Uncle Rod's Astro Blog

The good Tasco? Ain’t that what the bright boys call an “oxymoron?” Wouldn’t you need to be a moron o’ some kind to call one o’ them stinkin’ Tasco, TRASHCO Department Store telescopes “good?” Yeah. Except…there was a time when Tasco was importing excellent telescopes. Oh, maybe not quite up there with Unitron and Cave, but occasionally close, very close indeed. Notice I said “imported,” not “made.” Back in The Day, I imagined a giant Tasco factory in some far-away Asian city. Something resemblin’ the set for a Fu Manchu movie. Opium den ‘round back. I was wrong. Truth is, Tasco has never made a blessed thing.

“Tasco” was the company George Rosenfield founded in 1954 as the Tanross Supply Company of Miramar, Florida. His simple goal was importing fishing tackle and similar small items for post-war leisure-crazy Americans. As the 1950s rocked-around-the-clock, George both shortened his outfit’s name, and changed his product focus. To optics; first in the form of binoculars and other “sport” optics. By the dawn of the 1960s and the Space Age, George was also selling astronomical telescopes from a variety of Japanese manufacturers to starry-eyed kids (and adults). The reason there were, yes, good Tascos was the wise decisions George and his compadres made as to exactly which scopes they would bring-in.

The choices Tasco made for its astronomical telescope suppliers are today a litany of excellence: Royal Optical, Goto, Towa, Carton, and more. You want irony, though? None of these outfits were thought of highly by American amateur astronomers—heck, the average Joe or Jane amateur (most often “Joe” in them benighted times) wouldn’t pay two nickels, a bottle cap, and a dead frog for any Japanese telescope. Strange as it may seem to you younguns, well into the 60s U.S. consumers considered the words “Made in Japan” to be synonymous with “cheap crap.” No matter what we thought, though, the fact was these companies were producin’ excellent telescopes. Actually, many of us were already praising Japanese made scopes to high heaven--we jus’ didn’t know it. Unitron, like Tasco, was also really “only” an importer, and all its scopes/parts also came from Japan (with the infrequent exception of an occasional U.S.-made objective).

If you’re still not convinced the Tasco of the 1960s and 1970s was sumpin special, consider the Tasco 20TE “Observatory.” This luverly 4 ¼-inch f/15 refractor was made by Goto and used an objective fabricated by Carton. Accessories? In addition to its beautiful GEM mount, which was equipped with an electric RA drive and an impressive pedestal for support, there was a brace of accessories including, among other cool stuff, two (!) star diagonals, and a boxful of eyepieces in which lurked an Orthoscopic, the ne plus ultra of oculars when Unk was young(er). Price? That was hardly Department Store either. Try 950 smackers in the late 1960s, which equates to at least 4500 small 2008 dollars. That don’t sound like the Tasco you know from Wally World, now does she? As you might expect, the 20TE is a highly sought-after telescope today; one you won’t buy for 15 bucks on the ‘Bay.

What was my personal experience with Tasco telescopes? Despite the above enthusiasm, it was distinctly mixed. One thing to remember about the company’s products, even the old ones, when you’re standing transfixed by some white tube wonder down to the flea market, is that even way back when Tasco sold junk. Unk’s first telescope, a 3-inch Tasco Newt on a little fork mount, was pretty, but its mirror was punk. The Moon was OK, deep sky objects were passable, but what I really wanted to see, Jupiter and Saturn, looked like somethin’ my Aunt Lulu’s poodle-dog threw up. Luckily, this kind of “quality” was mostly reserved for the cheapest Tascos, not the “Observatory” or the Lunagrosso.

In the mid 1970s, Arkansas’ Little Rock Air Force Base, where I was stationed, was a thriving and growing concern despite the post-Vietnam military depression. It was host not only to Unk’s outfit, SAC’s 308th Strategic Missile Wing (Titan II), but to a large and active Military Airlift Command C130 force. That bein’ the case, LRAFB was blessed with a large and modern Base Exchange. Think “Wal-Mart” before there was a Wal-Mart. One of the features of this big “BX” was a well-stocked photo/optical department. Once I convinced myself I needed an “interim” scope of some kind to use when I wasn't on "alert" as a SAC Missile Combat Crew member and while savin’ up for a big honkin’ Cave Newtonian, I moseyed over and had a look. Warn’t no trouble findin' Tascos there; the store’s large and somewhat motley scope collection contained plenty of Tascos and Jasons in every variety and color imaginable. A quick scan turned up one I figured might do, a Tasco 4.5-inch reflector which at the time was designated the “11TE-5.”

The 11TE-5, which is better remembered by us astro-old-timers as the peculiarly but memorably named “Lunagrosso” (“big Moon,” I reckon), was a 4.5-inch aperture f/8 Newtonian. This is a good size; one that’s exceedingly portable but capable of showing the basic wonders of the sky, both planets and Messiers. While a 4.5 loses out to a 6-inch scope, it does not do so by much. Optically, the Lunagrossos were not bad, not bad at all. Yes, the Pyrex primary was saddled with a spherical figure, which placed an upper limit on its resolution, but this sphere was a good one and the images it produced compared favorably with the excellent ones of its more famous contemporary, the 4.25-inch Edmund Scientific “Palomar Junior,” which also possessed a spherical primary. The Pal Junior did have a larger focal ratio, about f/11, and was thus capable of slightly better wave-front performance. In practice, the optical quality of the two scopes was nearly indistinguishable, and the Lunagrosso pulled ahead a bit in the field-of-view department, at least.

The 11TE’s secondary mirror was a 13/16-inch elliptical one that was well suited to the scope’s slightly tall rack and pinion focuser. Both primary and secondary were in easily collimatable cells, with the secondary featuring a real spider instead of the lousy single-stalk-attached-to-the-focuser dealie of the Edmund Pal. The Tasco’s tube was finished a gleaming, beautiful white (much nicer than the red paintjobs the company later favored) that sported sturdy and attractive black tube end rings. Most amazing thing by today’s Department Store scope standards? The lack of plastic. Thinking back, trying to access them pore Rebel Yell soaked brain cells, the only thing I think may have been plastic on the OTA was the focuser knobs.

Mount-wise, the German equatorial furnished with the Lunagrosso was not overkill, but was sufficient if you didn’t insist on trying the scope at the 300x advertised on the box. It was a nice little mount with smooth movement in right ascension and declination, good slow motions (via the ubiquitous flexible cables), and a passably stable (black) wooden tripod equipped with an accessory tray. While no clock drive was included with the standard scope, the mount did feature a gear that would allow it to be driven in RA by an optional motor. The all-metal GEM head was nicely appointed and probably closer in size to one of today’s Chinese EQ-2 mounts than the EQ-1s seen on most current Department Store GEM reflectors.

The Lunagrosso was not lavishly equipped with accessories. Two eyepieces were provided, an H20mm and an H6mm. Then, as now (even if well made), these 2-element Huygenians had small apparent fields and only fair eye-relief. The 20mm was useable, the 6mm, ridiculous. Do I have to say the Lunagrosso’s eyepieces and focuser were of the .965-inch “Japanese standard” format? Oh, how you gonna get an f/8 4.5-inch up to the claimed 300x with them eyepieces? With a Barlow, of course. The Barlow lens shipped with the Lunagrosso was about as useful as the useless ones found with today’s crap-o-scopes—well, maybe a little better than that, I reckon.

Other stuff? The Lunagrossos, every one I’ve ever seen from the 1960s to the 1990s—white or red tubes—have been equipped with too small 5x24 finders. In the 1970s, these finders were still optically acceptable and made of metal, but as the 80s came in and disco suddenly sucked, the finder de-evolved into a laughable stopped-down single-element objective-plastic-body job. There wasn’t much else in the Lunagrosso box other than a right nice metal aperture cap. The cover’s small cutout with removable cap was intended to reduce the aperture of the scope for use with Tasco’s (dangerous) eyepiece Solar filter, I suppose, but there was, if I recollect, no Solar filter shipped with my mid-seventies scope. There was a marginally useful Moon filter.

All this sounds good by today’s Department Store standards, but I stood there in the BX aisle for quite a while feeling skittish, like an antelope ready to dash at the faintest whiff of lion. Based on my experience with my bad ol’ 3-inch Tasco, the company was indeed a predator, luring its victims with visions of 300x multicolored nebula glory. Hell, I, who’d already done the Messier with my Palomar Junior; ground, polished, and figured a 6-inch mirror or three; and constructed my own workable if not elegant “pipe mount” was way beyond Tascos, wasn’t I?

Yeah, I did have big boy scopes back home in Possum Swamp. B-U-T… There seemed little chance of retrieving either my Pal Junior or my homebrew 6-inch Newt any time soon, and there—right there--was a nice-lookin’ 4.5-inch telescope staring me in the face, whisperin’, “Buy me, Rod, BUY ME.” Let’s be honest: the main thing that gave me pause was the price. Like the 20TE, if not to quite that degree, this Good Tasco was not cheap. The Lunagrosso sold for $89.95 in 1960 when it was first imported, and the price of this Towa-made scope had slowly climbed to somewhat more than $150.00 by the mid 70s, about $575.00 today, not an inconsiderable sum for a young GI. Luckily, the Base Exchange price tag read “$100.00,” still a lot, but doable, barely.

I clutched the Tasco like a little drowning person grabbing for a lifeline. That’s exactly what I was, too; I’d hadn’t had a look through anything but binoculars in over a year (I had seen magnificent Comet West with a pair of, yep, Tasco 10x50s). I needed this telescope. As I manhandled the (even then) garish Tasco box into my shopping cart, my eyes lit on an AC clock drive hanging on a nearby peg. 30 bucks ($50.00 in a civilian shop)? “OK,” though I wasn’t sure whether I wanted or needed such a thing.

Even in those days, one sure thing was the New Scope Curse. My act of buying the Lunagrosso had attracted not just clouds, but the threat of truly severe weather. Back at my digs, a glance out the window revealed not just overcast, but a dark, almost black line along the horizon that portended one of central Arkansas’ often awesome thunderstorms—which not infrequently came equipped with a line of tornados. Flicking on my trusty Sears 12-inch black and white portable TV (in the white plastic disco-style cabinet), I tuned-in Channel 7, KATV. They had already broken into The Gong Show with weather warnings, and it became obvious I wouldn’t be able to observe squat this evenin’. At least I could admire new baby. She looked right COOL with the lights off and my black light on (of course I had one).

That’s not all I could do. There was good reading material on hand. In addition to the flimsy little instruction pamphlet that came with the scope—which was sufficient, nevertheless, for gettin’ the simple Lunagrosso put together--I was surprised to find an honest-to-god astronomy book in the box: A Key to Worlds Beyond (1966) by Arthur P. Smith of the Astronomical League. This 62 page guide was amazingly well-written, and is still treasured by many former Tasco owners today, long after their telescopes have returned to dust (or rust). “Hmm, not near as good as The New Handbook of the Heavens,” I grumbled (the book that came with the Pal Junior). But I soon found myself not just browsing, but learning. Maybe young Rod didn’t know quite as much about the astronomy game as he thought he did. So passed a stormy night with a new scope.

Next evenin’? Cloudy again. In fact, I was not able to get my new scope our under the stars for another week and a half. The only clear spell before that was, wouldn’t you know it, when I was on Alert Tour at Launch Complex 373-4. Not that I hadn’t done a little lookin’-- through the windows at telephone poles and the distant tree line. Images looked purty good, especially with the lower power eyepiece, but well I knew only the sky will reveal “good” or “bad” when it comes to telescopes. I was in an agony of suspense, but the night finally did come when it was clear (albeit with a gibbous Moon in the sky).

I plunked my pretty new telescope down in a spot with a clear view of the fat Moon and, with trembling hand, inserted the H20 ocular, centered Luna in the finder, pressed my hungry eye to the eyepiece, and saw—nuttin. At first I wondered whether the finder alignment I had done (on a distant power pole insulator) had been accurate enough, whether the target had been too close and caused parallax problems. Nope. It helps to take the aperture cap off the scope. Now I saw something--a bright, white blur.

A careful turn of a focus knob, first in one direction and then the other, delivered the goods. The terminator stood out in stark relief with excellent contrast and sharpness. What else did I notice? Focusing required a light touch or the mount got the shakes in a hurry, even with a 20mm eyepiece. My impression at the time was that the mount was decidedly less stable than the Pal Junior’s GEM, but, in retrospect, there was not much difference. The Edmund’s mount, despite looking hefty was hardly the Rock of Gibraltar. One area where my new scope was clearly inferior was in its eyepieces. When I got tired of the 44x view of Luna in the 20mm, I fished out the H6mm, which would deliver about 140x, and gave it a try. Not so hotsky. Maybe not quite as bad as the .965 6mm Edmund Ramsden I’d got for the 3-inch Tasco one Christmas, but close. Nearly zero eye relief, an apparent field to match that, putrid edge of field sharpness, and center-of-field performance that was nothing to write home about.

I didn’t panic. I knew enough about eyepieces, especially cheap, crummy eyepieces to be fairly sure that was the problem. I did resolve to check collimation again, though a quick look had shown it to be, surprisingly, pretty close out of the box. Back in went the 20mm. While it was not perfect either—also deficient in eye relief and AFOV--it was derned sharp, with the field edge more than acceptable.

I loved the Moon then just as I do now, but after admirin’ her silv’ry countenance for a good half-hour, I began to wonder “what else?” Over in the west, creeping toward the horizon with Gemini, was Saturn. Not exactly well placed, but what the hell? Over to the Ringed Wonder we went. In the 20mmH, the view was quite similar to what I was accustomed to in the Pal Junior with a 25mm Kellner--sweet, that is. With the rings nearly “open,” Cassini’s Division stood out beautifully. There was also some banding visible on the disk, which I thought was actually a little easier to see than it was in the Pal. Despite the eyepiece’s obvious shortcomings, I inserted the 6mm—Saturn cried out for more power. Acceptable, barely. Maybe looked a little better than the Moon. “Hmmm…how about that little Barlow?” Out went the 6mm, in went the 20mm and the Barlow. Not too good. Slightly superior to the 6mm? Perhaps. Not by much.

I continued to ogle Saturn, and came to appreciate the Lunagrosso’s mount. It’s RA slow motion control, anyway. Turning it produced almost no shaking in contrast to the constant and severe vibrations caused by nudging the Pal to track a planet at anything but the lowest magnifications. Despite just casually adjusting the altitude of the mount’s polar axis and pointing it approximately north, I was able to follow Saturn for quite a while with before an adjustment via the declination slo-mo control became necessary. I did give the AC powered clock drive a try (by means of a mile-long extension cord). It worked, but seemed like more trouble than it was worth for such casual viewing with such a casual telescope.

I just looked and looked, going back and forth between Luna and Saturn, and became ever more proud of my Lunagrosso. When I finally called it a night and hauled the scope back inside—a much more pleasant experience than wrestling the Pal Junior’s pedestal indoors--I was amazed to discover my mechanical-digital clock radio read 12:30. It seemed as if I’d only been outside for 15 minutes at most. Oh, how pleased was Unk; I had taken a chance on a Department Store scope and it had actually worked out. Despite the cheap eyepieces’ problems—which I’d expected—I’d had some amazing views. The Tasco far exceeded my expectations. For the first time in a long time, I’d almost had my fill of observing--for one night, anyway. Sure, I hungered for the deep sky, and in time would cart my new love up into the dark Ozark Mountains, but for now I was satisfied. Time to crack open a Hamm’s, flick an imaginary speck of dust off the Lunagrosso’s tube, and tune-in Tomorrow with Tom Snyder.

What happened to my Lunagrosso? That’s a mystery. Somewhere, sometime over the next decade in the course of many moves and one divorce it disappeared. I will tell y’all one thing: I didn’t sell it, give it away, or discard it. Yeah, when I went on to a Cave and, shortly thereafter, began my long-running love affair with Schmidt Cassegrains, the Tasco faded into the background a smidge. Not completely, though; it still got used frequently as a grab ‘n go scope. The Tasco showed me countless wonders and took me through some fairly lonely times. I’m sorry I don’t even have a picture of it left, but, really, I don’t need one. In my mind’s eye I can still see the Moon just as she appeared on that long ago night with my wonderful new telescope.

What happened to the Lunagrosso? I wasn’t the only person Tasco made happy with the 11TE. I’d guess thousands of astronomers, amateur and professional, got their start with the Tasco. Even those owners for whom astronomy was a fleeting interest wedged between pet rocks and mood rings remember their scopes fondly, I’ve found. What killed the Lunagrosso was not lack of popularity, but too much of it. The same thing that killed a lot of other scopes: Comet Halley. By the mid 80s, Tasco found itself faced with both more competition and more possibilities. The main possibility being the chance o’ makin’ oodles of dollars from a suddenly scope-mad public.

To do that, they had to keep up pricewise with the Jasons, and Focals, and Bushnells that were crowding store shelves, and way undercut “better” brands, like Bausch and Lomb, which were suddenly being peddled in America’s shoppin’ malls too. To that end, by the mid 1980s Tasco was importing the cheapest telescopes they could put their paddy paws on. Goto and Towa were fading memories as the company searched Taiwan for the lowest of the lowballs. The Lunagrosso transitioned from white tube to red tube, and gained ever more plastic as the 80s wound down into the 90s. It was still better than the mutant 60mm refractors Tasco was bringing-in, sure, but that was only a matter of degree.

What happened to Tasco post Halley? Not much. Unlike some other scope makers, they apparently made a nice pot of money and continued on their merry way. By the mid 1990s, when ol’ Mr. Rosenfield sold out, Tasco was doing 110 mill a year. Hell, as I talked about in the last installment of this here blog, “Telescope Anxiety,” Tasco was ridin’ so high by the end of the decade that they went out and bought themselves Celestron (in 1998). That was the high point, though, and the plunge into bankruptcy in the new century was sudden and steep. But not fatal.

All Tasco ever was was a NAME, nothing more, and that name still had and still has value. Despite the company having passed through a couple of hands after flamin’ out, it’s still alive today—for good or ill. The brightly colored boxes still draw dreaming buyers with promises of wonder, but, alas, the scopes in these boxes have a much harder time delivering even a taste of that wonder than the old ones did. Every time Wally World stocks up on scopes— in my area usually only at Christmas—I can’t help wandering over for a look at the current 4.5-inch Newts, the Luminova and Spacestation. I don’t know what I expect. The Lunagrosso is gone and she ain’t never comin’ back. I know that; still I can’t help feeling a little sad.

If any of the above has piqued your interest in Tasco (or any of the underappreciated but good imported scopes of the 60s – 70s) have I got a great resource for you: Cloudy Nights Classic Telescopes Forum. There you can read about and discuss 11TEs and 20TEs and many more to yore little heart’s content. Another great place to read about ‘em is in the pages of the Rosette Gazette, the newsletter of the Rose City Astronomers. Browse through the back issues; several have excellent and erudite articles on these old and (till recently) ignored ol’ scopes.

If you’re an American amateur astronomer, you won’t have to ask what I am talkin’ about when I say “the magazines.” You know I mean Sky and Telescope and Astronomy. These very special publications have not just served up information for our little community for a Real Long Time (over seven decades in the case of S&T and goin’ on four for Astronomy); they’ve continually defined and redefined the nature of amateur astronomy as practiced in the good, ol’ U.S. of A. I might even go so far as to say that between the two of ‘em these rags practically invented amateur astronomy. That bein’ the case, it’s sad to report both these storied publications seem to be in decline.

When it began a few years back, the changes were small and incremental--but steady. Cheaper paper. Fewer pages. No mailing wrappers. Not that the lack of a protective outer wrap or the customary plastic bag was a huge deal. I didn’t even mind S&T’s new, odd, semi-glossy stock too much when it came. Nor Astronomy’s still glossy but oh-so-thin pages. I wasn’t over-perturbed when Sky and Telescope abandoned the “perfect binding” they’d used for years to return to the earlier stapled paradigm. But when both magazines began to shrink, Sky and ‘Scope going from 130 pages or so (I ran across one that clocked in at 150) to around 100 and Astronomy from well over 100 to a very skinny 80-something, this old boy sat up and took notice, you betcha. And began to get a little scared.

Scared? Yep, and I ain’t exageratin’ neither. Back in The Day Astronomy and, particularly, Sky and Telescope were amateur astronomy for me. Sure, there was the informal club me and my teenaged buddies got up, but most of what (little) we knew came from the holy pages of S&T. When new issue time got close, you’d find me campin’ out by the mailbox like Charlie Brown waitin’ for Valentines. Hell, to this day I remember what a fresh new issue of Sky and ‘Scope smelled like when I ripped open the big manila envelope it came in. So, yeah, I’m scared, scared of losing what I’ve loved for so long. I like and have always liked Astronomy too, and if S&T is more on my mind at the moment, maybe it’s because the changes there have been more visible and seem to be coming thick and fast.

“Thick and fast” is right. Especially since S&T’s buyout a couple of years ago by New Track Media, a “conglomerate,” whatever that is. Their first move? Sky and Telescope’s spin-off, Night Sky, a magazine I considered the best new astro-mag to appear since Hector was a pup (and not just because I contributed to it) was shut down. Then, familiar names began to disappear from the masthead. Steve O’Meara decamped to join the competition last year. Next, we heard Editor Rick Fienberg was leaving. Then, almost unbelievably, the other day the man many of us looked on as “Mr. Sky and Telescope,” Executive Editor Kelly Beatty, announced his position is being eliminated and that he is leaving too. That was a real shock for the freelancers who write for Skypub (excuse me, “New Track.”). Kelly was often the person we dealt with day-to-day and it’s hard to imagine S&T without him. Were all these changes necessary to keep the magazine afloat? I don’t know. What I do know is that losing all that talent and experience has got to hurt. Kelly, for example, was on the job for 34 years.

The changes at S&T have been more visible, but similar things seem to be going on at Kalmbach’s Astronomy, though, since I’ve never worked with/for them, I know less about the scene there. I have met Dave Eicher, and have long admired his work, but that is it. It’s apparent (to me) that Astronomy is also struggling. The addition of O’Meara’s column was a plus, and the magazine has other talent, too, including, especially, Phil Harrington. B-U-T… This now-thin magazine continues in the throes of the identity crisis that began with the previous Editor’s tenure. Is it a Discover type magazine for astronomy with some amateur astronomy content, or is it an amateur astronomy magazine with some Discover-style armchair astronomy material? This confusion seems reflected in the structure of the magazine. One issue some “amateur” columns are in the front, next they are in the back. Some issues have excellent product reviews (usually thanks to good buddy Phil); some issues have no reviews at all.

What’s the “why” for the decline of these titanic (in a small amateur astronomy way) periodicals? Looked at Time and Newsweek lately? They are hardly what they used to be either. One thing’s sure; the newsstand biggies have a much, much larger subscriber base and advertising revenue to fall back on than our favorite little niche publications. Niche publications, is it? Yep. That’s what they are. The astro-mags are small, very small, in the larger scheme of things. Kelly once told me he thought many of his subscribers would be positively shocked if they got a look at Sky and Telescope’s modest (pre-New Track) “office complex,” a couple of nice old houses and a modest 1960s commercial building. The general decline all magazines are experiencing is harder for Sky and Telescope and Astronomy to bear because of their comparatively minuscule size.

But why are magazines in trouble? There’s, unfortunately, not one reason, but a slew o’ reasons. The reality of the current economy is no doubt numero uno, however. Not only does everybody have less money to spend on "luxuries" like magazines, increased energy costs probably do more to hurt magazines than they do many other industries. When the cost of energy goes up, so do paper costs and delivery costs, the life’s blood of print pubs. But there is more to it than that: there’s the Internet.

In some ways, the growth of the Internet has affected astronomy magazines in a more dramatically visible way than it has other periodicals, though it’s hurt the biguns, too, especially the news-zines. Before the electronifiction of amateur astronomy, all we had was Sky and Telescope and Astronomy (well, there were two or three dusty astronomy books in the Possum Swamp Public Library) and the local club. Now? There a virtual astronomy club meeting/bull session/teach-in going on every hour of every day thanks to the Yahoogroups, Cloudy Nights, and Astromart. We don’t have to wait for the first of the month for the new magazine or the club meeting to get an amateur astronomy fix.

There’s a heck of a lot more to Internet astronomy than just discussion groups, though. Remember how you used to flip through each new S&T and drool over the ads before you even thought about reading any articles? Yeah, admit it: if you’re like yore ol' Unk, you enjoy looking at the scope advertisements almost as much (sometimes more) than you enjoy readin’ the editorial content. With every astronomy merchant who is anybody now having a huge website, where’s the need for a magazine subscription in order to look at new play-pretties?

And there’s yet more to draw the rank and file to the PC and away from the mags. Like equipment reviews. A-mart and CN have that purty much covered and do very well at it. Editorials? Look no farther than this here blog or dozens more like it. Observing articles? Ton’s o' that on the ‘net. Some of it—like Adventures in Deep Space and Skyhound--is extremely well done, too. Astronomy news and gee-whiz articles? That stuff’s only a click on “nasa.gov” away. Why pay for it? Many boys and girls have decided they don’t have to and won’t, especially as subscription fees have rocketed.

So is that it? End of story. Curtains for the big-time astro-zines? Not necessarily. I think it’s at least possible both S&T and Astronomy can continue just as they are, limping a little bit, sure, but hanging in. Sky and Telescope’s new Editor, Bob Naeye, impressed me as a very capable sort when I met him a while back, and I think he will do an outstanding job for them. Astronomy? Probably can press on relying largely on impulse “airport newsstand” sales and subscriptions by a (possibly) shrinking audience of novice amateurs. But the feelin’ I have in my bones is that there is more trouble ahead for both periodicals unless they find a way to make a place for themselves on today’s amateur astronomy scene. What can they do? If you ask me (why would you do such a silly thing?), there are some possibilities for salvation, even at this late stage of the game:

Most of all? Forget ink and paper. Too expensive, and a surprising number of folks, especially younguns, now prefer readin’ on a PC, anyway. Make receiving an Adobe Acrobat file rather than a hardcopy at least an option. For a reduced rate, of course. Some of the codgers among us (I are one) won’t like that at first, but many will accept it, especially once they realize it’s possible to print-out articles or the whole blamed magazine when desired (you gotta have somethin’ to read in the loo, right?). Some of the semi-pro-zines, Amateur Astronomy Magazine, Astronomy Technology Today, The Strolling Astronomer, and AstroPhoto Insight are doing this with some success right now. Folks need an extra enticement to wean them from paper ‘n ink? It’s easy to revise and repost an Adobe file. Add a continually updated News section to each virtual issue. How about a list of the editors’ favorite (and clickable) Internet links? Maybe a “user contributions” section--not just for photos, but for readers’ articles and reviews and other stuff. The possibilities once you go to an inexpensive (relatively speaking) medium like Adobe Acrobat .pdfs are endless.

E-zine too radical? Then why not add value to print ‘n paper issues electronically? The last time Miss Dorothy and I were in the UK I wandered into Victoria Station’s WHSmith (bookstore/large newsstand). What struck me was that just about every single magazine on display was accompanied by a CD or DVD. An included disk would seem a natural for an astro-mag. The possibilities are even more exciting than those that come with a .pdf. Not only could the text of the magazine be on the disk, so could astronomy software programs, interviews, and image galleries. I derned shore guess those sweated-over reader astrophotos in the gallery sections will look much better on a monitor than on constantly coarsening paper stock.

The UK’s newest astro-rag, The Sky at Night, has included a CD with each issue since it cranked-up, and that may be one of the reasons it seems to be thriving. While not too much was made of the disk at first—a video of the latest Sky at Night TV program and a shareware astrosoft or two was about it--more creative things have been done with it of late. A recent CD, for example, included plans/videos to accompany the issue’s telescope making project. At this time, The Sky at Night’s disk is merely an adjunct to a full-sized print-zine, but nobody says you have to include a “real” magazine with a CD. In the past, several U.S. computer magazines have tried “paperless,” putting the whole issue on a CD. These disks were shrink-wrapped with a printed magazine-sized table of contents and sold on the rack just like normal. While nobody seems to have had continuing success with this format, there’s no reason it couldn’t go if done right. One thing is in the disk’s favor: it gives us Luddites something tangible for our money that we miss with a mere file download from a website.

What else? However it’s done, paper or no paper, the magazines need to play to their strengths. One of which used to be equipment reviews. When the astro-Internet first began to grow, folks were suspicious of the equipment reviews found there and continued to place more credence in what was printed in Sky and ‘Scope and Astronomy. That’s changed. An informal survey of mine (“Hey Bubba, what do you like?”) says many amateurs have decided the reviews found on the very professionally presented Cloudy Nights website, for example, are more reliable than what they read in the magazines. In fact, some people even prefer the “reviews” done by their fellow amateurs on sites like excelsis.com to what’s in the glossies.

That doesn’t have to be the last word, though. It wouldn’t take much to put the astro-rags at the top of the heap again vis-à-vis gear reviews. First of all, they’d need to do more reviews. At least three or four every issue instead of the usual 0 – 2. And strike a somewhat hard-hitting tone. I have never, ever believed that old canard that the magazines softball their reviews in order to avoid offending advertisers, but many of my brothers and sisters do think that. More in-depth would be good as well. Astronomy, in particular, has occasionally been guilty of “reviews” that read like advertising copy. What’s a good gear review? Take a look at the ones that appear in every single issue of Popular Photography. Speaking of Pop Photo, I think the astro-mags could learn a lot from the way this hoary magazine has changed and adapted in the face of the Internet and digital imaging. Like all mags, I'm sure it's not untroubled, but it seems to be surviving, at least, and its website is a model of what a hobby/tech/equipment magazine's website should be in this old boy's opinion.

What else? I reckon it’s time to go easy on the news. We don’t need stale news when it’s a click away on the Internet. Sky and Telescope has been moving in this direction for a while, but my guts say “go farther.” Unless it’s earth-shattering (“Large Hadron Collider Swallows Switzerland”), leave it out. While we’re at it, let’s talk about the Gee-whiz/astronomy fact/professional astronomy articles. There is a place for these but don’t let them dominate the whole gull-derned magazine. Sure, armchair/impulse/educator buyers are important, but do not forget that it is we, working amateur astronomers, who’ve supported you-all through thick and thin. Don’t make us feel ghettoized; sometimes we get tired of articles for/about us always goin’ in the back o’ the rag.

Anything else need the heave-ho? Think about cuttin’ back on the other stuff we don’t really need because we get it on the PC. When just about ever’body has a dozen planetarium programs on the hard drive, we don’t need the same old - same old every month: Saturn is in Gemini, Venus is the evening star…yadda, yadda, yadda. I suppose the monthly star chart should stay, and special event coverage—eclipses and such--but only just. In general terms, what I want from you is not a rote recitation of “what’s up this month.” I know what’s up this month. Hell’s bells, even Boudreaux down the street, who can hardly program his VCR, knows how to work Cartes du Ciel and bring up Heavens-above.com. Leave this stuff for your website if you think we need it from you. What I want is what Sue French and Steve O’Meara are doing. What I want is what’s up that’s SPECIAL and WHY.

Finally, as I mentioned above, what would be the cat’s meow would be if a way could be found to allow for more user contributions. I don’t mean professionally written articles, but user comments and images (including ones done by those of us who don't own 20-inch Ritchey-Chrétiens) and even little “informal” articles. A bunch o’ “Focal Points” every month. That’s the sort of thing that’s likely to make us folks think of Astronomy and Sky and Telescope as “our” magazines instead of “their” magazines, just as Cloudy Nights and Astromart are “our” websites.

Do I think suggestions like these (or better ones smarter folks can come up with) will save the magazines over the long run? Maybe. But I ain’t sure about that. It is possible the age of the magazine is passing. I hope not. Deep down inside there is still that 12 year-old anxiously awaiting yet another big, brown envelope.

Shameless Book Plug Department. Quite a few of you have been kind enough to ask about the status of my forthcoming book, Choosing and Using the New CATs. It’s moving along smartly and is due out in December. Read all about it HERE.

When it comes to eyepieces? If you read the last installment of this here Little Old Blog from Possum Swamp, you’ll recall I spent that one pontificatin’ about what a Novice needs to begin a stroll down the path to amateur astronomy fulfillment. I talked about almost everything except eyepieces (“oculars”). I believe that is an important enough subject that it deserves some in-depth discussion in my breezy way. The question for Jane Newamateur is: “How expensive is a good eyepiece, and what’s a good eyepiece, anyway?” Actually, I have a sneakin’ suspicion that there’s enough confusion about today’s ocular scene to mean some of you not-exactly-novices out there might also want to keep reading.

What is a good eyepiece? I could go on and on all day jawboning that—within the limits of my paltry optical knowledge. I can distill what I know down to a paragraph or three, though, which should be good enough for novices and us “casual astronomers.” What you want in a good eyepiece is good field edge sharpness, good eye-relief, and good apparent field.

“Wut’s ‘eye-relief’,” you ask? That’s easy; it’s the distance you can hold your eye from the ocular’s “eye lens” and still see the whole field of view. How much is good? For an eyeglass wearer, anything less than 15mm means not being able to see the entire field circle. Because of the glasses, the wearer’s eye will be positioned beyond the eye-relief “limit” and the field will be cut-off, “vignetted.” Even if’n you don’t wear eyeglasses, you will find that more eye-relief rather than less is more comfortable. Who wants to jam an eyeball up against an eyepiece lens? Surprisingly, there can also be too much of a good thing when it comes to eye-relief. Get in the 20 – 25mm range and eye positioning becomes difficult and annoying.

Field edge? That’s the bugaboo for many folks. It’s easy to describe the problem: “What good is having a wide field eyepiece if the stars at the edge of that field look like dadgummed comets instead of pinpoints?” The other part of the equation is that no matter how good the eyepiece, “fast” telescopes, those with short focal length/low focal ratio mirrors or objectives, will suffer from a bad case of cometitis. An expensive eyepiece may be better than a cheap one, since it will correct for some edge-destroying problems, but a fast scope—one in a focal ratio of f/5 or faster--will still display a less good field edge than a slow one (an f/10 SCT, for example) eyepiece for eyepiece. The addition of coma correctors and field flatteners can fix the field edge of an expensive ocular at the cost of adding and paying for more glass. No matter how many super-duper correctors you add to the light path of a cheap ocular, though, the edge will still probably look purty yucky. Often because of astigmatism.

The most deviling optical quality problem an ocular can suffer is astigmatism. It can make stars all across the field look less than sharp, but those at the edge will be will be especially horrible. Unfortunately, astigmatism is a common ailment of the el cheapo oculars. The field centers of many inexpensive eyepieces are quite passable, however, so The Stig is not necessarily a deal breaker.

“Apparent field” is a confusin’ concept for Newbies, I reckon. When I tell you my Ultra-Super-Mega field eyepiece has an apparent field of view (AFOV) of 80 degrees, I don’t mean I’m taking-in an 80 degree swath of sky; I mean the eyepiece field circle subtends 80 degrees in my view. Still confused? Think about it this way: using an eyepiece with a large apparent field as compared to one with a small “AFOV” is like watching The Beverly Hillbillies on a 60-inch LCD instead of a 12-inch portable TV. An 80 degree AFOV eyepiece will also show more “true field,” actual sky, than a narrow field eyepiece in the same scope too, but, it will not be 80 degrees worth.

How much field makes a wide field? My cipherin’ says a “wide” (aka “ultra wide”) is 100 – 80 degrees, a “medium is 60 – 70 degrees, and a narrow is 55 degrees and below. Big AFOV is always good, right? Not necessarily. If, as above, there’s not enough eye-relief to let you see all of it, what good is it? Or, if you only look at planets, why waste money (more apparent field usually means more $$$) for unused empty space? Bigger AFOV (as long as there is the eye-relief to go with it) is always good for Dob users who must nudge the scope along. Wide AFOV means less nudging, magnification for magnification.

That’s as far as Unk’s simpleminded sum-up of eyepiece theory goes. What’s the ground truth when it comes to eyepiece buyin’? Do you and me and Aunt Jenny all have to spend for Ethoses and Naglers to get a pleasing observing experience? The answer is “probably not.” If you can put up with a less than perfect field edge and a less than expansive AFOV, there are good alternatives. Real Cheap Alternatives. This is the golden age of inexpensive ultra wide and medium AFOV oculars. Depending on your tolerance for comets (and the design of your scope) you can lowball it and still have fun while saving for the Ethos you really want. Or, you may not need to save for an Ethos at all. If you don’t care about AFOV, you can get images that may actually be better than those of the most expensive ultra wides and only spend 50 bucks to do it. NO foolin’.

I won’t lie to you, though. I have an eyepiece case full of Naglers, Panoptics, and Uwans. And…I’m fixin’ to go Ethos just as soon as I can figger out how to sneak one into Chaos Manor South past Miss Dorothy’s watchful eye. There’s a lot to be said for the old adage, “You can never go wrong buying the best eyepiece you can afford.” You can use a Nagler or Ethos for your whole observing career. Over 40 years, six-hundred Georgie Washingtons don’t seem that bad. Can’t begin to afford a box full of the high-priced spread? A single 13mm Ethos or Nagler might bring more pleasure than a stringerful of Chinese cheap-cheaps. But I well know not ever’ body can or wants to pay six-hundred or three-hundred dollars for a cotton-pickin’ eyepiece. Period. That’s the reason I’m offering choices. If I were to be honest, I’d also say that if my expensive eyepieces disappeared tomorrow, I could still observe more than happily with any of the following.

Ultra Wides

These used to be the problem children in the bargain basement class, and to some extent they still are. It’s harder to make a sharp ultra wide than it is a narrower AFOV ocular. That hasn’t changed and likely won’t. Even TeleVue has struggled to; for example, bring good eye-relief to the ultra wide. That doesn’t mean you can’t save a little and still get “as good or almost as good” as TeleVue. The William Optics Uwans are not to be sneezed at for sure. I regularly use these excellent oculars and, shoot, a couple of the Uwans are better than the comparable focal length Naglers in my opinion. Downchecks? Just that at this time there are only four Uwan focal lengths and there is no sign WO is going to release more. Ever. The Meade Series 5000 Ultra Wide Angles are nearly as good as the Uwans, and should be considered as well. I’ve also heard some purty good things about Celestron’s new Axiom LX eyepieces, which appear to be similar to the Meades in optical quality and superior to them in mechanical quality. Bringdowns? The WOs, Meades, and Celestrons are cheaper, but not a whole lot cheaper. They go for ½ - 2/3 the cost of the Naglers and Ethoses.

Not that there ain’t bargain brigade ultra wides. There are, and the Chinese factories have been pumpin’ ‘em out for about four years now in ever increasin’ numbers. The best of the bunch I’ve tried are the Bird’s Eyes and the Knight-Owl Ultrawides. Available in focal lengths ranging from 30mm and down to about 11mm, these will make a lot of astronomers happy. No, they are not TVs, but at less than 100 bucks a pop, who would expect them to be? “How good, Unk Rod, how good?” That depends. In my f/15 ETX they are wonderful, in my F/10 SCTs they are very good, in my f/8 Newtonian they are OK, in my f/4 StarBlast they are downright UGLY. Most of this ugly is at the field edge, however, and I don’t know about you, but I spend my observing time looking at what’s in the center of the field. Yeah, I do know some folks obsess about The Edge; if that’s you, go ahead—you ain’t gonna hurt my feelin’s. One thing you fer shure might want to obsess about is ultra wide eye-relief. Check out the manufacturer’s spec before you buy. Many wideuns, cheap and expensive, tend to be deficient in that regard.

Mediums

This is where it gets interestin’. That’s because it’s a lot easier to do a 65 – 70 degree apparent field that’s competitive with a TeleVue Panoptic than it is to make an ultra wide cheapun that’s as good as a Nagler (or Uwan). As you might guess, the relative ease of design and good results mean there are lots of medium-wide alternatives out there. On the upper end are Orion’s Stratus 68 degree babies ($129.00) and Astronomics/Astro Techs’ 70 degree Titans ($99.95 and down). The Orions and the ATs are both good eyepiece lines that will not stress out until you get to f/5. Even then, the shorter focal lengths will be useable for many folks. What? You’re a brand new and young Newbie with a houseful of rugrats, a mortgage, and a car payment to deal with first? You need the cheapest of the cheap? Well, I’ve got a deal for you. Orion’s Expanse 66 AFOV oculars might be just the thing. They are cheap ($54.95), and amazingly effective. Only the 20mm model tends to go to pieces in shorter f/l scopes, and then only at f/5 and less. Eye-relief is also decent, a good 15mm bein’ the tightest in the bunch.

Narrows

Let’s say you can live without lotsa field. For whatever reason. Maybe you’re a planetary observer who doesn’t care pea-turkey about Uncle Al Nagler’s “spacewalk experience.” Or you’ve got a driven scope and don’t need as much AFOV as a Dobbie fan. Or you’d just rather have optical quality than mucho space. If any of these things fits, I’ve got two words for you: “Plössl” and “Orthoscopic.” Either of these types of oculars can potentially best the most expensive Uwan or Ethos in image sharpness at the expense of making you live with an AFOV field circle of about 50 degrees or less.

Even if you’re a Newbie--the greenest of Newbies--you’ve probably already tried a Plössl, since that’s likely what came with your scope. In the last decade and a half, Chinese optics factories have churned out Plössls in such great numbers that these four-lens-element eyepieces have all but sent the ocular that was formerly The Novice’s Best Friend, the Kellner, to the happy-hunting-grounds. The reason? Plössls are good, sharp eyepieces that offer reasonably generous field that hover around 50 degrees, have sufficient eye-relief in anything but the shortest focal lengths, and are inexpensive to produce. Since a Plössl doesn’t have to do the spacewalk thang, its field can be very sharp edge to field edge, even in fast scopes. Also, the fact that they only (usually) need four lenses to do their magic means their views are often brighter and truer in color than the seven-plus-lens-element wides and mediums.

Which Plössls? There’s no shortage of brands, but two I can suggest on the lower and upper ends of the scale respectively are the GTOs and the TeleVues. The GTOs range in price from $22.95 to $39.95, and though they won’t break anybody’s bank, do a bang-up job. They are what I use in my binoviewers, since it’s so cheap to acquire pairs. More Better Gooder? The TeleVues. There is no doubt about that. They are sharper, better coated, and mechanically more solid than the rock-bottom squad. The wonderful thing is that this does not come at a huge price penalty. Except for the monstrous 55mm model ($235.00), the TeleVues are all very reasonable at $89.00 to $119.00. Both the TVs and the GTOs are made in a wide range of focal lengths to suit any task.

Don’t need even 50 degrees? You’re a Mars Maven, a Jupiter Junkie, a Saturn Sap? I’ve got your eyepiece: the Orthoscopic. These four-lens-element jobs are what me and my buddies drooled over back in the 1960s but could never afford (TWENTY BUCKS FOR AN EYEPIECE, BUBBA? ARE YOU KIDDIN’?!). They are extremely sharp field-edge-to-field-edge in almost any scope long or short, and are card carrying cheapos in these latter days. The only stop at Bummertown? About 45 degrees is the max AFOV you can expect. So what? When I want to look at a planet I don’t care about spacewalking and I do not reach for a Nagler or Uwan, but for one of my cherished “Circle T” Celestron Orthos from way back when. They are sharper.

Here and now? One company’s Orthoscopics stand out: University Optics. Their Abbe Orthos are excellent and sell for a modest $59.95 a pop. Too plebian? University recently introduced a line of “H.D.” Orthoscopics for 20 bucks more each that some folks say do achieve the vaunted More Better Gooder. Me? I’d stick with the originals. They will please (within the limits of their soda-straw-AFOVs). Do watch out for Ortho eye-relief. It tends to be 10mm or tighter in this otherwise sterling design.

So, what should Joe or Jane pick out of all these here choices when the most important requisite is “cheap” (but OK/good)? Depends on Joe and Jane and the scope in question, but, ‘twere it me, I’d go for the Orion (Synta) Expanses if I owned an SCT or an MCT. Oh, if I were feelin’ a mite adventurous and wanted a taste of spacewalking I wouldn’t hesitate to glom onto at least one Bird’s Eye or Owl. Faster than f/5? Plössls. Let me say that again: P-l-o-s-s-l-s. TeleVue Plössls, if possible. No, you won’t feel like you just stepped out of the Gemini 4 capsule for a look around, but you will be happy, real happy, with the images nevertheless, and, as is the case with any quality eyepiece, a TV Plössl will be something you will find uses for way down the line. Even when you are as old and gray and opinionated and crotchety as Uncle Rod.

You gotta have sails and a rudder. You need stuff, astro stuff. Telescopes, eyepieces, atlases, filters, computer programs—all that wonderful gear you and me drool and obsess over. If’n you’re readin’ this, I’m guessin’ you are probably to the point where you’ve got what you more or less need. You’ve got a scope you can at least live with—even if you sometimes think you can’t. Sure, there’s always the attraction of the More Better Gooder, but those of us who’ve been in this wonderful avocation for a year or three are probably gettin’ by somehow. But what about the excited new sprout down to the local astronomy club? Or your formerly skeptical brother-in-law who got one look at the Moon through your C8 and is now showin’ all the signs of incipient amateur astronomyitis?

The time-honored answer is, “Forget telescopes, get a pair of binoculars and a planisphere, learn the sky, then we’ll talk telescopes.” That may not have been too bad a suggestion back in the day, when everybody had to star-hop and there was no way of gettin’ off square one without some basic knowledge of the night sky. But even back then I had my doubts. Problem is, whether learnin’ the sky is or is not a good thing (and I still think it most definitely is), it misses one important fact: most beginners don’t care pea-turkey about the deep sky. Oh, they might be impressed by the look they got of M42 or M13 in your eyepiece, but that’s not what they lust after. What the newbies want (and what they wanted way back when, too) is Lunar craters and the rings o’ Saturn. A pair of binoculars won’t satisfy these wants. And “binoculars only” may mean the new recruit starts payin’ more attention to TV Guide than the Clear Sky Clock (or is that “Charts”?). In my opinion all astronomers, new and old, need a telescope.

Yep, a genu-wine telescope. Oh, I think it’s probably a good idea to insist your novice buddy equip herself with a pair of 10x50s and a Phillips Planisphere in addition to a scope, but that’s cheap enough to do these days. A perfectly useable pair of Bushnells can be found at the local Wally-World. Might not be a bad idea to go along on that buying expedition, though, lest your charge be seduced by a pair of fixed focus (“auto focus”) or red tinted objective (“Ruby Lenses!") horrors. But, binocs in hand and constellations being learned, there is still the matter of a telescope.

In some ways it’s easier to play “don’t buy” than “do buy.” I, first of all, steer novices away from go-to. You may be surprised to hear that, since ever’body knows I’m a go-to fanatic, and think it’s the best thing to hit amateur astronomy since Kentucky Straight Bourbon whiskey. It’s just that I think a computer is more of an impediment to fun than a source of it in the beginning. Most go-to systems require at least a basic knowledge of the brightest stars in order to align the scope. For Mr. or Miss Greenhorn, that’s a real showstopper. Sure, modern go-tos are fairly easy to use, and just telling the novice to “center the brightest star closest to where the scope stops” sometimes works. Alas, it just as often doesn’t: “But I see more than one bright star, Uncle Rod.” Also, even with a system that doesn’t (supposedly) require sky knowledge, like Celestron’s SkyAlign, all the computer frippery is almost always more confusing than helpful to start, and endless concerns about alignment choices and HC menus and drive training and tripod leveling may mean the scope makes a quick trip to the hall closet and the formerly enthusiastic beginner makes a quick trip to the couch in front of the consarned boob tube.

What else don’t you “let” ‘em get? A lot of newbies start reading the Forums or Yahoogroups and get all het-up about small APOs, “It’s small and cute and expensive; that oughta really show me somethin’.” Alas, after a while, most novices find they aren’t very impressed by what they see through an 80mm scope, no matter how fine: “Well, I think I see the rings.” Interest wanes and into the closet or onto Ebay goes that jewel-like refractor. “OK, then how about a longer focal length refractor? A 4 or 5 or 6-inch achromat, maybe?” There are a few decent ones around that eschew go-to, but generally, the Color Purple and the shakiness the long tubes impart to the class of mounts you usually see these puppies sold on makes the experience less than a happy one for the typical beginner who expects perfection for 500 bucks.

What about a small SCT? One like Celestron’s Omni XLT C5 on a non-go-to GEM? Or maybe one of the Synta-made small MCTs that Orion sells? That could work, but in my experience most tenderfoots (feet?) find GEMs a little scary, and are far more comfortable with “point ‘n shoot”—an alt-azimuth mount of some kind. Something like the new-style alt-az mounts sold by several vendors might serve. I hear lotsa good things about the Astronomy Technologies Voyager mount, especially. Unfortunately, the prospect of buying a tube and mount separate seems to cause confusion and unhappiness with some newbies. Also, for the sprout without a whole lot of money to spend, the small MCT/SCT arena is almost as bad as the APO/ED refractor game when it comes to the cotton pickin’ aperture-for-the-dollar ratio. A 90mm MCT won’t show much—if anything—more than that 80mm ED.

I hope you-uns are sittin’ down. You are about to be surprised. Me, Mr. SCT, thinks, and has for a long time that the best beginner’s scope of all is a DOBSONIAN. Yeppers. A Dob in the 4 – 10-inch range has been Just the Thing for almost every gull-derned newbie it’s been my pleasure to initiate. Which Dob? Ain’t no shortage. Meade, Orion, Zhumell, Sky-Watcher, and many more all sell rock bottom priced scopes in this aperture range. Why do I draw the line at 10-inches when even larger aperture Dobbies (of Chinese heritage, natch) are so blasted cheap? A too-heavy scope, like a too-computerized scope, is a leading cause of the Telescope-in-the-Closet syndrome. You want these folks to see something, sure, but you also want them to want to see it often. A reasonable size Dob will encourage Jane Newamateur to get into the backyard for a 20 minute look at the Moon on a work/school night. A 12 or 16-inch monster derned shore won’t.

Which Dob? Specifically? As above, there are plenty of bargains out there. All the brands listed above are fine for beginner use. But if you just insist on me being specific, I suppose my choices would be either the Orion StarBlast ($179.95), shown above, or Orion’s Skyquest XT-6 ($229.00). Both of these Synta-made scopes are available from the major scope sellers in addition to being sold direct by Orion. They are somewhat different instruments, but either will make a tyro happy. The 6-inch XT is probably the closest thing to an all-round scope, even in this latter day. Being blessed with that classic 6-inch f/8 set o’ optics, it is fully capable of showing all the basic wonders of the universe. All the basic wonders? “Just” a 6-inch? Why, back in my day (you whippersnappers), a 6-inch f/8 Newtonian was the telescope of a lifetime for more than one amateur, and was what most beginners hoped to get SOMEDAY. In addition to a low price that leaves room for plenty of accessories, the XT has, above all, got good optics, optics that will amaze and gratify. Caveats? Be prepared to do some hand-holding during the first trip to Collimation Town, but that is what you and me are here for, ain’t it?

Why would I recommend the StarBlast alongside the XT? It ain’t that much cheaper, and is “only” a 4-inch. Yessir, but what a 4-inch. That’s enough aperture to show many, many objects (I used a 4-inch exclusively for danged near four years, till I learned to grind and polish and figure primaries), and its f/4 focal ratio and red dot finder mean point ‘n shoot heaven. Little escapes even the greenest novice given the little Dob’s enormous field of view. I use a StarBlast regularly myself, and it is capable of jaw-dropping deep sky views (e.g. the entire Veil shining bravely in the little scope’s huge field), but will take 200x on the Moon and planets. It is also supremely portable, cute, and anything but intimidating. Only “uh-oh” is that it gains much of its portability by means of its tiny one-arm-bandit Dob mount. It’s quite stable, but you’ll need something to set it on unless your name is “G.I. Joe” or “Barbie.” Look here for my solution (and a full review of the Small Wonder).

Either of these scopes, the Bushnell 10x50s, the planisphere, and your steady guiding hand will set any newbie on the voyage of a lifetime and will pave the way for the succession of big and complex scopes that will surely follow if you have done your job right. What’s that? How about the What Else? The charts, eyepieces, and what-nots the youngun will also need? In addition to the planisphere, I recommend good old Sky Atlas 2000. Don’t have ‘em buy a magnitude 6 atlas that will be quickly outgrown. SA2000, a little red LED light, and maybe a free download of Cartes du Ciel and your ward is ready for lift-off. What’s that? I’ve left out the most important accessory of all? Wuddabout eyepieces? Ah, now that’s a touchy and thorny subject that deserves its very own blog entry. In other words, “stay tuned.”

Yeah, “It,” recording the objects I see as I travel the deep, deep sky with my beloved telescopes. What did you think I meant? Your Old Uncle Rod has been doing astrophotography for nigh on 45 years, since that first magical evenin’ when I lined-up the lens of my Argus box camera with the eyepiece of my Tasco 3-inch Newt in hopes of getting a picture of a fat full Moon (you can see the—ahem—"results" by going here and scrolling down). From there I progressed to a succession of 35mm SLRs and imaging scopes beginning with an Exacta and a Cave 8-inch f/7 and culminating in an Olympus OM-1 and a Celestron Ultima 8. As the new century dawned, I went digital with a tiny-chipped StarLight Xpress rig, and soon upgraded to big(er) chip SBIGs and Canon DSLRs. I even threw an APO or three into the mix as the first decade of the new age began to wane. But film and silicon have never been my only means of “imaging.”

One thing I’ve done regularly since I was a sprout is draw what I see in the eyepiece. Yep, funny little sketches done with pencil and paper. Nothing’s more low-tech than that, I’ll admit, but, surprisingly, nothing can be more rewarding. When I was doing my city observing book, The Urban Astronomer’s Guide, I had the occasion to pull out a bunch of my old logbooks and pore over the hundreds and thousands of eyepiece drawings I made between the mid 80s and the present (sadly, my logs from my first 20 years of amateur-dom have disappeared over the course of numerous moves and, well, uh, “several” marriages). What did I glean from this trip down memory lane other than some drawings to use in the book? A renewed sense of how wonderful and valuable deep sky sketches are. In some ways they are better than the hugest, best guided CCD images you or me or anybody else can bring home.

How can that be? How can a simple HB pencil costing fiddy cents best an umpteen thousand buck CCD cam in any way? Well, first off, nothing, and I do mean nuttin, is better at showing how deep sky objects look visually in a telescope than a carefully and skillfully made drawing. Want to know how the latest Meade-o-tron wonder will show M13? Don’t look at a half-hour CCD image taken with the subject scope. Those remarkable CCD cameras can go insanely deep, even with a 66mm refractor. But that has no relation at all to what your eye will see in the eyepiece. Look for a drawing. Where? There are plenty online now. Seems as old Unk ain’t the only observer still interested in the Luddite way of picture taking. Two great resources are Deep Sky Observing and Sketching (formerly Skyrover Sketches), and the very active sketching forum on the Cloudy Nights Website. Again, a good drawing comes amazingly closer to the way objects look in the eyepiece, way closer than any photograph or digital image possibly can or ever will.

What else good? You may not think of your humble sketches as “art,” but they are. Once you get into the sketching groove, you’ll come to realize why painting and drawing have survived alongside photography for goin' on two centuries. They don’t just show what is in the subject, they show what is in the observer’s mind. I don’t mean you should go KUH-RAZY, drawing in enormous spiral arms when none were seen in the scope—a drawing should be a record, too—but, for example, rather than trying to record every single star in M13 placed exactly as in the eyepiece, allow your impressions to have a little free reign. If you see the stars on the east side of the glob as forming a spiral pattern or a spider’s leg, allow some of that to enter the drawing. This is the truly remarkable aspect of sketching, and is what made those old drawings of mine seem so fresh. Looking at my picture of M13 from a 1987 summer’s eve, I not only recovered the way my Super C8 Plus showed the Great Cluster, but what it looked like to me, and, with that, a strong waft of memories of a long ago night.

Convinced? Great. Unsure of yourself? You can’t draw, you say? Sure you can. Remember, you ain’t gonna be doin’ Mona Lisa. All that’s needed for deep sky sketching is the ability to draw dots and smudges. Why, I’ll bet even you can do that. Tips on technique? A great place to garner those is the above-mentioned Cloudy Nights forum, but here are some of Unk's idees along these lines:

--Don’t make your sketches too small. It’s much easier to draw things big. I like to use the 11x9-inch sketch “diaries” I buy down to the corner Walgreens Drugstore (“Chemist” for you UKers…you know, like good, old Boots). Before going outside, I’ll draw a series of 6 – 7-inch "field circles," one per page, using a compass and a fine tip marker.

--How do you hold a pencil, a sketch pad, and a red flashlight all at the same time? You don’t. It ain’t easy, anyhow, though I’ve done that. These days I illuminate the sketch pad with one o’ them red “head (band) lights” you find in the hardware stores, which makes for a nice, hands-free sitchy-ation. Be forewarned the red LEDs on most of these thangs are way too bright. I’ve had success dimmin’ ‘em down with a little of Miss Dorothy’s nail polish.

--Can you use a Dob for sketching? How can you nudge it along and draw at the same time? A driven scope does make life easier, sure, but after a while the nudge-sketch, nudge-sketch routine become as easy as pie—no foolin’.

--What do you draw on? One of the aforementioned sketch diaries provides a nice firm surface. If you choose to use single sheets of paper, a clipboard like the Rubbermaid Storage Clipboard works great. It snaps open and provides a nice place to store pencils and paper too.

--What do you draw with? In the field I only use pencils. Drawing pencils (from an art supply store) in grades from about 3H to 6B. For erasing and detail work I use an art gum eraser, also from the art store.

--How do you produce smooth, blended nebulae and galaxies? In the field, I don’t. Instead, I make notes on the paper, “smooth, clumpy,” and just fill in the appropriate tone with the pencil as best I can. Next morning I use my finger (or a “blending stump,” again from the art store, natch) to smooth M51’s graceful arms.

--I sometimes redraw field stars using a fine point marker the next day, but lately have taken to using the air brush function on my PC draw/paint/imaging program to make the stars look nicer and more even. I like to reduce “hardness” to zero on this function, which gives the stars an attractive “soft” edge.

--Obviously, to do that I must scan my drawings into the computer, something I’d do anyway. Not only does that get them into a format that is suitable for posting on the web or inserting into the log I keep on my PC with the help of an observing planning program, it means I have backups in-case my logs go missing.

--As hinted above, if at all possible I try to finish my drawings the very next morning, before my memories of the way the objects looked begin to fade. Certainly, you’ll need to finish/improve your drawings by light of day. What you did under red light will probably look like Hell…BUT… Take care and beware not to add details you didn’t really see.

As you can no doubt tell, Your Old Uncle is a huge fan of Eyepiece Drawing. Not only have my little sketches provided an endless source of pleasant observing memories, they have, I think, added a lot to the books and magazine articles I’ve used 'em in. That doesn’t mean I think they replace digital imaging or should. Sketches and digital images are very different things. CCD pictures (when I can get ‘em to turn out, anyhoo) are great. They allow me to go deep and "see" things I never thought I’d see with my telescopes. My drawings, though? They don’t go near so far into the Great Out There, but they have one huge advantage over the latest mega pixel wonder: they don’t show how those ancient photons impacted a chunk of silicon, they show how they impacted my heart.