Lick Observatory

From Mt. Hamilton’s 4,216 ft. summit the sweep of the Silicon Valley and the San Francisco Bay Area is visible to the west and north.   On crystal clear days you can look to the east and, all the way across the central valley, see Yosemite’s majestic Half Dome.  That alone would justify the trip.  But there are other reasons to visit Mt. Hamilton.  It’s home to the world’s first permanently inhabited mountain top observatory named in honor of California’s eccentric millionaire, the man who brought chocolate to San Francisco, James Lick.   

As a matter of fact James Lick is buried just beneath the 36 inch Alvan Clark refractor.  That wasn’t his first chose of burial spots.  Lick had originally intended to be entombed in an Egyptian pyramid on Market Street.  That was before a member of the California Academy of Sciences approached Lick and convinced him otherwise.  San Francisco lost its pyramid but the newly formed University of California gained what was, at the time, the world’s finest observatory.  

How do I know all this?  It’s my job to know.  No, it’s not an actual paying sort of a job.  On summer nights I volunteer to assist visitors to the observatory.  On many nights I’ll station my mighty 3 1/2 inch Questar outside the main building.  Visitors can see for themselves that you don’t need a telescope the size of an ICBM to view the rings of Saturn or the moons a Jupiter.  On other nights I’ll help safely shepherd men, women and children to and from the 40 inch reflector or up and down the ornate wrought iron steps and railing to the Great Lick Refractor, once the largest refracting telescope in the world.  

It’s easy to make visitors happy at Lick, very easy.  All you need do is smile and greet them as they enter the observatory.  Share your telescope with them.  Tell them about Lick’s history, a history that dates back to the American centennial in 1876.  But be sure to stress that the observatory is still a cutting edge research facility and not simply an historical artifact.  

It’s a wonderful time for everyone.  However there’s serious side to all this.  The tickets, sold in advance via the internet, generate income required to keep the doors open and the lights on.  Lick’s funding is precarious.   The staff didn’t even know if Lick would still be in operation this time last year.   A last minute million dollar cash infusion from Google will keep Lick in operation for another two years.  But Google’s gift, generous as it is, represents only 25 percent of the operating budget.  

If Lick closes astronomy will move on.  Due to light pollution Mt. Hamilton is no longer the ideal observing site it once was.   Truth be told it’s not even a good location for public outreach.  Parking is limited and most of the buildings are one hundred plus years old.   Worst of all the drive up the mountainside is parlous.  The road contains 365 curves, one for each day of the year.  The last nineteen miles takes more than an hour to drive and that’s under good conditions.  In the snow, well forget it.  

One could well make the argument that sentimentality and emotional attachment should play no part in scientific funding.  From a strictly rational point of view Lick has served its purpose.  But if Lick closes something irreplaceable will be lost; something that you can’t easily put a price tag on.  

At Lick you can stand in the exact same spot where Edward Emerson Barnard stood in 1892 when he discovered Amalthea the first Jovian moon to be discovered since Galileo.  And you can test your viewing skills by attempting to see Amalthea through that very same telescope.  That’s an experience not provided by a book or the internet.   If you want to visit the Lick Observatory make your plans now.