Killing time at "the site"

Until I was six, we lived in Austin, Texas; my dad was involved with Project Starlight, which (among other things) attempted to gather credible documentation of UFOs. Ray Stanford, the head of the project, had put together a pretty hefty array of electronics to do so, and dressed everyone in white jumpsuits, lending a really stylish flair to the enterprise.

You can't see it, but a "Project Starlight" logo is embroidered on the chest of my dad's jumpsuit. The white is to reflect infrared radiation from a UFO laser. The goggles are green, which was pretty damn hip. I was four, maybe.

From a February, 1976 "Texas Monthly" article:

"Let us review the purpose of all this equipment, which is known collectively as UFO/VECTOR (UFO/Video Experiment Console for Transitional Overt Response). Let us postulate a UFO hovering over the hills west of Austin looking for action. As soon as it is sighted, the PSI crew, each in a white suit, each with a penlight in his or her pocket, will scramble. They put on their radiation goggles; the magnetometer bleats; the light circle [a computer-controlled ring of 100 floodlights surrounding the site] flashes pi pi pi; from three coordinated camera positions 35mm still telephoto pictures are taken; video signals are recorded; video data is transmitted; through the photomultiplier photos are, uh, multiplied; a soon-to-be-installed gravitometer records any gravitational effects the spacecraft might be producing; a parabolic dish with a microphone attached records the sound."

Meanwhile, I gather rocks in my hat.

Get a load of my dad's canvas slip-on loafers and my longshoreman's boxing ensemble. Man, who says that science on the fringe of respectability can't be well-dressed?

I don't know whose idea it was to put the movie camera on the Jeep, but again: hip. I'd love to know if the important chin-pulling going on is real or for the cameras.