Word: beacons
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...that remains of the Trimountain is Beacon Hill, which is now a curious mixture of artists' colonies and famous houses with distinguished residents. Another peak of the Trimountain, Mount Vernon, disappeared; it used to be just above Louisburg Square (where the carollers go on Christmas Eve) and, according to Walter Muir Whitehill, appeared on most maps "quite unequivocally. . . as Mount Whoredom." To compensate for its disappearance, Scollay Square, also just beyond aristocratic Louisburg, has acquired a new sort of outdoor night life...
...control station sends an order that sets the guidance system on a new track, tilting it 60° from the horizontal. An electric impulse fires explosive bolts to kick off a re-entry capsule, a retrorocket slows the capsule's speed, a drag parachute pops out, a radio beacon shrills signals, and aluminum chaff is released to show on the radar screens of the recovery aircraft and ships waiting anxiously below. All this must be accomplished on a rigid time schedule with millisecond accuracy if the Discoverer is to be successfully recovered...
Almost as soon as Tiros was safely in orbit, two small weights swung out from its rim and slowed its spin from 136 to 12 revolutions per minute. This strikingly simple trick, like a whirling skater slowing his spin by raising his arms, made photography possible. Two beacon radios called out the satellite's position, reported its inside temperatures and the condition of the apparatus on board. Solar cells topped off the batteries. Nine small instruments observed the bearing of the sun, and another reported the position of the earth's horizon...
Tiros was now ready for business, and business soon came. At Fort Monmouth, N.J., a 60-ft. dish antenna of the Army Signal Corps picked up the satellite's radio beacon as it came over the curve of the earth. Up from the ground went a coded signal that made the satellite's innards spring into frantic activity. A shutter opened and closed. Electronic pulses flashed through tangles of hair-thin wire...
Phenomenal Rise. Born on the sunny, frosty side of Boston's Beacon Hill, Hale grew up in Manhattan, studied at Columbia, the Sorbonne and Manhattan's Art Students League. "I really learned drawing at the League," he says gently, smiling from the corner of his Raymond Massey mouth. "You learn something when you are with it more than eight hours a day." Hale went on to become a drawing instructor at the League and elsewhere, seemed destined for genteel, professorial obscurity until 1949, when the late Metropolitan Museum director, Francis Henry Taylor, tapped him for curator of contemporary...