Sky & Telescope March 2003 [antikvár]

Last Tango in MinneapolisDouglas Aalseth bids farewell to his longtime partner.We knew the end was coming for months. Since 1961, generations of people had come through the doors to see what tire grand old lady in the library could do. OK, maybe her star fields weren't as bright as they once were. And, yes, when you ran her forward and back in annual motion the planet did hesitate a bit as the ancient gear trains took up the lash. New planetarium projectors can do things that were only a dream when the engineers designed her with French curves and slide rules a half century ago. But she never quit on us, and it was only the closing of the Public Library building last September that finally dimmed her stars for the last time.The final weekend started on Friday, and the place was packed, with both evening shows sold out. I talked to a man who'd first brought his daughter to the planetarium 25 years ago, when she was eight years old. Now it was her turn to bring him and her own eight-year-olds. When the stars came out I heard one of the kids exclaim, "Oh my gosh!" loud enough to be heard across the room. Even at 42, the old girl could still dazzle 'em.Saturday night's "Last Chance to Party Under the Stars" drew almost everyone who had ever worked here. As we talked it was clear that the planetarium had been good for all of us. She'd taught us how to present ourselves clearly to the public (if you can explain relativity to first graders, you can explain anything to anyone) and how to deal with the unexpected ("Why is a picture of Snoopy coming up when it's supposed to be Einstein?"). Now it was time for her to teach us how to say good-bye.Toward the end of the evening we all gathered under the dome to talk about what this planetarium meant to us. I reminisced about the all-night efforts to get shows up on time, about meeting my wife here, and about hearing of Challenger's accident while doing a show for a high-school science class. Who could forget the wild exhaustion of the Halley's Comet shows, or the joy of the Christmas and Halloween shows? One of the experiences I remember most fondly happened once again at the end of my very last public presentation. A little girl of five or sixcame back after it ended to ask a question. She looked up at me with her little brown eyes and addressed me in that very polite, matter-of-fact tone that only children of that age have."You talked about how big the Sun and stars were. Well, what are falling stars?"After thinking for a moment, I said simply, "Rocks. They fly through space and burn up when they hit the air, and we see them as falling stars."She was silent for a couple of seconds, and then she burst out laughing. I recognized that sound. I had heard it a thousand times before. It's the sound of a child realizing that the universe is understandable, that she can know what's going on. That sound is why I love doing this.Sunday's schedule had four shows. Every one sold out, and we added a fifth to handle the overflow. I helped where I could with crowd control and answered questions. And then it was over. The last question had been asked, everyone left, and I was alone in the big, quiet room. I looked at the old machine that had amazed and delighted millions over the years. When our planetarium opened, all shows were done live, we hadn't walked on the Moon, and televisions were rare. Now computer automation seamlessly integrates video and special effects to explore and explain our universe.Stepping outside, I spotted the first-quarter Moon and Venus in the deepening twilight, followed by a sprinkling of stars a very familiar scene I'd created a hundred times with the grand old lady in that big dark room. I walked back in for a last look. Tomorrow they would take her apart and put her into storage. If we get funding for a new facility, she'll go on display in an honored place in the lobby. If we don't, then who knows? Either way, she had shown her stars for the last time. I gazed at her silently for a couple of minutes, then reached up and patted the star sphere, still warm from the last performance. "You did good," I said. Then I walked out through the lobby into the gathering night.Douglas Aalseth, who has been associated with the Minneapolis Planetarium since the mid-1990s, is an information-technology specialist at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis.