Zooming through the heavens for a picnic on Mars

Zooming through the heavens for a picnic on Mars

The new computer-controlled Charles Hayden Planetarium • Photo Credit Museum of Science, Boston © Michael Malyszko 2010

Originally published 22 March 1993

Sput­nik! Amer­i­ca’s rude awakening.

When the Sovi­et’s hurled their beach-ball-sized satel­lite into space on Octo­ber 4, 1957, this coun­try’s vault­ed illu­sion of sci­en­tif­ic and tech­no­log­i­cal suprema­cy came crash­ing to earth. The space age had begun on Sovi­et terms.

It was a wake-up call the nation did­n’t ignore. With­in months, our own Explor­er and Van­guard satel­lites were in orbit. NASA was estab­lished. Schools put new empha­sis on the teach­ing of sci­ence and math. Space explo­ration became all the rage. And in Boston, the builders of the new Charles Hay­den Plan­e­tar­i­um of the Muse­um of Sci­ence added Sput­nik and Van­guard to the astro­nom­i­cal won­ders dis­played on the plan­e­tar­i­um dome.

When the Hay­den opened in 1958 it was state of the art. At the cen­ter of the the­ater stood a spec­tac­u­lar pro­jec­tor, a “time-and-space machine” capa­ble of dis­play­ing the day or night sky any­where on earth at any time, past, present, or future. The machine was Amer­i­can made, and promised the “finest star show on Earth.” Sput­nik-struck New Eng­lan­ders were ready to watch.

Since that time, more than 8 mil­lion peo­ple have seen the sky brought down to Earth at the Hay­den. Some of the chil­dren who watched Sput­nik and Van­guard beep-beep their way across the plan­e­tar­i­um dome in 1958 went on to become sci­en­tists and engi­neers who led Amer­i­ca to the plan­ets. Sput­nik and Van­guard were sub­se­quent­ly replaced in plan­e­tar­i­um shows by Mer­cury, Gem­i­ni, Apol­lo, Voy­ager, and all the rest. Each space mis­sion in turn was pro­ject­ed among the stars by the plan­e­tar­i­um staff, to inspire suc­ces­sive gen­er­a­tions of children.

I’ll nev­er for­get my own first vis­it to a plan­e­tar­i­um. It was dur­ing the ear­ly 1950s, to the Adler Plan­e­tar­i­um in Chica­go. I’m not quite sure what I was expect­ing as we took our seats. The lights went down, and the stars came out. A sky of stun­ning clar­i­ty. Inky black. Pin­pricked with light. A year-long cav­al­cade of celes­tial events was dis­played, as the giant bug-like pro­jec­tor in the cen­ter of the the­ater slow­ly turned. I’m sure my eyes were as wide as the big lens­es that pro­ject­ed the stars. I was hooked for life. The sky has ever since been a source of curios­i­ty and delight.

I have some­times won­dered why a plan­e­tar­i­um can pos­sess even more pow­er to hook and enchant than the night sky itself. Why should fake stars be more inspir­ing than real ones? The answer, I think, is the view­er’s real­iza­tion that nature is ordered in a way the human mind can com­pre­hend. The cos­mos and its his­to­ry are some­how encom­passed in that bug-eyed, human-made machine at the cen­ter of the room.

A plan­e­tar­i­um con­nects the infini­ties of the star­ry uni­verse to the infini­ties of the human mind.

A few weeks ago, I had the chance to see the pro­jec­tor at the Charles Hay­den Plan­e­tar­i­um put though its paces. I viewed the sky from the North Pole, and from south of the equa­tor. I watched a three-year dance of plan­ets. With­out leav­ing my seat, I trav­eled to Hawaii for the spec­tac­u­lar solar eclipse of July 11, 1991. More­over, I saw how the slip of celes­tial ellipses allowed the moon to cov­er the sun on that date.

It was not so much what hap­pened on the plan­e­tar­i­um dome that inter­est­ed me, as the tech­nol­o­gy that was being demon­strat­ed. In 1971, the plan­e­tar­i­um’s orig­i­nal pro­jec­tor was replaced by a Ger­man-made Zeiss machine. The Zeiss is sup­ple­ment­ed by banks of slide pro­jec­tors under com­put­er con­trol. The pow­er of the sys­tem is con­sid­er­able, but out of date. This is Sput­nik-era tech­nol­o­gy in an Age of Star Trek.

Essen­tial­ly, the Zeiss projects the uni­verse known to Galileo, an Earth-cen­tered uni­verse. Plan­e­tar­i­ums of the next decade will dis­play the stars as seen from any­where in the uni­verse, and even change the view as if one were trav­el­ing among the stars.

The secret, of course, will be pow­er­ful com­put­ers and dig­i­tal pro­jec­tion tech­nol­o­gy. A vast archive of NASA space imagery and CCD (charge-cou­pled device) images from major obser­va­to­ries will be dig­i­tal­ly inte­grat­ed with tra­di­tion­al plan­e­tar­i­um dis­plays. The show will be inter­ac­tive, with con­trols built into every seat. These new tech­nolo­gies are under devel­op­ment. Vis­i­tors to plan­e­tar­i­ums of the year 2000 will pilot a space­craft out among the plan­ets, land on the sur­face of Mars for a pic­nic (if that takes one’s fan­cy), then go beyond to oth­er stars and galaxies.

Make no mis­take, it will take more than an old-fash­ioned Zeiss and a bank of slide pro­jec­tors to inspire the kids who will become the space sci­en­tists and engi­neers of the 21st century.

The staff of the Charles Hay­den Plan­e­tar­i­um is busy with plans for ren­o­va­tions to the the­ater and new con­trol and pre­sen­ta­tion sys­tems. They are deter­mined that Boston will lead the way to the plan­e­tar­i­um of tomorrow.


A major ren­o­va­tion and upgrade of Boston’s Charles Hay­den Plan­e­tar­i­um was com­plet­ed in 2006. ‑Ed.

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