The Vinyl Frontier

by Jonathan Scott

  Each record is in fact two one-sided copper mothers bonded together. First they were gold plated, then joined together to form one 0.05-inch-thick Golden Record, weighing in at around 1.25 pounds.

  Then they did it all over again, to make the second Golden Record.

  ***

  One of the most mystifying parts of the Golden Record, especially to us humanities majors, is the cover. As Jon wrote: ‘To the average earthling this whole diagram may seem obscure.’

  Frank had already outdone himself with the Pioneer pulsar map, but now he faced a bigger challenge. This was design at its most pure: something brief that would be understandable to beings with no known common ground, aside from that offered by mathematics and physical laws. The cover had to communicate not only where Voyager had come from, but also when it had come from, what was inside the circular metal box, how it worked, what it meant, what you were supposed to do with it … all within a blank space about the size and shape of a record.1

  In the upper left-hand corner are top and side views of a phonograph record. Expressed in Frank’s binary transition-of-the-hydrogen-atom time unit, is the correct time of one rotation of a record played at the correct speed. The designs show how the record needs to be played from the outside in, and there’s also a side view of the record and stylus with another binary number giving the time to play one side of the record. Below that is the pulsar map. Then we swing around to the upper-right portion. This explains how to reconstruct pictures from the recorded signals. The top drawing shows the regular wave form of the video signal that occurs at the start of a picture, which, if correctly decoded, traces a series of vertical lines. Then comes a diagram explaining the audio duration of each picture. Below that we come to two rectangular shapes that between them explain all about picture raster, how the 512 vertical picture lines should be redrawn with staggered ‘interlace’, and showing the correct 4 × 3 aspect ratio of the resulting image. The lower rectangle contains a perfect circle, the final piece in the picture puzzle that will correspond with the first image in the sequence.

  Jon writes: ‘The fact that each block of information consists of 512 signals of identical length, and that each of the 512 signals is only slightly different from the one before it should be a clue that the signals are lines that are to be stacked. Recipients may try to stack and reproduce these in various ways, but as soon as they reconstruct the circle it should be evident that they have done it right, since the chances of randomly producing a perfect circle are small, and they will recognise from the cover that a circle is what they are supposed to produce.’

  Remember there’s no separate ‘how-to’ for the colour images on the record’s cover. There wasn’t room and it would have been far too complicated. Plus it was thought that as the colour images were represented in the audio-code by three sets of sound in sequence – one each for the red, green and blue components of the image – the aliens would figure out there was something different about these sound images.

  Finally, there are two circles in the lower right-hand corner. This is the all-important hydrogen key – the hyperfine transition of neutral hydrogen. These represent the hydrogen atom in its two lowest states, with a connecting line and digit 1 to indicate that the time interval associated with the transition from one state to the other is to be used as the fundamental timescale, both for the time given on the cover and in the decoded pictures.

  Jon writes: ‘This is what happens when hydrogen’s single electron changes its orbit around the atomic nucleus. Under stimulation by an energy source like starlight, the electron jumps up a level, and then falls back down … As it does so it emits a photon of a particular frequency and wavelength. This will seem a very esoteric event to most readers of this book, but it is in fact the commonest event that happens in this universe, since space is filled with hydrogen atoms absorbing and re-radiating the light from surrounding stars. Radio astronomers listen for this radiation as a main probe in mapping the universe. If other civilisations know anything about physics, they will know about this energy transition in the hydrogen atom. If, and this is a very big if, they recognise our diagram of this transition, we will have given them a unit of length and a unit of time.’2

  The aluminium covers were etched at Litronic Industries, Irvine, California. They also added the uranium clock – electroplating a small area of each cover with an ultra-pure sample of the isotope uranium-238, which, as it has a half-life of 4.468 billion years and a known rate of decay, would give the recipients a rough idea of the record’s age. The record with the cover, support and mounting, weighed about 2.4 pounds. The needle and cartridge, the electronic components required to transfer information from the stylus to an electrical wave, were mounted to the underside of the support.3 Closer to launch, the records would be fixed to the Voyagers at the John F. Kennedy Spaceflight Center at Cape Canaveral. They were attached with side one facing inwards, where there is a slightly reduced rate of damage from cosmic rays, and considerably reduced risk of pitting from micro-meteors.

  ‘This was done,’ says Tim, ‘so that if the record were to be recovered more than a billion years into the future and the outer side was badly eroded, the surviving side would still contain all the photos, the sounds of Earth, the greetings, and the first tracks of the music.’

  Everything was ready to go. The record team were beginning to breathe more easily, returning to mundane, everyday work. They were looking at old to-do lists and in-trays, unchecked for six weeks, and looking forward to launch with the knowledge that the Golden Record – their Golden Record – would be aboard.

  However, there was a last-minute, heart-quickening, bureaucratic snag that almost sunk the whole project just as it was cleared for take-off. Although NASA had seen and heard the contents of the record and given its approval (barring the naked pregnant couple), the object itself still hadn’t been officially signed off. Just as it seemed Carl could put his feet up, he received a phone call telling him that this precious metal mixtape, into which he had poured six months of his life, had been rejected.

  A by-the-numbers NASA quality-control officer was checking the record against specifications. In other words, he had a form on which was written the expected physical characteristics of the Golden Record, and he was checking that against the real thing. If it had been badly overweight, for example, it would have thrown all NASA’s thrust vector calculations wide of the mark. It was found that, while the record’s size, weight, composition and magnetic properties were all in order, its blueprints made no provision for Tim and Vlado’s ‘to the makers of music’ inscription. There was nothing on the form about any kind of handwriting. So the record was rejected as a ‘nonstandard part’, and the space agency actually began preparing to replace it with a blank disc. Carl made some frantic calls, persuading the NASA administrator to sign a waiver, allowing the records to fly.

  ***

  Ann and Carl took the four-hour Circle Line cruise around Manhattan to talk things over. This was about a week after first declaring their feelings on the telephone. They were obviously happy, delirious even, but also consumed by guilt. It was pretty clear that a scandal could jeopardise the record. A NASA uneasy with nudity would definitely be uneasy with the record’s celebrity figurehead abandoning his wife and family. People had begun to realise something was going on. Carl’s personal assistant Shirley noticed an American Express bill that showed Carl paying for Ann’s transportation. Shirley drew this to his attention and Carl admitted he had fallen in love. Ann’s friend and confidante Lynda Obst, meanwhile, had encouraged her to go full Anna Karenina and to follow her feelings.

  Wendy remembers it too: ‘It was palpable and profound. Back then, as a young person figuring out relationships, and now with the passing of time, I understand that I was witness to the beginnings of something rare in my experience; that is, two people with an unusual and deep connection that cannot and frankly, should not, be denied, stopped or ignored. Life is short. And tragically, it was very short for
Carl. I observed Ann and Carl’s relationship unfolding in front of me – their rapport and synergy could not be missed.’

  By the end of the Circle Line cruise, they had mapped out a journey. In the distance was being together and, while there were hurdles, obstacles and collateral in their path, they knew that was the place they wanted to go. They would keep everything quiet for now. They made an agreement that they would break the news to Linda and Tim at the same time – at 1p.m., two days after the Voyager launch.

  Notes

  1 An often-forgotten person in the story of the cover is Barbara Boettcher. Back in 1977, she was a drafter at Cornell, who transformed some of the plans, diagrams and sketches into perfect, architectural-standard blueprints.

  2 Remember that the unit of length is the wavelength of the energy hydrogen emits, about 21cm. The unit of time is how long it takes for this transition to occur – a tiny fraction of a second.

  3 Photographs of the final production process survive at the JPL Archives: voyager.jpl.nasa.gov/galleries/making-of-the-golden-record/.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A Last Supper

  ‘Jeez. We got away with it.’

  Tim Ferris

  Another secret was about to get out. That irritating UN press release had already spilled some Voyager beans but, in the main, the record project had continued without attracting too much unwanted attention. Carl had wanted to keep it that way for several reasons, not least interference. As the aftermath of the record’s launch would show, the moment people knew about it, everyone had an opinion. If it had been public knowledge during the compilation, imagine the influx of lobbying, leaning and hectoring. It might have been overwhelming.

  Nevertheless, in late July – the Golden Record complete and now just a few weeks before its official press launch – Carl received a call from Wall Street Journal scribe Jonathan Spivak. Carl describes the call in Murmurs. Spivak already seemed to know a lot of the details. And Carl kept his responses within the parameters of confirming what the journalist already had, without giving him anything else. There was obviously some confusion along the way as the final piece, printed in the Wall Street Journal on 26 July, included a reference to Duke Ellington being on the playlist.

  This article forced NASA’s hand, who put out a more comprehensive press release ahead of schedule a few days later. A collection of images, letters, notebooks, files and ephemera from Shirley Arden’s working archive, sold in 2017 by Boston-based auctioneers, included a copy of this ‘For Immediate Release’ document. The headline reads: ‘Voyager will Carry “Earth Sounds” Record.’ It begins: ‘On the chance that someone is out there, NASA has approved the placement of a phonograph record on each of two planetary spacecraft being readied for launch next month to the outer reaches of the solar system. The recording, called “Sounds of Earth”, was placed Friday (July 29) aboard the first of two Voyager spacecraft scheduled to be launched to Jupiter, Saturn and beyond. The 12-inch copper disc contains greetings from Earth people in 60 languages, samples of music from different cultures and eras, and natural sounds of surf, wind and thunder, and birds, whales and other animals. The record also contains electronic information that an advanced technological civilization could convert into diagrams, pictures and printed words, including a message from President Carter.’1

  It’s interesting that NASA chose to lead this press release, dated 1 August 1977,2 with that ‘Earth Sounds’ headline. Perhaps they felt this made it sound more sober, more scientific, more grounded in what NASA was all about – rather than the more frivolous content of ‘Johnny B. Goode’. Indeed, it doesn’t mention Chuck Berry at all, although it does give a pretty full account of the rest of the record, detailing its physical characteristics, along with the greetings, the languages, the different genres of music, and the presidential message.

  More newspaper coverage followed – most of it positive. And pretty soon, as had happened with the Pioneers, hundreds of letters began to arrive at NASA and on Carl’s desk at Cornell. Most of these were enthusiastic, although as before, there were some kooks horrified that the record team’s activities might give away our position to attack-minded aliens.

  A posed NASA photograph taken on 4 August 1977 shows John Casani standing in front of Voyager 2, holding a modestly sized American flag in his hands, the 12-inch gold-plated copper disc and the reverse of its aluminium protective jacket laid out on a white sheet. This was taken at the John F. Kennedy Space Center, Cape Canaveral, just before the record, cartridge and needle were fixed to the side, the flag folded and sewn into the thermal blankets of the spacecraft.

  Days later the entire record team gathered in Florida to witness take-off.

  ‘When we got to the Cape the first NASA staffer to walk up to me scolded me for not putting “Danny Boy” on the record,’ recalls Tim. ‘He said that a “fine Irish lad like myself”, knowing that Tip O’Neill was the Speaker of the House, should have put “Danny Boy” on the record. Well, what can I say? I love “Danny Boy”. You know, I play “Danny Boy” myself. But what can I say? It’s not on the record.’

  For the launch they gravitated towards the NASA bleachers, the distant Titan Centaur rocket poised on its pad. Carl, Linda, Ann, Jimmy, Tim, Frank, Jon, Amahl, Wendy … Tim’s mother Jean Baird Ferris was there too.

  Frank says: ‘The whole earth shakes even though we are a mile or so away from the spacecraft taking off but you just have this sense of enormous invincible energy being exhibited.’

  Jon writes: ‘The countdown. An explosion of smoke and steam, vast billows pouring out from the base of the distant rocket. The vehicle began to rise. I felt myself rising with it, gathering speed, dwindling to a point in the sky, then gone. It was as clear and pure a moment as I have ever experienced.’

  Sagan also wrote about the emotion of the day, how they smiled and wept to see it leaving the Earth. At one point, amid cheers and hugs, Carl shook Jon’s hand, congratulating him and thanking him for all his hard work.

  Tim too recalls talking with Carl: ‘It was largely relief,’ he says. ‘I think a lot of what Carl and I were saying to each other at that moment of watching the rocket go up was: “Jeez. We got away with it. We actually did it.” Because the whole record was in peril at one point, and there was plenty of anxiety about it. We were really happy that it was actually happening. Launches are always emotional anyway. I’d seen launches before. I’d gone to the Cape to see them when I was a high-school kid. I’d seen them flying by from Key Biscayne, up on the roof of our home to watch rockets flying by at night. So I felt at home with rocket launches. And I was kind of amazed that I’d had something to do – however small a role – with a mission that flew. Having at age 12 watched these things go off, I was really gratified to have even a tiny role in a mission – that was emotional too.’

  The record team had dinner in a restaurant popular with NASA staffers. At one point a tipsy Italian-American NASA press officer tottered over to the table. He said: ‘You put three German composers on the record and not one Italian one?’

  Jon writes: ‘He gave us a gesture of such forceful clarity that I wish we had put a photo of it on the record as an example of how humans communicate non-verbally.’

  The man had a point, of course. There were three Germans in Bach, Beethoven and Mozart, but no Corelli, Monteverdi, Verdi or Vivaldi. Jon says: ‘Anybody who loves a genre of music that was not represented has every right to feel irked that what was special to them wasn’t included. And I totally sympathise. Which is just an argument for doing more of these things, I guess.’

  People disagree about what NASA actually thought about the record. It’s certainly true that Sagan detected an air of detached bemusement at some of the sounds and pictures when it was all cleared at NASA back in June. In the 40th-anniversary documentary, The Farthest, Frank talks with a mischievous twinkle about how the record always got more attention than the Voyager science, and perhaps that’s true more recently. But certainly, it wasn’t always like that,
and Jon Lomberg, speaking to me from his home in Hawaii in 2017, said that what Frank described in the film wasn’t his experience at all.

  It’s certainly possible to think that NASA didn’t really know what they had. The record is nothing if not strange. And while there was no pesky vulva staring them in the face this time, there was now so much more on there that could potentially attract criticism or cause embarrassment. In any event, looking back, Tim felt the press launch for the record side of Voyager was at best rather apologetically managed and at worst completely mishandled. He felt it was NASA trying to hide that the record even existed. He noted that in nearly all the press materials – images, diagrams – the Voyager craft was shown from an angle that didn’t show the record. Initially there wasn’t even going to be a press launch for the record at all, but as some reporters kept on asking about it, at the last minute NASA scheduled a room at Frank Wolfe’s Beachside Motel.

  The official Golden Record press conference took place in the afternoon, four days after the death of Elvis Presley, and the day after Groucho Marx died. This was a historic moment – the only time in the six-month gestation of the Voyager record when the entire record committee were together in the same room. They had rubbed up against each other as sub-groups – at Carl’s house, or the Smithsonian, or CBS, or Cornell – but in the main they had operated as individual teams. Now they faced the press corps together, and it would have been fascinating to know the tone of questions. Did reporters ask about specific songs? Did they quiz them about Chuck Berry? Were they interested in how the President’s message came about? Did they touch on the printed sheets of politicians’ names? Did any of them scratch their heads about the whole ‘putting a photograph on a record’ thing? Sadly we can never know as no audio or video of this press conference survives.