To most Americans, he was just the cheerful guy perched on the rings of Saturn, letting them know what was in the starry skies of their own backyards. Jack Horkheimer, the friendly neighborhood astronomer for our local hemisphere, was the happy voice who sent PBS-watching Americans off to bed as their local stations signed off for the night.
Image from PBS
Originally known as “The Star Hustler” until the unholy combination of Larry Flynt and the Internet forced a name change in 1997 to “The Star Gazer,” Horkeimer didn’t begin his astronomy life against a green screen. He came by his knowledge under no one’s tutelage but his own, and yet his current place in popular culture belies the depth and breadth of his talents.
Although in no way a formally educated astronomer, Horkheimer was the director of Miami’s Space Transit Planetarium, and wrote and planned shows for the general public. These weren’t just deadly boring precursors of Power Point; Horkheimer mixed music, images, philosophy, religion, pop culture, and a general sense of psychedelic wonder. In the same way, the titles of his weekly program were kitschy and catchy: “Venus And The Moon Make A Lovely Duo And How To Find Three Planets Lined Up In A Row” and “Dates To Remember In December: Several Cosmic Goodies Await Your Viewing Pleasure”
Horkeimer’s degree in drama from Purdue added flair to the hard science of the stars, and Horkheimer focused only on what was visible with the naked eye–no equipment encessary. Left bald from radiation sickness from a childhood lung condition, the sameness of Horkheimer’s hair in the wee hours from the ’70s to 2010 was comforting.
With light pollution steadily washing out the skies in increasing sections of the country, we’re sometimes lucky we can make out anything smaller than the Moon. But should you be walking the dog at 1 AM when everyone’s porch lights are off, Horkheimer wanted to make sure that what you did manage to make out while gazing over the treetops was recognizable–whether those treetops were pine, maple, or palm.
An asteroid was named for him in 1999. Not bad for someone who never took a single astronomy course. It all started from a volunteer position, a guy who simply enjoyed what the skies have to tell us and who discovered he had a knack for teaching others to find it.
