Free The Perfect Machine by Ronald Florence
Authors: Ronald Florence
Elihu Root, famed for his cool intellect, to solicit his views. Root, openly grumpy about being telephoned so late, came over to the White House, read through the proposal and asked the president, “What damn fool suggested this idea?” With that Carnegie decided to establish an independent body, the Carnegie Institution, to administer his bequest. Root was a charter member of the board and later became vice chairman, then chairman.
Ever thorough, Hale prepared his pitch to the new organization by reading Carnegie’s writings. Carnegie had publicly expressed his admiration for Lick’s telescope bequest: “If any millionaire be interested in the ennobling study of astronomy—here is an example which could well be followed, for the progress made in astronomical instruments and appliances is so great and continuous that every few years a new telescope might judiciously be given to one of the observatories upon this continent, the last always being the largest and best, and certain to carry further and further the knowledge of the universe and ourrelation to it here upon earth.” To George Hale that sounded like an invitation.
Hale launched an appeal to Carnegie with a barrage of letters, photographs, recommendations from other astronomers, and exhibits of what a big reflector could do compared to even the large refractors at Lick and Yerkes. Edward Pickering, director of the Harvard College Observatory, who had been chosen to chair the Advisory Committee on Astronomy for the new Carnegie Institution, asked Hale to join the committee. Hale was thrilled at the invitation, but even a position as an insider didn’t help with his pet project. Like many philanthropists Carnegie preferred to initiate programs, rather than finish programs started by someone else.
The first substantial astronomy grant the Carnegie Institution made was to support J. W. Hussey of the Lick Observatory in an expedition to search for possible sites in the United States, Australia, or New Zealand for “a southern and solar observatory.” Hale’s own work was in solar astronomy, and when Hussey set off in 1903, Hale followed his reports of the excellent atmospheric conditions in Southern California. One site Hussey visited was a remote mountain rising above the desert roughly halfway between Los Angeles and San Diego. “Nothing prepares one for the surprise of Palomar,” Hussey wrote.
There it stands, a hanging garden above the arid lands. Springs of water burst out of the hillsides and cross the roads in rivulets. The road is through forests that a king might covet—oak and cedar and stately fir. A valley where the cattle stand knee deep in grass has on one side a line of hills as desolate as Nevada; on the other side majestic slopes of pines.
The observing conditions at a station some thirty miles southeast of Palomar were so bad that Hussey didn’t bother taking his telescope and measuring equipment to Palomar. The mountain had no regular stage or telephone and could be reached only by a road laid out with a 10 percent grade and some steeper portions; it was too remote for an observatory in 1903. But Hale would long remember the description, and Hussey’s raptures of the beauty of the spot and the clarity of the seeing. On the basis of Hussey’s reports, the Carnegie Institution chose Wilson’s Peak, close to Pasadena, as the site for a solar observatory and, Hale hoped, the sixty-inch telescope.
Even with a site selected for the future observatory, the partly ground sixty-inch mirror languished in the basement optics laboratory at Yerkes, waiting for money to finish figuring the mirror and to build a mounting for a telescope. In 1904 the Carnegie Institution gave Hale $10,000 for Mount Wilson, and even that was only a token grant, barely enough to keep Hale’s hopes up. He paid $27,000 out of his own funds to keep the work going. It wasn’t until the marine biologistAlexander Agassiz decided not to accept a $65,000 per year grant for
Ever thorough, Hale prepared his pitch to the new organization by reading Carnegie’s writings. Carnegie had publicly expressed his admiration for Lick’s telescope bequest: “If any millionaire be interested in the ennobling study of astronomy—here is an example which could well be followed, for the progress made in astronomical instruments and appliances is so great and continuous that every few years a new telescope might judiciously be given to one of the observatories upon this continent, the last always being the largest and best, and certain to carry further and further the knowledge of the universe and ourrelation to it here upon earth.” To George Hale that sounded like an invitation.
Hale launched an appeal to Carnegie with a barrage of letters, photographs, recommendations from other astronomers, and exhibits of what a big reflector could do compared to even the large refractors at Lick and Yerkes. Edward Pickering, director of the Harvard College Observatory, who had been chosen to chair the Advisory Committee on Astronomy for the new Carnegie Institution, asked Hale to join the committee. Hale was thrilled at the invitation, but even a position as an insider didn’t help with his pet project. Like many philanthropists Carnegie preferred to initiate programs, rather than finish programs started by someone else.
The first substantial astronomy grant the Carnegie Institution made was to support J. W. Hussey of the Lick Observatory in an expedition to search for possible sites in the United States, Australia, or New Zealand for “a southern and solar observatory.” Hale’s own work was in solar astronomy, and when Hussey set off in 1903, Hale followed his reports of the excellent atmospheric conditions in Southern California. One site Hussey visited was a remote mountain rising above the desert roughly halfway between Los Angeles and San Diego. “Nothing prepares one for the surprise of Palomar,” Hussey wrote.
There it stands, a hanging garden above the arid lands. Springs of water burst out of the hillsides and cross the roads in rivulets. The road is through forests that a king might covet—oak and cedar and stately fir. A valley where the cattle stand knee deep in grass has on one side a line of hills as desolate as Nevada; on the other side majestic slopes of pines.
The observing conditions at a station some thirty miles southeast of Palomar were so bad that Hussey didn’t bother taking his telescope and measuring equipment to Palomar. The mountain had no regular stage or telephone and could be reached only by a road laid out with a 10 percent grade and some steeper portions; it was too remote for an observatory in 1903. But Hale would long remember the description, and Hussey’s raptures of the beauty of the spot and the clarity of the seeing. On the basis of Hussey’s reports, the Carnegie Institution chose Wilson’s Peak, close to Pasadena, as the site for a solar observatory and, Hale hoped, the sixty-inch telescope.
Even with a site selected for the future observatory, the partly ground sixty-inch mirror languished in the basement optics laboratory at Yerkes, waiting for money to finish figuring the mirror and to build a mounting for a telescope. In 1904 the Carnegie Institution gave Hale $10,000 for Mount Wilson, and even that was only a token grant, barely enough to keep Hale’s hopes up. He paid $27,000 out of his own funds to keep the work going. It wasn’t until the marine biologistAlexander Agassiz decided not to accept a $65,000 per year grant for