Deceased--Bruce C. Murray

Bruce C. Murray
November 30th, 1931 to August 29th, 2013

"Bruce C. Murray dies at 81; former director of JPL"

Bruce C. Murray's push to study the images of planetary surfaces played a major role in keeping NASA's exploration program alive.

by

Thomas H. Maugh II

August 29th, 2013

Los Angeles Times

Although most of his fellow space scientists scoffed at the idea, Jet Propulsion Laboratory scientist Bruce C. Murray insisted that a picture of a planet's surface was worth a thousand words — or at least as much as the measurements of magnetic fields and particle concentrations that his colleagues favored in the early days of planetary exploration in the 1960s.

"Pictures," said Louis Friedman, a founder and former executive director of the Planetary Society, "were considered a stunt."

But Murray, a former petroleum geologist who joined JPL in 1960 and became its director in 1976, played a key role in changing that view. Spectacular pictures of the surfaces of Mars and other planets are almost routine now, a development due in large part to Murray's forceful advocacy that studying images of the surfaces of other planets could help us learn about our own.

He played a key role in the 1964 launch of Mariner 4 to Mars, the first mission to send back pictures from any planet. That "was the beginning of comparative planetology," Friedman said. The procurement of pictures not only began to play a key role in all planetary exploration but helped keep the space exploration program alive when successive presidential administrations attempted to shut it down, he said.

Murray, 81, fought vigorously to maintain the program during his six years as director of JPL from 1976 to 1982, and with Friedman and Carl Sagan founded the Planetary Society, a leading organization promoting the exploration of the solar system.

He died early Thursday at his home in Oceanside from complications of Alzheimer's disease, his longtime friend Charlene Anderson said.

"He worked tirelessly to save our nation's planetary exploration capability at a tumultuous time when there was serious consideration for curtailing future missions," JPL Director Charles Elachi said in a statement Thursday, adding that "we today enjoy the privilege of exploring the heavens in no small measure because of Bruce's leadership."

Murray joined Caltech as a planetary astronomer, but he was soon invited to join the imaging team of JPL's first two missions to Mars, Mariners 3 and 4. His role was less about developing the imaging equipment than in deciding the best way to use it. He had a similar function on Mariners 6, 7 and 9 and led the imaging team for Mariner 10. Using images from these missions, he began to construct a geological history of the planet.

"He was centrally involved in the earliest explorations of Mars and Mercury, and he made seminal contributions to our understanding of the role of water on Mars and other bodies," Caltech planetary science professor David Stevenson said.

In the early 1970s, NASA was planning two Viking missions to Mars to search for life on the Red Planet. Murray, however, argued that the missions were premature and should be postponed until scientists had a better understanding of the chemistry on the planet's surface.

NASA discounted his objections and proceeded with the missions. His views were upheld, however, when one of the Viking experiments showed the apparent presence of metabolic products of life. Further study suggested instead that the finding was an artifact produced by nonbiological processes in the highly oxidizing Martian soil.

Combined with his successes on the Mariner missions, his insightful criticism of the Viking program led to his being named JPL director in April 1976 when the fourth director, William H. Pickering, retired from the La Cañada Flintridge center. It proved an extremely difficult time to lead a planetary exploration program. The Apollo era was winding down, and NASA was focusing on the shuttle program and Earth observations. Successive presidential administrations and Congresses severely curtailed deep space exploration.

Nobody in Washington, D.C., thought that planetary exploration should not be carried out, Friedman said. "They simply thought that it wasn't very important, that it was something that could always wait."

Murray's outspokenness did not win him many friends in Washington as he fought to maintain planetary programs. He was successful in keeping the Galileo mission to Jupiter alive, but he could not win approval for the American half of the two-satellite International Solar Polar Mission. JPL's instrument for that mission was, however, later launched on the European Space Agency's Ulysses mission in 1990.

To assist in promoting planetary exploration, Murray, Sagan and Friedman founded the Planetary Society, a nonprofit organization whose mission was to support and lobby for deep space exploration. Sagan was the first president, but Murray assumed the presidency when Sagan died in 1996.

At a time when few women worked at JPL or elsewhere at NASA, Murray also played a vital role in recruiting women employees and integrating them into the space program. He created an advisory council of 12 women who helped recruit female engineers and make JPL a more attractive workplace for them.

Without more women, "Bruce recognized … we would only be exploiting 50% of the capability of the country," said former JPL chief engineer John Casani. Today, he added, "there are more women at JPL than at any place within NASA and in many industries."

The retrenchment in NASA funding for planetary exploration led to severe budget cuts for JPL. Murray was able to offset some of these cuts and keep the laboratory operating first by acquiring a large solar energy research project from the Department of Energy and, later, by convincing the trustees of Caltech, which administers JPL, to allow the lab to resume classified research for the Department of Defense.

He stepped down as JPL director in late 1982, noting that he had never intended to retain the position for more than five to 10 years. He returned to Caltech's geological and planetary sciences department, where he was a professor emeritus at the time of his death.

Murray had cultivated a variety of international connections during his tenure as director. As a result of those, he spent several months in Japan working with the Japanese space agency and several months in China.

Bruce Churchill Murray was born Nov. 30, 1931, in New York City. He was educated at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where he received his doctorate in geology in 1955. Upon graduation, he worked as an exploration and exploitation geologist in Louisiana for Standard Oil Co.

In 1958, he began a two-year stint with the Air Force Cambridge Research Laboratories before joining Caltech, where he was the first professor in planetary science.

He was author or co-author of six books and more than 130 scientific papers. He received NASA's exceptional scientific achievement medal in 1971 and its distinguished public service medal in 1974.

Asteroid 4957 Brucemurray is named after him.

His first marriage, to Joan O'Brien, ended in divorce in 1970. He is survived by his wife of 41 years, the former Suzanne Moss, five children and 10 grandchildren.

"Bruce C. Murray, Who Helped Earth Learn of Mars, Dies at 81"

by

John Noble Wilford

August 29th, 2013

The New York Times

Bruce C. Murray, a planetary geologist who won his spurs interpreting findings of early missions to Mars and who led NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory through a time of flagging support for new flights in the late 1970s, died Thursday at his home in Oceanside, Calif. He was 81.

The cause was Alzheimer’s disease, said the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, which is operated for NASA by the California Institute of Technology in Pasadena. Dr. Murray was a professor emeritus at Caltech.

As director of the laboratory from 1976 to 1982, Dr. Murray faced shrinking budgets as the space agency shifted most of its resources to the emerging shuttle program. There were two Viking landings on Mars in his first year, and two Voyagers were launched to the outer planets. But prospects for any future missions were bleak.

On the brink of despair in 1981, Dr. Murray struck a defiant note in an interview with Discover magazine.

“We’re sitting here watching the coffin being nailed shut, and what’s inside is imagination and vision,” he said. “I wasn’t appointed director to preside over the dissolution of the U.S. space exploration program. I’m not going to be squeezed down to nothing.”

Those were tough years, both for him and for the laboratory. In a New York Times Magazine article, the science writer Timothy Ferris described Dr. Murray as a “square-jawed man more comfortable giving orders than listening to advice,” adding that he “brought to the lab an aggressive — some would say abrasive — style of leadership under which its fortunes have sharply improved.”

John Casani, a retired project manager at the laboratory, told The Associated Press: “People at J.P.L. either loved or hated him. He was always shaking cages.”

Through persistence, he kept the doors open. He managed to salvage a Jupiter orbital mission, later named Galileo, an imaging radar system for Earth mapping to be flown on space shuttles, an early Earth-observing satellite called Seasat and a joint project with Britain and the Netherlands called the Infrared Astronomy Satellite.

Out of concern for the future of planetary exploration, Dr. Murray joined with the astronomer Carl Sagan and the aerospace engineer Louis Friedman to found the Planetary Society, a public advocacy organization dedicated to exploring the solar system and searching for extraterrestrial intelligence. The society, based in Pasadena, has reported some 100,000 members. Dr. Murray was its retired chairman.

“We seem to have the idea that the space age started and ended with one generation,” he said in an interview at the time. “We go to the planets and have a look and then walk away and do nothing.”

Bruce Churchill Murray was born Nov. 30, 1931, in New York City. His family later moved to California, and he graduated from Santa Monica High School. He was educated at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where he earned a Ph.D. in geology in 1955.

After working as a geologist for Standard Oil, he spent two years in the Air Force as a geophysicist and then became a researcher at Caltech in 1960, at a time of growing excitement over space exploration.

He joined the faculty as an associate professor of planetary science in 1963, and became a member of the science team for Mariner 4, the first successful flyby of Mars, in 1965.

Those first pictures of a moonlike Mars of cratered plains were a disappointment to those who grew up imagining Martians. But further flyby exploration by Mariners 6 and 7, and especially Mariner 9’s orbital survey in 1971-72 — all with Dr. Murray on the science team — began to reveal a more diverse Mars of mountains and canyons, with some evidence of water erosion in the distant past. He constructed a geologic history of Mars from these images.

From his Mars experience and as chief scientist for the Mariner 10 mission to Venus and Mercury, as well as his budget battles as the J.P.L. director, Dr. Murray wrote a popular book, “Journey Into Space: The First Thirty Years of Space Exploration,” in 1989. He also collaborated with Arthur C. Clarke, Ray Bradbury and Walter Sullivan on another book, “Mars and the Mind of Man,” based on a symposium conducted at the time that Mariner 9 swept into an orbit of Mars.

He published more than 130 research papers and four other books as well, and was the associate director of an award-winning educational film, “Mars Minus Myth,” first released in 1973 and revised in 1977.

His survivors include three children, Christine, Stephen and Peter, from his first marriage, to the former Joan O’Brien. They were divorced in 1970. The next year he married Suzanne Moss, who survives, as well as her daughter, Allison, whom Dr. Murray adopted; their son, Jonathan; and 11 grandchildren.

In a television interview in 1989, Dr. Murray spoke of the lingering disappointment of his experience as the Jet Propulsion Laboratory’s director.

“I went into J.P.L. full of hope that I could reverse the trend of backing away from space exploration — which started in ’72 and by the time I got there in ’76 was in full steam — and found I couldn’t,” he said. “I could alleviate the effects somewhat and kind of dampen it, but I couldn’t change the trend. That was pretty upsetting.”

Afterward, Dr. Murray said: “I had to decide what I wanted to do, and I tried some things and came to the conclusion what I enjoy more than anything else in the world is teaching and working with graduate students doing research. That is really satisfying.”

So he returned to the Caltech faculty and served on the science teams for other Mars missions in the 1990s. On his retirement in 2001, he was made professor emeritus of planetary science and geology.

"Bruce C. Murray, NASA space scientist, dies at 81"

by

Matt Schudel

August 30th, 2013

The Washington Post

Bruce C. Murray, a former director of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, who was an ambitious proponent of space exploration and among the first to emphasize the use of photography of other planets, died Aug. 29 at his home in Oceanside, Calif. He was 81.

He had Alzheimer’s disease, the Planetary Society, an organization he helped found, announced in a statement.

Dr. Murray was director of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, a space exploration arm of NASA, from 1976 to 1982. He began working for the space laboratory in 1960 while serving as a geology professor at the California Institute of Technology, which manages the JPL, based in Pasadena, Calif.

As a part of the scientific team that launched the Mariner series of missions to Mars and other planets in the 1960s and 1970s, Dr. Murray was one of the first scientists to highlight the use of photography in space science.

Mariner 4 transmitted pictures of the terrain of Mars back to Earth in 1965, the first time images of the surface of another planet had been seen. Dr. Murray used the images obtained from the Mariner missions to develop a geological history of Mars. In the early 1970s, he was the top scientist of the Mariner 10 mission, which photographed Venus and Mercury.

Expectations were high when Dr. Murray took over the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in 1976. That year, two Viking missions reached Mars, dispatching automated roving vehicles to the surface, where they collected samples of soil and rocks in an effort to determine if life existed on the Red Planet.

Dr. Murray had misgivings about the Viking projects, suggesting that they were launched before scientists had a reliable understanding of the Martian atmosphere and surface.

Later in the 1970s, two Voyager spacecraft probed the deeper recesses of the solar system, but, to Dr. Murray’s disappointment, the era of interplanetary space exploration was already at its zenith.

He said there were two kinds of missions — purple pigeons and gray mice — that the JPL could pursue. He favored “purple pigeons,” or projects that captured the public imagination and made a big splash in the scientific world, such as a rendezvous with a comet. “Gray mice” missions, by comparison, were less dramatic.

But Dr. Murray’s bright-hued hopes for space exploration were thwarted by continued budgetary battles with Congress and changing priorities. The space shuttle program claimed a higher profile at NASA, as public support for the unmanned exploration of outer space began to wane.

In the early 1980s, the funding emphasis at the space laboratory began to shift from pure science to something that began to resemble an adjunct of military preparedness. Dr. Murray said he was not necessarily opposed to the change — “Quite the opposite; I was the architect of the shift,” he said in 1982 — but he noted that other scientists were not as comfortable working on programs with military applications.

“A number of people came to JPL over the years specifically because they did not want to work on defense projects,” Dr. Murray said. “There is a small number of people, especially young people, who feel that defense work is immoral.”

When Dr. Murray resigned from the JPL in 1982, he was replaced by Lew Allen Jr., a retired Air Force general who had been the director of the National Security Agency.

Bruce Churchill Murray was born Nov. 30, 1931, in New York and graduated from high school in Santa Monica, Calif. He received three degrees from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, including a PhD in geology in 1955. He was a petroleum geologist in Louisiana before serving as a scientist with the Air Force in the late 1950s.

In 1979, when he was still at the JPL, Dr. Murray and renowned scientist Carl Sagan founded the Planetary Society, which seeks to raise awareness of space science. Dr. Murray was president of the organization for five years after Sagan’s death in 1996.

Dr. Murray was the author of several books, including “Journey Into Space: The First Thirty Years of Space Exploration” (1989). He received an exceptional scientific achievement medal from NASA in 1971 and a distinguished public service medal in 1974. An asteroid is named in his honor.

After leaving the JPL, he returned to Caltech, where he taught until 2002. He also worked on joint U.S. space ventures with the Soviet Union, Japan and China.

His marriage to Joan O’Brien ended in divorce. Survivors include his wife of 41 years, the former Suzanne Moss; three children from his first marriage; two children from his second marriage; and 11 grandchildren.

In 2001, Dr. Murray discussed the importance of exploring Mars and other planets in an interview with United Press International.

“We want to find out, is there water? Could you build a greenhouse? Is it a potential habitat?” he said. “It’s another step in extending human mobility and our sense of what, as a species, we are capable of.”

Bruce C. Murray [Wikipedia]

Journey Into Space: The First Thirty Years of Space Exploration

ISBN-10: 0393307034
ISBN-13: 978-0393307030

Now we know where NASA's bucks are being spent...a parody of "Curiosity"

"'We're NASA and We Know It': Hilarious Music Video Spoofs Mars Rover Team"

by

Denise Chow

August 16th, 2012

SPACE.com

NASA's Mars rover Curiosity on the Red Planet are so renowned they are now the subject of a hilarious spoof video that is making viral waves.

The video, called "We're NASA and We Know It," is a play on LMFAO's hit song "Sexy and I Know It," but parodies the events surrounding the Curiosity rover's touchdown on Mars on the night of Aug. 5 (PDT; Aug. 6 EDT).

The video also pokes fun at some familiar faces at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL), including white-haired Mars scientist Pete Theisinger and flight director Bobak Ferdowsi, whose stars-and-stripes Mohawk in Mission Control on landing night helped rocket him to Internet stardom and garnered him the nickname "Mohawk guy."

"We're NASA and We Know It," pays impeccable tribute to many of the night's most memorable moments, including the sky blue polo shirts worn by members of the Entry, Descent and Landing (EDL) team, the jar of peanuts that were passed around Mission Control for good luck, and, of course, Ferdowsi's Mohawk.

David Coppedge laid off by JPL for religious convictions?

"Computer specialist contends his views cost him his job at JPL"

A computer specialist rankled some of his JPL co-workers by pressing intelligent design and other issues at work. Now a judge must decide if that is why he was laid off.

by

Ashley Powers

April 30th, 2012

Los Angeles Times

David Coppedge's co-workers at one of the nation's most prominent scientific institutions didn't have to guess his theory as to how the universe was created. He offered to lend them DVDs advocating intelligent design.

An evangelical Christian, he also asked that the holiday potluck at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory be renamed the Christmas potluck and sparred with at least one colleague over their divergent views on Proposition 8, which banned gay marriage in California.

Coppedge's zest for hot-button topics rankled some co-workers at the facility in La Cañada Flintridge, who complained about him to management. But did it eventually cost him his job?

That's the question a Los Angeles County Superior Court judge presiding over Coppedge's wrongful termination lawsuit is expected to decide in the coming months. JPL, which Caltech manages for NASA, contends Coppedge was laid off in 2011 as part of massive cutbacks because his skill set was outdated and his attitude obstinate.

"What happened to David Coppedge — really what David Coppedge did to himself — had nothing to do with intelligent design or religion but with his own stubbornness," defense attorney Cameron Fox said during closing arguments this month.

To anti-evolution forces, however, Coppedge is a warrior on the front lines of the national evolution debate. They've seized on his otherwise humdrum lawsuit, showering it with resources and publicity.

In fact, defense attorneys alleged in court papers that Coppedge and his supporters were pursuing the case in part to promote intelligent design. In general, its adherents say life is too complex to have stemmed from evolution alone and distinguish themselves from creationists by not tying their beliefs specifically to the Bible.

Coppedge found his lawyer, William Becker, through the Alliance Defense Fund, a Christian group that's also helping fund Coppedge's defense. Becker has also worked with the Discovery Institute, a prominent intelligent design group based in Seattle and a key force in helping portray Coppedge as a victim of religious bigotry.

"There is a worldview war in this country," Becker said in an interview. "There's a battle between people who think religious people are trying to disrupt the integrity of the scientific method and those who know we're not."

The intelligent design crowd has won some victories in recent years, including a new law in Tennessee that allows teachers to question evolution and global warming in their classrooms. Opponents derided it as the "monkey bill," a nod to the 1925 Scopes Monkey Trial, in which a Tennessee man was prosecuted for teaching evolution.

But the attention lavished on the Coppedge case shows that the anti-evolution community is also invested in trying to win lower-level battles. For example, the American Freedom Alliance successfully sued the California Science Center after it canceled a screening of an intelligent design film in 2009.

Critics said it's a sign of desperation. "The creationists keep losing," said Glenn Branch, deputy director of the National Center for Science Education in Oakland. "They lost the science battle years ago." He said latching onto the Coppedge case feeds a "narrative of victimization" that paints science and academia as hostile to religion.

But Discovery Institute representatives said their strategy is sound. Any spat, however small, is another opportunity to air their views. The institute sent a spokesman to the Coppedge closing arguments to field questions from reporters, and one of its fellows has regularly blogged about the trial.

"It fits another tile in the mosaic that will eventually be recognized as demonstrating that the scientific 'consensus' against intelligent design is the product of intimidation and group think," fellow David Klinghoffer wrote before opening statements in March. "Coppedge has already contributed his tile."

For all the online buildup, the details of the Coppedge case are somewhat run-of-the-mill. Coppedge is a computer specialist who started as a JPL contractor in 1996. He was eventually brought onto the systems administration staff and given the title of "team lead." He worked on computer networks for Cassini, the first spacecraft to orbit Saturn and its moons.

A bespectacled, white-bearded man, Coppedge never hid his embrace of intelligent design. He maintained a website dedicated to it and sat on the board of Illustra Media, which produces intelligent design DVDs. He tried to get his co-workers to watch at least two of them: "Unlocking the Mystery of Life" and "The Privileged Planet."

In 2009, one co-worker balked. She said Coppedge's DVD had a sticky note that listed fellow colleagues and, next to one name, the phrase "try again." She complained to a supervisor, who told Coppedge to "stop pushing your religion," Coppedge said.

"Imagine if employees were told, stop pushing your gay agenda or stop pushing your feminist agenda, your civil rights agenda," Becker told Judge Ernest M. Hiroshige, who will decide the case. Both sides agreed to forgo a jury.

At JPL, a human resources probe turned up how Coppedge had protested the name "holiday potluck" and purportedly told another co-worker who opposed Proposition 8 that he "must be against children," court papers said. Coppedge received a written warning for "unwelcome and unprofessional" behavior, Fox told the judge.

Coppedge was also stripped of his leadership title and responsibilities, though his salary didn't change. But he clearly felt humiliated; in court papers, he equated the memo announcing his replacement to a "Scarlet Letter or the mark of Cain."

In 2010, he filed suit, alleging religious discrimination and harassment. Less than a year later, he was laid off, and added a wrongful termination claim. In the flurry of legal filings since, Coppedge included cartoons posted at JPL that he said mocked intelligent design. His attorney also wrote up a key conversation as a screenplay, complete with stage directions.

Defense attorneys scoffed at the accusation that Coppedge was targeted because of his beliefs. Due to budget cuts, including to the Cassini project, more than 200 employees also lost their jobs.

Coppedge had also waved off suggestions to update his computer skills and was saddled with a reputation for being "unwilling to listen and always having to do things his way," defense attorneys said in court papers.

In fact, during closing arguments, Fox asked the judge to recall Coppedge's demeanor on the witness stand. He repeatedly wandered off topic to discuss intelligent design.

Atlas V rocket launched Juno into space and on its way to Jupiter

"Juno probe heads for Jupiter from Cape Canaveral"

August 5th, 2011

BBC NEWS

A $1.1bn (£0.7bn) unmanned space mission has launched from Florida on a journey to the planet Jupiter.

The Juno spacecraft will cruise beyond Mars to put itself in orbit around the gas giant in 2016.

It is the first solar-powered mission to venture this far from the Sun.

The mission launched atop an Atlas 5 rocket from the Cape Canaveral Air Force Station on Friday at 12:25 local time (16:25 GMT; 17:25 BST), after a brief delay caused by a helium leak.

There were concerns with the helium charging system on the rocket's Centaur upper stage, but a small leak on the "ground side" of the rocket was found to be the culprit.

"Today, with the launch of the Juno spacecraft, NASA began a journey to yet another new frontier," said Nasa's administrator Charles Bolden.

"The future of exploration includes cutting-edge science like this to help us better understand our Solar System and an ever-increasing array of challenging destinations."
Pushing boundaries

At Jupiter, where the intensity of sunlight is only 1/25th of that at Earth, space missions would normally resort to a plutonium battery.

But Juno will instead travel with three wings coated with 18,000 solar cells.

"As a solar-panelled mission, we have to keep those solar panels facing the Sun and we never go into Jupiter's shadow," the mission's chief scientist Scott Bolton told BBC News.

"Those are things we can do and still accomplish our science; it doesn't hurt us. But it would have been easier if we could have pointed just any way we wanted. We've had to develop [a strategy], and in fact we've advanced solar cell technology in doing so."

Juno's mission is to probe the secrets of the Solar System by explaining the origin and evolution of its biggest planet.

The spacecraft's remote sensing instruments will look down into the giant through the many layers and measure their composition, temperature, motion and other properties.

This should yield some remarkable new insights into the coloured bands that wrap around the planet, and a new perspective on the famous Great Red Spot - the colossal storm that has raged on Jupiter for hundreds of years.

Scientists also want to measure the abundance of water in the atmosphere - an indicator of how much oxygen was present in Jupiter's region of the Solar System when it formed.

The probe will also try to settle old arguments over whether the planet hosts a rocky core or whether its gases go all the way down to the centre in an ever more compressed state.

And it will look for the deep swirling sea of liquid metallic hydrogen that many suspect is the driver behind Jupiter's strong magnetic field.

Juno is the second in Nasa's so called New Frontiers class missions. The first, New Horizons, was launched towards dwarf planet Pluto in 2006 and should arrive at its target in 2015.

Pre-launch

Juno ready to launch...off to Jupiter

Juno spacecraft to carry three LEGO figurines

Dawn snaps Vesta's "snowman"

Using its framing camera, Dawn obtained this image of Vesta on July 24, 2011, from a distance of about 3,200 miles (5,200 kilometers). The three vertically-aligned craters on the left have been nicknamed "the snowman" by camera team members.

"Dawn's Smooth Move"

August 1st, 2011

NASA

When a NASA spacecraft goes into orbit around a new world for the first time, the control room is usually packed to capacity with scientists, engineers, and dignitaries ready to leap and shout when the retro-rockets fire. It's a big, noisy event.

July 15, 2011, was one of those days. NASA's Dawn spacecraft approached Vesta and became the first probe from Earth to orbit a main belt asteroid. Dawn's cameras revealed a desolate world of transcendent beauty, thrilling everyone who worked on the project.

Needless to say, the control room was .... silent?

"Actually it was empty," says Dawn Chief Engineer Marc Rayman of JPL. "Dawn entered orbit on a Friday night; I myself was out dancing with my wife and friends."

What gives? Rayman, an avid folk dancer, explains: "Our mission has a unique choreography."

Indeed, Dawn has its own way of doing things. While most spacecraft blast off Earth atop a firestorm of conventional rocket exhaust, then coast to their destinations with engines turned off to conserve fuel, Dawn was able to continue thrusting throughout its voyage. Fuel-efficient ion engines gently propelled the spacecraft toward Vesta for more than three years, never exerting more force than the weight of a feather held in your open palm yet, over time, gathering enough speed to catch an asteroid racing halfway across the solar system.

With engines firing almost constantly, mission controllers were able to actively steer the probe, gradually reshaping Dawn's orbit around the sun until it matched the orbit of Vesta itself. Meeting Vesta for orbital insertion wasn't a jarring encounter of mismatched velocities. It was more like two dancers merging in practiced rhythm to a familiar tune.

"Dawn did not miss a beat as it flew into Vesta's grasp," says Rayman. "The spacecraft moved gently into orbit with the same grace it has displayed during its nearly 1000 days of ion propulsion through the solar system."

The capture was so smooth, so low-key, that personnel felt no particular need to monitor the probe's operation. "I really was out dancing," says Rayman, "confident that the pas de deux being performed 188 million kilometers away would be executed with graceful beauty and flawless precision."

Calculations show that the moment of "orbit insertion" occurred on Friday night, July 15th, around 9:47 pm PDT. At that moment, Dawn's orbit around the sun finally was so close to that of Vesta that the protoplanet's gravity could take hold of it. Radio signals picked up on schedule by the Deep Space Network later confirmed that the spaceship and asteroid were truly a pair.

Dawn will spend the next year circling Vesta in a series of descending passes, bringing the giant asteroid's ancient surface ever closer to Dawn's cameras and other science instruments. Because Vesta is a relic of long-ago planet formation, the history of our solar system could be revealed under Dawn's careful scrutiny.

"This really beautiful dance," says Rayman, "is just getting started."

Dawn JPL