History – Cosmic Reflections

Cecilia Payne and Gustav Holst

Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin (1900-1979), as a woman, had to endure an enormous number of challenges and setbacks but her perseverance, professional dedication, and brilliance led her to become one of the important astrophysicists in the 20th century. In her 1925 Ph.D. thesis, Cecilia Payne demonstrated that stars are primarily composed of hydrogen and helium. This was highly controversial at the time, but she was eventually proved correct. In 1960, the noted astronomer Otto Struve called her 1925 thesis, Stellar Atmospheres; A Contribution to the Observational Study of High Temperature in the Reversing Layers of Stars “the most brilliant Ph.D. thesis ever written in astronomy.” Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin would make an excellent subject for a full-length documentary as well as a biographical movie, and it is disgraceful that neither has been done yet.

I recently completed teaching a new five-week course on the English composer Gustav Holst (1874-1934). The research I did for that course plus my lifelong interest in astrophysics naturally led me to take an interest in the relationship between Cecilia Payne and Gustav Holst. Clearly from what you will see below, they had profound respect and admiration for each other.

Cecilia Payne attended St. Paul’ Girls’ School, where Gustav Holst taught, during the 1918-1919 school year. However, Holst left for war service in Salonika, Greece on October 29, 1918 and didn’t return to St. Paul’s until the 1919-1920 school year, after Payne had graduated and gone on to the University of Cambridge in Cambridge, England.

Frances Ralph Gray was the founding “high mistress” of St. Paul’s School for Girls in the Brook Green neighborhood of London…Like Cecilia, she adored music; unlike Cecilia, she had had great difficulty learning mathematics. Also unlike Cecilia, she was small in stature. She was, however, commanding in presence. Students reported that being sent to see Miss Gray “was their greatest fear.”

Frances perceived that there was something different about the seventeen-year-old girl in her office who so wanted to be admitted. Yes, Cecilia had been told to leave her current school, but not because she was disruptive or a problem learner—quite the opposite. She was a serious student who loved music and science, whose goal was to go to Cambridge. She had responded to Elizabeth Edwards and to Dorothy Daglish. If St. Paul’s had similar teachers who could recognize Cecilia’s love of learning and would take time to nurture her, surely she would be a good fit.

Years later, in a touching letter recommending Cecilia for a fellowship at Harvard, Frances wrote: “It is not my practice to admit girls who have reached the age at which Cecilia Payne was admitted [age seventeen], but I was requested to make an exception in her case by the headmistress of the School she had previously attended, who assured me that she was a girl of very unusual promise.”

Unbeknownst to Cecilia, St. Paul’s needed her as much as she needed the school. Founded just over a decade earlier by the Worshipful Company of Mercers, it prided itself on consistently outperforming other schools. The “Paulinas” were not viewed as, or trained to be, socialites; this was a serious school. The social snobbery of other private schools had no place here.

Cecilia described her move to St. Paul’s as stepping from medieval times into the modern day. Instead of chapels there were laboratories—in biology, chemistry, physics—and teachers who were specialists. Here she was not just “allowed” to study science; she was encouraged. She only attended the school for one year. But from the moment she approached the Queen Anne-style pink brick building and walked up the stone steps and through the marble and oak arched front door, she was home.¹

Donovan Moore goes on now to write about Holst.

Frances Gray…made good on her professed love of music when she hired Gustav Holst. Holst was a relatively unknown trombone player when he accepted the job of director of music at St. Paul’s. Like Cecilia, he was shy and reserved, and he disdained fame. And like Cecilia, he was practiced in overcoming obstacles: neuritis in his right arm had forced him to stop playing the trombone and the piano, so he had to turn to composing.

Frances encouraged him; in fact, she worked with him, supplying the text for both a light-hearted masked dance in 1909 and a more ambitious orchestra work three years later. She had an entire music wing built in 1913, including a large soundproof room where Gustav composed on Sundays, when the school was locked up, in silence and solitude. It was in this room that he wrote his most famous work, the orchestra suite The Planets. Cecilia was among a group of students who heard it performed shortly after it was composed.²

As we shall see later through Cecilia’s own words, she must have heard some sort of run-through of The Planets at St. Paul’s. I wonder whether she was among the invited audience of about 250 people who attended the first performance of The Planets at Queen’s Hall, London, on Sunday, September 29, 1918, with Adrian Boult conducting the New Queen’s Hall Orchestra? Given that the choir for “Neptune: The Mystic” in that performance was comprised, in whole or in part, of students from St. Paul’s, it is possible she was present for the Queen’s Hall performance though perhaps unlikely given that the audience consisted of close friends and associates of Holst and many professional musicians in London.

Holst was also a great teacher. For three decades—from 1905 until his death in 1934—”Gussie”, as he was known, would cast his musical spell over his students. The contemporary composer Ralph Vaughan Williams described Holst’s long tenure at St. Paul’s: “He did away with the childish sentimentality that schoolgirls were supposed to appreciate and substituted Bach and Vittoria; a splendid background for immature minds.”

Holst discerned Cecilia’s love of music. He asked her to play her violin for him, made her a member of the school’s orchestra, and taught her how to conduct. He encouraged her to become a musician but did not prevail. Cecilia instinctively felt that a career in music would control her; as a scientist, she would be in control.³

In her autobiography, Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin writes of St. Paul’s, Holst, and music:

The school ministered to my twin loves, science and music. Here I came under the spell of Gustav Holst, or “Gussie” as we affectionately called him. Aside from my shadowy Father, and my schoolboy brother, he was the first man I ever knew. He radiated music; the organ in the great hall reverberated to the great Toccata and fugue of Bach. Here for the first time I heard The Planets (then newly composed) and took part in a performance of the Hymn of Jesus. He was like a father to us, shy, abrupt and charming. He was quick to learn of my love of music, asked me to play the violin to him, and urged me to become a musician. I played in the orchestra, and learned conducting from him, but my love of science triumphed. It seems odd to think that the only career I was ever encouraged to follow was that of a musician. As a student at Cambridge I trained and conducted a choir that won an award. One of the judges told me that my conducting had been the decisive factor, and that my future lay there. Indeed, the feelings evoked by conducting a choir or orchestra are so powerful as to be overwhelming, but I recoiled instinctively from something I felt would control me; as a scientist I should be in control of my material. Who knows whether I was right?⁴

St. Paul’s Girls’ School did indeed have a great hall with an organ, so one wonders how Cecilia Payne heard The Planets there. It is also interesting that she first heard The Hymn of Jesus at St. Paul’s during her 1918-1919 school year, as the first known performance was on March 10, 1920 at the Royal College of Music with Holst conducting. Though Holst began composing the work during the summer of 1917, it was apparently not completed until after he returned from war service in Salonika, Greece on June 29, 1919. Cecilia Payne must have heard an early version of the work, or a part of it that had been completed.

Following four years at the University of Cambridge, Cecilia Payne arrived in New York aboard the RMS Laconia on Thursday, September 20, 1923, and from there proceeded to Cambridge, Massachusetts to begin her work in astronomy at Harvard University. Just a few months earlier, Gustav & Isobel Holst had visited the United States from April 27 through June 12, 1923. This was Isobel Holst’s only visit to the U.S., but Gustav would make two more visits, in 1929 and again in 1932.

Gustav Holst was in the United States from April 16-27, 1929, and on the evening of Friday, April 26, 1929, Holst gave a well-received lecture at Harvard University. It seems likely that Cecilia Payne would have attended that lecture and visited with Holst, but he was only in Cambridge for a day and had to take an early morning train to New York to board the RMS Samaria for the trip back to England. I have not been able to find any evidence that indicates they saw each other during Holst’s 1929 American visit.

Nor have I found any evidence that Cecilia Payne visited Holst in England after she moved to the United States in 1923, though New York ship passenger records show she arrived in New York from Southampton, England aboard the SS Leviathan on September 21, 1925, aboard the SS Berengaria on January 3, 1929, and aboard the SS Bremen on October 7, 1931 and August 30, 1933.

Gustav Holst and Cecilia Payne did meet again in 1932, when Holst conducted the Boston Symphony Orchestra at the first of two concerts in Symphony Hall in Boston.

After the concert Holst met Mrs. Arthur Foote and Cecilia Payne, a St. Paul’s Girls’ School alumna, who was studying astronomy.⁵

This would have been Friday, January 22, 1932, during Holst’s final visit to America. The all-Holst concert was at 2:30 p.m. and featured St. Paul’s Suite; Prelude and Scherzo, “Hammersmith” (Boston premiere); and the Ballet from the Opera, The Perfect Fool (Boston premiere); followed by an intermission and then The Planets. Here is the concert program courtesy of the Internet Archive which includes pages from the previous program suggesting that a last-minute program change occurred substituting St. Paul’s Suite for Somerset Rhapsody (an excellent early work by Holst, by the way) and switching the order of Hammersmith and The Perfect Fool:

Incidentally, you might notice from the program that Arthur Fiedler was a violist in the orchestra and prepared the women’s chorus for the final movement of The Planets.

I met one ex Paulina at Harvard—Cecilia Payne who is doing research in astronomy.⁶

This is from a letter that Holst began on Tuesday, January 26, 1932 to his daughter Imogen.

He also spent some time with ex-Paulina Cecilia Payne, meeting her for lunch one day and for dinner at her place on another. This was followed by her lecture on a subject of great interest to him, the Zodiac.⁷

This was after Holst returned to Harvard from his four-day trip to Montreal and New York, and before his lecture at the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., thus sometime between Tuesday, March 15 and Saturday, March 26, 1932.

Holst’s train from Ann Arbor arrived at Boston’s South Station at 11:15 a.m. on Saturday, May 21st. The next two days were spent packing and writing letters. He met with the Davisons the following morning and had dinner with Cecilia Payne at the Faculty Club that same evening.⁸

This dinner with Cecilia Payne would have been the evening of Sunday, May 22, 1932.

Later that same evening, Cecilia Payne drove Holst over to the observatory to view Jupiter and a star cluster. Holst enjoyed her company and visited with her again the day of his Boston departure.⁹

The observatory visit would have been on Tuesday, May 24. I’m guessing that the star cluster they observed after Jupiter would have been M13 in Hercules, which that evening was high in the eastern sky. Holst’s last visit with Cecilia Payne was on Thursday, May 26, 1932. Later that day, he left Boston by boat for New York where he boarded the SS Europa the following day to return to England. This was the last time Holst and Payne saw each other.

Cecilia Payne first met Russian-born astrophysicist Sergei Gaposchkin at the Astronomische Gesellschaft (Astronomical Society) meeting in Göttingen, Germany, on August 4, 1933. She helped him emigrate to the United States, and they were married on March 5, 1934. Less than three months later, Gustav Holst would be dead.

Moore, Donovan. 2020. What Stars Are Made of: The Life of Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin. London, England: Harvard University Press, pp. 34-35. ↩︎
Moore, pp. 37-38. ↩︎
Moore, p. 38. ↩︎
Haramundanis, Katherine. 1984. Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin: An Autobiography and Other Recollections. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, p. 108. ↩︎
Mitchell, Jon C. 2001. A Comprehensive Biography of Composer Gustav Holst, with Correspondence and Diary Excerpts: Including His American Years. New York, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, p. 442. ↩︎
Mitchell, p. 447. ↩︎
Mitchell, p. 485. ↩︎
Mitchell, p. 543. ↩︎
Mitchell, p. 547. ↩︎

Tucson Needs Evening and Weekend Classes

Since 2023, I’ve been teaching in-person classical composer music courses in Tucson. I’ve had to do all the work myself (preparation, venue, recruitment, publicity, etc.) because none of the existing continuing education organizations in the Tucson metro area offer evening and weekend classes. Moreover, the primary organization providing continuing education courses in Greater Tucson, Osher Lifelong Learning Institute—University of Arizona (OLLI-UA) adds the additional restriction that their advertised target audience includes no one under the age of 50. Since my music courses are expressly intended for anyone interested in learning more about classical music, high-school age and older, I have had to set about on my own with no organizational support whatsoever. It has not been easy.

Anyone who has attended a symphony or chamber music concert over the last few years will notice that audiences are generally dwindling and the vast majority that do attend these concerts are folks in their 60s, 70s, or older. In my own small but determined way, I am attempting to help reverse these trends by helping folks—especially younger folks—to see that classical music can be as exciting, meaningful, and inspirational as the best of whatever other kinds of music they’ve been listening to—even more so. I am teaching the kind of music classes that I wish someone had taught me when I was a young adult. Since my interest and expertise is in building audiences for classical music, both live performances and recorded music (because, let’s face it, there is a lot of great music that most of us will never have the opportunity to hear in live performance, no matter where we live), I focus mostly on listening enjoyment and the “life and times” of each composer rather than on music theory. Even though my courses are entitled Music for Listeners, I have no doubt that professional and amateur musicians will also enjoy the meticulously-researched “deep dive” into the life and music of each composer while at the same time helping them expand their repertoire.

Attracting younger music listeners to the courses I teach requires choosing a class time that is least likely to conflict with a prospective participant’s work schedule or—in the case of students—class schedule. For the courses I teach, I have generally settled on Saturdays from 1:00 – 2:30 p.m.

Trying to reach the people in the Tucson metro area that would most benefit from my music courses has proved exceedingly difficult. So far, almost all of my students have comes from a Meetup group I started (also in 2023) and the Tucson Masterworks Chorale, where I am a member of the tenor section. Ideally, I would like to reach Classical 90.5 listeners (AZPM) and those that attend Tucson Symphony Orchestra concerts, but neither AZPM nor TSO offer public service announcements for non-profit community music events, and the cost of advertising with them is prohibitively expensive for an individual of modest means. I charge $20 per person for each music course I teach, and that covers my cost of renting the venue and little more. I want my courses to be affordable to all. Yes, it is a labor of love, but how to reach those that would most benefit from what I am doing?

I spend about half a year preparing each course that I teach, working on it each and every day (except when I am out of town which happens much less frequently than I would like). Given the enormous amount of time I invest in preparing each course, it would be a shame if I never had the opportunity to further refine and teach these courses again. At the time of this writing, I am currently teaching a course on Gustav Holst with twelve participants, and I have four other courses ready to be taught again at any time: Johannes Brahms, Sergei Prokofiev, Antonín Dvořák, and Dmitri Shostakovich. Here’s a link for an up-to-date list of past, present, and future courses that I will be teaching:

Music for Listeners – Tucson

I am sure there must be others in the Tucson metro area who would like to teach for an organization that offers evening and weekend classes and thus is inclusive of both non-retired as well as retired folks. Right now, this is one of many unmet needs we have here in Southern Arizona.

Kakistocracy and Trump

From the ever-impressive Oxford English Dictionary:

kakistocracy – The government of a state by the worst citizens.

The OED cites the first known use of the word kakistocracy back in 1644:
“mad kinde of Kakistocracy”

And in 1876:
“Is ours a government of the people, by the people, for the people, or a Kakistocracy rather, for the benefit of knaves at the cost of fools?”

And in 1879:
“The..régime is at once a plutocracy and a kakistocracy.”

In preparing for a course on Gustav Holst I will be teaching this summer, I recently came across a curious phrase in a letter written by Gustav’s great-uncle Theodore von Holst on October 13, 1832:

“They told us that Costa of the Opera gave a Concert there with Vigano, Tamburini, Donzelli, Grisi and other Trumps, but none of the Brightonian Nobs would patronise it…”

Again turning to the OED, I found the following:

trump – To deceive, cheat
Citations of this transitive verb are given for 1487-1631.

trump – A thing of small value, a trifle
Cited use of this noun is in 1513

trump – To give forth a trumpet-like sound; spec. to break wind audibly (slang or colloquial)
Citations of this intransitive verb are given for c. 1425 – 1845

The Mysterious Case of 55 Herculis

55 Her (near 54 Her, shown above) was visible as late as 1782, but by 1791 it had disappeared
(Click on the image above for a larger view.)

I was fascinated to read the letter from Oleksiy V. Arkhypov (Kharkiv, Ukraine) in the February 2025 issue of Sky & Telescope, p. 6, where he describes a 5th-magnitude star in the constellation Hercules that has apparently disappeared. John Flamsteed (1646-1719) had recorded the star at the end of the 17th century. Flamsteed listed the brighter stars in each constellation in order of right ascension at the time, but did not number them. That task fell to Joseph Jérôme de Lalande (1732–1807) who assigned what we now know as the “Flamsteed numbers” to each of the stars in Flamsteed’s catalogue. Two adjacent stars in Hercules in Flamsteed’s catalogue were given the designations 54 Her and 55 Her.

William Herschel (1738-1822) observed both stars on October 10, 1781 (and had noted that they were both red in color) and again on April 11, 1782, but on May 24, 1791 (and afterwards), only 54 Her was visible. Apparently, 55 Her disappeared from sight between 1782 and 1791, and it hasn’t been seen since.

In Herschel’s own words:

On the Disappearance of the 55th Herculis.

Among the changes that happen in the sidereal heavens we enumerate the loss of stars; but, notwithstanding the real destruction of an heavenly body may not be impossible, we have some reasons to think that the disappearance of a star is probably owing to causes which are of the same nature with those that act upon periodical stars, when they occasion their temporary occultations. This subject, however, being of great extent and consequence, we shall not enter into it at present, but only relate a recent instance of the kind.

Two stars of the 5th magnitude, whose places we find inserted in all our best catalogues, were to be seen in the neck of Hercules. They are the 54th and 55th of Flamsteed’s, in that constellation. In the year 1781, the 10th of October, I examined them both, and marked down their colour, red. The 11th of April, 1782, I looked at them again, and noted my having seen them distinctly, with a power of 460; and that they were single stars.

The 24th of last May, I missed one of the two, and examining the spot again the 25th, and many times afterwards, found that one of them was not to be seen. The situation of the stars is such that, not having fixed instruments, I could not well determine which of the two was the lost one. I therefore requested the favour of my much esteemed friend, the astronomer royal, to ascertain the remaining star ; and it appears from Dr. Maskelyne’s answer to my letter, that the 55th Herculis is the one which we have lost.

The coordinates for 54 Her are:
α₂₀₀₀ = 16^h 55^m 22^s, δ₂₀₀₀ = +18° 26′ 00″

Maria Mitchell: America’s First Female Astronomy Professor

Maria (pronounced Ma-RYE-ah) Mitchell (1818-1889), America’s first female professor of astronomy, was born August 1, 1818 on Nantucket Island (Massachusetts). Her interest in astronomy was encouraged by her father, and she assisted him with his research at a time when few women were allowed an opportunity to do scientific research. She discovered a comet in 1847 at the age of 29, and this brought her fame as one of America’s few women scientists. She was employed for many years as a computer (a person who performs lengthy mathematical calculations), and then taught astronomy at Vassar College for many years (1865-1888), a women’s college in Poughkeepsie, New York. At Vassar, she was also the director of the Vassar College Observatory. A devoted teacher, she believed that students learn best by doing real research projects. In 1869, she traveled to Burlington, Iowa with six of her students to observe a total solar eclipse.

Seven years after the death of Maria Mitchell, her sister, Phebe Mitchell Kendall, (1828-1907) compiled a book, Maria Mitchell: Life, Letters, and Journals (1896).

The Maria Mitchell Observatory was established on Nantucket Island in 1908, and today continues its long legacy of public outreach and undergraduate research.

“When we are chafed and fretted by small cares, a look at the stars will show us the littleness of our own interests.”

“We travel to learn; and I have never been in any country where they did not do something better than we do it, think some thoughts better than we think, catch some inspiration from heights above our own.”

“Question everything.”

“The best that can be said of my life so far is that it has been industrious, and the best that can be said of me is that I have not pretended to what I was not.”

Quotes by Maria Mitchell

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea

When I was boy, age 8-11, I remember being enthralled by a television show called Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. I even remember playing with a classic Bic pen, pretending it was the submarine Seaview.

Now, 60 years later, I decided to watch the whole series again. Despite all its flaws (some of which I list below), some of the episodes are pretty good.

What are the flaws? First and foremost, it is clear that Irwin Allen—the show’s creator—and many of his writers did not have a good understanding of basic science. Once you get past that, and the Seaview “popping wheelies“, the Seaview “rock-and-roll” incidents (camera is rocked as the cast rushes from side to side on the set, simulating the submarine being tossed around), the frequent on-board pyrotechnic fires, a circuitry room that begs for a more secure door and an armed guard, and the all-too-frequent “monster of the week” and “mind control” episodes, you’ll always find an excellent cast of regulars (led by Richard Basehart and David Hedison), talented guest stars, and some imaginative stories.

So here goes…

Before you watch the television series episodes, I recommend you watch two submarine-themed movies.

The Enemy Below (1957)
This is a great movie, and includes David Hedison (credited as Al Hedison as Lt. Ware of the USS Haynes) who would go on to play Captain Lee Crane in the Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea television series.

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (1961)
This is the Irwin Allen film that later launched the television series. Once you get past the scientific inaccuracies (the Van Allen Belts on fire??), there is an excellent cast featuring such luminaries as Walter Pidgeon, Joan Fontaine, the ever beautiful and alluring Barbara Eden (before I Dream of Jeannie), Peter Lorre, Robert Sterling, Michael Ansara (before his role as the Klingon Kang in Star Trek and who was married to Barbara Eden at the time!), Frankie Avalon, and Del Monroe as Seaman Kowski who would go on the play Seaman Kowalski in the television series.

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (1964-1968)
The television series ran for four seasons. Here are my picks for the best episodes.

Season 1 (1964-1965)

Season 1, Episode 2: “The City Beneath the Sea”

Season 1, Episode 3: “The Fear-Makers”

Season 1, Episode 6: “The Sky Is Falling”

Season 1, Episode 7: “Turn Back the Clock”

Season 1, Episode 9: “Hot Line”
Directed by John Brahm of Twilight Zone fame, and guests include James Doohan and Michael Ansara before Star Trek.

Season 1, Episode 10: “Submarine Sunk Here”

Season 1, Episode 11: “The Magnus Beam”
Guests include Malachi Throne before his appearance on Star Trek.

Season 1, Episode 15: “Long Live the King”

Season 1, Episode 16: “Hail to the Chief”

Season 1, Episode 17: “The Last Battle”

Season 1, Episode 18: “Mutiny”

Season 1, Episode 19: “Doomsday”

Season 1, Episode 20: “The Invaders”

Season 1, Episode 23: “The Human Computer”

Season 1, Episode 28: “The Creature”

Season 2 (1965-1966)

Season 2, Episode 3: “…And Five of Us Are Left”

Season 2, Episode 10: “The Silent Saboteurs”
Guests includes George Takei before Star Trek.

Season 2, Episode 15: “Killers of the Deep”
Guests includes Michael Ansara before Star Trek.

Season 2, Episode 17: “The Phantom Strikes”

Season 2, Episode 22: “The Death Ship”

Season 2, Episode 26: “The Return of the Phantom”

Season 3 (1966-1967)

Season 3, Episode 5: “The Terrible Toys”

Season 3, Episode 13: “The Lost Bomb”

Season 3, Episode 19: “The Mermaid”

Season 3, Episode 23: “Doomsday Island”

Season 4 (1967-1968)

Season 4, Episode 3: “Cave of the Dead”
Guest star Warren Stevens was also a guest on Star Trek later that year.

Season 4, Episode 5: “Sealed Orders”

Season 4, Episode 6: “Man of Many Faces”

Season 4, Episode 7: “Fatal Cargo”

Season 4, Episode 8: “Time Lock”

Season 4, Episode 9: “Rescue”

Season 4, Episode 24: “The Edge of Doom”

Season 4, Episode 26: “No Way Back”

Of the 110 episodes of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea produced, I think that 33 of them (30%) are well worth watching. Season 1 was the only season filmed in black-and-white, and the only season that had 32 episodes instead of 26. It was also the best season, with 15 great episodes. The next best season was the fourth and final season with 8 great episodes, followed by Season 2 with 6 great episodes. Season 3 was the worst season with only 4 great episodes.

Enjoy!

Dean Ketelsen (1953-2023): A Personal Remembrance

Dean Ketelsen at the Grand Canyon Star Party

A dear friend of mine passed away suddenly last week while mowing the lawn at his cottage in St. Charles, Illinois. Most of us are lucky to have maybe a dozen friends. Dean must have had hundreds. He was as generous and kind-hearted as anyone I have ever known. And incredibly knowledgeable about observational astronomy and optics.

I first met Dean while I was an undergraduate student at Iowa State University in the late 1970s. He was hired by Dr. Willet Beavers to make stellar radial velocity observations using the 24-inch telescope at ISU’s Erwin W. Fick Observatory. I was the primary data analyst reducing the data from the telescope, and all of us were amazed at how many stars Dean could observe in a night! I believe Dean was the most productive observer Fick Observatory ever had.

Dean and I were part of the ISU team that traveled to a farm near Riverton, Manitoba, Canada to observe the total solar eclipse on February 26, 1979.

**Iowa State University Solar Eclipse Expedition – February 26, 1979**
Front Row (left to right): Dan Peterson, Maria Meyers, Chuck Hoelzen, Ed Sexauer
Back Row (left to right): David Oesper, Jim Pierce, David Cook, Mike Andrews, Prof. Stan Williams, Prof. Willet Beavers, **Dean Ketelsen**, Joe Eitter

After graduation and working for Fick Observatory before the radial velocity grant money ran out (temporarily), I moved to Dell Rapids, South Dakota to work for the EROS Data Center near Sioux Falls. But, before I left, Dean gave me a Unitron refractor. One of many examples of his generosity.

Soon after I moved to South Dakota, Dean moved to Tucson, Arizona to become a telescope operator on the Mayall 4-meter telescope at Kitt Peak National Observatory. Then, as now, the 4-meter scope was heavily scheduled, but on Christmas and New Year’s he sometimes had the scope to himself for photography and visual observing. I asked him once, “What is the most impressive object you ever saw with the Kitt Peak 4-meter?” His reply: “The crescent moon!” I received some beautiful black & white large prints of galaxies and nebulae from Dean taken with one of the large Kitt Peak instruments. I framed and cherished these astrophotos.

Dean left the telescope operator position at Kitt Peak a few years later and began working at the University of Arizona Mirror Lab where he remained for the rest of his life. He was directly involved in fabricating several of the 8.4-meter mirrors—the largest monolithic telescope mirrors in the world—as well as smaller optics as well. Early in his career at the Mirror Lab, Dean was also working part-time on a Master’s degree in Optical Science at the University of Arizona, but he was never able to complete it before classes he took more than five years earlier no longer counted towards his degree. And I can see why. Dean led a rich and busy life, and his many friends and acquaintances were always his first priority.

Dean’s hospitality was legendary. My family regularly visited Tucson over the years, and Dean was always a most gracious host, transporting us to see all the good sights whenever we visited. A tour of the Mirror Lab was often included, so—thanks to Dean—I have been there many a time.

Dean’s generosity was also legendary. Besides the Unitron refractor and astrophotos, many years ago Dean “loaned” me a pair of Fujinon 16×70 binoculars, and after I moved to Tucson in 2022, he gave me a pair of Celestron 25 x 100 binoculars as a house-warming gift, no longer following any pretense that this would be a loan.

Over a several year period, Dean made a 24-inch mirror for the Ames Area Amateur Astronomers in Iowa, which they are still using today in a Dobsonian telescope built by club members. And, speaking of Dobsonians, Dean was a close acquaintance of John Dobson, and they often got together at star parties.

Dean Ketelsen with John Dobson at a star party

Here are some recent examples of Dean’s generosity. When Suzy and I came to Tucson to visit December 26-30, 2021, Dean and his dear friend Susan Yager picked us up at the Amtrak station and they both spent a lot of time with us as we were thinking about moving to Tucson. Ditto for our March 6-10, 2022 house-hunting trip. I was planning to take Amtrak back to Wisconsin with a stop in Alpine, TX to visit my daughter and her family while Suzy flew to Chicago to get back to work sooner, but Dean was driving from Tucson to St. Charles, Illinois so I rode with him. Though he didn’t have to, Dean went out of his way to drop me off in Dodgeville, Wisconsin and then went on to St. Charles.

Before that house-hunting trip, Dean had reached out to the relatives in charge of Derald Nye’s estate, knowing that I would be losing my backyard research observatory in Wisconsin and that it might be possible for me to purchase his home in Corona de Tucson, which would include an observatory. Unfortunately, that opportunity did not happen, but Dean subsequently put in a good word for me so that I could serve on the 16-inch Meade telescope committee which will add that telescope to the TAAA’s TIMPA observing site.

Before we moved to Tucson, Dean offered to transport my astronomical optics in his large van so that I didn’t need to entrust that delicate equipment to the movers. A week before moving, we drove from Dodgeville and he drove from St. Charles where we met up in Rockford at Lino’s for pizza (great restaurant!) and the transfer of optical equipment to his van afterwards. Needless to say, that equipment arrived safe and sound and in perfect condition at our new house just a few days after the movers when Dean made the trip back to Tucson.

After we moved to Tucson on May 1, 2022, besides restaurant get-togethers at Daily Mae’s and Bianchi’s, Dean & Susan joined John & Lana Gilkison at our house to observe the May 15, 2022 total lunar eclipse. Dean (and Susan) picked me up twice for dark-sky observing: once to watch the Tau Herculid meteor shower Memorial Day 2022 at his favorite observing spot along the road to the top of Kitt Peak, and once to observe from Empire Ranch SSE of Tucson. I was looking forward to many more observing sessions with Dean, but sadly that will not happen. I have lost my best observing buddy here.

No one person can relate all the accolades and experiences that Dean had, but I know of a few. Dean received the 2002 Las Cumbres Amateur Outreach Award from the Astronomical Society of the Pacific, and the asteroid 124075 Ketelsen (2001 GT₁) was named after him.

Dean Ketelsen receiving the 2002 Las Cumbres Amateur Outreach Award
from the Astronomical Society of the Pacific

Dean was primarily responsible for reincarnating the Grand Canyon Star Party in 1991. He was a primary organizer for many years, and I believe he had attended every year since, including this year. I had the good fortune to attend in 2006, and gave one of the “Twilight Talks”. The most wonderful aspect of this star party that makes it very special and decidedly different from other star parties I have attended is that thousands of enthusiastic visitors to Grand Canyon National Park from all around the world are regaled by a twilight talk each night followed by observing through nearly 50 telescopes, binoculars, and green-laser-pointed constellations and satellites. The enthusiasm of the amateur astronomers sharing their love of astronomy with folks who are in an unusually good mood because they’re on vacation in a beautiful place is a winning combination. Dean had a lot to do with that vibe!

Dean was also an excellent public speaker, and frequently gave public astronomy talks and talks about the exciting things happening at the Mirror Lab.

Joan Oesper, **Dean Ketelsen**, Melinda Ketelsen, and David Oesper at Yerkes Observatory in 2008

Dean was an incredible photographer, whether the subject was astronomical, terrestrial, or people. He and his wife Melinda, who passed away after a long battle with cancer in 2016, have a blog called The Ketelsens! that includes many of his photos and descriptions of many of their experiences through the last posting on May 31, 2020—during the COVID-19 pandemic. I sincerely hope this blog will be moved to a permanent location on the internet before his blogspot account runs out. It would be a terrible shame to lose this treasure!

The Ketelsens!

We’re glad to see you here! Come and share our daily lives with us, we welcome your company and your comments. We hope there is something here for everyone!

And, speaking of photography, Dean first suggested many years ago the idea of stereo photography of the aurora. To the best of my knowledge, this has seldom been done, though with cellular phones and digital cameras now it would be relatively easy to coordinate such a venture. Two observers separated by a hundred miles or more with identical cameras, lenses, and exposure times would need to take pictures of the aurora at exactly the same time and in exactly the same direction (centered on the same star or constellation). The results, I’m sure, would be spectacular!

I have found it difficult to capture all I want to say about Dean in this article, but I’d like to finish by sharing with you the recent email communications I had from Dean, right up to the day before he died. All but one of my emails to Dean are unimportant in the context of this article, so they are not included here.

June 4, 2023 email from Dean Ketelsen
Just got word from Elinor’s niece Cathy (Prescott) that Elinor died a couple weeks ago. Evidently fell and broke her arm in several places, contracted pneumonia and died a week later. So sad – about the last of that generation of friends. She and David Levine, Derald Nye, Mike Terenzoni and I were the only folks (and Vicki!) at Grand Canyon #1. No memorial is planned, but I’ve already asked thru Cathy for a vial of her ashes – maybe we can have our own at the Canyon next year!

July 26, 2023 email from Dean Ketelsen
Hi David-
How are you surviving the heat? I’ve been up in St Charles coming up on 4 weeks and it has been delightful! This week is the worst, supposed to be up over 90, I think for the first time, tomorrow and Friday before dropping to low 80s for the weekend. I love those sunny days in the 70s, though we have been getting some smoke from the Canadian fires, some days worse than others.

The closer it comes, the less I’m excited about the annular eclipse. Plus I’ve got a “Ketelsen reunion” on 8 October, and after driving to the Midwest, not sure I’m up for returning after less than a week! So may watch the partial phase from here. Still thinking about next April. My first wife Vicki’s sister and her family live in Dallas and am welcome there. I’ve sent them a map of the path and they are looking for a location closer to the center line for a small group. Will see what they come up with. Not sure I’m interested in trying to chase clear spots – again, will see what sort of a zoo it is!

Probably back in Tucson about the weekend of the 12th. Hopefully temp will have dropped a little towards normal!

Hang in there!

-Dean

August 5, 2023 email from Dean Ketelsen
Hi David-
This article caught my eye in NYT online site. The hospital mixup was only a few miles from Riverton where we observed the ’79 solar eclipse…

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/02/world/canada/canada-men-switched-at-birth.html?unlocked_article_code=yfK-_7q6H6afzU_wYRyJuwzwmtKeLienRf4XbckD3zM34dZdJbUpBz9qUPQDAlwgssUlDamr6GRBP77fEwi6BQUoTsCbnU_viGK326XCYiE1qUM7Tt3Kbn2PGakUowq7a-XhOX2KNNzVulTfEMPZUGUVsxBvKP8B7_l7F97mMDmrAljA85HHWfaEPjsRdj6lVLIw4wuPASnGQk5vrlBtTbPPVfOfe7GVXH8Z1qM4ETdA82K49LhOtNmZmAATgCSgpD1i_NjpQixve3DlH7qpMMME7kw0qbhE9n7kIrT1C55hYfgOno8hW7k4wx9ySdTMlvX5xSL9RPz54ce-x5mncWCQsuuzzDLGv8VN&smid=url-share

Dean texted me about a Space X rocket launch from Vandenberg on August 7. I called him and we talked briefly on the phone. Little did I know it would be the last time I would hear his voice. Then, he sent me this email:

Good Luck!

From:launch-alert-bounces@mailman.qth.net <launch-alert-bounces@mailman.qth.net> on behalf of Launch Alert <launch-alert@mailman.qth.net>
Sent: Monday, August 7, 2023 1:02 PM
To:launch-alert@mailman.qth.net <launch-alert@mailman.qth.net>
Subject: [EXT][Launch Alert] Launch on Schedule

External Email

Tonight’s launch of a Falcon 9 rocket from Vandenberg SFB appears to be on schedule. The following is an update from SpaceX:

“SpaceX is targeting Monday, August 7 at 8:57 p.m. PT (03:57 UTC on August 8) for a Falcon 9 launch of 15 Starlink satellites to low-Earth orbit from Space Launch Complex 4 East (SLC-4E) at Vandenberg Space Force Base in California.”

For launch and countdown status, go to…

August 7, 2023 email from David Oesper to Dean Ketelsen
Hi Dean,
Thanks for letting me know about this. We had partly cloudy skies tonight, which didn’t help, and I had to observe from my patio so if, as I suspect, the launch would only have been visible close to the WNW horizon, I wouldn’t have been able to see it. I thought I might be able to see one of the stage separations as it was heading to our southern sky here, but no luck with that either. Oh well, it was worth a try, anyway.

Thanks,

Dave

August 8, 2023 email from Dean Ketelsen
Hey David-
Watching the launch online, I could see the sunset from the onboard camera, but I don’t think it ever rose into bright sunset. Still, Ben Bailly of TAAA captured the enclosed last night. Still, not as spectacular as what it could be – the second taken be non-astronomer friend from Sabino Canyon area 10 months ago she noticed w/o advance warning…. Better luck next time!

-Dean

Dean died the following day. Here is his obituary:

https://www.malonefh.com/obituary/DeanA-Ketelsen?proxy=original

Dean’s obituary states that there will be a future gathering in Tucson to celebrate Dean’s life. As soon as that event is announced, I’ll post the information here in a comment.

Dean Ketelsen – Public Star Party at Sabino Canyon – April 29, 1989

I encourage you to share your personal remembrances of Dean by posting a comment here.

Otto Struve & Exoplanets, 1952

It’s too bad the remarkable Russian-born American astronomer Otto Struve (1897-1963) never lived to see the discovery of the first exoplanets, especially considering how he was probably the first to suggest the two main techniques by which they are now discovered.

The first discovery of something that could be called an exoplanet was announced in 1992 by the Polish astronomer Aleksander Wolszczan (1946-) and Canadian astronomer Dale Frail (1961-). They found two planets orbiting a neutron star 2,300 light years away in the constellation Virgo. This neutron star is the pulsar PSR 1257+12, which had only recently been discovered by Wolszczan (1990). The pulsar planets were detected using a variant of the Doppler (radial velocity) method, and a third planet was discovered by the same team in 1994. These planets likely formed from the debris disk formed when two white dwarf stars merged, so they could be considered “exotic” planets, quite unlike anything found in our solar system.

In 1995, the first exoplanet orbiting a “normal” star was announced by Swiss astronomers Michel Mayor (1942-) and Didier Queloz (1966-). Using the Doppler (radial velocity) method, they found a “hot Jupiter” orbiting the star 51 Pegasi at a distance of 51 light years (nice coincidence!).

In 1999, independent teams led by Canadian-American astronomer David Charbonneau (1974-) and American astronomer Gregory W. Henry (1972-) were the first to use the transit method to detect an exoplanet. They confirmed a hot Jupiter orbiting the star HD 209458 (also in Pegasus, another nice coincidence) 157 light years distant that had been discovered using the Doppler (radial velocity) technique only weeks earlier.

As you can see, the 1990s was the decade when exoplanetary science got its start!

Getting back to the prescience of Otto Struve—40 years prior to the discovery of the first exoplanets—Joshua Winn (1972-) in his newly-published The Little Book of Exoplanets writes:

Although the discovery of hot Jupiters came as a surprise, it’s not quite true that nobody foresaw them. In 1952, Otto Struve, an astronomer at the University of California at Berkeley, published a short paper pointing out that the precision of Doppler measurements had become good enough to detect planets—but only if there existed planets at least as massive as Jupiter with orbital periods as short as a few days. Setting aside the question of how such a planet might have formed, he realized there is no law of physics that forbids such planets from existing. In an alternate history, Struve’s paper inspired astronomers to launch a thousand ships and explore nearby stars for hot Jupiters. In fact, his paper languished in obscurity. None of the pioneers—neither Walker, Latham, Mayor, nor Queloz—were influenced by Struve’s paper. The planet around 51 Pegasi probably could have been discovered in the early 1960s, or surely by Walker in the 1980s, had the Telescope Time Allocation Committee allowed him to observe a larger number of stars.

Here is Otto Struve’s 1952 paper in its entirety (references omitted), published in the October 1952 issue of The Observatory.

PROPOSAL FOR A PROJECT OF HIGH-PRECISION STELLAR
RADIAL VELOCITY WORK

By Otto Struve

With the completion of the great radial-velocity programmes of the major observatories, the impression seems to have gained ground that the measurement of Doppler displacements in stellar spectra is less important at the present time than it was prior to the completion of R. E. Wilson’s new radial-velocity catalogue.

I believe that this impression is incorrect, and I should like to support my contention by presenting a proposal for the solution of a characteristic astrophysical problem.

One of the burning questions of astronomy deals with the frequency of planet-like bodies in the galaxy which belong to stars other than the Sun. K. A. Strand’s discovery of a planet-like companion in the system of 61 Cygni, which was recently confirmed by A. N. Deitch at Poulkovo, and similar results announced for other stars by P. Van de Kamp and D. Reuyl and E. Holmberg have stimulated interest in this problem. I have suggested elsewhere that the absence of rapid axial rotation in all normal solar-type stars (the only rapidly-rotating G and K stars are either W Ursae Majoris binaries or T Tauri nebular variables, or they possess peculiar spectra) suggests that these stars have somehow converted their angular momentum of axial rotation into angular momentum of orbital motion of planets. Hence, there may be many objects of planet-like character in the galaxy.

But how should we proceed to detect them? The method of direct photography used by Strand is, of course, excellent for nearby binary systems, but it is quite limited in scope. There seems to be at present no way to discover objects of the mass and size of Jupiter; nor is there much hope that we could discover objects ten times as large in mass as Jupiter, if they are at distances of one or more astronomical units from their parent stars.

But there seems to be no compelling reason why the hypothetical stellar planets should not, in some instances, be much closer to their parent stars than is the case in the solar system. It would be of interest to test whether there are any such objects.

We know that stellar companions can exist at very small distances. It is not unreasonable that a planet might exist at a distance of 1/50 astronomical unit, or about 3,000,000 km. Its period around a star of solar mass would then be about 1 day.

We can write Kepler’s third law in the form $V^{3} \sim \frac{1}{P}$ . Since the orbital velocity of the Earth is 30 km/sec, our hypothetical planet would have a velocity of roughly 200 km/sec. If the mass of this planet were equal to that of Jupiter, it would cause the observed radial velocity of the parent star to oscillate with a range of ± 0.2 km/sec—a quantity that might be just detectable with the most powerful Coudé spectrographs in existence. A planet ten times the mass of Jupiter would be very easy to detect, since it would cause the observed radial velocity of the star to oscillate with ± 2 km/sec. This is correct only for those orbits whose inclinations are 90°. But even for more moderate inclinations it should be possible, without much difficulty, to discover planets of 10 times the mass of Jupiter by the Doppler effect.

There would, of course, also be eclipses. Assuming that the mean density of the planet is five times that of the star (which may be optimistic for such a large planet) the projected eclipsed area is about 1/50th of that of the star, and the loss of light in stellar magnitudes is about 0.02. This, too, should be ascertainable by modern photoelectric methods, though the spectrographic test would probably be more accurate. The advantage of the photometric procedure would be its fainter limiting magnitude compared to that of the high-dispersion spectrographic technique.

Perhaps one way to attack the problem would be to start the spectrographic search among members of relatively wide visual binary systems, where the radial velocity of the companion can be used as a convenient and reliable standard of velocity, and should help in establishing at once whether one (or both) members are spectroscopic binaries of the type here considered.

Berkeley Astronomical Department, University of California.
1952 July 24.

IDA Information Sheets

I recently received a membership renewal notice from the International Dark-Sky Association (IDA) quoting Christopher Kyba that if light pollution continues to grow at the rate it currently is, “Orion’s belt will disappear at some point.”

This made me remember that I had written an IDA Information Sheet back in March 1997 that also had addressed how light pollution could erase much of the Orion constellation. I wrote,

Orion, arguably the most prominent of the constellations, begins to look more like “Orion, the Hunted” under a magnitude +4.0 sky. Under a magnitude +3.0 sky, Orion is on his deathbed. When light pollution is so bad that we have a magnitude +2.0 sky, only blazing Betelgeuse, regal Rigel, and Bellatrix and Alnilam remain to regale us.

Speaking of the IDA Information Sheets, I was the IDA Information Sheet Editor from 1996-1999, during which time I revised and edited most of the existing information sheets, edited and added many new ones from a number of contributors, as well as contributed many new ones that I authored, though I never credited myself as the author. One of the ones that I wrote was IDA Information Sheet 120, referenced above (and shown below). I have a complete hard copy set of IDA Information Sheets 1 through 175, the last of which was published in June 2000. I also have WordPerfect Macintosh source files for IDA Information Sheets 1 through 158, the last of which was completed on October 27, 1999.

Here’s IDA Information Sheet 120:

IDA-Information-Sheet-120-March-1997 Download

It is a shame that these IDA Information Sheets are no longer available anywhere on the Internet. At the very least, they are of historical interest, and I would say that much of the content is still relevant. Presumably, the IDA still has all of these information sheets, but after the Dave Crawford era, they have decided to remove access to them.

Finally, I want to express my disappointment that the International Dark-Sky Association has recently decided to change their name to DarkSky International. They are still in the process of changing everything over, but once that transition is complete, the IDA will be no more. The break with the Dave Crawford era will be complete. I, for one, will never forget how much Dave Crawford was able to accomplish during those early years, and how proud I was to have been a part of it.

The IDA/DSI is still a great organization, and I strongly encourage you to generously support it, as I do. It remains the most effective organization in the world addressing light pollution and the loss of our night sky and the natural nighttime environment.

Constellations Old and New

The celestial sphere is a jigsaw puzzle with 88 pieces. The oldest piece is arguably the constellation Ursa Major, The Great Bear. Based on historical writings, prehistoric art, and the knowledge that this group of stars represented a bear in many cultures scattered throughout the world leads scholars to believe that this constellation was first described around 11,000 B.C., perhaps earlier.

The newest constellations are the 17 listed in the table below. Thirteen of these were invented by French astronomer Nicolas-Louis de Lacaille (1713-1762) during his stay at the Cape of Good Hope in 1751 and 1752, and the other four (Puppis, Pyxis, Vela, and Carina) are portions of the ancient enormous constellation Argo Navis, described by Ptolemy (c. 100 – c. 170). Though all of these constellations reside completely in the southern hemisphere of the sky (and thus can be best observed in the southern hemisphere), all but two of them (Mensa and Octans) have a portion that rises above the southern horizon as seen from Tucson, however scant and brief.

Newest Constellations

Constellation	Description	Declination
Puppis	The Stern (of Argo Navis)	-51˚ to -11˚
Pyxis	The Compass (of Argo Navis)	-37˚ to -17˚
Fornax	The Laboratory Furnace	-40˚ to -24˚
Antlia	The Air Pump	-40˚ to -25˚
Sculptor	The Sculptor's Workshop	-39˚ to -25˚
Caelum	The Sculptor's Chisel	-49˚ to -27˚
Microscopium	The Microscope	-45˚ to -27˚
Vela	The Sail (of Argo Navis)	-57˚ to -37˚
Horologium	The Pendulum Clock	-67˚ to -40˚
Norma	The Carpenter's Square	-60˚ to -42˚
Pictor	The Painter's Easel	-64˚ to -43˚
Telescopium	The Telescope	-57˚ to -45˚
Carina	The Keel (of Argo Navis)	-76˚ to -51˚
Reticulum	The Net	-67˚ to -53˚
Circinus	The Compasses	-71˚ to -55˚
Mensa	The Table Mountain	-85˚ to -70˚
Octans	The Octant	-90˚ to -74˚

Which (mostly) northern constellations were added last? Around 70 years prior to Lacaille, Johannes Hevelius (1611-1687) described the seven constellations in the table below. These constellations were first published posthumously in 1690.

Newest More Northerly Constellations

Constellation	Description	Declination
Lynx	The Lynx	+33˚ to +62˚
Lacerta	The Lizard	+35˚ to +57˚
Canes Venatici	The Hunting Dogs	+28˚ to +52˚
Leo Minor	The Lion Cub	+23˚ to +41˚
Vulpecula	The Fox	+19˚ to +29˚
Sextans	The Sextant	-12˚ to +6˚
Scutum	The Shield	-16˚ to -4˚

Let us now return to the oldest constellation, Ursa Major. The earliest extant literary work describing the constellations, including Ursa Major, is Phainómena by the Greek didactic poet Aratus (c. 315 BC – 240 BC). Phainómena is based on an earlier work by the Greek astronomer and mathematician Eudoxus of Cnidus (c. 408 BC – c. 355 BC), now lost. Earlier, the Greek poets Homer and Hesiod (~700 BC) mentioned the constellations, and we know that the Babylonians had a well-developed system of constellations (~2000 BC), as did the Sumerians even earlier (~4000 BC), later assimilated by the Greeks.

Here is what Aratus says in Phainómena about Ursa Major, in context.

The numerous stars, scattered in different directions, sweep all alike across the sky every day continuously for ever. The axis, however, does not move even slightly from its place, but just stays for ever fixed, holds the earth in the centre evenly balanced, and rotates the sky itself. Two poles terminate it at the two ends; but one is not visible, while the opposite one in the north is high above the horizon. On either side of it two Bears wheel in unison, and so they are called the Wagons. They keep their heads for ever pointing to each other's loins, and for ever they move with shoulders leading, aligned towards the shoulders, but in opposite directions. If the tale is true, these Bears ascended to the sky from Crete by the will of great Zeus, because when he was a child then in fragrant Lyctus near Mount Ida, they deposited him in a cave and tended him for the year, while the Curetes of Dicte kept Cronus deceived. Now one of the Bears men call Cynosura by name, the other Helice. Helice is the one by which Greek men at sea judge the course to steer their ships, while Phoenicians cross the sea relying on the other. Now the one is clear and easy to identify, Helice, being visible in all its grandeur as soon as night begins; the other is slight, yet a better guide to sailors, for it revolves entirely in a smaller circle: so by it the Sidonians sail the straightest course.

Between the two Bears, in the likeness of a river, winds a great wonder, the Dragon, writhing around and about at enormous length; on either side of its coil the Bears move, keeping clear of the dark-blue ocean. It reaches over one of them with the tip of its tail, and intercepts the other with its coil. The tip of its tail ends level with the head of the Bear Helice, and Cynosura keeps her head within its coil. The coil winds past her very head, goes as far as her foot, then turns back again and runs upward. In the Dragon's head there is not just a single star shining by itself, but two on the temples and two on the eyes, while one below them occupies the jaw-point of the awesome monster. Its head is slanted and looks altogether as if it is inclined towards the tip of Helice's tail: the mouth and the right temple are in a very straight line with the tip of the tail. The head of the Dragon passes through the point where the end of settings and the start of risings blend with each other.