For those nights at the Observatory when the temperature drops and it gets fiercely cold, we have a little extra insulation from the weather. You might not be able to do much with these on, but you can’t do much when your fingers cramp up, either.
Suitably sized for holding a coffee or hot chocolate while appreciating how a clear, dry night can really bring out the stars.
It’s not uncommon for any place to collect things and never quite discard them, and it only grows worse when there’s no single person in charge of them. On some old shelves at the Observatory, we have no shortage of 19th-century astronomical observations from all around the world. A few select favorites recently spotted: Havana, Cuba; Hyderabad, India; Tachkent (now Tashkent), Uzbekistan.
Oldest so far spotted: Washington Astronomical Observations, 1848.
Part of the library collection since 1856. Wonder if the library knows? (We’ve put in a call to the proper folks, so no worries.)
We have a whole range of “old” telescopes at the Observatory which, depending on context, can mean state-of-the-art for the 1990s or the 1890s. This, most likely, is our oldest. It’s a lovely old brass refractor set on a fine wooden tripod, and with a properly-fitted eyepiece might work just fine. Not that we’re setting it outside anytime soon. It’s a showpiece!
How old is it? The acquisition date is currently unknown – probably recorded someplace in all of these stacks of papers – but certainly prior to 1886, because it wasn’t given to Bucknell University, but rather to the Lewisburg University, which is what this school was up until that point. That particular bit of information does confirm that it’s older than our big Clark refractor (1887) and our wee Ertel & Sohn transit telescope (1889).
“Presented *to the* LEWISBURG UNIVERSITY by Benj. Pike Jr. Optician 294 Broadway New York”
Second point of interest: Benjamin Pike, Jr. was located at 294 Broadway during 1843-44, as near we can tell. But the University at Lewisburg was founded in 1846. Benjamin Pike, Jr. lived from 1808 to 1864, giving us a reasonable last-possible year. So, um, wave your hands and call it circa [insert whatever]. It’s old, brass, and pretty cool.
It’s unclear who made the telescope, too. Pike (like his papa before him) was an optician by trade, and so would have known his way around lenses. None of the quickly-searchable web sources mentions telescopes, though, so maybe he just knew the right sort of gift for ol’ William Bucknell? It’s entirely possible another department on campus has a set of his award-winning surveyors’ tools. We’ve got theodolites in the closet – as one does – but none quite so vintage.
Disassembling some old wooden equatorial wedges – a means of adapting an altitude-azimuth telescope for sidereal tracking at a specific latitude – and look what’s scribbled on the inside!
“PAT MULLIN RULES <– HE ALSO DROOLS”
Two different sets of handwriting. Appears to be two different ballpoint pens. Not clear if Pat had any input on any of this, or even who Pat is.
It should be noted that one can both rule and drool. Perhaps there isn’t a great deal of overlap in that Venn diagram, but they aren’t mutually exclusive.
At some point, this little adapter for converting a single electric wall receptacle into three seemed like a clever and useful idea. And, let’s note: despite the fact that it screams “Peanuts Xmas tree fire hazard,” it is, in fact, still in good or at least unmelted shape. Not that anyone’s plugging it in to test.
In cleaning out the Observatory, there are endless collections of observing notes from years past. Each a sheet, filled out by hand, with brief remarks on what was observed, the group in attendance, and anything else that seemed salient at the time.
Here, one of many sheets during the long period – about a year and a half – when comet Hale-Bopp could be seen in the sky. Of particular note, and still an issue for Observatory use today:
“Good obs of Hale-Bopp despite the Football lights”
Yup. More than a quarter-century later, and still the same issue with the football lights.
One of the many entertaining quirks of an academic setting is the need to organize certain things to conceal their specific nature. When running student labs, it’s not uncommon to give them something to measure using the theory and techniques they’ve recently learned. The instructor knows the approximate Ohm value of the resistor, but the students need to construct a Wheatstone bridge and measure it, because we’ve cleverly concealed the color markings with tape, or permanent marker, or shrink-wrap tubing. Whatever it takes.
Then it goes into a little bin with an entertaining label like MYSTERY RESISTORS! and we get a bit of minor entertainment every time we walk by.
Sometimes the old stuff is impressive in its longevity. Here, found in a stairwell in Olin Science, an old electromagnetic fluorescent 2-lamp ballast from… maybe the early ’60s? It’s got that proper audible-frequency buzz, a housing that looks cast, not extruded, and unless the first one fizzled in the ’70s – entirely possible – this sucker might be original to the building.
One day, it’ll expire, bound for disposal as hazardous waste. (Don’t think too hard about the undoubtedly toxic materials all loaded up inside that little black box.) Until then, it hums and buzzes away in the stairwell, illuminating the space with a pallid, cold glow.
Yeah, nobody misses fluorescent lights all that much.
Look, we get it. You want a symmetric housing for your low-level architectural exterior lighting, but the situation demands the performance of an asymmetric reflector output. Both style and functionality.
And a stylin’ white label on a black bollard post, conveniently located on the side where people walk and are most likely to see it. And take a picture on their way into the shop. And later post on the internet.