Heretic, Rebel, a Thing to Flout
An Eclectic Journal of Opinion, History, Poetry and General Bloviating
Friday, July 10, 2026
Walking the Walk and Compassion for Campers Update for July 10, 2026
How Telestar Accidently Beamed the Cubs to Earth
There were a lot of firsts involved when Telstar 1 was launched on top of a Thor-Delta rocket from Cape Canaveral, Florida on July 10, 1962.
It was the first active telecommunications satellite, capable of relaying television broadcasts, bundled telephone calls, and fax images.
Echo I, launched by NASA in 1960 had been a glorified weather balloon—a Mylar inflated sphere off which microwave signals could be bounced from one Earth station to another. Although millions of Americans, me included, spent hours watching darkened skies for the passage of the gleaming object in orbit, Echo’s usefulness as a communications device was more symbolic than real.
Telstar, developed jointly by American Bell Labs, the British General Post Office, and the French National PTT (Post, Telegraph & Telecom Office) was intended to provide an active and practical link across the Atlantic Ocean for multiple communications uses.
Telstar was also the first privately (or public/private because of the original consortium’s socialized European partners) satellite and NASA was paid for its launching facilities, rocket, and support system.
Built at Bell Labs, the satellite resembled a small ball. It was only 34.5 inches in diameter and weighed 177 pounds—about the maximum size for the limited lift capacity of NASA’s Delta rockets. It was covered with several innovative solar cells which generated a paltry 14 watts of power. The solar cells were a breakthrough. So were the transistors which replaced most of the bulky tubes for radio communications and the traveling-wave tube which helped amplify weak radio signals on their return to earth. All in all, it was a technological marvel.
The satellite was placed in a medium altitude elliptical orbit completed once every 2 hours and 37 minutes. That meant that Telstar could only be used to relay communications across the Atlantic for about 20 minutes out of every orbit. Subsequent communications satellites were launched into geosynchronous orbit much higher but stationary in relationship to a point on Earth making them continuously operable.
There were launch jitters associated with the Delta rocket, which was less than totally reliable. A number of launches had ended in spectacular failure. But Telstar reached orbit successfully.
On July 11 test television images of an American Flag outside the Andover, Maine Earth Station were transmitted to a French station at Pleumeur-Bodou.
Public service was inaugurated in a highly publicized broadcast involving Eurovision on the continent, all three American television networks, and the Canadian Broadcasting Company. Walter Cronkite, an enthusiastic booster of the space program, and NBC’s Chet Huntley anchored from New York while the BBC’s Richard Dimbleby did the honors from Brussels.
Following live shots of the Statue of Liberty and the Eifel Tower, President John F. Kennedy was slated to make introductory remarks. But the system acquired satellite connection early and Kennedy was not ready. Instead, viewers were suddenly watching an in-progress game between the Philadelphia Phillies and Chicago Cubs at Wrigley Field. Mystified Europeans only got to see one play before the broadcast continued with a segment from Washington, D.C., where Kennedy was conducting a news conference and answering a question about the value of the Dollar. Segments from Cape Canaveral, Quebec, and Stratford, Ontario rounded out the North American portion of the program.
Later in the evening, Telstar began relaying telephone calls and fax messages.
Public excitement was high. The satellite was featured on the covers of popular magazines, and the subject of many newspaper articles. For a while an American news broadcast that did not show at least a snippet of news originating in Europe would not have been complete.
The Tornadoes became first English pop group to score a Number 1 hit in the U.S. with their instrumental Telstar. The song was also covered successfully in this country by The Ventures—the version I best remember in Cheyenne—and Bobby Vinton.
But Telstar’s glory days as the poster child of President Kennedy’s “peaceful uses of outer space” were doomed. Just one day before the launch the U.S. tested Starfish Prime, a high-altitude nuclear bomb which energized the Van Allen Belt in which Telstar was sent into orbit. In Cold War tit-for-tat the Soviets exploded a similar weapon in October. The huge increase in radiation over what designers had expected overwhelmed the satellite’s transistors and it failed in December. Engineers were able to re-start it again in January 1963, but it failed again permanently in February
It was replaced by a nearly identical Telstar 2 in May 1963. Soon other communications satellites including two RCA Relay units and two Syncom units from the Hughes Aircraft Company were also in service. Syncom 2 was the first geosynchronous satellite and its successor, Syncom 3, broadcasted pictures live from the 1964 Summer Olympics from Tokyo.
By the way, NASA reports that both Telstar 1 and 2 continue to orbit the Earth, just two more pieces of cold, dead space junk.
Thursday, July 9, 2026
Recalling Highland Park and the Day That the Shield Failed—Murfin Verse
Note—It has been four years since the bloody attack on a Highland Park, Illinois Independence Day parade. The wounds are still raw, the trauma never really healed. Here is my blog post from this date in 2022.
As I was attending a reproductive rights rally in Crystal Lake on July 4th we got word of a shooting at an Independence Day parade in Highland Park, one of the toney and leafy North Shore suburbs of Chicago. Later during a family gathering at the Murfin Estate cell phones began to deliver grizzly details—roof-top shooter with an automatic weapon, six dead—initially—scores injured including children, a whole community traumatized. By the ten o’clock news the suspected assailant, a troubled local young man with death obsessions and neo-Nazi and Trumpist connections. The news in these parts has been filled with gory and tragic details, identification of victims, revelations of the perpetrator’s troubled life, and vigil after vigil.
Once again tragedy has moved me to commit poetry. Over the last twenty years I have written too many verses to count about gun violence and mass murder—enough to fill at least a slim volume or occupy a whole evening of readings. I have evidently become the poet laureate of carnage, grief, and rage. Yet here I am at it again.
But perhaps I have grown cynical and callous. Re-reading the verse below a few hours after writing made it seem so. But it actually reflected the conflicted emotions I was feeling. Especially after learning that an unarmed young Black man in Akron, Ohio was shot by police 60 times running away from a traffic stop while the murderous creep in Illinois was taken into custody without harm after a brief pursuit.
I may have been too harsh in my judgement. Despite its wealth and overwhelmingly White population, the eventual seven dead included four Jews, two elderly Latino men visiting the city for the parade, one Latina and her Irish-American husband. The bad boy terrorist could not have picked better targets for a neo-Nazi, despite apparently spraying the crowd at random. But maybe the hometown scion knew his community well enough to figure out the likely victims.
At any rate, here is the latest Murfin verse.
The Day the Shield Failed
July 4, 2022
It turned out, after all,
that the protection
of wealth and White privilege
was not a Star Trek shield—
phasers, torpedoes
and ordinary bullets
did not bounce off
harmlessly
on a day of
gay celebration
of a founding mythos
and the very idea
of benevolent blessings
and invulnerability.
But there was plenty of harm
done that day
wrecked not by an alien
but a defective member
of their own privileged class
blithely handed his weapon
fit for any military carnage.
The next day they wandered stunned
amid abandoned chairs,
strollers, and heat spoiling treats
“not here,
not us,
not now,
not them
them
them.”
Pardon nice people
let me introduce you—
chickens, roost,
roost, chickens.
—Patrick Murfin
Wednesday, July 8, 2026
Jonathan Mayhew Was the Neglected Prophet of Pre-Revolutionary Boston
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The Rev. Jonathan Mayhew--a religious and political radical and visionary of old Boston. |
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Puritan firebrand Rev. Jonathan Edwards appalled Mayhew. |
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Mayhew's words inspired the Sons of Liberty, seen here burning copies of the Stamp Act. They were "read by everybody" recalled John Adams. |
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Powerful Lt. Governor Thomas Hutchinson blamed Mayhew's sermon for the mob that burned down his house. |
In addition to his influence on the Sons of Liberty and the American Revolution, Mayhew’s religious ideas, except for his proto-universalism, were quietly adopted by a new generation of Harvard graduates and ministers. In the years following the revolution all most all Boston churches affiliated with the Standing Order were quietly but unofficially unitarian. An open break with the Congregationalists however did not come until William Ellery Channing’s Baltimore sermon in 1819. Ironically Mayhew’s old congregation Old West was one of only two Boston churches to remain with the orthodox Congregationalists.











