P.N.ZOYTLOW

Saturday morning, still abed in Phoenix, the Observer heard a radio whisper that the Lowell Observatory in Flagstaff, Arizona was marking the 75th anniversary of its discovery of the planet Pluto with a public event scheduled for Sunday evening, March 13.  Straight-away, he made immediate plans to be in Flagstaff at the appointed hour.

The celebration was to take the form of an open house from 6:30 until 9:00 PM at the famed Observatory atop Mars Hill in Flagstaff.  Following the strict guidelines governing these Field Reports, one and one-quarter hours (75 min.) were allocated to studying this unusual event. Then unease: would it be fair to allocate such a small amount of time? Perhaps not, but rigorous training helped the Observer recall the discipline required to keep this research in line with previous reports. But was he already too excited to report dispassionately, realizing he had stumbled on a fiesta given for a nasty planet like Pluto? Tough questions.  To make sure of the details, the Observer drove up to the observatory in the late afternoon to confirm the event. This is only good science: a scrupulous preparation for the observation itself.  A young woman was on duty and assured him that there would be different activities presented in an open house format; that is, the public could show up anytime between 6:30 and 9:00 PM and still enjoy the entire program. Boorish though it was, the question needed asking: would the activities involve refreshments?  “Absolutely not!”   was the answer followed by “an observatory cannot risk sticky fingerprints on the exhibits or equipment.” This Observer had his own reasons for being disappointed at this bit of news, but not for the obvious reason, (free) food. No, he wanted to see, in detail, down to the color of any possible cupcakes or punch what kind of a party astronomers would give to honor the discovery of a dismal planet.

March 13th was also the 150th birthday of Percival Lowell who had founded the observatory in 1894 and set its direction to find a “Planet X.” Lowell hypothesized that a “Trans-Neptunian Planet” would be found, but at the time of his death in 1916, it had eluded him. Later, in 1929 and 1930, a young astronomer, Clyde Tombaugh, again took up the challenge and succeeded in finding Pluto on February 18, 1930. The announcement was withheld from our own planet until March 13th so that careful verification of data would protect the Observatory from howling derision.  The worst thing that can happen to astronomers is to discover something that does not exist.  It is very hard on your job mobility. Clyde Tombaugh took no chances. You can tell this by his photographs: there he sits before the eyepiece of some great astral tube, dressed in a three piece suit, nicely groomed and wearing those terrific round and dark-rimmed spectacles that simply everyone with a brain wanted to wear during those times. But  let us return to the Field Report.

When this Observer returned to the Observatory (hmm…) for the open house at  7:30 only a horned crescent moon hung in the black sky above Mars Hill, but there were more than a few clouds in evidence. Inside the lobby of the Education Building a poster announced the events of the evening, but viewings of the sky would not be among them. Unfavorable conditions. Instead, visitors were directed to displays, equipment, photographs and the like here and in an older building, the Rotunda. But first, a multimedia presentation in an adjoining lecture hall. The Observatory was unveiling, for the first time, a presentation which would henceforth orient visitors to the place by telling them something about its history and present work. A slim and well-spoken Lowellian circled around the lobby and encouraged guests to enter an adjoining lecture hall.  Perhaps 25 did so. It should be noted that the open house was not well-attended and most of those present had that wan academic look. The Observer, setting aside objectivity, felt a pang of sadness for Pluto and its handlers.

The lights dimmed and the screen was filled with projected views of the Universe moving either towards or away from us. It was hard to tell. Either way, this silent cosmic floating could cause a loneliness and introspection.  About this time a small child (one of the very few present) in the lobby briefly began making a sort of baboon-like whooping sound, quite joyful really, but annoying as hell.  This was in sharp contrast to the New Age crooning (mainly ahhing and even oohing) by Enya which had been chosen to musically accompany the images on the screen. Was the audience was being manipulated into a mood of powerlessness? We are mere specks after all. Then unexpectedly, one by one, images of  jovial scientists floated across the background of distant stars and galaxies while subtitles identified them and their current projects. Pluto was not among them.  Seventy people, from astronomers to clerical staff, lens grinders and groundskeepers all took their turn floating across in a heavenly parade. Enya’s crooning never let up and then, fifteen minutes later, it was over. But not one word about Pluto, or if there was, it must have been cancelled out by this Observer’s own sense of miniscule insignificance following the Big Bang.

Then it was off to the Rotunda where Percival Lowell had toiled. On display, many lovely brass instruments for measuring this and that and finally, the thing that Clyde Tombaugh had been looking into when Pluto showed up. It was not a telescope!  What a disappointment to the general public to learn that the elusive Trans-Neptunian, Pluto, was not plucked from the sky with a huge spyglass. One by one the guests solemnly peered into the blink comparator that Tombaugh had used for months 75 years ago, comparing photographic images that, at last, revealed the speck that was Pluto. Looking through the device leads to a sobering appreciation, not of Pluto, but of the demands of the scientific method and how infrequently the rewards are as intoxicating as they were for young Tombaugh that evening. As the tale is told, the young man had to re-photograph the sky as one part of the verification process, but as the sky was obscured that evening he went down the hill to see a movie. It happened to be “The Virginian” with Gary Cooper. To quote from the Lowell newsletter, “This movie, incidentally, was based on the first Western ever written, and was published in 1902, the year that [Percival] Lowell first mentioned his belief in a ninth planet.”  What a strange and unexpected notion!  Here was a vision of a Big Bang so immense that it could encompass both hard science and softer popular culture. Only a Supreme Intelligence could have wrought that. Again, one can be reduced to a speck of miniscule significance, right?

It has been already mentioned that there were no more than forty of the truly curious on hand for the celebration and when this Observer returned from the Rotunda most of them had already descended on a sheet cake being cut into squares by two soft-spoken, even reticent ladies.  FORBIDDEN CAKE!!  Capable of gumming up the machinery of planetary discovery!  Did its presence suggest a schism at Lowell, those hedonists who were for introducing party food against those who were of a more severe tradition?  But to return to the cake: this Observer had hoped that describing such an object would have put some frosting (sorry!) on what would otherwise be just another dull Field Report in the annals of science. What would a Pluto-Torte look like? Would it say “Happy Birthday, Pluto” or “Happy 75th” or  simply “Eureka!”   But this white cake which would unlock these secrets of astronomical minds had been mostly consumed. How had the cake been decorated?  One of the ladies thought a moment and said she could not recall, the other one told me that it had been decorated with green representations of Martians. This seemed a rather tasteless, if inadvertent, dig at the great benefactor Percival Lowell himself who had once, in 1905 or so, published his erroneous convictions about life on Mars. The cake itself had a layer of pudding which made it the worst possible choice to serve in a serious Observatory intent on protecting itself from earthly stickiness.

It was now 8:35 and only enough time to ask a few questions and inspect the gift shop. Here were the usual sweatshirts that glowed in the dark, educational toys, wonderful books on astronomy, and many star charts for those who wished to become more informed stargazers.  Again, there was very little to suggest that Pluto had been discovered here. Or its moon, Charon, discovered in 1988.   Where were the coffee mugs with the planet pictured on it, despite the comparative ugliness of the little plant?   How about a poster of the ninth planet? A baseball cap, at least, with the honored lump on it?  Nothing, nada, nichts!  The only thing for sale was a cloth patch: “Lowell Observatory. Discovery of Pluto.1930” which could be sewed on your sleeve. And who has the time do a thing like that?

Time to go. The horned moon was more directly overhead and the sky cleared as it did not for Tombaugh 75 years ago. Too late to crank up the big old Clarke telescope and have the public peer upwards. These things take time and the party was over, the guests straggling out into the parking lot and descending Mars Hill, one automobile at a time