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Anyone who doubts that astronomy is enjoying a golden age has only to browse the pages of Organizations and Strategies in Astronomy, Vol. 5. Our golden age is defined not only by the enormity of new discoveries of dark energy, dark matter, extra-solar planets, and the evolution of Mars, but also by the breadth, diversity, and creativity within our community. This volume records our history, in a period of such rapid change and growth that individual astronomers are hard-pressed to keep abreast of their own fields and neighborhoods, much less of developments world-wide. Since the 1950's, changes in the landscape of astronomy are manifold. We have witnessed two epochs of big telescope construction, the 4-meter class telescopes of the'60s and'70s and the 8-to lO-meter class telescopes of the'90s, continuing through today. We accomplished the transition from photographic to digital data, and we continue to improve the size and sen­ sitivity of astronomical detectors. We have witnessed the flowering of radio astronomy and the opening of the full electromagnetic spectrum through space astronomy. We have seen the growth of national and international astronomy facilities, and a dramatic broadening of the accessibility of data, both through observing facilities available through open competition based on scientific merit and through deep, rich archives of data.

Astronomyhasalwaysbeenoneoftheeasiestofthesciencestoconveyto the public. That is partly because it produces spectacular pictures that can be explained (at least in part) and admired, partly because understanding of astronomy usually does not depend upon a knowledge of a complex cl- si?cation system or esoteric terminology, and partly because its extremes in distances and times challenge our imagination and philosophies. Most scientists enjoy sharing with others the discoveries made by th- selves and their colleagues. The primary purpose of scienti?c research is to discover, to learn, and to understand. When we succeed, we enjoy sh- ing that understanding. Education is most pleasurable when our audience wishes to learn and we have something important to convey. A?eldthatdoesnotcommunicatee?ectivelywiththepublicsoonlooses its interest and support. Author Andr´ e Heck explains the many di?erent ways in which professional communication now occurs while Leslie Sage explains how such communication should be done. Astronomy done with spacecraft and large equipment is very expensive and the funds for those ultimately come from the public. The cost of astronomy prorated over the number of research astronomers is perhaps the highest in all the sciences. If astronomers do not share their results with the public, they will loose its support. However, for most astronomers the desire to share and educate dominates over the pragmatic need to win public support. With the advent of new communication techniques (television, videos, CDs, DVDs, animation, simulations) we have new methods to commu- cate, in addition to the conventional ones of the printed and spoken word.

I am most grateful to Andr´ e Heck for his invitation to write a foreword to OSA Volume 4 – I will use this valued opportunity to emphasise those topics in Vol. 4 which I consider important even if other topics may be of even greater importance in the universal scale of things. At the outset let me say that I commend Vol. 4 to its readers – it contains much of very great interest for organisations and strategies in astronomy. A topic which I consider to be of very great importance at this time is Adverse Environmental Impact on Astronomy. There are two papers on this topic in OSA 4 – Cohen on Strategies for Protecting Radio Ast- nomy and Schwarz on Light Pollution Control. The growth in the extent of use, the power and spectral demand for radio transmission continues to increase virtually exponentially. The impact on the ‘listening'services such as radio astronomy has been severe. Only by creativity in developing new techniques for radio noise (including legal transmissions) reduction and by participating fully in the allocation process for radio frequencies has radio astronomy developed to the powerful investigative tool it is today.

The pilot boat just moved away and'its lights are already fading towards the coast of Northeastern Queensland over which Saturn is going to set. There is still quite some time to go before dawn. The big ship has now regained her cruise speed following its roughly northwesterly route in the South Coral Sea along the chain of nearby reefs. Few people are around at this time, except a dozen early birds sharing some'shipshaping'exercise on the top deck and taking advantage of the relative coolness of the night. On my way down to the stateroom, I cannot but stop once more in front of that elegant composition by British artist Brigid Collins (1963-) hanging in the monumental staircase between Decks 7 and 8. That piece 2 of art, a 1.8x 1.8m oil on canvas plus collage entitled Berinl in honour of the Danish explorer, gathers together many navigation-related themes of the time: Suns, Moons, planets, sky maps, astrolabes, small telescopes, as well as drawings, diagrams and charts of all kinds. It is somehow a digest of how astronomical information was then collected, made available, and used.

Research and publications in the field of Astronomy have undergone dramatic changes in the last half-century. While activities just slowed down during World War II in the US and in Latin America, they were very strongly affected by the difficult conditions prevailing among the European belligerent nations. Half a century ago, re­ search activities were mostly confined to observatories (linked or not to universities) and usually separated from the teaching of physical sciences. Hence, directors of observatories played an important role in the choice of the research fields, and'schools'of research appeared at various places, de­ veloping specific instrumentation, reduction techniques and mathematical methods to achieve their scientific goals. Reorganising the research activities after the war was no minor under­ taking, specially because communications were interrupted for over five years and isolated continental Europe from overseas activities. Scarcity of observing instruments (some of them being requisitioned by occupy­ ing armies), enormous gaps in the available litterature led to local research activities, conducted independently of similar efforts undertaken elsewhere.

Seated in a sun-lit corner of his 17th century Dutch house, his hand touching a celestial globe, Johannes Vermeer's'Astronomer'seems to pon­ der about the mysteries of the universe. We might make the trip to Paris and ask him, in the Louvre, what precisely is on his mind. Unfortunately, there will be no answer. But we do know what his mind was not on. It was not on the approaching deadlines for the proposals he would have to write for getting funds and telescope-time, not on the meeting of the observing programs committee, not on his refereeing duty for the journal Astronomy & Astrophysics, nor on his university's tightening budget for science. In the Kapteyn Institute at Groningen I stand face to face with the im­ pressive portrait of J.C. Kapteyn, painted in the year 1918. Seated at his desk he is doing his calculations with pen, pencil and tables, perhaps check­ ing the work of his skilled staff of human computers. Early in his career he had completed his magnum opus, the Cape Photographic Durchmusterung in collaboration with his close friend David Gill at Capetown, South Africa.

We have arrived at the third volume of this useful series on Organiza­ tions and Strategies in Astronomy (OSA). It contains seventeen articles on a wide range of topics, from virtual observatories, astronomy organizations in various communities (Czech Republic, Slovak Republic, South Africa), and the role of ground stations in space observatories, to quality assurance in UK higher education. In this foreword, I shall give some views on ideas expressed in this volume, in particular from my personal experience when I was project officer for the Canada-France-Hawaii Telescope (CFHT). Let me first remind readers that present and future astronomy is in­ creasingly dependent on high-level management. Not everybody knows that the scheduling of the Hubble Space Telescope is performed by a neural­ network software called SPIKE, described in the stimulating workshop New Observing Modes for the Next Centuryl, partly reported in OSA Volume II by 1. Robson. New observing facilities, in space or on the ground, are so complex that they need highly qualified engineers and rigorous management procedures. Each observing hour on the Very Large Telescope (VLT) fa­ cility is worth about EUR 7,000, including the amortization of the capital expenses over 30 years. This does not leave much room for amateurism, neither in the time allocation procedures, nor in the daily telescope control.

When I wasa child, growing up in South America,I often went camping in the wild and hence had direct access to the wondrous Southern sky; the Southern Cross was all mine at the time. Little did I know then that the study of the sky would take such a huge importance in my life, and that in the end astronomy and astrophysics would in many ways become my country and my religion. I have lived in several di?erent countries, and when asked my nationality, I am always very tempted to reply: astronomer. I started as a theorist, and my only dream in my youth was to spend nights thinking and calculating, with paper and pencil, and to have the impression by dawn that I had understood something new. So at the time astronomy was seen or dreamt by me as a solitary endeavour, with periodic encounters with my wise adviser and professors; it is this model that I adopted when doing my PhD work. My generation has lived through many revolutions of all kinds. Those in astronomy, I believe, remain particularly remarkable, and I am a true product of them. Now, I elect to live and work in large organizations, and to share my endeavours with many people. And I relish the series of Andr´ e Heck on Organizations and Strategies in Astronomy, which help us recover our memories, reconstitute our own story, and read with glee about our neighbouring or far-away colleagues.

This book is dedicated to the memory of Gisèle Mersch whose life ended prematurely in June 2002. Back in the 1970s, when few people were using them, Gisèle introduced me to the arcane secrets of then advanced m- tivariate statistical methodologies. I was already involved in more classical statistical studies undertaken at Paris Observatory with Jean Jung: developing and applying maxim- likelihood algorithms to stellar photometric and kinematic data in order to derive absolute luminosities, distances and velocities in the solar neighb- hood. But what could be envisaged with those methodologies was something of another dimension: for the first time, I could really see how to extract information from massive amounts of data without calling for elaborated physical or mechanical theories. Several pioneering applications were developed under Gisèle's guidance and with her collaboration to study the delicate interface between spect- scopic and photometric data. Thus errors in spectral classifications were investigated as well as predictions of spectral classifications from pho- metric indices (see Heck 1976, Heck et al. 1977, Heck & Mersch 1980 and Mersch & Heck 1980), with very interesting results for the time. Gisèle also took part in studies of period determination algorithms (see Mersch & Heck 1981, Manfroid et al. 1983 and Heck et al. 1985).