his time
    talking about a still in Beijing, the capital of China.

        Pete Manly, a SAC member and a moderator on BIX, also attended as
    a volunteer.  Here are some of the comments he sent to me:

        "At the AAS meeting I saw more business conducted outside the
    scheduled sessions than in.  This is where collaborations are formed,
    grad students find permanent jobs, and nights on telescopes are traded
    (one astronomer quipped that they really needed to formalize trades
    and have open sessions conducted in `trading pits' like pork bellies
    and corn futures are traded on stock market floors).

        "The only really `big ticket' item I saw announced was that
    Geminga, the enigmatic high energy source (and possible black hole)
    has a detectable proper motion, implying it is close by and within the
    Milky Way Galaxy.  Unfortunately, for that session I was working the
    light switches from behind the screen so I could only hear the session
    and did not see the diagrams.

        "I personally found it entertaining, as I ran into old friends I
    hadn't observed with for fifteen to twenty years.  I also had several
    kind folks come up to me with copies of my book for signature, a duty
    I like second only to signing the backs of royalty checks."

        The next one dozen paragraphs are from Mike describing a session
    he attended and what was going on in the Pavilion.

        The most interesting group of sessions going on that I wanted to
    see was the Education track.  I walked into the middle of one of the
    first presentations but caught the rest.  Many dealt with using
    personal computers in training undergraduate students how to handle
    data reduction and plan observing sessions.

        One professor was describing the software he had written over
    several years to train students to do data reduction.  It was similar
    but different to one already available; the names escape me now that
    it is almost two months later.  He indicated that he had found that
    the topics covered with the original software failed to teach
    everything that was needed by an astronomer.

        The professor's goal was to augment this program with one that
    would cover some of the same topics, but also include the other
    missing ones.  Over time he pared down the software to be as simple as
    possible since some of his students had never used a personal computer
    let alone a mouse driving a graphical user interface.  When he took
    questions from the audience, another professor indicated that he, too,
    had written a program that did some of the same things, but added some
    others.  They decided to discuss them together afterwards.

        The next speaker was a professor from the University of Iowa who
    had taken different CCD cameras and attached them to their smaller
    telescopes.  These ranged from a 35-centimeter (fourteen-inch)
    Schmidt-Cassegrain to a ten-centimeter (four-inch) telephoto lens.
    Each CCD camera had its own features and he showed these in table
    format on an overhead transparency.  He then showed photos of the
    equipment in place in their observatory.

        The professor went on to describe their arrangement.  Students
    would decide which piece(s) of equipment to use during an observing
    run, set up a schedule compatible with the other students, and collect
    the data.  They would then reduce the data and possibly use their
    results to decide whether additional sessions with the same object(s)
    were warranted.  All equipment was controllable from inside, away
    from the observatory itself.

        From Minnesota came another professor who had similar success.  He
    had software which his students could use to decide how to set up an
    observing run and then store the images afterwards.  They would view
    their results in real time and make a decision on whether to continue
    with the schedule or concentrate more on what they had just done.  In
    the event of a cloudy night they could reanalyze their earlier work
    and the software would train them in further techniques.  Students
    would work together in pairs.

        Finally, one professor got up and showed a chart used for the game
    of Life.  He explained that the game of life is such that if you start
    out with a configuration of disks on a Tic-Tac-Toe board, then using
    certain rules you can simulate life.  For example, three neighboring
    squares filled creates a fourth.  However, four neighboring squares
    filled creates a death and frees up a square.

        He then took this one step further by programming software to use
    concentric circles or rings.  Each ring had sectors representing the
    squares on the board.  In addition, each ring held a population of
    stars which orbits the center of a galaxy in a Keplerian orbit.  As
    the inner rings pass the outer rings, the game of life causes stars to
    be born and die.  Depending on the initial conditions of the stellar
    distribution, he could determine which parameters would be conducive
    to continued life and which would die out.

        With this he populated his rings and began the game.  He showed
    a video of the results where the initial conditions fell into an
    interval where stellar life was perpetuated.  He found that as time
    went on in the computer the statistical distribution of stars appeared
    to form into spiral arms.  At this point he formed the question of

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End of Space Digest Volume 16 : Issue 893
------------------------------