The Northern Astronomical Review, Autumn / 05

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M 13 in Hercules. (Taken with CM1400 at f7 2488 mm FL.) (Richard Crisp)

http://www.narrowbandimaging.com/


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Season: Autumn is back once again...seems like it never left.

(Biography: Steve Yaskell is a science author in astronomy and natural history. His articles and insights have appeared in many publications around the world, such as Great Britains' Astronomy Now, as well as Sky & Telescope and The Sciences in the USA, among others. He recently co-authored a book on solar astrophysics and severe global climate change at the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA. [The Maunder Minimum and the Variable Sun-Earth Connection, WSP:2004])

NAR obtains permission to use material by solicitation. If NAR cannot obtain it at web addresses, NAR publishes with the proviso that NAR will remove it instantly if the discovering author(s)so wishes. All reasonable efforts to contact content contributors are made by NAR. If you wish to reprint articles in whole or part, please obtain permission from NAR. Or drop NAR an email at starthrower1@msn.com. Clearance for rewriting and editing timely news material from Science Magazine was granted by Elisabeth Sandler at the American Association for the Advancement of Science(esandler@aaas.org). This rule generally holds for most scientific journals.
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Regular quarterly features

*The quadrant

*Star hopping with small telescopes (A hero hunts a fox) (Steven H. Yaskell)

*Star hopping with large telescopes (Autumn in the summer triangle) (IAAC)

*Coordinates over 50○ N (Sun, Moon, Moon phases and the planets.)

*NAR guest feature (Deep ice ages and Earth movement through the Milky Way's arms. What's the connection?) (By Nir Shaviv)

*Astronomical science news

(Droughts as read from stalagmites tied to solar trends; what ever happened to the poor "Pentaquark?" and more)

*In astronomical history (Henrietta Swann Leavitt - the exact standard candle measurer)

*Equipment review (Ok, which one of you guys is the best telescope? One, two or three?) (Ed Ting)

*Arcturus in autumn (a poem by Sarah Teasdale)
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The quadrant \\\*

Of evolutionary telescope users and evolution, in general________________________________

There are “evolutionary users” of big scopes (8 inches to 25 inches and beyond) who know what the Summer Triangle is. They have come up the ranks from two inches to twenty, and have read all the literature and done all the astronomy in an evolutionary way.

Then there are those who enter astronomy with a newly bought 25 inch Dobsonian, there to wonder at the wonders, yet who don’t know what the Summer Triangle is.

Telescope technology (or technology in general) has now enabled a large cross section of newly-arrived astronomers a view at the sky that can be unimaginably large, right from the beginning. So welcome, you accelerated learners. All your observations are appreciated, and all of you have something to say.

As you peer up there, you may wish to note the celestial depths of our Milky Way’s arms and ponder what happens each time our part of the galaxy goes through a spiral. It doesn’t happen often – about every 135+/-25 years – but our guest astronomer for this issue, Nir Shaviv of Hebrew University in Israel, has a theory about cosmic ray non-uniformity and its bombardment, alternately non-bombardment, of the Earth as it passes through spiral arms that may be a main cause of ice age “epochs.” He used Iron meteorites to gauge the cosmic ray intensity when the Earth swings through a spiral arm of the Milky Way. In short, the theory has an answer for deep ice ages that could explain, for instance, however nonlinearly in intensity, the Cretaceous and Permian ice ages in intervals as we go back into time. This would falsify one theory directly: that which is called the “missing CO2” theory, which explained the Permian deep ice age and the “sudden disappearance” of so much life back then. It was believed that winds over the Asian subcontinent sucked the CO2 out of the atmosphere when winds shifted. This may have been the case: however, what caused the winds to shift, and why so strongly? Similarly, in the Cretaceous, was the effect of the meteor impact in the Gulf of Mexico the only factor contributing to global cooling? Could Shaviv be correct? For if he is, we can reasonably understand that a high cosmic ray bombardment led to massive cloud cover on Earth, as there is growing proof that cosmic rays can make clouds at 3 km over our planet, as Henrik Svensmark has reported. Such storm intensity due to cloud cover and atmospheric effects would have been horrific, not only in the Permian but in the Cretaceous as well. Cosmic rays become the new climate chimera. Their non-intensity (alternately, heavy intensity) also kept Earth warmer when our Sun was weaker than it now is, billions of years ago (the Sun rotated faster and had a stronger solar wind, blocking out the rays). As is well known, such a combination of factors means a warmer Earth. This also solves the “faint Sun” riddle posed by astronomer Carl Sagan long ago (why the Earth was warm in times when there was a very weak Sun). In any case, Dr. Shaviv explains it best in his non-mathematical yet fairly technical article.

Theories are a dime a dozen. But the better ones run science and, as we can see, put the question of human evolution into sharp perspective from time to time. We are the only living creature which can discern deep time and our place, or even non-existence, within it. To arm ourselves with as much knowledge of physical processes and their interconnections as possible is to ensure continued existence.

Speaking of those responsible for our evolution – women - I call the Autumn 2005 edition the “lady’s edition.” Henrietta Swann Leavitt, basically the discoverer of the Period-Luminosity Law in Cepheid variables, gets her song sung this season. Could she actually get a posthumous Draper Medal for it some day? Her famous 1912 paper and an absence of anyone getting the medal in 1912 opens up an opportunity for progress. We conclude this issue with a poem about Arcturus by Sarah Teasdale, a 19th Century poet very popular in her time. Sad but beautiful, it is a perfect complement to the dying of the year and to women who have not received their due in life, no matter what it is, or how deserving.

Steve Yaskell
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Star hopping with small telescopes

Hercules to Sagitta : a hero armed with an arrow hunts…a fox

Steven H. Yaskell

Like a giant king crab, Hercules covers the sky’s top and heads west as autumn falls into the upper northern hemisphere. Late July has him at the zenith, the celestial sphere’s rooftop. September and October sees this hero fall into the cosmic waves of the west.

One of Hercules’s opponents in his second of twelve labors was a crab. Having dispatched both the dreaded hydra and crab sent by a jealous queen Hera, he proceeded onto the third chore: capturing a hind (a deer). (Cleaning the Augean stables was the worst one in my opinion.)

Odd that Hercules should resemble a living crab with all its heavenly arms and square, compact body, considering he killed one – immortalized by Hera as our familiar (if hard to see) zodiacal constellation, Cancer. (The real constellation of Cancer hardly seems so equipped.) Hercules is, I suppose, a king crab; in shape if not in meaning.

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M 13 (also, NGC 6205) in Hercules. (Photo: Richard Crisp)

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M 13 in Hercules in small scopes. (Photo: Tomahide Nakaegawa)

Somewhat to the side of Hercules’s jewelled chest – the so-called “keystone” - is the globular cluster M 13. Those in the darkest regions look up at the center of the summer sky (and the nadir to the west in the autumn) and see this 6th magnitude object glowing faintly slightly below the keystone’s northeastern corner. Ten x 50 binoculars brings it out much better, sandwiched between a pair of similar magnitude stars (and very faintly, NGC 6207 to the upper left of M 13).

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NGC 6207 near Hercules – a 12th magnitude no-seer for small scopes. Why not give it a try? (Deep Sky Survey)

For NGC 6207, a glass over 6 inches is needed and deep sky filters, for sure. Or a real dark site and a four inch, with very good personal eyesight.

Probably first discovered by an aged Edmund Halley in 1715, Charles Messier noted it in 1764, where Robert Burnham, Jr. quoted Messier’s notation as follows: “nebula containing no stars,” to which Burnham commented. “which adequately describes the quality of his telescope.” Burnham gives the coordinates of M 13 as 16h, 39m, 9s (right ascension) at + +36, 3´, 03´´ (declination). Aim around for 16h and 40m and you should get there (unless your telescope guides you.).

Cosmologist Allan Sandage gives M 13’s age at 24 billion years, and Halton Arp, 17 billion. Burnham gives the distance at 24,600 light years and others, 25,100. A 20 minute angular diameter to the object agrees with the latter figure.

In the early fall, you have to pan down into the Summer Triangle to find Sagitta, the arrow. (In late autumn, Hercules and M 13 are nearly gone.) Start from the unmistakeably bright 0 magnitude star Vega in Lyra at the westward top of the sky and work your way down with binoculars 20 degrees southeastward. In non light polluted skies (some of us have them) look for a peculiar arrow-like shape pointing roughly upward to the east that is forked, south and west. The arrow contains two objects to note, the short diameter M 71, a mere smudge and hard to see optically in light filled skies, and zeta Sagitta to M 71’s west, a blue and greenish double star. This latter item is best seen in small scopes or with low power oculars. The proper motion for zeta is, according to the Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory Star Catalog, available as almost everything is – online – is give as 19h 48min 58.674sec (right ascension) and +19° 8' 31.52'' (declination). And you can hardly get any more exact than that. Zeta (Struve 2585) is an A3 main sequence star of magnitude 5, and the smaller fellow next to it is its 9th magnitude companion. Zeta has an orbit of about 23 year’s duration.

We now know what Hera thought of the Mighty Hercules (hmph. Male chauvinist.) Hercules actually used Sagitta in a hunting session once, according to other versions of his mythology. These were the two “birds” of the Summer Triangle, Cygnus and Aquila.

But my bet is he was actually after the fox with that arrow of his…the fox, Vulpecula.

And why?

Because the fox, always supposed to be smart, actually has a dumbbell. The Dumbbell Nebula, M 27, to be precise.

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Sagitta in the sky, getting ready to point at Vulpecula (and maybe Cygnus and Aquila). (From Kuuke’s Sterrenbeeld)

Just look a little north above where the arrow points, a few degrees above the arrow’s tip (Gamma Sagitta). This distance between Gamma and M 27 is only a few degrees but adjust your eyes for the big surprise. At first it looks like a gauzy patch, quite wide in field. As for the fox: well, I hope he got away.

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M 27, the Dumbell planetary nebula as it would look in the autumn in our latitudes at low power in a small glass. Try your O III filter on it for a rich cottony view. (Photo: Tomohide Nakaegawa)


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Star hopping with large telescopes

Autumn in the Summer Triangle

Excerpted from the IAAC log, with Geoff Chester, Lew Gramer, Barry Martasian, Paul Money, Duane Ott, Tudorica Alexandru and Michael Geldorp

"I saw Eternity the other night like a great Ring of pure and endless light." (Henry Vaughn)

The Summer Triangle, strikingly visible from light polluted sites in a large wedge, is formed first and foremost between the star Vega in Lyra, Deneb in Cygnus (these two usually seen from right to left in the Northern Hemisphere in the autumn) and Altair in Aquila. This last would be the star deepest into the southern horizon. Together, all three form a bright scalene triangle of some size across the celestial sphere. Its a big slice of sky with lots of nice ingredients. Up above 50 North, it is a sight that lasts well into the fall before sidereal time tumbles it away.

Beginner Paul Money started off with a dark sky look at Lyra, the westward axis of the Summer Triangle using a 16 inch f/4.5 Dobsonian. First object hunted, the Ring Nebula. Paul reported his first ever attempt at trying to bag the central star in M 57 with the new 16". The sky quality was average early in the morning. By about 0230, M 57 was nearing the zenith. He easily saw the 13.1 magnitude field star that was positioned directly to the ring’s west. The 14.1 magnitude field star was northwest of the ring and was visible using direct vision. The 15 magnitude tight double that is just off the southwest end of the ring was only barely visible as a single faint point of intermittent light. The two 15th magnitude stars that are south and southeast of the ring were easily visible with averted vision. He tried 310 X and after observing for about 30 minutes, he may have caught a couple of flashes, or a glimmer of the center star. Once or twice it glimmered bright only to have it vanish and not be seen again. After a brief rest he went back to M 57 using 620 X with similar results. He could just barely detect some intermittent light in the center.

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M 57 in Lyra. As with all planetaries, use your O III filter to get the most delineated picture, whatever your ocular strength. (Deep Sky Survey, color adapted on Photoshop cs)

With a little more experience, Barry Martasian with a 6 inch XT-8 1200mm Dobsonian at 30 X located the rng and passed over it twice, since in his search it appeared just a bit larger than a pregnant star. He reports that the nebula has a wonderful star field surrounding it that welcomes slow exploration. After trying 48 X on the object he felt the view was just a little better than the wide view he used to locate it. So he jumped up the power to 75 X. Using the 16mm ep, the ring showed a bluish color in a sea of black that is the home of many stars, creating a very peaceful and lovely view.

William L. Shart reported that even at low power, this intermediate observer could see that the ring structure was apparent in his Celestar 8 inch, the seeing being 7 out of 10 (ten being best) and increasing the power made it even more noticeable. At high power, there were many dim stars visible surrounding it. But try as he might, he could not make out the central star. In an earlier session, he experimented with various combinations of eps, barlows and filters. This nebula was visible even at 32 X and at 48 X, without the filter, the "hole" was visible.The best combination seemed to be the 144x (17mm EP, 2x barlow) with the filter. Although the filter did not make the nebula any easier to see, it did increase the amount of detail visible. The "hole" was much more apparent.

Using a 12.5 inch f/4.8 Dobsonian / Newtonian, at 55 X and 88 X, former MIT don Lew Gramer was scanning the darkish skies around Gunstock, New Hampshire, USA, and filed the following report on M 57: “slight elongation to northeast and southwest. Some reddish tinting visible in south edge of disk. Central star glimpsed at higher power! Some nebulosity was visible throughout inside of disk.”

The “double double”, not too far away from Vega and separable into twos with sharps eyes, presented “double trouble” for William L. Shart. He states flatly that it was easily spotted with binoculars. However, no matter what power he used, he could not split either of the pair with his 6 inch Dobsionian at magnifications of 48, 70, and even 300 X. A common problem with glasses of around 6 inch or less.

Geoff Chester, a skilled observer, had a friend, Kevin Balch, who lent him a panoptic 27mm lens for his 14.5 Dobsonian, with an O III filter. Chester swept the area near Deneb, and “danged if the nebula didn't just pop into view!” The transparency was somewhat limited by haze, which made for a rather mediocre view of the Veil, but nonetheless he and Balch could clearly distinguish the outline of the North America Nebula. Most prominent was the region of "Mexico", and Kevin said he could see "Florida". It filled the field in this eyepiece, which gave a bit over a one degree field-of-view.

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North America Nebula (NGC 7000 - HV-37, LBN47, Sh2-117) in Deneb (left). Pelican Nebula (IC 5067, right) – harder to see visually when getting a hook on NGC 7000. The “Gulf of Mexico” part of NGC 7000 surrounds the dark nebula LDN935 at the left of the photo. The North America Nebula contains NGC 6997. (Photo: Richard Crisp)

Geoff Chester used a 5.5 inch Comet Catcher to grab a look at NGC 6997 (HV111-58) inside of NGC 7000. He reported a large scattered cluster that lies in a prominent triangle of stars in the heart of the North America Nebula. Since he couldn't see the nebula, he was able to star hop to it using Deep Sky and a laptop. His reported best view was with the 15 mm Panoptic using a 2.5 X Barlow.

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NGC 6997 (HV111-58) inside of the North America Nebula. (Digital Sky Survey)

An intermediate observer, Duane Ott, tried NGC 7000 and IC 5067 out in a Telekit 25 inch f /4.3. The objects were bright and obvious. But these require smaller “big “ telescopes, apparently.

Northwest of NGC 7000 you come into the area of the Cocoon Nebula and M 39. Tudorica Alexandru, hailing from Romania, used a 9 inch refractor and reported that the Cocoon was not too hard to see in her conditions. Dark nebula B 168 was a striking sight, making a fine binocular pair with M 39. There was no detail visible inside the nebulae (bright or dark): the cluster “looks very fine, and it is well resolved, except for two stars. “

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Cocoon Nebula abutting dark nebula Barnard 168. The Cocoon Nebula contains IC 5146 and B 168. (Photo: Michael A. Stecker)

Michael Geldorp took out his 8 inch f/6 Dobsonian at Alphen ad Rijn, the Netherlands (latitude 52 N) in an “amazingly clear” sky one October night. He thought he would give the Veil Nebula a try, not expecting to see anything at first. It was utterly invisible without the O III filter, but was surprisingly easy with the O III filter on. The nebula jumped right out of the field at him!

First seen was NGC 6960 surrounding 52 Cygni. To the north of 52 Cygni, this segment is most conspicuously twisting around for about half a degree to an about magnitude 8-9 star. On the south side this segment is extremely tenuous and not nearly as thin as it is to the north. NGC 6995 and NGC 6992 could be traced for about 2 degrees! There were bright twirls of nebulosity interrupted by fainter segments and dark bands and gaps. There was an east-west extension near the south side which he thought might be identified with IC 1340.

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Veil Nebula (NGC 6960 – to extreme right) and NGC 6992 and 6995 are to the left. (Digital Sky Survey)

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Closer view of NGC 6960 with the bright 52 Cygni in the Veil. (Photo: Kitt Peak)

What a wonderful object, Geldorp reported. What a wonderful part of the sky, a beautiful time of year.
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Coordinates over 50○ N

Sun, Moon and planets

Courtesy U.S. Naval Observatory and Stardate Online

MICA is the Multiyear Interactive Computer Almanac. With it you can obtain sidereal time to your specific location for the Sun, Moon and planets. To use MICA Version 1.5 (available as test or download) you will need to know your latitude and longitude. To find Greenwich Mean Time (which is also Universal Time[UT]) find your local time zone and count forward - or backward -to the time as it would be at Greenwich (in the UK). MICA uses Universal Time (UT) for all its calculations. All you need do it add UT and your latitude and longitude and press a button to get rising and setting times of various Solar System objects. (See link below)

To calculate for planetary and solar postions, see link below (U.S. Naval Observatory MICA program)

http://wwwaa.usno.navy.mil/software/mica)


To find Moon phases for the month

http://www.stardate.org/nightsky/moon)

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NAR guest feature

The Milky Way's spiral arms and ice age epochs on Earth

Nir J. Shaviv

Ice age epochs and spiral arm passages

There are indications that cosmic rays affect climate on Earth. If this is true, then one should expect climatic variations while we roam the galaxy. This is because the density of cosmic ray sources in the galaxy is not uniform. In fact, it is concentrated in the galactic spiral arms (it arises from supernovae, which in our galaxy arise predominantly from the death of massive stars, which in turn form and die predominantly in spiral arms). Thus, each time we cross a galactic arm, we should expect a colder climate. Current data for the spiral arm passages gives a crossing once every 135+/-25 Million years.

A record of the long term variations of the galactic cosmic ray flux can be extracted from Iron meteorites. It was found in this work that the cosmic ray flux varied periodically (with flux variations greater than a factor of 2.5) with an average period of 143 +/- 10 Million years (My). This is consistent with the expected spiral arm crossing period and with the picture that the cosmic ray flux should be variable. The agreement is also with the correct phase.

The main result of this research is that the variations of the flux, as predicted from the galactic model and as observed from the Iron meteorites is in sync with the occurrence of ice-age epochs on Earth. The agreement is both in period and in phase: (1) The observed period of the occurrence of ice age epochs on Earth is 145+/-10 Myr (compared with 143 +/- 10 Myrs for the cosmic ray flux variations), (2) The mid point of the ice-age epochs is predicted to lag by 31 +/- 8 Myr and observed to lag by 33 +/- 20 Myr. This can be seen in the following graph:

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The top panel describes our passages through galactic spiral arms. The second panel describes the predicted cosmic ray flux and the predicted occurrence of ice-age epochs. The third panel describes the actual occurrence of ice-age epochs. The fourth panel indirectly describes the variable cosmic ray flux. Due to the fact that the cosmic ray flux is the "clock" used to exposure date meteorites, the meteoritic ages are predicted to cluster around periods when the "clock" ticks slower, which is when the cosmic ray flux was lowest, as is seen in the data.

A second agreement is in the long term activity. On one hand there were no ice age epochs observed on Earth between 1 and 2 billion years ago. On the other hand, it appears that the star formation rate in the Milky Way was about 1/2 of its average in between 1 billion years and 2 billion ago, while it was higher in the past 1 billion years, and between 2-3 billion years.

Another point worth mentioning is that, unlike what some articles misquote me (or copy from a misquoting article), I do not think we won’t have an ice age coming in the coming few tens of millions of years. If this galactic-climate picture is correct (and you should judge yourself from the evidence, in particular the paper in New Astronomy) it implies that we are at the end of a several 10 million year long "icehouse" epoch during which we have had ice ages come and go, and gradually over the next few millions of years, the severity of ice ages should diminish until they will disappear altogether. (I wouldn't buy real estate in Northern Canada just yet!)

Cosmic rays vs. CO2 as a climate driver over geological time scales

By comparing cosmic ray flux variations to a quantitative record of climate history, more conclusions can be drawn. This was done together with Jan Veizer, whose group reconstructed the temperature on Earth over the past 550 million years by looking at Oxygen 18 (O18) to Oxygen 16 (O16) isotope ratios in fossils formed in tropical oceans.

The following astonishing results were found once the reconstructed temperature was compared with the reconstructed cosmic ray flux variations:

1. Cosmic ray flux variations explain more than two thirds of the variance in the reconstructed temperature. Namely, cosmic ray flux variability is the most dominant climate driver over geological time scales.

2. An upper limit can be placed on the relative role of CO2 as a climate driver.

3. Using Item 2 (above) an upper limit can be place on the global "radiative forcing" – the ratio between changes to the radiation budget and temperature increase. The upper limit obtained is lower than the often stated value. This implies that a large fraction of the global warming witnessed over the past century is not due to CO2. Instead, it should be attributed to the increased solar activity which diminished the cosmic ray flux reaching Earth (the warming has nothing to do with spiral arms). Note however:

• Some of the global warming is still because of us humans (probably about one third to one half of the warming)

• There are many good reasons why we should strive towards using less fossil fuel and more clean alternatives even though global warming is not the main reason.

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Top panel describes the reconstructed Cosmic Ray Flux (CRF in the technical papers) variations over the past 500 million years using the exposure ages Iron meteorites. The bottom panel depicts in black, the reconstructed tropical ocean temperature variations using isotope data from fossils. The red line is the fit to the temperature using the cosmic ray flux variations. The remarkable fit implies that most of the temperature variations can be explained using the cosmic ray flux, and not a lot is left to be explained by other climate factors, including CO2.

Cosmic rays and the “Faint Sun Paradox”

The Sun, like other stars of its type, is slowly increasing its energy output as it converts its Hydrogen into Helium. Four and one half billion years ago the Sun was 30% fainter than it is today and Earth should have been frozen solid, but it wasn't. This problem was coined the "Faint Sun Paradox" by astronomer Carl Sagan.

If the cosmic ray flux climate link is real, it significantly extenuates this discrepancy. This is because the young Sun, which was rotating much faster, necessarily had a much stronger solar wind. This implies that less cosmic rays from the galaxy could have reached Earth because cosmic rays lose energy in the solar wind as they propagate from the interstellar medium to Earth. Since less cosmic rays implies a higher temperature, this effect will tend to compensate for the fainter sun.

Plugging in the numbers reveals that about two thirds of the temperature increase required to warm the young Earth to above today's temperature can be explained by this effect. The remaining one third or so can be explained by moderate amounts of greenhouse gases, such as 0.01 bar of CO2 (amounts which are consistent with geological constraints).

Sources and references for deeper, more technical reading

Shaviv, N.J., “The Spiral Structure of the Milky Way, Cosmic Rays, and Ice Age Epochs on Earth (New Astronomy, 8, 2003)

Shaviv, N.J., and Veizer, J., “Celestial Driver of Phanerozoic Climate?” (GSA Today, Vol. 13, Number 7, July, 2003)

Shaviv, N.J., “Towards a Solution to the Early Faint Sun Paradox: A Lower Cosmic Ray Flux From a Stronger Solar Wind?” (Journal of Geophysical Research, 2003)

(About the author: Nir J. Shaviv is a Senior Lecturer at the Racah Institute of Physics at Hebrew University, Israel)

For accessing the detailed papers on the topic listed above,please visit Shaviv's website at:

http://www.phys.huji.ac.il/~shaviv/)


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Astronomical science news from Science and Nature

Chinese and American team tie ancient droughts and other climate variability at least partially to solar behavior

An absolutely dated oxygen isotope record drawn from stalagmites in a Southern Chinese cave now provides us with a 9,000 year, deep-time Asian monsoon record.

A test by Yongjin Wang (Nanjing Normal University) and other Chinese and some American colleagues (University of Minnesota) wanted to compare the Asian monsoon’s intensity to solar activity and found at least a partial match.

Using de-trended Carbon 14 as a proxy for solar activity (the Sun emits this isotope: more building up in the Earth’s atmosphere and waters when the Sun is weak), and also using a de-trended Oxygen 18 isotope, the team discovered a correlation coefficient for the full record up to r=0.30. This meant that some of the Asian monsoon’s variability is traceable to the Sun’s fluctuation.

Time scales in decades (decadal) introduces an error, in that changes in ocean circulation and atmospheric flux disturbs the data. Then there is the matter of Carbon 14’s stability as a deep time measuring stick.

Still, the researchers showed that some human civil disruption coincided with disturbed monsoon rains. Such as the collapse of the Chinese Neolithic culture roughly 4,000 years ago. A geophysical oddity found was the release of ice from the Laurentide Ice Sheet into ice rafting events in the North Atlantic, significantly around 6,000 years ago, or, at the absolute height of the Holocene (solar) Maximum. In this maximum, Earth climate in the Northern Hemisphere was warmer and, not surprisingly, much drier than today. In fact, permafrost lines moved north by hundreds of miles in this period. According to the time series’ result, the Asian monsoon was particularly weak in the Holocene Maximum. (Wang, Y, Cheng, H. et al. “Holocene Asian Monsoon Links To Solar Changes and North Atlantic Climate,” Science, Vol. 308, 6 May 2005, pp 854-857.)

Bad news for the “Pentaquark”

The theoretical, “oversized” subatomic particle hypothesised by Russian scientists at the Petersburg Nuclear Physics Institute, the Pentaquark, does not exist, apparently. An instrument designed to detect it failed recently to do so. Undaunted, Americans at the Jefferson Lab are pressing on with the search. In the search for what the universe consists truly of, a step may have to be taken back. (Maggie McKee, New Scientist, 30 April 2005, p. 15)

That flare had some flair

On December 27, 2005 scientists witnessed another Soft Gamma ray Repeater (or SGR), this one being described as “colossal” judging by radio frequency measurements. Only two other SGRs have ever been witnessed in our galaxy. One in 1979 and the other, in 1998.

SGR-1806-20 – this repeater’s source in our Galaxy, was the outcome of a readjusted magnetic field up to 10 to the 15 power times stronger than Earth’s own magnetic field.

The glow of these rather rare events is like that of Gamma Ray Bursters (GRBs). And like GRBs, do they have any effects on Earth when their radiation penetrates its magnetosheath? Most likely. (From David Lazzati, “A Certain Flare,” Nature, Vol. 434, 28 April 2005, pp 1075-76)
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In astronomical history...

Henrietta Swann Leavitt, the star catcher

Steven H. Yaskell

The Draper legacy

The first astronomer to photograph star spectra, widely regarded to be the wealthy doctor and ambitious space photography pioneer Henry Draper, accomplished the feat in 1872. This was two years before leading the American expedition to photograph the transit of Venus. It was major, pioneering work back then. It is not important any longer. But a legacy he left is vital, and a recipient of it still deserving.

In 1880, shortly before his unexpected death from pleurisy at age 45 on a winter hunting trip, Draper had been working on taking detailed photographs of nebula and literally benchmarking the vitally important science of photometry. As with many pioneers, Draper was never able to realize the full potential of what they had started. In this case, of photography to capture the scientific details of outer space. Had he lived Draper would have witnessed developments in solar photography at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, for instance, and at Harvard’s now vanished Peruvian observation station, Boydon. These were destinations well within the reach of this privileged Virginian gentleman.

But wealth and reputation proceeds - as well as precedes - themselves. Ironically it often independently aids others (as well as inevitably lining the palms of the undeserving). Having married the even wealthier Anna Mary Palmer after the Civil War, joining fortunes in the Gilded Age America of expansion and commerce, Draper was destined to leave a scientific funding legacy behind him.

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Draper Medal – still awarded for meritorious work in astrophysics

Anna Mary was the autodidactic Draper’s soul mate as well as semi-patron. (In astronomy, these unions of the soul are nearly divine.) And amid the wealthy social swirl of Grant Administration America, one that was all about growth, brought like-minded, privileged individuals together had they the social status. The Drapers would meet or correspond with the Boston Pickerings and the Lowells and the other gentleman and woman scientists or science dabblers of the age. These were sprinkled liberally from west (Hale, Yerkes) to east (Pickering, Lowell). Ease in train-assisted travel extended the reach of all (Lowell, for instance, moved west: Draper died out there while successfully catching stars and unsuccessfully hunting). As Gladstone’s England leapt ahead with reformed civil service testing for staffing labs and observatories, America accomplished its own cumbersome social engineering, step by step, via the more acceptable American customs of using much money, privilege, and Ivy League school networks to procure its intellectual capital. Too true, it can be said, that the famous American robber baron – or his wife, son, or other descendant – lies behind the hefty science bequest. But from out of coal, diamonds are eventually churned.

Draper’s death motivated the formation of the Henry Draper Memorial. The founder and early manager of this monument to her husband was Mrs. Draper herself. The fund winnowed its way through the Washington-Philadelphia-New York-Boston (by way of Mt. Wilson in California and the Lowell Observatory in Arizona) nexus all the way to Cambridge, Massachusetts, and to Edward C. Pickering. He was once an M.I.T physics professor, a believer in and motivator of women thinkers, and, by 1877, the director of the Harvard College Observatory (HCO). He was one of Dr. and Mrs. Draper’s contacts. Here, within the folds of an endowment and a novel program started by Pickering came forth one of American’s premier discoverer-astronomers, Henrietta Swann Leavitt. Her work was to make measurements of celestial distance up to that time obsolete, and to form the strongest known platform for newer ones.

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Henrietta Swann Leavitt: photograph of the scientist when young. (Photo: original source unknown)

“Pickering’s Girls”

Both the Royal Observatory in England (a museum since 1998) and the Harvard College Observatory (now the sprawling, part private, part government institute called the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics) each began programs for “women computers” in the late 1800s. At the Harvard observatory, the first lady assistant was brought on in 1875. At Greenwich, these women did more than replace the largely young male “computers” who performed the routine computations for the daily observations and measurements (and who suffered similar career dead-ends like their female counterparts, and in some cases worse). Some in England became full partners with the hired male staff. Few chose to do so however, and the British program died out. The same was true for the woman computers at the Harvard College Observatory. But any sense of a shared social status was missing. Some archives and the inevitable anecdotes suggest that it was very much a “child – to – father” relationship between the women computers and the regular male staff, and particularly, with the director.

Pickering was under the eugenicist pall that painted women as being fit well for routine and mundane labor, but not the flashing brilliant stuff, which is why he presumably began the program (others argue tightfistedness, some, like me, a bit of idealism). Men were supposedly better in the “quicksilver brilliance” department (still a bugbear of bias, today). An implied mental inferiority, common amidst American eugenics thinking then within top universities like Princeton, was also widespread and pervasive in most middle class society and amongst the wealthy. Mental inferiority was the reason for much denying of social, employment, and legal status in 19th and early 20th Century America for many ethnic and racial groups, and for all women. (Such thinking as this was in full bloom in mid-20th Century Germany, with predictable results, until this growth was permanently, and painfully, plucked.)

For all this, the pay was often the deciding factor as to why many women chose not to begin careers in the institutions (25 cents an hour in the U.S. case, poor pay even then). Being a constantly inferior “girl” (in the American case perhaps) could have been another. Some lost their jobs for relatively minor infractions within an unavoidably infantile hierarchy. If all this sounds terribly cruel by today’s standards, then please, examine briefly some facts that place it into perspective. Japan still had “sun kings” and millions who believed in this, women being totally ornamental, alternately property. In most European courts, women were just about the same thing. In the U.S.A’s far west, women were at the level of Indian fighter/squaw/pioneer, tending rifle and child. The machine age had not quite kicked in: women could expect to trundle laundry by hand and pump water from the backyard and empty it, used, from sinks and tubs by hand. Such daily observed facts reinforced the idea that women were good drudges and poor pioneering thinkers. It is small wonder the view the privileged had (who had all this done for them) downward, was oft times a bleak and deprecating one.

A desperate love for the work as well as talent for it could be a reason why some persisted. Mr. Pickering had, after all, created an opportunity for a few of the fortunate, no matter how small. Some of the American women, talented in math and science as witnessed by the instructors at the women colleges, were hired as volunteers at first, eventually obtained full time jobs at the institution and stayed there for many years. Bad pay notwithstanding (but for these women, “protected flowers” all in a financial sense, money was barely the issue). Along with dedication came the flairs of temperament and ego, but this is always the case, everywhere, among anybody construing their work as “important.” That Pickering often sided with them in the face of male colleagues regarding conflict hardly surprises us, either. In Leavitt’s case, she was a volunteer for several years before gaining a paid position in 1902.

Some were recognized for the work they did towards making possible the Hertzsprung-Russell diagram (one of these reputedly was Antonia Maury, who was laid off, and later, Leavitt) and the nascent star classification scheme - much changed since - by mid century (such as Annie Jump Cannon, who was to thrive). Others had to be content with realizing their work, such as cataloguing or observing – or in Leavitt’s case, even their refined discoveries among the astrophysical laws - via the name of the observatory director, HCO or random newspaper clippings, even though some balked against this to their detriment (Maury). But when egos were in line and tempers calm, we can imagine what great pride these women took in their work and in themselves, accepting with a grain of salt what we today would justifiably damn as discrimination. We can well imagine the price they paid. Yet lest some of us think of what savages the men at HCO were (or were in general at that time) it would be simplistic and far more savage to insert vastly altered views and mores unto their thinking and actions from our current perspective.

In any case, a truly powerful woman for that age (for money always tips the hand) - Draper’s widow - made Pickering a patron (I suspect Pickering liked being babied by grateful women). The Draper Memorial had as one aim the making of a chart of 10,000 stars’ spectral classes. Included were magnitude measurements and the classification of variable stars, noted by Solon I. Bailey, the Harvard’s Arequipa Boydon Observatory chief, in abundance in globular clusters in 1895, and which was to form the basis of Leavitt’s discovery inside of open clusters. Photographic photometry (light measurement for determining stars’ distance) increased as advances in chemistry and optics prodded technical photography onward into the new century, and “Pickering’s girls” (or “lady assistants”, or “computers,” or – as one French writer uncharitably put it, the “harem de Pickering”) did the patient work from the photographic plates Donald Menzel, a subsequent director, wanted to throw out years later. The plates would be shipped from Peru on a regular basis and then the woman observers would “observe” off the finished photographic plates made of these clear, southern mountain skies. Literally, “Pickering’s girls” were astronomical observers in many senses of the word.

Over the years 1877 to 1919, Pickering in his long term as director had brought some 45 women into the observatory. Draper’s widow’s money financed the catalog work, later to become known as the Draper Catalog. Indirectly, Mrs. Draper’s endowment, however penny-pinching, favored Pickering’s women staff, howsoever meanly. To be fair to Pickering on this charge, he had to split hard-won endowments several ways to finance a California and South American site, as well as the expanding one at Harvard. These weren’t cheap. (But it is on record that Pickering’s younger brother, the influential if embarrassing William, first at Mt. Wilson and then Arequipa - from which he was removed - and elsewhere siphoned off much money from the foundation).

Henrietta Swann Leavitt: brief biography

Leavitt was born in the then very leafy, rural farming community of Lancaster, Massachusetts U.S.A. of Puritan stock on the 4th of July, three years after the American Civil War’s end. She was the daughter of George R. Leavitt, a clergyman born in Lowell, Massachusetts. Her mother and namesake, Henrietta Swann Kendrick, was born in the then-whaling town of New Bedford, Massachusetts in 1844, daughter of Henry C. Kendrick – a dentist - and Henrietta A. Swan, both of New Bedford. Kendrick was the pastor of the First Congregational Church of Lancaster from 1865 to 1870, leaving there for Cambridgeport for financial reasons (Cambridgeport was the home of the prominent telescope maker Alvan Clark, giving one to speculating on her ever seeing some of these then-world class scopes in her childhood). Family members to include grandparents may have accompanied each other from place to place, and the family eventually moved to Cleveland, Ohio after Massachusetts and finally to Beloit, Wisconsin, where Leavitt’s father died at age 72. Her brother, Darwin, was a missionary in Turkey at the time of his father’s death. Such was the tight family group of devout persons with a burnished faith who came and went together – Henrietta remaining near Boston as an astronomer and Darwin travelling the world, spreading the Christian faith.

Leavitt graduated from Radcliffe College in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1892. Radcliffe was known by another name then and its position as a woman’s-only college is long gone (Women weren’t allowed at Harvard at that time.) She developed a hearing problem even before a fascination with the stars, possibly helped along by seeing Clark’s products, prompted her to seek an astronomy career. Or, as a French writer put it, “Enfermée dans son silence intérieur, Henrietta Swan se tourne alors vers le silence des étoiles.” Apparently, the solitude involved in this work could have agreed with the hearing impaired, leastwise to this particular woman astronomer, which makes the French quote (above) so apt. But she shared this trait with a leading “gun” (if I may pun) among the women astronomers at the HCO: Annie Jump Cannon. Never married, with few details yet known of her private life, Leavitt died of cancer in 1921 while still an active member of the observatory.

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Rare picture of Pickering and some of the women assistant staff in a photo taken at the Harvard-Smithsonian probably around 1913. Annie Jump Cannon is second to the right of Pickering (the older woman in the foreground). Furthest to left is Margaret Harwood, first American woman to become head of an observatory (the Maria Mitchell Observatory). Leavitt is not pictured. (Photo: Cannon estate)

Celestial object distance as determined by parallax

Finding the distances between Earth and first the planets (later, stars) was done trigonometrically, probably since the time of Hipparchus in classical Greece. It was calculated from shadows shown on the Earth and on the Sun by objects like the eclipsing Moon or Venus, etc., and the total distance was calculated in Earth radii. That is, how many radiuses of Earth could be stacked side by side from Earth to say, the Sun (the Earth’s radius was approximately known then.) But without shadows, such as Venus’s or Mercury’s on the Sun to determine the Sun’s distance from us, known as “transits,” the problem of space distance becomes (and again the pun is intentional) without a shadow of a doubt, astronomical.

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Triangulating distance from shadows to obtain parallax

A remedy was found in obtaining the better instrumentation needed to make ever-more exact measures. One of the problems with early parallax measure was the different locations on Earth observers had to be at in order to make the observations that lead to calculating distances. Many factors contributed to errors here, and these weren’t only from confusion due to the far distances observers (without the benefit of email) often had to be from each other in order to make the observations. Observers using micrometers in the same room could report different measurements as they watched, say, Venus wobble across the Sun’s photosphere and still get different results, as Swedish observers found to the detriment of their friendships, once. Other troubles were atmospheric disturbances, the differing effects gravity had on instruments at different points on the globe that conspired to work against uniformity in total measurements when calculated together to get an exact distance – all the way to sickness that felled observers strung out across a primitive world. Edmund Halley, who came up with the idea of repeatable transit observations across the centuries in this manner, had the right idea in theory. The reality was another thing.

Parallaxes to the Solar System planets were quite good after the time of Germans such as Johan Encke by the mid 19th Century. But the parallax of a star – that is, our distance from us to it - remained a difficult problem and still, in some cases, still does. Truly accurate distances to stars remained in the zone of “someday to be found.” It was a dream, really, in spite of battalions of energetic and brilliant men actively seeking that dream’s fulfilment.

What wasn’t needed was more answers and clever, detailed measures that compounded the difficulty, which tended to make the methods and equipage ever more ingenious, yet increasingly difficult to fathom and to use. What also was not needed was making more people with talents for retaining large sums and quantities in their heads more famous and, inevitably, boastful and hyper competitive. As is so often the case (and this seems especially so in astronomy) the more difficult or complicated (or both) a system or method used in describing phenomena is, the more wrong it usually turns out to be. For instance, Ptolemy’s circles describing the universe were ingenious and mathematically correct. It was too bad, as observation was to show, that they did not describe Nature as it really was.

What was needed was a new or another way. Several of these ways came along down the years since Hipparchus. The moving cluster method was one; the spectroscopic parallax method another.

But evidence increasingly shows that it was Leavitt’s discovery of a logarithmic period-luminosity law that led to being able to accurately determine star distance up to 50 million light years away that made good progress.

Out of the shadows: finding the relationship between period and luminosity in stars

We get truth and new ways of doing things in ways and in vessels we seldom expect. Sometimes the truth can be construed as a beautiful vase: a Grecian urn. Sometimes it is delivered by a Congregationalist minister’s angelic daughter, and oft times, only in parts. Sometimes that minister’s daughter is only vaguely aware of what she has really accomplished, as well. Others, later, are even more dimly aware of it.

There was more to be drawn from photographic plate analysis, and Leavitt was to achieve a most important and beguiling discovery in the annals of science from this “mundane” chore of poring over plates. For some, such work is worse than a factory job. For someone like Leavitt, it was apparently a “born for” aptitude. It must have been a pleasant surprise – or unnerving shock – to Pickering when it was fully realized who accomplished it. It probably helped pioneering astronomers such as Eijnar Hertzsprung and Henry Norris Russell, and most definitely, Harlow Shapley, within her lifetime. “Miss Leavitt” – she may have insisted on the “miss” - gained significant status within her group quickly (and probable jealousy, though her temperament – noted as loving and angelic – probably defused much of this) and, by strong proxy, the rest of the observatory and the astronomical community around the world.

She was put in charge of the photometric group at HCO by Pickering well before her famous 1912 paper’s publication. This implies that aptitude seldom fails to be noticed and more importantly, used, when correctly located – another “law” that applies to the social aspect of labor. She also brought to her work an intensity that placed her apart from the others. And it was from the data obtained at the exotic Arequipa location of one of Harvard’s early southern hemisphere telescopes (the location for which was determined by another gentle discoverer, Andrew Ellicott Douglas) that she unveiled a part of one of the heaven’s manifestly numerous secrets.

Opening a jewel box

Scientific discovery often comes about by a combination of intuition and imagination after having studied a series of problems in the area concerning the discovery. Sometimes it is just luck, or perhaps an insight granted by powers we can hardly understand and perhaps are not meant to. By 1912 Leavitt was at this pregnant, vulnerable period when someone is bound to get to some answers and insights since they had been “at it” a long time, talented, relentless, and severe. In her case, it had been ten years and also in her case, her talent and dedication must have been infectious. We attribute much to logic and common sense, and especially mathematical ability, in scientific discovery. But if it were just logic, common sense and mathematical ability– and even studying the problem over and over and over again – to scientific discovery, there would be many more profound, pioneering discoveries like Leavitt’s listed in the annals of science. But there are not. That she had tremendous faith and an ability to pray clearly (like Kepler, Boyle and Newton) should not be snidely dismissed.

The problem of the ages was that some stars are brighter than others, but does this tell us anything of that star’s actual distance from us? That was the crux of the scientific problem Leavitt and every astronomer faced, from Aristarchus to her (and it continues, if on another plane). Naturally it concerns a working familiarity and facility with some terms and concepts. But insight is another thing.

“Luminosity” for instance has no particular relation to distance on the surface of things. It just “is,” like so much other phenomena. Look up to the night sky and see a brighter star in relation to a dimmer one. Does this alone tell you the distance? You assume the brighter is the closer. That was apparently the case, but it was not the case absolutely. Brightness is an apparent measure of how close something could be. But luminosity is the absolute measure of how close brightness is to you. (It is a technical reason why astronomers have created a distinction between the two forms of stellar magnitude – apparent and absolute.) It is why they come up with a measurement unit to keep everything separate so that they can think about it more clearly in relation to phenomena. In this case we have what is called the Lux. Luminosity draws on this technical unit of measure of light. A Lux is that unit of illumination equal to the direct illumination on a surface from a point source of a luminosity of one standard candle at one meter’s distance.

On the face of it, all Leavitt did was to provide a way of comparing values of luminosity with each other and found a repeatable, numerous parallel in actual Nature. She was equipped with the above-knowledge. She also knew of the precise relationship between luminosity and brightness:

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Where B is the brightness, L is luminosity, D the distance from the observer to the object and k, the proportionality constant. Algebraic formulations determine theoretical distances using this formula, but accomplish none from Nature.

Leavitt had been cataloguing variable stars in the southern hemisphere for years and by 1908, she published (in this way: “E.C. Pickering [for Henrietta Leavitt]”) “1777 Variables in the Magellanic Clouds” in the Harvard College Observatory Annals, 60, (1908). So much for her leg of the foot soldier work in the salt mines of science, done separately but convergently along with all the other bees in the Pickering beehive. But this was the seed bed for work that came to fruition a few years later, around 1908 and 1911, and – interestingly - for others after 1912. Still in the Magellanic Cloud region – this time with a focus on the smallest of the pair, sandwiched in between the constellations Tucana and Octans close to the South Pole.

In her paper of March 3, 1912 entitled “Periods of 25 Variable Stars in the Small Magellanic Cloud,” Leavitt acknowledged much of what I meant earlier by the phrase “over and over and over again” in studying a problem:

The measurement and discussion of these (the catalogue of 1,777 variables) objects present problems of unusual difficulty, on account of the large area covered by the two regions, the extremely crowded distribution of the stars contained in them, the faintness of the variables, and the shortness of their periods.

And on and on. We get from her description a perfect image of hard Nature, unyielding and confusing and doing everything at once, fuzzily. But at the same time, the sights very near the smaller Magellanic Cloud must have been beguiling. One of these is NGC 104. We have this description of it from Agnes Clerke, a very popular astronomy writer from Leavitt’s time:

“The loveliness of the cluster…to Herschel’s view…set off by a diversity of colour between an interior mass of rose-tinted stars and marginal strata of purely white ones…and to the present writer, in 1888, the sheeny radiance of this object appeared quality from centre to.

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The Small Magellanic Cloud (NGC 292) – the southern hemispheric star cluster where Leavitt made her discovery of the period-luminosity law. NGC 104, also called 47 Tucani, is the bright globular cluster at the top of the photo. The 24-inch (60 cm) Bruce Doublet telescope used in making Leavitt’s photographic plates in Peru could have caught this view at low power or in the finder scope. (Photo: David Malin).

The beauty sometimes prods one on to look even if, as in Leavitt’s case, the objects she studied never met with her own eyes in Nature. She read the beauty only from the black and white photographs, and perhaps from Clerke’s descriptions of them.

The stars were dim and of extremely weak magnitudes (fourteenth and fifteenth magnitude, etc.) Long exposure times were needed to get these stars - literally - into the picture. Bailey down in Boyden balked, as did others photographing and packing these stars for study. But she eventually trimmed her area of observation within this mind-boggling array of gas, tiny stars, and faint glows down to 59 variables in one measurement phase done in 1904. She alone (or with help from her fellow staffers) had determined the periods of 25 of these by the time of her 1912 paper. It was probably necessary to list the stars and the data collected on them out in a table, and then to spread it across graphs to see a relationship between the “brightness of these variables and their periods” (the periods being the times between dimming and glowing, as variable stars do). In any case Leavitt had noticed a period-luminosity relationship between one or two stars in her treks across the southern skies, not really studied much since William Herschel’s son had a go at them a few decades earlier. But this time, there was an entire swot of them doing the same thing. A small beehive’s worth. Or perhaps more glittering jewels amidst an already beguiling jewel box full. And they were on photographic plates she duly circled, noted, and collated.

When she applied the inverse law to these observations, she found that these 25 stars have the ability, such that the luminousness of these stars is in direct proportion to the logarithm of their periods. (The law states that an object twice as far away as another is 1/4th as bright.)

If one appeared dimmer than the other, it was certainly that the dimmer one was furthest away with these jewels. And with this relationship you could then calculate the relative distance from the Earth (note well, this is the relative distance, not the exact distance). Or as Michael J. Crowe puts the science intuition behind it:

Suppose that on a totally dark night you look out from a cliff and see five lights in the distance. You cannot…tell how far away they are…or how luminous they are. Nor can you tell how luminous they are relative to each other. Suppose, however, that someone told you that (they)…are all on a large ship sailing in the distance. Can you now compare their luminosities? Yes; because they are all at the same distance, the brighter (one among the others at that distance) must be the more luminous.

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Leavitt’s 25 variables from her 1912 paper. (From Crowe, after Leavitt’s original paper)

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Her 25 selected variables, following a maxima (bright) and minima (dim) showing “curves…surprisingly smooth, and of remarkable form”. To the left, the abscissas (plotted 25 stars) are equal to the periods. To the right, the same plotted stars reveal (equality) “to the logarithms of the periods.” (From Crowe, after Leavitt’s original 1912 paper)

In spite of its obvious shortcomings, the discovery was enormous. Reliable distances into space had leapt considerably farther out than ever before.

Cepheid variables as the standard candle

John Goodricke discovered that Delta Cephei (in the constellation Cepheus) varies regularly in brightness over a period of five days, eight hours and 48 minutes as early as 1784. Many of these were a “type” of pulsating variable identified far before Leavitt’s birth and of the same “type” as she would single out in the Small Magellanic Cloud. But the scattering of Cepheid variable star types discovered across the northern sky were not as compact in a single group as was Leavitt’s fortunately were. So the connection between multiple pulsars behaving in some relation as Leavitt noticed could not be established. The smaller Magellanic Cloud is also the 2nd closest to us in the Galaxy. She was to have 25 of these “Cepheid type” variables, all near one another in a single star cloud allowing the evidence to be easily repeated by any other observer – a crucial aspect of any discovery, and as such, made her paper vitally important. Diffuse clusters like the Magellanic clouds prodded Leavitt forth perhaps along the idea generated by Bailey after his finding them in globular clusters. (She may have been an angel in temperament, but she was a “fiend” at finding variables. )

The papers of Leavitt must have reached the notice of Eijnar Hertzsprung of Denmark. He had been at work on the problems of Cepheid variables and distances to the same for some time, probably as far back as 1908. So had others. In 1913 – importantly, a whole year after her paper - he calculated the distance to one Cepheid in the northern hemisphere, our pole star Polaris, as 200 parsecs (another way of measuring astronomical distances rather than using light years). He is said to have done a spectroscopic parallax measurement to the Sun to have obtained this value statistically. Below is an illustration where M is the absolute magnitude, m the apparent magnitude, and D, distance in parsecs:

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In any case he must have been aware of Leavitt’s work on period-luminosity and the closer nature of the variable stars in the Magellanic Clouds apparently had to the Earth. (Hertzsprung was a “desk” astronomer. He specifically worked with information from other scientists, looking for data previously overlooked, and would adjust for accuracy. ) In this work, all Hertzsprung did – true to re-analytical form - was re-calibrate the law. In absolute terms:

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For all of Leavitt’s work, the method of Cepheid variables as a standard candle was weak in its application, and by proxy, Hertzsprung’s modification of the logarithmic equation. Harlow Shapley at Mt. Wilson in 1917 after much work reputably found that the stars of longer period are actually greater in luminosity. He also re-calibrated the logarithmic law involved in the period-luminosity observation of Leavitt.

But error upon error occurred in using pulsing variables as the standard candle. Edwin C. Hubble, arguably the greatest observational astronomer who has lived, first used a Cepheid variable to place the distance of the object they were found in the Andromeda Galaxy as 900,000 light years in 1923 at Mount Wilson. Therefore, Hubble placed this galaxy far beyond our own, further than anyone else had. But there were more observational errors in using Cepheids as standard candles that were not addressed and not corrected until 1953, the year Hubble died (the actual corrected distance of the Andromeda Galaxy is 2.2 million light years away and is our brother galaxy). “Observational complexity” was actually caused, it turned out, by different “populations” Cepheids had to be broken down into: namely, population one (Pop. I) found in spiral arms and star clouds – the blue whites, and population two (Pop. II): namely, like those found in Bailey’s globular clusters (the dimmer red and yellow stars). It turned out that the period-luminosity variation is different in either population. Another was the problem of the Cepheid’s pulsation on the temperature (or, the “spectral type”) of the star. Yet like Leavitt, and perhaps Hertzsprung, Shapley’s universe was tiny compared to the one that the man who would replace him at Mt. Wilson – Hubble – would be. For all this, we can see that Leavitt wasn’t the only one having difficulty grasping the truth fully. And it may very well be that, if it wasn’t for her, getting reliably out past 50 million light years even theoretically wouldn’t have occurred.

Closing the jewel box

Since Leavitt, redshift discovery pioneered by Hubble has made the question of space distance a much more open one. Since the universe is expanding, what are the distances beyond the known distances from galaxies past 50 million light years? But I am leaving out of the scope of this article just how much influence she had on the work of Hertzsprung and slightly later, in 1917, of Harlow Shapley’s, in their bids to describe the depth of the universe, and Hubble from the 1920s to 1950s. (I will for now speculate that all had access to her uncovering of the period law via her papers. A routine check of their sources in their own papers should reveal this.) Using supernovae and galaxies as “standard candles” pushed the envelope a little farther outward, but just how exactly is anybody’s guess.

The red shift method that shuttled the known distances of the observable universe out past a hypothetical ten billion light years was Hubble’s work. The Hubble Constant can get the rate of the expansion of the universe, which he and others found. But the question of the distances to these remote galaxies, calculated from that data, is still questionable. The Cepheid variables out in Hubble’s great depths, those “candles” that brought galaxies closer to us by 50 million fairly reliable light years, are still too faint to measure.

Hubble stood, then, on “one of the giant’s shoulders.” Though I have not verified this, the giant in question was probably Henrietta Swann Leavitt, a product of one of the greatest of astrophysical observatories – the Smithsonian - and a person who was similar in temperament to that silent (physical) giant, Hubble.

The “problem” is the “work”

The truism in science bureaucracies is that the “quicksilver brilliant” work is out there, somewhere, just looking for the appropriate “quicksilver” mind to delve the depths of Nature and pluck up, plumb-out-of-pie fashion, a discovery. This is the "knight of the cross on his quest" theory of scientific discovery; dramatic but not necessary. Hundreds of university trained and equipped scientists, all appropriately passing the correct amounts of tests at the right status schools, then file into the scientific salt mines, looking for the silver chalice. An apparent (if not absolute!) truism of Leavitt’s time was that men, only, were capable of this “quick silver” brilliance to master problems when in truth, “the problem” is always extremely difficult to master, no matter for what sex; that the (apparent) “quicksilver” minds acknowledge this and climb – unnoticed – up some status ladder and then sometimes vanish. The truth is also that “the problem” of “mundane” work is common to all scientists, no matter what the problem at hand happens to be. Foisting it onto another often makes a mess or pushes it onto others’ desks. And often these desks are usually occupied by someone living far in the future. And as I will stress, over and over again, the rarity of insights such as Leavitt’s is such that it is surprising, given all the talent in mathematics, physics and physical strength thrown at these problems, that so few ever get solved – even partially – from their root observations..

The truth often also is – paradoxically - that the unattached and sometimes even untrained, unadjusted and even casual researcher makes the find. More paradoxically still, the trained professional then often actually either stands in the way of the discoverer, due to a claim of “untrained-ness” or political bias (or both: sex bias won’t do it any longer) and / or claims credit for the discovery themselves, since untrained persons cannot (goes the snobbery) possibly have been able to have done it. And this, no matter how many “barriers” are broken, will always be the case in science discovery as it is with every other human endeavor.

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Photograph of the scientist late in life. (Photo: probably Smithsonian Institution)

Leavitt escaped with her discovery of a law fairly intact when we read of it in the light of the above paragraphs. (I often breathe a sigh of relief in such tales, knowing that the discovery was ultimately to everyone’s benefit.) However, laws are laws. Making novel astronomical observations-to-the-mathematical-physical insight proofs, receiving 95% testable accuracy rates, are few and far between. Ones such as hers that can be built off of productively, as were Johan Kepler’s or Robert Boyle’s, are rarer still. Maybe her method, applied to what space telescopes will see, will measure yet the Cepheids identifiable out in these enormously distant galaxies all the way to us? Except for the matter of depth of space discovered, her finding is of the same magnitude as Kepler’s, is it not? It is a shame her finding never came to be known as Leavitt’s Law of Period-Luminous Variability, much as Kepler’s became known as Kepler’s Laws of Planetary Motion.

Never having been given a chance on the “even playing field,” what else can one expect? Yet the guilt (alternately, desire) over acknowledging her was there. In 1925, four years after her death from cancer, a member of the Swedish Academy of Sciences proposed nominating her for the Nobel Prize, presumably in physics. It came to nothing, as well as from her several different professional memberships. (As hopeless as this may be we should also note that – even if behavior against women at one time equalled the tragic – it is no invitation to find another group upon which to foist equal tragedy.)

A saying should go, “modern views fit modern people,” since I have, I know, somewhere, wobbled over into my own bias. To put “Miss Leavitt” back into her proper time and stop dangerously tampering with barely-levelled-out facts, we have from Solon Bailey, arguably one of the better men at Harvard in his time, the following encomium to Leavitt a year after her death:

Miss Leavitt inherited, in a somewhat chastened form, the stern virtues of her puritan ancestors. She took life seriously. Her sense of duty, justice and loyalty was strong. For light amusements she appeared to care little. She was a devoted member of her intimate family circle, unselfishly considerate in her friendships, steadfastly loyal to her principles, and deeply conscientious and sincere in her attachment to her religion and church. She had the happy faculty of appreciating all that was worthy and lovable in others, and was possessed of a nature so full of sunshine that, to her, all of life became beautiful and full of meaning.

Her sickness and death left her fellows at Harvard bereft. Where were they to find the inspiration to continue in the various research areas she touched, now that she was gone? A feeling that a singularity among them having departed must have been strong.

Back from the far side of the Moon: a posthumous Draper Medal?

Should the evidence show her influence on Herztsprung, Shapley et al, I would not mind seeing a posthumous Draper Medal being awarded to one deserving scientist. She was not just another American woman pioneer in the model of, say, a Margaret Harwood, who was a “first” at something relative the female sex in America among scientist-administrators leaping barriers. Or a formidable and long lived Annie Jump Cannon, outlasting them all into an age that just started to see women for what they could be, stripped of eugenicist biases. Leavitt is an important discoverer along the line of a Kepler and, from Bailey’s words at least, a model person and scientist in the mould of a Hubble. As a “barrier breaker” she was a breaker of that hardest barrier of them all: hard, seemingly impenetrable Nature, observationally and mathematically.

Though a crater on the far side of the Moon is named for her (Pickering’s thievish brother shares his name on a crater on the visible side!) I suggest she be given something she truly deserved. No Draper Medal was awarded for 1912. A posthumous Draper Medal for that year should be hers. Draper, the idealistic doctor who might have lived long enough to see Leavitt’s work would have been proud and his widow, prouder still. His memorial was dedicated to such intellectual effort as Leavitt managed to achieve, anyway.

Isn’t this the least Americans can do for one of their best-of-the-best?

Sources

See my book with Dr. Willie Soon, “The Maunder Minimum and the Variable Sun-earth Connection” (WSP: 2004) for more on observatory staffing in England and the United States in the late 1800s.

Correspondence with Joy A. Peach, town genealogist, town of Lancaster, Massachusetts and Jean Watson for biographical data on Leavitt family. Clinton Courant (no date) provided obituary.

Hands-on Astrophysics http://hoa.aavso.org/ (Leavitt was a member of AAVSO among other scientific societies, at one time a big project at the Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory while it was still in Washington, D.C. and when it had only a foothold in Cambridge and the Harvard College Observatory)

ACT TOUSSAINT, le cygne et le rat (The Swan and the Rat)

Lindroth, S., Kungl. Svenska Vetenskapsakademiens historia (1739-1818) (Stockholm: 1967) pp 398-411

I urge anybody who wants to see how strongly faith played a role among our founding scientific fathers to read E.A. Burtt’s “The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern Physical Science” (1924) or the Dover reprint of 2003, “The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern Science.” Read especially the sections on Boyle.

Crowe, M.J., Modern Theories of the Universe from Herschel to Hubble (Dover: 1994) pp 226-232 for Leavitt’s main papers.

Thinkquest online: Sun-Man’s Friend and Foe (for Hertzsprung)

Jastrow, R., and Thompson, M.H., Astronomy: Fundamentals and Frontiers (Wiley: 1974) for distance measurements into space.

Croswell, K., “The Alchemy of the Heavens,” (Anchor: 1995) pp 232-242 for Hubble.

Burnham, R., Burnham’s Celestial Atlas (Dover: 1978) for Shapley and Clerke.
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Equipment review

Which is best - refractor, reflector, or catadioptric?

Ed Ting

"Ed, what's the best telescope you've ever seen?"

We were sitting around the kitchen table on a rainy day, talking about equipment. I leaned back in my chair, lost in thought as I do every time I get asked heavy, philosophical questions like this one. After a few min- utes, I generated a short list that included the Astro-Physics AP130EDT, Starmaster's 7" Oak Classic, and the Intes MN61 Maksutov-Newtonian.

Someone else at the table pointed out that I had, consciously or not, selected one example from each of the major designs: one refractor, one Newtonian reflector, and one catadioptric. What's more, they're closely matched in aperture. Which, of course, started a debate: is one design inherently superior to the others, and if so, which of them would fare best in a shootout?

We decided to find out. I obtained samples of each telescope. By this time, I not only knew which models I wanted, I knew which samples of each model that I wanted for the test (there is one 7" Starmaster in our club, for example,that outperforms the other two, which are already superb samples.) We compared the three scopes side by side on planets and deep sky. We tested the scopes' resolution, determined their limiting magnitudes and ran a star test on each.

Since this was to be primarily a test of absolute performance, we spent most of our efforts evaluating the optics. Value, cost, and availability (two of the three scopes tested are not available - or at least very difficult to get -at this writing) were not regarded as the most important factors, although we do address the cost issue later on. Read on, and no peeking!

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The three contestants: to left, the Astro-Physics 130 EDT; foreground, the Starmaster 7" Oak Classic; to right, the 6" Intes MN61 (Mount: Losmandy G11). (Photo: Ed Ting)

The venerable front-runner: the Astro-Physics 130 EDT

Astro-Physics refractors certainly need no introduction. These telescopes are so good that the term "Christen Triplet" is virtually synonymous with excellence these days. The 5.1" f/8 AP130EDT keeps falling into and out of the AP lineup. An f/6 version is also available. At $3650 for the OTA alone -- which could buy the other two telescopes combined -- it's by far the most expensive of the scopes tested, yet it has the least aperture. In other words, it's a typical high-end refractor.

This particular sample of the AP130 has perhaps the most perfect star test I have ever seen. It is completely lacking in chromatic or spherical aberrations, and can be taken up to ridiculously high powers when atmospheric conditions permit.

This telescope's reputation certainly preceeded it. Going in, many of us wondered, to varying degrees, how the AP could possibly lose. Was this blind prejudice, or informed bias based on years of experience? I was an- xious to find out.

An incredible mirror: the Starmaster 7" f/5.6 Oak Classic

At the other end of the aperture/price spectrum lies this unassuming-looking Dobsonian. Made by Starmaster for several years, these scopes have gained a cult-like following among reflector buffs. Sadly, they've been discontinued, and Rick Singmaster tells me he has no plans to bring the scope back. The world's the poorer because of it. There are only about 150 of these out there, which makes these scopes even more rare than Astro-Physics refractors.

All 7" Oak Classics are worth collecting, but the real stunners are the last 40 or so units with Zambuto mirrors in them. This particular sample's mirror has typically astonishing specs:

*RMS Wavefront Error: 1/74

*Peak to Valley Wavefront Error: 1/29.6

*Strehl Ratio: .993

The numbers only tell part of the story. The views through this telescope are stunningly vivid, sharp, and clear. Some of us have remarked that this telescope is like having a 7" apochromatic refractor for about $1000.

Early versions sold for $695, while the last run of Zambuto-equipped units went for as much as $1000, depending on the options you wanted. On the used market, expect to pay as much as $1400, assuming you can find one.

Although I expected the AP refractor to have the edge in winning this test, deep in my heart I was pulling for this little scope. My previous views throughit suggested that it had more than a fighting chance (the owner has elongated the .45 arc-second B component of Gamma Andromedae and has no trouble seeing eight craterlets in Plato with it.) I mean, wouldn't it be a great story if a $695 scope managed to beat out a $5000+ refractor rig?

A great catadioptric: the Intes MN61

Once a curiosity, Maksutov-Newtonians are gaining well-deserved respect for providing crystal clear, pinpoint sharp, contrasty images. That they manage to do this at very reasonable prices makes them even more attractive.

The 6" f/6 Intes MN61 is also sold by Orion under the "Argonaut" name. The tube sells for $1150-$1350 depending on who you buy it from and what options you get with it. You can get Orion's Argonaut version with a GP-DX mount for $1999. Like the Starmaster, it has a tiny (18%) central obstruction, and the lack of a secondary support structure does a good job of convincing you that you're looking through a premium refractor.

None of us have done extensive comparisons with this telescope, yet each time we look through it, or see it at a star party, it always elicits gasps from delighted observers. I've looked through some amazing Mak-Newts in my time, but I knew I wanted to include Allen's MN61 in this test. It is the best catadioptric I've ever seen.

The MN61 comes into this test as something of a "dark horse" entry. One of us even cynically said that this comparison was really a test "between Mr. Christen and Mr. Zambuto" and that the Intes was just along for the ride. Would our prejudices hold up, or would the Intes surprise everyone and silently walk away with the crown?

(About the author: Ed Ting is a technical salesman of telescopes and equipment living in Connecticut, USA.)
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Arcturus in autumn

Sarah Teasdale

When, in the gold October dusk, I saw you near to setting,

Arcturus, bringer of spring,

Lord of the summer nights, leaving us now in autumn,

Having no pity on our withering;

Oh, then I knew at last that my own autumn was upon me,

I felt it in my blood,

Restless as dwindling streams that still remember

The music of their flood. There in the thickening dark a wind-bent tree above me

Loosed its last leaves in flight--

I saw you sink and vanish, pitiless Arcturus,

You will not stay to share our lengthening night.

Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)an American lyrical poet of mainly Victorian and European continental themes, hailed from St. Louis, Missouri, USA but spent her mature life in New York City. She was first published in 1907, having begun writing while in college. In 1918 she won the first Pulitzer Prize for Poetry ever awarded. She was immensely popular in her time.

In love most of her life with the poet Vachel Lindsay, she opted instead for the pecuniary stability of a marriage to a businessman which could have been the main reason for her suicide. A perfect lesson on how one should follow the heart in love, though, given the tepid financial opportunities available women in the early 20th Century generally, her end comes as no great surprise. The spondees above stand as sad testament to her feelings.

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Painting of a forest. (Derek Klanfer)


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