The Complete Book of Space Travel, by Albro Tilton Gaul – 1955 [Illustrations by Virgil W. Finlay]

In art; as much as in literature; as much as in “life”, there are patterns and coincidences.  Some turn out to be illusory, while others are as real as they are telling.

Years ago, shortly after The Eye of Sauron (a.k.a. “Oogle”) enabled search results to display images (a feature since then vastly enhanced in terms of capability and selectivity) I searched for images using the terms “science fiction”, “science fiction art”, “science fiction magazines”, “astronaut”, “space exploration”, and then, by artists’ names – for example “Virgil Finlay” – to see what could be found in the way of relevant art and illustration, regardless of original format or venue.  Though the results greatly varied depending upon search criteria and time interval, a subtle repetitiveness emerged and has persisted among the sets of images returned by Google (and now, DuckDuckGo).

Two recent examples (as in “today-as-I-write-this-post”) are shown below.  They show search results for the text string “Virgil Finlay astronaut”, sans filters.

Here’s the results for DuckDuckGo:

And, the results from The Eye of Sauron (otherwise known as “Oogle”):

The search results are obviously very, very (did I say “very”?!) different in terms of the specific images returned, and, the order and “location” of these images as displayed, which I guess this reflects the algorithms used by these search engines.  Very prominently displayed by Google as three images at upper left, and two elsewhere in the results is an illustration of a pensive astronaut wearing a “knight-in-armor” like helmet and facing to the right, around whom are superimposed bolts of lighting denoting electrical energy.  Also at upper left is an illustration of an astronaut standing on the surface of an alien world, a spacecraft and a moon behind him, with gloves ending in pincers.  DuckDuckGo, on the other hand, returns just two images of that contemplative space explorer, and includes a variation on this theme where a similarly-attired astronaut stares upward, with a rocket rising behind him at lower left.  Also present at DuckDuckGo is that full-suited pincer-gloved moonlit astronaut standing upon an unknown world.  So, while the differences in the search results are inevitable, the similarities are intriguing.

Which leads to the question:  What ties these three images together?  Where are these pictures from?  Ephemera?  A pamphlet?  Privately commissioned work?  A science-fiction pulp?  A book?  In other words, what gives?  

After a bit of investigation (based on the captions of the above-mentioned images, and, by consulting the Internet Speculative Fiction Database), the title of the work featuring these Finlay illustrations readily emerged.  These Finlay illustrations are from Albro T. Gaul’s book The Complete Book of Space Travel, which was published in 1956 by the World Publishing Company of Cleveland.  According to WorldCat, the 1956 imprint is thus far the book’s first, last, and only edition.   

Here’s the front cover, L.W. Currey Books

… while you can “borrow” the scanned book at the Internet Archive.

That this book is a work of speculative science, rather than science fiction, is immediately apparent from the cover and introduction, the latter of which follows:

THE FIRST SPACE PILOT has already been born.  He is probably between ten and sixteen years of age at this moment.  Without doubt both he and his parents listen to radio and television programs dealing with much space adventure but with few accurate facts.  This book is designed to outline the facts of space travel, and the conditions we expect to find in space and among the planets and stars.  These facts alone are sufficiently exciting, since they are factors in man’s greatest single adventure – the exploration of the universe.

This book has not been written for the space pilot alone.  It is written for his engineer, his astrogator, the vast ground crews who will be responsible for the take-off, the scientists who will design the ship, and the many people whose taxes and investments will make it vital to understand the problems and progress of space travel.

Space travel is already here.  Flying saucers are probably indicative of space travel by a race other than ours.  We are slowly solving the problems of man’s own survival in space.  It is only a matter of a few years, and many, many dollars, before our first space pilot will launch himself into the last frontier of exploration, adventure, and commerce.

We read much about space stations, the small man-made satellites which will be-designed to circle the earth at an altitude of several thousand miles.  Actually, these space stations will be very useful, even if space travel never develops any further, and we should know about them too.

Although much has been written about space travel, much of this material deals with the mechanics of ship construction to get us into space.

It is the purpose of this book, on the other hand, to show that space travel is also a biological problem, even perhaps to a greater extent than it is an engineering problem.  Moreover it is the purpose of this book to describe, to the best of present knowledge, what we expect to encounter when we get to space.  This is important, because the success of mail’s greatest adventure will depend upon being well prepared.

Today, space travel is one of the ultimate goals of scientific and military research.  The familiar cry, “Who rules the moon controls the earth!” reflects our readiness to exploit space.  Our military might is ready for space; our economic strength is ready for space; soon our ships will be ready for space.

Let’s find out what space travel is all about.

Unusually, unlike the myriad of books in the field of science fiction, or pure science, aimed at the serious reader, Space Travel includes an acknowledgement and biography of the book’s artist.  In this case (as you know from the title of this post!) Virgil W. Finlay.

ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

VIRGIL FINLAY has worked for nearly every magazine in the science-fiction and fantasy fields for the last nineteen years.  He has illustrated many books as well as designed book jackets and magazine covers.  His paintings and drawings have hung in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, as well as in the Memorial Art Gallery and in the Art Center, Rochester, New York.

Born in Rochester in 1914, Virgil Finlay completed high school and was self-tutored in art.  He started to exhibit his work when he was only fourteen years old.  From 1934 to 1936 he submitted drawings to Weird Tales, and was on A. Merritt’s staff as feature fiction illustrator for the American Weekly (Sunday section of the New York Journal American).  In 1938 he married Beverly Stiles.  He was in the Army Engineer Corps for three years, and is a veteran of the Okinawa campaign.  After his return from the service, Mr. Finlay free-lanced in New York.  A daughter, Lail, was born in 1949.  At present the Finlay family lives on Long Island.

The straightforward nature of the table of contents leaves no room for ambiguity about the book’s contents.  Given the most simple and undramatic chapter headings for Parts I and II, Part III reveals a surprising change in the orientation of author Albro T. Gaul, who in the last three chapters has left the earthbound realm of science for worlds of fanciful conjecture and speculation, both in the guise of fact. 

Here are the part and chapter titles:

INTRODUCTION – 7

Part I. Briefing for the Stars

1. BUT FEW ARE CHOSEN – 11
2. BASIC TRAINING – 15
3. THE SHIP – 26
4. SPACE PORT-U.S.A.F. – 38
5. LIFE IN SPACE – 44
6. NAVIGATION – 50
7. LIFE! – 57

Part II. Spaceman’s Guide

8. SPACE STATION – 65
9. THE MOON – 71
10. THE PLANETS – 79
11. MERCURY – 83
12. VENUS – 87
13. MARS – 90
14. THE ASTEROIDS – 98
15. JUPITER – 101
16. SATURN – 103
17. URANUS – 105
18. NEPTUNE – 106
19. PLUTO – 107
20. THE SUN – 108
21. THE LIMIT OF THE STARS – 112

Part III. Host to the Alien

22. IF WE ARE VISITED FIRST – 121
23. THE SAUCER MAKERS – 129
24. THE NEXT STEP – 135

A Portfolio of Early Space Ships 1638-1929 compiled by Sam Moskowitz – 141

BIBLIOGRAPHY – 157
INDEX – 58

Now, we see what we have been aiming at:  The book includes the titles of the illustrations within, with page numbers adjacent.  There are twenty in total, with the “dual” page numbers indicating illustrations occupying adjacent pages.  As you can see from the list, nine of the twenty are single-page and 10 are dual-page.  Though “A Portfolio of Early Spaceships” ostensibly occupies a single page – page 141 – in reality, this refers to a section of illustrations commencing on page 139, and continuing through to page 156, each page in this interval featuring two illustrations. 

The titles are listed below, verbatim.  By way of explanation, the titles of eight of the single-page illustrations in this list appear in dark blue, bold font (like thisbecause these will be the main focus of this post…

Analysis of the space-crew candidate – 13
Man working in free fall – 17
Cross section of first stage of rocket ship – 30-31
Three-stage rocket ship – 34-35
Space port—sunrise – 40-41
Space communications chart: radio distance at conjunction – 46-47
Evolution of life – 56
Space station: last section about to be placed in position            68-69
Approach to the moon – 72-73
Space suit – 77
Chart of planets – 80-81
Within the Venusian atmosphere – 86
Martian canal – 92-93
Exploding planet – the source of the asteroids? – 99
Reconnaissance ship against the sun – 109
Star chart – 116-117
The visitors – 125
Types of “saucers” – 130-131
Icarus – 137
A Portfolio of Early Space Ships 1638-1929 – 141

…the reason being, that for very practical reasons, I’ve not scanned and recomposited the dual-page illustrations.  The explanation is simple: The book’s binding is so tight, with the drawings occupying the “real estate” of each page to the very center margin, that any such scans would be incomplete and distorted, making the creation of a single, complete, undistorted image – by splicing in Photoshop – impractical.  The only way to generate complete and optically undistorted scans of the book’s illustrations would be by literally slicing apart the binding – effectively disassembling and destroying the book – separating all pages so that they can be individually scanned, and, then digitally reassembled.

I just won’t have the heart to do this with this book (or any book!), unless I come across an already-disintegrating copy on its very “last legs”.  

In any event, the two-page format and large page size allowed Finlay to give free reign to his extraordinary talent, resulting in illustrations that have a kind of photographic feel, equaling and going “One Step Beyond” (double entendre, there!) his best pulp work, in magazines such as Startling Stories.  

With that, the following three illustrations give you an idea of the quality of Finlay’s work for this book.  

This image, taken from Archive.org, shows the Three-stage rocket shipon pages 34 and 35.

Here’s Finlay’s preliminary sketch, via Comic Art Fans.

Here’s Space-Port – sunrise (pages 40 and 41), from Joseph Valles Books.

Drum roll… 

Below you’ll find images of eight of the book’s single-page illustrations.  These were scanned from an original copy of the book at the ridiculously high resolution of 400 dpi.  Two of these drawings are accompanied by Finlay’s preliminary sketches, via Comic Art Fans (linked; the content therein is enormous, and goes way beyond comic art, per se, to include art from pulps and hardbound books) to give you an idea of how he first envisioned his work.   

Frontisepiece (original; not used), from Comic Art Fans

This illustration showed up within the first three rows of images obtained via DuckDuckGo, as shown at the top of this post.  Oddly, it’s not among the first three rows of images generated by Oogle.  (?!)  It’s great image:  Adventure, confidence, optimism, and wonder, all as one.

Frontispiece (preliminary – as used), from Comic Art Fans

Frontispiece, as published

“Man working in free fall”

(page 17)

A lot less symbolic and a lot more techie:  Here’s the astronaut with pincers attached to the end of his space-suit’s arms.  Looks like he’s rock-hunting.  (He could use an awfully larger hammer.)

“Space suit”

(page 77)

Here’s the man most emblematic of Gaul’s book and most representative of the illustrations therein, the image of whom – in several variations – so readily shows up in search results.  Truly a wonderful wordless speculation, conveying the “atmosphere” of the Venusian atmosphere: We see lightning bolts and drops of rain (a rain of sulfuric acid), as our hardy explorer contemplates the landscape before him, a camera in the background recording the scene.  Perhaps to “draw you in”, a set of concentric circles is superimposed on the drawing, a feature Finlay incorporated into some of his 1950s pulp drawings.  

“Within the Venusian atmosphere”

(page 86)

Though the asteroids were once assumed to have been the result of a planetary collision, or, the explosion of an existing planet (how could that even happen? – you’d need a helluva lot of energy to overcome the gravity of even the smallest planet!), subsequent research has revealed that the asteroids originated from, “…just five or six ancient minor planets.  The other 15 percent may also trace their origins to the same group of primordial bodies.”  Still, it’s a great image.

“Exploding planet – the source of the asteroids?”

(page 99)

“Reconnaissance ship against the sun”

(page 109)

As you’ll read below, Albro Gaul was by education and profession an entomologist, having authored at least seven academic journal papers about insects, and, four books aimed at the general public.  Yet, as you can discern from The Complete Book of Space Travel’s table of contents, text (specifically, the chapters “IF WE ARE VISITED FIRST” and “THE SAUCER MAKERS”), and the illustration below, he was, in spite of his background in the hard sciences, fully on-board with the belief that “Flying Saucers” (he really uses that term), Unidentified Flying Objects, or in 2024’s parlance Unidentified Aerial Phenomena, are extraterrestrial interplanetary craft, and that earth can assume the eventuality of contact with aliens from non-human civilizations.  A facet of this is his book’s depiction of canals on Mars, in an illustration on pages 92-93, which features as a Martian a lithe, large-eyed, very human-looking woman. 

As for myself, in spite (or because?!) of my interest in science-fiction, I quite strongly tend towards the “rare earth” (or very rare earth!) hypothesis.  (See here, here, and here.  And, here.)

And with that, here’s Finlay’s depiction of tentacled space aliens alighting in Central Park.  

“The visitors”

(page 125)

“The visitors” (original – preliminary). from Comic Art Fans

“Icarus”

(page 137)

Neither this illustration, nor anything like it, appears in the book.  Too bad; it would’ve made a fine “closing” image.

Thematic illustration (unused), from Comic Art Fans

Here’s Albro Gaul’s biography, from the book jacket:

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ALBRO GAUL was born in Brooklyn, New York, in 1917.  He attended Long Island University where, in 1940, he received his Bachelor of Science degree.  Mr. Gaul has held positions as entomologist and quarantine officer, and has taught the sciences at the high school and college levels.  His interest in entomology led him to write two previous books, Picture Book of Insects (1943) and The Wonderful World of Insects (1953), and his interest in biology and the sciences – he has also written The Wonderful World of the Seashore (1955) – has led him to investigate the biological problems involved in space travel, and the writing of this book.

Mr. Gaul is married and the father of two boys.  He lives on his Berkshire County farm in Massachusetts where he writes and does research on allergy vaccines.

Here are reviews of two of Albro Gaul’s books: Picture Book of Insects, and, The Wonderful World of Insects, accompanied by images of the original articles.

PICTURE BOOK OF INSECTS

Buffalo Evening News
April 3, 1943

Albro T. Gaul is a working-naturalist.  From a boy hood hobby, his intersect grew into a life work, and he is at present employed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture.  His “Picture Book of Insects” (Lothrop, Lee & Shepard, $1.50), for children 8 to 12, contains brief studies of a score of our commoner insects.  The author’s fine photographs, and life-size silhouettes make it an instructive book.  Even grown-ups may like to know: “Which caterpillar wears false eyes; which pretty beetle should never be harmed; how to make a cricket thermometer,” and many another unusual facts the little volume offers.

World of Astonishments

The Wonderful World of Insects, by Albro T. Gaul.
(New York; Rinehart & company, Inc. 291 pp. $4.)

Christian Science Monitor
February 28, 1953

Review by T. Morris Longstreth

When a book, written to inform, gives us a sense of the unfathomable as well, it wins the right to have “wonderful” in its title.  This book does and thereby transcends material prejudice.  I confess that with me it had to start at scratch.

One the two billion insects which Mr. Gaul estimates inhabit the square mile about me, I could be enthusiastic about the bees, the butterflies, and the lightning bugs.  For the rest I felt a small affection and a minimum of filial gratitude, despite their aid to the Carboniferous Amphibia that paved the way for certain latecomers.  But as I read into this world of astonishments and became naturalized, one might say, that sense of the unfathomable grew with each new fact.

Mr. Gaul’s story becomes memorable without lifting a food from the ground.  There isn’t a starry passage in his sixteen chapters.  The fact is marvel enough.  Patient investigation has studied fossils and fetches revelations out of the dark backward and abysm of time that out-fascinate most fairy tales.  There was a Golden Age of insects when great dragonflies with a two-foot wingspread darted colors through the ferny air.  The ancient and honorable lineage of the cockroaches goes back 200,000,000 years, and Mr. Gaul predicts that when the sun’s last red rays fall on “the everlasting snows of Panama” they will also illuminate a cockroach.

One dare not start quoting from this book because there are six marvels to a page, each equally demanding.  These insects seem new because Mr. Gaul’s purpose has been to show what they do, as well as what they are.  Of the 750,000 species of insects over 95 per cent are either beneficial or neutral to our human activities and part of the book is concerned with bettering our relations.  People with an aversion to insects or so incurious as not to care to know why moths fly into flame, how bees tell time, what insects first employed the schnorkel and jet propulsion, and the way a mosquito’s jaws operate, will find themselves instantly interested by the chapter’s on “Insects in Business,” “Insect Societies,” “Those Intelligent Insects,” and “The Past and the Future”.  Mr. Gaul has included 49 pages of excellent photographs, five pages of bibliography, and a scale of insect wingbeat sounds.

Entomology welcomes amateurs.  Mr. Gaul’s Introduction shows how an amateur can win museum immortality.  He writes with a style that children will enjoy while their elders envy.  It is clear, crisp, economical, with a salting of wit, some of it sly, as in the heading for Chapter Nine.  Consider the dedication, “To my grandmother…whose permission to keep test tubes in the icebox and wasps in the windows has culminated in this volume.”

To add to the wonders: this book is the first volume in the history of man to be printed by a beam of light.  What a tremendous people the French are!  In the last few years they have climbed the highest summit reached by man, have been the first to walk freely on the bottom of the sea, and now have invented the process which releases printing from the centuries-old clutch of metal.  This newspaper ran accounts of the Higgonnet-Moyroud machine on Feb. 2 and 5.  “The Wonderful World of Insects” is so worthy of the distinction of being the first published product of the light waves.

Otherwise…

Albro Tilton Gaul’s books:

Picture Book of Insects, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard, New York, N.Y., 1943

The Wonderful World of Insects, Rinehart, New York, N.Y., 1953

The Pond Book, Coward-McCann, New York, N.Y., 1955

The Wonderful World of the Seashore, Appleton-Century-Crofts, Inc., New York, N.Y., 1955

Flight Into Space, by Jonathan N. Leonard – 1963 (1954 11) [Stanley Meltzoff maybe…?]

Though I’d think not as well known as Arthur C. Clarke’s The Exploration of Space, which was published in 1951, John Leonard’s Flight Into Space follows much the same theme, presenting an overview of the technical aspects of rocketry, the biological and neurological effects of astronautics on the human body, space travel (well, within the solar system!), and, scientific knowledge about the moon and planets, all with a serious but easy literary style.  Of course, the book’s content is now quaintly dated, which is vastly less a reflection of Leonard’s ability as a writer, than it is a measure of the enormous technological and scientific advances made in the 79 years since 1954.

As for the cover art, the artist is unknown.  The painting lacks a signature, and the artist’s name is unmentioned on the title page.  However, by looks alone, it seems to have been done by Stanley Meltzoff.  At least, it seems so to me.

Jonathan N. Leonard Dies at 71; Author and Time Science Editor

May 16, 1975

Jonathan Norton Leonard, author and former science editor of Time magazine, died yesterday in Roosevelt Hospital.  He was 71 years old and lived in Hastings‐on‐Hudson, N.Y., and Sandwich, Mass.

As science editor of Time from 1945 to 1965, Mr. Leonard was a witness to major scientific events of those years, including the early flights of satellites and rockets, experiments investigating genetic mysteries and the development of electronic computers.  He was among the first to report on nuclear fission.

His ability to describe complex scientific events in simple terms made him a leading popularizer of science.

A member of an old Sandwich, Mass., family, he embarked on a career as a freelance writer after graduating from Harvard University in 1925 and selling a number of short stories to The Saturday Evening Post.

His early books included the biographies “Loki: The Life of Charles Proteus Steinmetz” and “The Tragedy of Henry Ford” and “Three Years Down,” short history of the Depression.

He joined Time in 1943 as Latin‐American editor.  He was a staff writer for Time‐Life Books from 1965 to 1968.

His many works on scientific subjects included “Enjoyment of Science,” “Flight Into Space” and “Planets” with the Cornell University astronomer Dr. Carl Sagan.

His more recent books in the Time‐Life series included “Ancient America,” “Early Japan,” “The World of Thomas Gainsborough” and “Atlantic Beaches.”

He wrote many reviews for The New York Times Book Review.

In Sandwich, Mass., he was a cranberry farmer by avocation.

Surviving are his widow, the former Maria Alzamora; a son, Jonathan A. of Arlington, Va., and a sister, Mrs. Bradford Shaw of Sandwich.

Some Other Things…

Jonathan N. Leonard, at…

New York Times (Obituary – quoted verbatim above)

Stanley Meltzoff, at…

Wikipedia

Stanley Meltzoff, Art and Illusion

Silverfish Press

Invaluable.com (Sold at Auction)

Art and Influence (Knowledge is Power)

Artvee

Willy Ley, Science Writer, 1906-1969

My recent posts about the reality of space warfare – as imagined in Astounding Science Fiction in 1939 – present articles by Malcolm R. Jameson and Willy Ley, and, readers’ responses.  That Willy Ley would figure so prominently in this topic is hardly surprising, for by profession he was a science writer with a lifelong focus in rocketry and space exploration, though his interests did extend further, encompassing the pseudoscience of – *ahem* – cryptozoology.  The true scope of his enormous output can be fully appreciated by even the quickest glance at his biographical profile at the Internet Speculative Fiction Database.  He body of work was quite multi-faceted, for it comprised a novel, letters, book reviews, interior art (primarily in 1948 issues of Astounding), twenty-two perhaps-more-better-known non-fiction books, as well as – well, primarily! – essays and articles for mid-twentieth-century science fiction pulps.  An example of the latter is his oeuvre for Galaxy Science Fiction, which between 1952 and 1969 published over 150 of his articles under the heading “For Your Information”. 

His straightforward science journalism was accompanied by four (or five, depending on how you count?!) works of fiction.  The “first” four are…

“At the Perihelion” (1937)
“Orbit XXIII-H” (1938)
“Fog” (1940)
“The Invasion” (1940)

…the first three of these having been published in Astounding, and “The Invasion” in Super Science Stories.

Having read “Fog” (while preparing this post, and my posts about Space Warfare), I have to confess that I found it to be utterly underwhelming.  Except for being placed in a metropolitan setting in post-1940s America, it’s much more a tale of totalitarian surveillance (hmmm…!) and political chaos (hmmm…?) in a dystopian future, I think inspired by Ley’s own experiences in Nazi Germany, from which he fled in early 1935.  So, the simple title – it is apropos! – connotes the constant sense of uncertainty that pervades daily life in such a situation.  (Once again, hmmm…!!)  Otherwise, Charles Schneeman’s two illustrations for the story were better than the mere story itself!

Given Willy Ley’s huge body of work and influence in popularizing rocketry and space exploration, the abundance of information about him is entirely unsurprising.  However, while delving into his biography amidst my posts on space warfare, I came across the following poignant news item by New York Times science writer Walter Sullivan:  It’s Willy Ley’s obituary, published after his passing on June 24, 1969.  While the obit doesn’t necessarily present information not already known and available elsewhere, it’s still of historical interest in terms of the details of Ley’s personal life, and, how a figure so significant in the worlds of science and journalism (like Walter Sullivan, himself!) was perceived in the popular press.

Here it is:  

____________________

Willy Ley, Prolific Science Writer, Is Dead at 62

Prophesied Travel in Space in Book Issued in 1926
Fled Germany in ‘35 – Tested Rockets in Westchester

By WALTER SULLIVAN

The New York Times
June 25, 1969

Willy Ley, who helped usher in the age of rocketry and then became perhaps its chief popularizer, died yesterday morning at his home In Jackson Heights, Queens. His age was 62.

Mr. Ley, the author of more than 30 books in English and German, was a frequent lecturer as well as teacher and industrial consultant.

His death, apparently from a heart attack, came suddenly. About a week ago a medical checkup had disclosed a circulatory disorder and he was taking digitalis.

Earlier in the day, in a telephone conversation with a book publisher, Mr. Ley spoke of the possibility that he might have to follow man’s first flight to the moon by television from his home, instead of from the Manned Spacecraft Center in Texas. It was a disappointing prospect, for Mr. Ley had been one of the earliest protagonists of such a flight.

He was born in Berlin in 1906 and his early studies, at the Universities of Berlin and Konigsberg, were in astronomy, physics, zoology and paleontology (the study of fossils). Some of his most successful books were on exotic beasts of fact and myth.

However, in 1927 he and his German colleagues were inspired by the writings of Hermann Oberth to found the Society for Space Travel. A punctilious registrar in Breslau at first refused to permit the group to incorporate under the title Verein fur Raumschiffahrt because, he said, the last word of the title (meaning “space travel”) did not exist in the German language.

Collaborated on Films

Mr. Ley’s first book on space travel appeared in 1926 and during that period he collaborated with Fritz Lang in several German science-fiction films, including one entitled “Frau im Mond” (“Woman in the Moon”).

(Here’s “Frau im Mond”, from Daily Motion.)

(And, a sort-of-counterpart to Lang’s film, from a decade later: Vasili Zhuravlov’s “Cosmic Voyage” (Космический Рейс – Kosmicheskiy reys) from 1936.  

Among those whom he recruited into the Society for Space Travel was a young man named Werner Von Braun who ultimately became a leader in German military rocket development. After World War I, when Dr. Von Braun had begun working with the American rocket program, he and Mr. Ley collaborated on several books including “The Exploration of Mars.”

As the Nazis rose to power they were determined to take over rocket research from the society. The latter, through a series of flights with primitive liquid-fueled rockets from an abandoned ammunition dump on the outskirts of Berlin, had shown that rockets could be used to circumvent provisions in the Versailles Treaty forbidding German development of artillery.

In 1935, Mr. Ley got word to Dutch and British friends that he was in trouble with the Gestapo. He had been ordered to cease writing on rocketry for foreign publications and did so, but some of his earlier articles being held in reserve by British newspapers appeared after this edict.

Mr. Ley left for Britain and then was brought to the United States under the auspices of the American Interplanetary Society (which about this time changed its name to the American Rocket Society). Members of this group put up bond to permit his entry into the country.

Built Test Stand

Mr. Ley lived for half a year with G. Edward Pendray, head of the American Rocket Society, and the two men built a test stand for small rockets near Mr. Pendray’s home in Crestwood, N.Y. It was in a swamp between Scarsdale and Bronxville.

Mr. Pendray recalled yesterday the alarm of neighbors at the roaring of rockets on their test stand. However Mr. Ley’s activities as an experimenter gave way to concentration on writing.

He turned out a steady stream of books and articles. Interest in rocketry and space travel was low at the time and his titles ran to such subjects as “Salamanders and Other Wonders,” “Dragons in Amber” and “The Lungfish, The Dodo and the Unicorn.”

However when the rockets developed by his former colleagues in Germany began flying across the English Channel, there was a dramatic change. The demand for expert writing on rocketry became insatiable.

Meanwhile, Mr. Ley in 1940 joined the newspaper PM as science editor and soon met a Russian-born ballet dancer, Olga Feldman [Feldmann], who was writing a column on physical fitness for the newspaper. They were married in 1941.

Soon afterward, Mrs. Ley was doing research for her husband at a public library and read to him, over the phone, certain information on rockets that she had uncovered there. Someone in the next phone booth overheard transmission of this information in a Russian accent and reportedly notified the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

It took a certain amount of explaining to convince the Federal authorities that nothing untoward was going on.

In 1944 he became a United States citizen and left PM. He became further identified with space travel with such books as “Watchers of the Skies,” “Conquest of Space” and “Rockets, Missiles and Men in Space.” He also developed a powerful lecture style.

One close acquaintance noted yesterday that Mr. Ley’s big frame and German accent conspired to give him an impressively authoritative manner. Perhaps, he suggested, that was why Mr. Ley unconsciously retained the accent, even though he became fluent in his spoken and written English.

One of those who knew him well said he was a natural lecturer, “not only on the platform, but in private.”

“If you asked him a question you got a lecture,” he said, adding that Mr. Ley’s knowledge was “encyclopedic.”

Mr. Ley enjoyed good food, good drink and good conversation and belonged to a small convivial group of writers and scholars known as the “Trap Door Spiders,” who met once a month. The name, members say, is based on the practice of such spiders in closing a trap door to escape their mates.

He was a great admirer of Wagner operas and could accompany himself on the piano as he sang- Wagnerian arias.

Publishing associates said yesterday that Mr. Ley had at least six books under contract. He had told Scribners that next Monday he would deliver the final section of “Man and the Moon,” a major work, in preparation for five years. It deals with the role of the moon in music and literature.

Mr. Ley, one of his book editors said, was “like those 19th-century natural scientists who were up on every field of science.” He had been on the faculty of Fairleigh Dickinson University for many years.

While Mr. Ley was an ardent promoter of trips to Mars and other distant bodies, his earliest passion was for the moon.

“The moon is still silvery in the night sky,” he wrote in The New York Times last year, “but it is no longer unreachable.”

“In 1930 I introduced a number of aeronautical engineers in Berlin to the first liquid fuel rocket they had ever seen,” he said. “It stood about 5 feet tall and, even when fueled, was light enough to be lifted with one hand. It could climb about 1500 feet and was brought back by parachute.

“What, the engineers wanted to know, was the aim of all this? Eventually, I replied, rockets of this type will carry men to the moon.”

Mr. Ley lived to within one month of the scheduled fulfillment of his prophecy.

Besides his widow, he is survived by two daughters, Sandra Ley and Mrs. Xenia Parker of 252 East 61st Street. Since World War II Mr. Ley had lived at 37-26 77th Street in Jackson Heights

The funeral will take place ‘tomorrow at 1 P.M. at the Walter B. Cooke funeral home, 1504 Third Avenue.

____________________

Despite Willy Ley’s prominence in the history of science journalism, oddly, no information is available about his place of burial.  However (!), if we’re talking biographical details, here’s the Declaration of Intention for American citizenship that he filed on June 22, 1937, five months after he reached Miami – from Havana – on February 2 of that year.  Note that, appropriate to his current and future career, he listed his profession as “Scientific Research Writer”.  (This document’s from Ancestry.com.)

A Reference or Two, or Three, and More, for Willy O.O. (Otto Oskar) Ley, at…

Wikipedia

Internet Speculative Fiction Database

…Archive.org – Publications (262 scanned works – includes monographs, but primarily comprised of issues of science-fiction pulps featuring his articles.)

…Archive.org – Video (Discussion about flying saucers with William Bradford Huie and Henry Hazlitt.)

…Project Gutenberg (7 books.  These appear to be juvenile or young adult fiction, all authored by Carey Rockwell, with Willy Ley as “Technical Advisor”.)

…University of Alabama at Huntsville (Willy Ley Collection)

New Mexico Museum of Space History

SciHi Blog

Smithsonian Magazine (Article by Diane Tedeschi, December, 2017)

Internet Movie Database (really!)

GoodReads

…Plastic Fantastic: “Willy Ley Space Taxi” (1/48 scale Monogram Models 1959 “Space Buggy” plastic model kit (I built one of these back in 1971-land!))

…Rare Plane Detective: “Willy Ley Passenger Rocket” (1/182 scale Monogram Models 1959 Willy Ley Passenger Rocket)

Sands of Mars, by Arthur C. Clarke – June, 1959 (April, 1952) [Robert Emil Schulz]

First published in 1951 by Sidgwick and Jackson, Arthur C. Clarke’s The Sands of Mars, his second novel following Prelude to Space, has thus far been republished about seventy times

The image below shows Anchor Books’ edition of June, 1959 – chronologically the ninth edition of the book – featuring a lovely cover by Robert Schulz.  In much the style of 50s era paperbacks published by Anchor Books and Pocket Books, the “action” is mostly confined to the right portion of the page, leaving a margin on the left for the publisher’s logo, the book’s serial number, and (can’t forget that!) the price.  

Interestingly, the illustration isn’t really too “Marsy”, unless you consider the planet (if it is a planet) in the background to be Mars.  Well, with its mottled reddish appearance (has kind of a Richard Powers look to it), it might be Mars…  if so, perhaps the “action” is taking place on Demos or Phobos?  Those spacesuits are, well, interesting, for the design appears to be a hybrid between a deep-sea diving suit, and, the flexible, multi-ringed joints envisaged in space suit concepts from the late 1950s and early 1960s.  Well, in any event, the scene is obviously not intended to be taken too literally, for Schulz simply incorporated symbols, technology, and scenery relating to space exploration in a very pleasing, eye-catching way.  

Things to Refer To…

Arthur C. Clarke, at…

Brittanica.com

Robert E. Schulz, at…

ArtNet

The Sands of Mars, at…

Wikipedia

Sailing to Imagination: The Solar Sail, as Depicted in Amazing Stories (August, 1962) and Analog Science Fact – Science Fiction (April, 1964)

As “no man is an island” – to use a hackneyed but entirely true aphorism – neither is any field of knowledge.  The arenas of the arts, humanities, and sciences, disparate as they may be, have long intersected with and influenced one another in ways ranging from the intellectual, to the cultural, to the artistic.  And, beyond.  Certainly this has long been so in illustrations associated with science fiction, in venues ranging from books, to pulp magazines, to cinema, to the virtual world.  By nature and intent, all of these present visions of worlds past, present, and future – and often “parallel” – based on the science and technology rooted in the real (or, ostensibly “real”!) world.

Two interesting examples of this appeared in the early 1960s, as cover illustrations for the August, 1962 issue of Amazing Stories, and, the April 1964, issue of Analog Science Fact -> Science Fiction.  Though utterly different in artistic style, both compositions pertain to stories based upon the solar sail, a method of spacecraft propulsion by means of the radiation pressure of sunlight.

The Amazing Stories cover is by the very well-known artist Alex Schomburg, whose actual name (as I discovered when writing this post!) was either Alexander A. Schomburg, or, Alejandro Schomburg y Rosa.  His painting presents Jack Vance’s story – well, the title is prominently displayed on the cover! – “Gateway to Strangeness”.

“The ship, its great sail spread to the fading sunlight, fled through space like a ghost – out, always out.  There were still a billion miles to travel … a billion miles before they’d know whether they would ever come back.”

The Analog cover is by Harvey Woolhiser (actual name James Harvey Woolhiser) for “Sunjammer”, by Winston P. Sanders.  As far as I’ve been able to determine, this was the only cover illustration Woolhiser created for Analog, let alone Astounding.  Unsurprising: his forte seems not to have been science fiction, albeit he did create a straightforward cover, in muted tones of blue and green, for the November, 1948 issue of Science illustrated, appropriately for the article “Space Travel – Now or Never?”

But, what about “Sanders”?  Who was he?  (Hmmm…  Certainly not Bernie Sanders…  Definitely not Colonel Sanders…)  At first, I thought he may have been a “one-shot” or at best an infrequent author.  Then, a little searching quickly revealed that “Sanders” was actually one of the pen-names of the wonderfully talented Poul Anderson, under which were published these other stories, primarily in Analog.

Pact (1959)
Wherever You Are (1959)
Barnacle Bull (1960)
The Barrier Moment (1960)
The Word to Space (1960)
Industrial Revolution (1963)
What’ll You Give? (1963)
Say It With Flowers (1965)
Elementary Mistake (1967)

As you can see, not only are the covers different in design, style, and color palette, they’re slightly different in proportion as well: For Amazing Stories, Schomburg’s fits the magazine’s standard digest-size format nicely, while Woolhiser’s conforms to the larger, slick-upscale-coffee-table-ish (Manhattan-advertising-agency?  Southern-California aeronautical-engineering-firm?  Academic-think-tank?  Suburban-office-lounge?  University-dorm-room?) format in which Analog was published by Conde-Nast from March of 1963 through March of 1965.

Though both covers depict spacecraft and astronauts – the latter diminutive by virtue of their juxtaposition with spacecraft – I think Schomburg’s image “works” far better, precisely because there’s no central element to the composition: the very center of the scene is “empty” space:  Your eye and mind have to “work”, moving from the moon to the earth to the star-mottled indigo blackness of space to the multi-colored sail, its supporting framework, and attached habitation pod.  All the colors in the scene balance very nicely against the yellow and black “Amazing” logo at the upper left. 

It’s interesting, really. 

Though by the 50s and 60s and doubtless much earlier Amazing Stories lacked the gravitas and literary influence of the “big three” – Analog, Galaxy Science Fiction, and The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction – the magazine’s art and illustrations, both cover and interior, sometimes stood – it seems to me – on a visual footing equal to and on occasion much better than those appearing in those publications.  Then again, compared to The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction that wasn’t too difficult, at least in terms of interior illustrations, for those appeared in that publication in only few issues from the late 1950s, most notably for Ray Bradbury’s “Fondly Fahrenheit”.

So, anyway:  An Analog-ous cover…  (Please pardon predictable pun!)

…and, moving in for a closer view:

“The difference between ‘nothing’ and ‘practically nothing’ can turn out to be the most exceedingly practical, because anything whatever is an intolerable contaminant in nothing.  And if that sounds like nonsense – read on and find out!”

While these two covers depicted science-introducing-fiction during the early 1960s, today, nearly five decades later, they serve – indirectly, symbolically, and effectively – as fiction-introducing-science:  Both can be found at the June, 2019 post LightSail 2 Inspires Thoughts on Fictional Sails, at Paul Gilster’s Centauri Dreams website.

Devoted to the presentation of peer-reviewed academic research on the exploration of deep space, Centauri Dreams, which began in August of 2004, encompasses subjects such as the technology of interstellar propulsion and long-duration space travel; the exploration for and identification of extrasolar planets; investigation of the origin, evolution, and nature of other planetary systems; the search for extraterrestrial life (not necessarily alien civilizations a la the works of Arthur C. Clarke or Carl Sagan (whose writings have distinctly theological overtones, with technology and alien intelligence providing a form of secular salvation) but simply plain ole’ “life”, per se, in any form); lengthy philosophical speculation about cosmology, and, well, far more.  The majority of the posts are invaluable in presenting summaries of and excerpts from the latest academic journal papers in the fields of astrophysics, astrobiology, and space research, sometimes with an accompanying illustration or two from the original article, and virtually always with links to the original article in either abstract or open-access form. 

Fundamentally, what makes the site so worthwhile is that the sense of curiosity, wonder, and speculation inherent to its ethos and mission is undergirded by an appreciation of and respect for solid science. 

Well, why not let the website speak for itself?  Thus:

“In Centauri Dreams, Paul Gilster looks at peer-reviewed research on deep space exploration, with an eye toward interstellar possibilities.  For the last twelve years, this site coordinated its efforts with the Tau Zero Foundation.  It now serves as an independent forum for deep space news and ideas.”  Refreshingly (whew!)“…Centauri Dreams is not about the existence of UFOs, nor about alien abductions, ‘ancient astronauts,’ electric universe cosmology or other New Age talking points.  It is a review of peer-reviewed research.”

However, that disclaimer is a nice (and slightly ironic!) segue to a significant aspect of Centauri Dreams: Though by no means the central focus of the site, its innumerable posts include a sizeable number (as of mid-2020, I count over twenty) directly pertaining to science fiction.  These comprise discussions about landmark, significant, or just plain ‘ole interesting films (the posts about “Dark Star”, “Forbidden Planet”, and Howard Hawks’ “The Thing” are great), the history of science fiction (“Astounding in the Glory Years”, and Poul Anderson’s “We Have Fed Our Sea” / “The Enemy Stars”), literature (note the two 2006 posts on Astounding) and the mutual influence of space exploration and science fiction on one another.  In a larger sense, many posts at Centauri Dreams are enhanced by science-fiction cover art from books and magazines, which serve as reference points for the topic at hand.

The site’s science-fiction themed posts are below…   

2 0 2 0

January 3
Some Thoughts on Science Fiction Visuals

April 3
The Interstellar Ramjet at 60

________________________________________

2 0 1 9

June 10
LightSail 2 Inspires Thoughts on Fictional Sails

May 3
“An Intellectual Carrot – The Mind Boggles!” Dissecting The Thing from Another World

________________________________________

2 0 1 8

April 18
Civilization Before Homo Sapiens?

April 2
2001: A Space Odyssey – 50 Years Later

________________________________________

2 0 1 7

November 19
‘Dark Star’ and Staring into the Cosmic Abyss

September 11
Creating Our Own Final Frontier: Forbidden Planet

________________________________________

2 0 1 6

September 9
Star Trek Plus Fifty

February 5
The Distant Thing Imagined

January 25
Proxima Centauri & the Imagination

________________________________________

2 0 1 5

February 9
We Have Fed Our Sea

January 23
Who Will Read the Encyclopedia Galactica?

________________________________________

2 0 1 3

March 8
Stranger Than Fiction

________________________________________

2 0 1 2

March 9
Science Fiction and the Probe

________________________________________

2 0 1 1

November 18
Science Fiction and the Interstellar Idea

________________________________________

2 0 0 9

August 28
Science Fiction and Interstellar Thinking

January 26
A Science Fictional Take on Being There

________________________________________

2 0 0 8

November 15
Science Fiction: Future Past

________________________________________

2 0 0 7

March 10
Whither the Science Fiction Magazines?

________________________________________

2 0 0 6

September 4
Astounding in the Glory Years

April 15
A Key Paper from an Astounding Source

________________________________________

2 0 0 5

August 30
On the Evolution of Science Fiction

________________________________________

________________________________________

References

Centauri Dreams – Imaging and Planning Interstellar Exploration, at Centauri-Dreams.org

Alex Schomburg (Alexander A. Schomburg / Alejandro Schomburg y Rosa), at Wikipedia

James Harvey Woolhiser, obituary at Legacy.com

Poul Anderson, bibliography at Internet Speculative Fiction Database

Tau Zero Foundation – Pioneering Interstellar Flight, at tauzero.aero

“No man is an island,” at phrases.org

Astounding Science Fiction – October, 1942 (Featuring “First Lunar Landing”, by Lester del Rey) [August von Munchausen]

______________________________

THE WARBLER

By Murray Leinster

An old favorite of science fiction returns – with a tale of a robot that had patience, a brain adequate to its task, and a slow-working, patient urge to self-destruction.

Illustration by Pasilang R. Isip, for “The Warbler”, by Murray Leinster (p. 85).

______________________________

References

August von Munchausen, at Sammler (Collecting)

Vacation in the Golden Age, by Jamie Todd RubinEpisode 40: October 1942 – George O. Smith makes his Astounding debut. Also stories by A. E. van Vogt, Lester Del Rey, Malcolm Jameson, and L. Ron Hubbard’s last Astounding appearance for 5 years.”

 

The Exploration of Space, by Arthur C. Clarke – 1954 [Bob Smallman]

the-exploration-of-space-arthur-c-clarke-1954-1It seems unlikely that any culture can advance more than a few centuries at a time,
on a technological front alone. 
Morals and ethics must not lag behind science,
otherwise (as our own recent history has shown)
the social system will breed poisons which will cause its certain destruction.

With superhuman knowledge there must go
equally great compassion and tolerance. 
When we meet our peers among the stars,
we need have nothing to fear save our own shortcomings.

 

the-exploration-of-space-arthur-c-clarke-1954-2