THE SOUTHWORTH PLANETARIUM

70 Falmouth Street      Portland,Maine 04103

(207) 780-4249      usm.maine.edu/planet

43.6667° N    70.2667° W  Altitude:  10 feet below sea level Founded January 1970

2021-2022: XXVIII

"We are what we believe we are."

-C.S. Lewis

THE DAILY ASTRONOMER Wednesday, October 13, 2021

A Lunar Eclipse Story

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Dedicated to the memory of Steven O Innes,

who, unbelievably, died ten years ago this month.

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Today, a story. Unlike most stories that appear in the Daily Astronomer, this one is completely true. The time period was autumn 2004: a while ago, around the time that Oedipus and Laius experienced that road rage moment at the Delphi/Daulis nexus. We had organized a lunar eclipse viewing event that we knew was preordained to be a Homeric humdinger of a do.

You understand, launching a successful celestial sighting event involves five factors. First, clear skies are imperative. Very few people unschooled in applied mesmerism can captivate an audience under overcast skies by speaking about "what we could see if we were 10,000 feet tall." Secondly, the event has to be scheduled at a decent hour, meaning before midnight. (In astronomical circles, of course, decent hours are a theoretical impossibility.) Third, fair weather is preferred. Some hearty souls might be willing to endure assailing gusts and marrow-chilling cold to witness an astronomical happening, but that fanatical demographic is vanishingly small. Fourth, widespread publicity is a must. We recognize that if you don't offer thrill rides or bliss-inducing beverages, an event will attract only 1 - 4% of all those who hear about it. Consequently, one must announce the date to thousands upon thousands. Finally, you need a coterie of experts on hand, preferably with telescopes, to engage visitors. The one thing you DON'T want is a throng of eager people queuing up in front of just one station. Take it from Louis XVI, eager throngs can transform into a rioting mobs at the drop of a chapeau.

So, in the autumn of 2004, all the stars were aligned, the planets properly configured and everything was going our way. First, the skies were so crystalline clear we could have seen badminton games on Betelgeuse and meteor showers on the far side of Andromeda. Secondly, the weather was sublime. As any weather-beaten New Englander would tell you, October air can either bite or caress. That night we had sultry temperatures and silk-smooth zephyrs. Third, the lunar eclipse was going to be total in the early evening. One would have thought it had been organized by a five-star rated concierge. Fourth, we spread the word far and wide: from the loftiest summits to the remotest bogs to the most dangerous dives where patrons tip with their fists. Everybody and his third cousin knew about that impending eclipse and that the Southworth Planetarium was holding a free observation event. Fifth, we had people! And, I mean, great people from the local astronomical societies with their telescopic arrays, binoculars, laser guided missiles and all manner of high tech equipment. (Or what passed for high tech in 2004.) Seven stations were being assembled as the orange-tinted full moon ascended in the rose-tinctured sky.

And then I panicked.

My countenance contorted -i.e. improved- by terror, I looked at Steve Innes, planetarium technician, and said, "We're going to need a bigger boat." Steve shrugged and replied, "We'll probably be ok." If you never had the great fortune of knowing Steve Innes, realize that his calm reaction did little to allay my fear. Steve was so afflicted with strength and maturity that he would have maintained his composure had be been standing at the epicenter of Pandemonium. Since nothing fazed him, I didn't derive comfort from his characteristic sangfroid.

It is natural to want a lot of people to attend your shows and events. In fact, planetarium people, like cinema managers, thrive on posteriors in seats. However, the prospect of the entire Greater Portland population descending inexorably onto our facility like a swarm of land conquering Mongols made my peripheral nervous system go all incandescent. I stood outside the Science Building and prayed to any god/goddess inclined to listen. (Hopefully they'd forget that they had already given me the clear skies, clement weather, convenient timing, widespread publicity, and battalion of experts I had so ardently requested earlier.) After muttering my pathetic supplications to the receiving heavens, I waited. Based on past events, I suspected that the attendance would be 200 - 300, maybe a bit more and tried to breathe and remain calm.

We ended up having five.

Not five hundred.

Five!

And three of those five hadn't even planned to attend. They just happened to wander by and on seeing all of us standing there like befuddled members of the terracotta army, stopped and asked, "What's this, then?"

Damn. Corrupt republics have never experienced that kind of rapid deflation. Imagine Mick Jagger's reaction if he and his Rolling Stone cohorts had flown into Foxboro preparing to stagger Gillette Stadium, only to find themselves playing to an ech0-filled venue, empty apart from the grounds crew, most of whom were only pretending to be interested.

When experiencing such a profound disappointment, one quickly seeks some sort of solace. There just had to be an explanation! (i.e. it had to be somebody else's fault.) And, believe it or not, there was an explanation. On that very night, the Boston Red Sox won the World Series for the first time since 1918. The teeming hordes that should have been clogging Portland's streets and stick fighting over parking spots in front of the planetarium were instead engrossed in a sporting event.

Oh, well. There's no crying in astronomy.

When the first sliver of bright moon slipped out of Earth's umbra, everyone started packing up and preparing to depart. The gods that we thought had proven so cooperative had actually been conspiring against us. I walked up to Steve as he was adroitly dissembling a telescope and said, "You're a marvel. You always keep it together."

He shrugged again, "Situations don't change if you yell and scream at them."

Even to this day, I don't think that could possibly be true.

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