Tag: science

Weather Alert: Grinnell’s First System of Weather Warnings (1888)

We have certainly experienced a lot of turbulent weather in the past week or two—with temperatures varying wildly from day-to-day, and severe cold fronts bringing thunderstorms (with the accompanying threat of high winds, hail, or tornados). How did prior generations of Grinnellians deal with this kind of volatile and dangerous weather?

One of the first notable steps towards a public warning system appears to have developed in the spring of 1888, when the college joined the federal government’s network of voluntary weather observatories. Run by the Signal Service, in the Department of War, this program created a network of volunteer observatories throughout the country, which would record a series of meteorological measurements each day, using calibrated instruments provided by the government, and in turn, would receive daily forecasts and weather charts (via telegraph), which would be communicated to the public by flying large, specialized weather flags, atop their buildings. Goodnow Hall served as the first weather observatory, when the college joined this system in the spring of 1888, with Prof Samuel Buck (Mathematics and Astronomy) overseeing this project.

Goodnow, which was built only a few years earlier, in the wake of the devastating tornado of 1882, was designed to serve as the college’s new library and astronomical observatory. To serve as a weather station, two large poles were added to the building—one, was attached to the observatory tower, and served as the flagpole used to fly the 6 large weather flags that an inland station would use (coastal sites, carried a larger number of storm flags particular to maritime conditions), while the second pole was erected in the center of the building’s roofline to carry the sensitive anemometer, which sent electrical signals to a self-recording device (a chronograph) that captured a constant record of wind direction and speed. Pictures & drawings of Goodnow from this period usually include these two features of the building, which disappeared later. And the fluttering weather flags would have been a prominent feature of the local skyline (each flag was more than 6 feet in length, so that they could be seen from far away.

The most prominent and important of the flags was the “Cold Wave” flag (pictured here), that warned of a coming cold front that could lead to dramatic storms throughout the year. The danger that such cold fronts posed were particularly on the mind of Americans in the spring of 1888, when Grinnell joined this forecasting network, because of two, recent, traumatic events. On January 12, 1888, what started out as a very warm and mild day turned into one of the fiercest blizzards in the upper Midwest that struck unexpectedly that afternoon, trapping many school children who were trying to walk home from their rural schoolhouses. It is estimated that nearly 300 people died from exposure in what became known as the  “Children’s Blizzard”; and in March, an equally sudden and ferocious blizzard descended on the Northeast (again leading to a staggering loss of life, and paralyzing much of the region). It seems likely, then, that the timing of Grinnell’s entry into the Signal Service network was driven by these recent events. Throughout the nation, people clamored for better ways to communicate forecasts and warn about impending weather dangers. The flags that flew each day over Goodnow were a visible attempt to address those concerns, and would continue to alert the public until radio broadcasts rendered this system obsolete.

Carrie Adeline Barbour: Artist, Paleontologist, & Professor

 

Last week’s post focused on the college’s museum of natural history; or more precisely, the third iteration of this museum, that was assembled after the devastating cyclone of 1882. As the new collection began to come together in Blair Hall, the college hired its first geologist and paleontologist, Erwin H. Barbour, who became the Stone Professor of Natural History, charged with overseeing the museum and related coursework. In addition to his academic training, Erwin had spent several years doing field work out west, serving as assistant paleontologist for the U.S. Geological Survey.

But Erwin Barbour did not come to Grinnell alone. His sister, Carrie Adeline Barbour, also joined the faculty at this time, teaching studio art courses in carving, ceramics, and porcelain painting (which she had studied at Oxford Female College, later absorbed into Miami of Ohio, and at a fine arts school in Cincinnati). Given the close links between art and science that existed in the world of natural history, as well as the tendency for family members to participate in the collective work of science, in an era before paid staff and technicians, it is not surprising to discover that Carrie Barbour became involved in the geological and paleontological work of her brother. Carrie was also personally drawn to the subject, revealing that her mother, Adeline Barbour, had instilled in both of her children a deep love of natural history and collecting specimens.

On the right of the image, Carrie Barbour stands on a short ladder and uses a chisel to work on the dinosaur femur. The femur is fastened to wooden boards, which hold it vertically. In the background are tables and shelves with other artifacts and equipment. Digitized from glass-plate negative.

Eventually, Erwin left Grinnell College in 1891 to establish a geology department and museum at the University of Nebraska. Carrie was torn between continuing her career as an art professor, and taking up a position at Nebraska, working with her brother as a full-time paleontologist. “I realized I couldn’t divide my time between the two jobs and accomplish much in either,” she later recalled, “Fossils fascinated me so much I decided to continue a thorough work with them.” Over the next 40 years, Carrie Barbour carved out a remarkable career in paleontology, becoming an assistant curator of the museum, a professor of paleontology, an author of noted scientific papers, and perhaps most unusual for a female scientist at this time, a leader of field expeditions and excavations.

Although Carrie Barbour eventually received recognition, and an academic position of her own, her experience is also part of a larger story about the often-hidden role that wives, sisters, and daughters played in an age when academic work was often a shared, family endeavor while academic publication and credit was limited to the (mostly male) professoriate.

 

 

 

 

Isaac Newton at Grinnell

Grinnell Special Collection's Copy of Opticks (1704)

In 2019, Grinnell acquired the impressive collection of rare books and documents that had been assembled by Carl Weeks and housed at his residence, Salisbury House, in Des Moines. Visitors to special collections, in Burling Library, can now peruse the more than 5000 items in the collection–a virtual treasure trove of historic texts, ranging from medieval manuscripts to a limited edition of James Joyce’s Ulysses (illustrated by Henri Matisse).

One of these gems is a first edition of Isaac Newton’s Opticks, a work that was filled with experimental reports and musings about a wide range of topics surrounding the nature of light, its transmission and absorption, the nature of color, and the hidden structure of matter. While contemporaries praised Newton’s Principia, few people could understand its complicated mathematics, whereas the Opticks was a widely popular book that inspired many people to take up experimental science. And, in fact, Grinnell’s copy of the Opticks contains a number of annotations and comments (i.e. marginalia) that were inscribed by one its enthusiastic readers.

This book would have been particularly appreciated by one of Grinnell’s former History professors–Richard S. Westfall–who was a world renowned scholar of Newton and the scientific revolution. Prof. Westfall taught at Grinnell in the 1950s and 1960s, winning a National Science Foundation grant in 1961 that allowed him to spend a year or archival work in Cambridge, among Newton’s papers. One of the last pieces he published at Grinnell, before leaving to head the Department of History and Philosophy of Science at the University of Indiana, in 1963, was a scholarly article, “The Development of Newton’s Theory of Color” that put forward a new interpretation of the Opticks. In 1980, Westfall would publish what is still considered the definitive biography of Newton: Never at Rest: A Biography of Isaac Newton, that he started while teaching at Grinnell College. Eventually, Westfall was awarded the George Sarton Medal, the highest honor in this field, in recognition of his lifetime contributions to the history of science.

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