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I am greatly honoured to be invited to this celebration of the centenary
of the birth of Eric Lindsay, and to reminisce a little on the early
days of Armagh Observatory which he effectively re-founded in its
present modern form. It is hard to believe that it is more than thirty
years since his death, so vivid, so unforgettable is his image in my
mind. I knew him since 1950 when I came to Dunsink, to my first post,
and even better after I married Hermann Bruck, his opposite number in
Dunsink and his intimate friend. If Hermann were still with us, it
would be he, not me, who would be here to recount their experiences as
they set about revitalising Ireland's two once-great observatories.
This year is also the fiftieth anniversary of the first Sputnik which
went up in September 1957, the year that my husband and I moved from
Dunsink to Edinburgh. Both observatories, Armagh and Dunsink, were by
then fully functional, small observatories certainly, but with a good
foothold on the international stage. All that transformation had come
about within the previous ten years, and it is that decade, from
1947-1957, that I would like to recollect. Eric Lindsay raised Armagh
from obscurity and Hermann Bruck did the same for Ireland's other
observatory south of the border which was even more neglected, having
stood idle for over a quarter of a century. The two observatories had a
lot in common historically. Both were founded at the end of the
eighteenth century, Dunsink in 1785 and Armagh in 1792. During
much of the nineteenth century both made important contributions to
astronomy, but declined rapidly in the twentieth century and ceased to
have any impact. The original buildings survived, designed as
observatories always were in those days, as a residence for the
astronomer in charge with a telescope in its dome on the roof so that
the great man could go observing at night direct from his dinner table.
The buildings are still in use, though no longer family residences as
they were in our time.

In the late 1930s the young Eric Lindsay was appointed Director of
Armagh Observatory. He was a product of the great Harvard school of
astronomy in its golden age and Ireland's only professional astronomer;
but the place he took over was woefully short of modern equipment, and
in any case, he was unable to take up his duties on account of war work
in London. As soon as the War was over, Eric set about realising
his dream of re-establishing his lovely historic observatory as a modern
institution and of doing research along the lines he had done at
Harvard and at Harvard's astronomical outstation in Blomfontein in South
Africa. The adventurous solution which he worked out with his friend
and former professor at Harvard, the charismatic Harlow Shapley,
involved joining forces with Harvard to acquire a new ultra modern
telescope to be set up in Blomfontein to observe the southern skies. The
advantage of South Africa - apart of course from the weather - was that
one could observe from that latitude the most densely populated areas of
the Milky Way; and also the Milky Way's satellite galaxies, the
Magellanic Clouds, which were, and still are, of particular interest to
astronomers and cosmologists. The type of telescope that he and
Shapley had in mind was a Schmidt type: this is effectively a wide
angle camera, invented only in the nineteen thirties which solved the
problem of how to produce sharp images of stars over a wide area of sky.

The great Palomar Observatory in California was producing wonderful
photographs with their large Schmidt telescope and were mapping the sky
as visible from California. There was no equivalent instrument to
capture the southern skies. The Lindsay scheme went further: it
proposed that the project should be an all-Ireland one. It was a bold
plan. The two parts of Ireland were, officially at least, barely on
speaking terms in those days; but Eric Lindsay was a devoted Irishman in
the best sense of the word, and an optimist. 'The stars are the same
when you cross the border. There are no boundaries in the sky', he
pointed out to the Taoiseach, Eamon de Valera, to whom the idea vastly
appealed on political as well as scientific grounds. And he succeeded.
The story was recounted by Otto Struve, President of the
International Astronomical Union, at the General Assembly in Dublin in
1955, and is published in the Union's Transactions. In the spring of
1946 a group of senior American astronomers were en route for Europe to
renew contacts with their European colleagues which had been broken by
the War. The group, including Struve and Shapley, found themselves
stranded by fog at Shannon airport. There, in the airport, they
recognised the unmistakable tall bespectacled figure of the Irish Prime
Minister who was waiting to meet important dignitaries from Rome.
The name de Valera may not mean as much to the present generation as it
did fifty or sixty years ago. Eamon de Valera was the dominant figure
in Irish politics south of the border for decades. He also had a
serious interest in mathematics and astronomy; he had studied in his
youth with the illustrious mathematician Sir Edmund Whitaker, then
Director of Dunsink Observatory and professor at Trinity College Dublin,
and when he reached high office, Whitaker was his close adviser on
matters connected with the revival of Irish science. De Valera founded
Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies which includes the School of
Theoretical Physics during the war years, and he had an ambition that
went back even earlier to acquire Dunsink Observatory for the nation.
Shapley promptly introduced himself to Mr de Valera, and that chance
meeting in the fog at Shannon set the ball rolling. Eric Lindsay did
the rest. All he put on record, in his modest way, was that it was
his task 'to bring about the cooperation of the two Irish Governments'
and that 'the negotiations occupied some considerable time'. An
agreement to provide the money for the shared telescope was signed by
Mr de Valera and the Northern Ireland Minister for Finance on behalf of
their two Governments. It was a triumph for Eric Lindsay's power of
diplomacy, and his irresistible charm. Two historic 'firsts' were made
by that agreement: it produced the world's first international
telescope, and it was, reputedly, the first occasion when the two
Irish Governments did business together. There is surely a lesson
here: perhaps our country needs more Eric Lindsays and fewer
politicians. The practicalities at the Irish end were entirely in Eric
Lindsay's hands. The telescope, known as the Armagh-Dunsink-Harvard or
ADH telescope, was constructed in the United States. It was completed
and formally accepted by Harlow Shapley on behalf of the three
participants in March 1950 in the presence of the British, Irish and
South African Consuls in New York. The ceremony made news worldwide,
including of course the Irish papers. When it came to installing the
telescope in Blomfontein, the responsibility fell to Eric and his
Harvard colleague Bart Bok. Bart was a native of the Netherlands, an
enthusiastic supporter of both Armagh and Dunsink, and a delightful
personal friend whom my husband knew well from earlier days in Germany.

Meantime, Dunsink Observatory had been re-established, and, again, Mr
de Valera was the prime mover. In 1946, just about the time the ADH
plan was being sealed, Mr de Valera acquired the observatory premises,
which was at the time rented out as a private residence, for the
Institute. The route by which he was then led to Hermann Bruck seems to
have been the grapevine: at any rate the first move was made by de
Valera personally who simply telephoned Bruck at the Observatory in
Cambridge saying 'Mr de Valera speaking', and invited him there and
then to come to see him in Dublin. All negotiations were done man to
man; that was de Valera's way. The re-opening of Dunsink was announced
in the press on 13 October 1947. It generated immense public
interest. The observatory would be open to the public for viewing the
stars; and a world-famous Irish-American Telescope was to be built in
South Africa. I possess a fat book of newspaper cuttings from that
period to prove it. The reaction was the same in Armagh and Belfast.
In 1948 the International Astronomical Union, that United Nations of
Astronomy, held its first postwar meeting in Zurich. The papers
reported that 'Ireland was represented by Professor Bruck, Dr Butler and
Mr O'Connor from Dunsink and Dr Lindsay from Armagh'. That same summer,
when Eric Lindsay's brother in law the distinguished American
astronomer Carl Seyfert, gave a public lecture in Armagh, the Belfast
Telegraph reported the presence of astronomers from Armagh and Dunsink
observatories, as well as 'many amateur astronomers from Northern
Ireland and Eire'. It is clear that from the start, astronomy, both
professional and amateur, was truly an all-Ireland activity that knew
no border, just as Eric envisaged. Dunsink's tiny staff laboured on to
get the old instruments working and new ones in place. When the ADH
telescope was ready, Harvard and Armagh had the first observational
stints. Then it was Dunsink's turn, and Hugh Butler, the chief
assistant, spent several months in Blomfontein in 1951-2. with Eric,
who stayed on to introduce him to the instrument and to work with him.
Hugh's photographs were in the main beautiful celestial vistas which
were copied and displayed in our Visitors' exhibition. Dunsink's
second stint in 1954-5 was manned by Gordon Thompson, a young
assistant, a native of Belfast. He observed several open star clusters
in the Milky Way for the Dunsink programme, but the analysis of these
photographs could not be completed at the time for want of certain
auxiliary data. These were not available for some years; and the work
was actually finished in Edinburgh; so, though I myself never used
the ADH telescope, I can say that I did have a small share in the
results that came out of it. The ADH telescope, as you will hear
presently, figured dominantly in the Armagh and Dunsink research
programmes for the rest of its existence.

The enthusiasm for astronomy in Ireland never flagged: every comet
announced, every eclipse, every meteor shower, every sunspot or aurora
boreali's, all were of interest and were snatched upon by the
media. A new buzzword I hear today to describe the task of engaging the
interest of the public in science is Outreach. We had no need of such
exhortation in the 1950s. We had the Irish Astronomical Society, an
enthusiastic amateur group that had existed for several years in Dublin
whose story you will shortly hear from James O'Connor, the society's
historian. The society was an undoubted factor in the renaissance of
Irish astronomy. Eric Lindsay was an ardent believer in the importance
of amateur collaboration in astronomy, as you will hear, and on his
urging, the society extended its activities to include fellow
starlovers in the North. 'The success of any society or indeed
community', said Eric, 'depends on those few whose idealism finds
expression not in getting, but in giving'. The Society had branches in
Dublin and Belfast, and soon also in Armagh, Derry, and for awhile in
Clonmel. Eric Lindsay was designated President and H A Bruck
Vice-President. Bruck gave lectures to the Society in Dublin, Armagh
and Belfast in January 1948, and in April, the newspapers reported,
'close on 100 members of the Irish Astronomical Society from Dublin,
Belfast and Armagh toured the observatory' at Dunsink. In June the
Society met at Armagh; and so on, in different venues. When the Royal
Astronomical Society of London ventured with some trepidation to hold
its first meeting on foreign soil in 1950, it was the Irish Astronomical
Society, not the academic establishment, that organised the Public
Lecture by the Astronomer Royal, Sir Harold Spencer Jones. It was
crowded out like a pop concert. It was about this time, too, that
Eric Lindsay suggested a Planetarium for Armagh which he hoped would
be another all-Ireland educational institution. In the event, this
special ambition of his took a long time to materialise, and Eric
personally raised the funds without support from the Irish Government.

The Irish Astronomical Journal, the Society's own magazine, was founded
in 1950, with an editorial board consisting of Bruck and Lindsay,
representing the two observatories. It was a splendid example of active
collaboration of professional and amateur astronomers, and, on another
level, of the united character of science in a politically but not
intellectually divided Ireland. The design of the cover by the young
gifted Belfast artist Raymond Piper showed the two observatories linked
by the ADH telescope, symbolising this collaboration. The journal
survived, despite many vicissitudes, until the year 2001. When we left
Dunsink in 1957, we were both made Life Members of the Society. I am
delighted to say that I am still a member, possibly one of the oldest by
now, and that I have been receiving my regular newsletter without fail
all these fifty years. Our personal links with Armagh observatory also
endured. In the Dunsink era, my husband and Eric Lindsay were members
of each other's boards of Governors; they saw each other frequently,
supported each other, spoke often on the telephone. When we moved away,
Eric invited Hermann to stay on as a Governor of Armagh Observatory, and
this he did, not only throughout Eric's lifetime, but for many years
afterwards, until the toll of age made travelling difficult, a total of
35 years.

When Eric died, the tributes of his staff and friends in astronomy at
home and abroad were published in a special number of the Irish
Astronomical Journal in 1975. The 20 and more contributors vied with
each other to find words to express their memories of him: joyfulness,
cheerfulness, humour, warmth, optimism, charm. I would like to read out
all of what my husband wrote, but here is an extract that I think sums
it up: Eric's many astronomical plans and activities owed much of their
success to his remarkable personality, to his great charm which everyone
felt with whom he came in contact. His manner won him friends all over
the world; it was simply impossible not to like Eric. He found it
easy to establish happy personal contacts with people of all sorts, and
personal relations were what mattered to him. He was fortunate, of
course, in living at a time when relations between people could still
play a major role in science, when the new bureaucracy had not yet taken
over. I would like to see that volume reprinted, as there is
little any of us here can add to the picture of Eric Lindsay given
there by his contemporaries who wrote with full hearts. What we can
do, however, is to recognise his legacy, and the manner in which his
spirit continues to pervade the observatory which he virtually founded.

MTB January 2007