On October 3, the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences announced the award of the 2006 Nobel Prize in Physics to John Mather and George Smoot, scientists who explored the background glow from the Big Bang with NASA’s COBE satellite. Mather led the total COBE effort and his own instrument on the satellite measured the spectrum of the glow so precisely that when he first projected the results at a meeting of the American Astronomical Society, a large audience of academics interrupted the talk with a rare and sustained burst of heavy applause: the measurements fit the theoretical curve so precisely that the errors in the data were smaller than the thickness of the line. At a single glance, this conclusively ruled out prior data that suggested that part of the background glow came from cosmic events in eras long after the Big Bang. Smoot’s findings, unveiled with great fanfare at a subsequent session of the American Physical Society, presented the first evidence of the earliest structures in the universe, regions that were hotter or cooler, denser or thinner than each other, long before a single star or galaxy had formed.
The media reports that I’ve seen told about these scientific discoveries that earned the Prize, but gave little hint of the scientific and engineering Odyssey that brought home the primeval bacon.
Did you know
That the COBE (Cosmic Background Explorer) project was born in a New York City building that is pictured in nearly every episode of the television comedy Seinfeld?
That COBE was built for launch on the Space Shuttle, and that after the Challenger catastrophe, the satellite had to be re-engineered and downsized, including the removal of tons of hardware– for launch on an unmanned Delta rocket?
That besides these two Prize-winners there were about 1500 people who helped design, manufacture, and operate COBE and analyze its findings, without whom the Prize-winning discoveries would not have been made?
That concerning this Nobel Prize, I was right for a change?
The Seinfeld Connection
In 1974, Mather was a young post-doc with Patrick Thaddeus, an expert on the interstellar molecules at a NASA facility in Manhattan who previously had studied the effects of the Big Bang glow –called the microwave background radiation- on molecules in the Milky Way.  When word came that NASA Headquarters would be issuing a call for proposals for new scientific satellites, with an emphasis on infrared astronomy, Thaddeus urged Mather to put a team together and propose a satellite.
The building where Mather and Thaddeus worked, and where six scientists from around the USA came together to make the first plan for COBE, is located at Broadway and West 112th Street. The Broadway side of the building is occupied at street level by Tom’s Restaurant, a curious New York institution whose cuisine may be an acquired taste. Exterior shots of Tom’s are used on Seinfeld to introduce segments in which Jerry, Elaine, George, and Kramer huddle over coffee in what they call “Monk’s.â€
Imagine if Larry David, the head writer for Seinfeld, had known what was going on upstairs from “Monk’s.â€Â We might have enjoyed a segment in which George posed as an experimental cosmologist for NASA just as in one episode, he pretended to be a marine biologist to impress a date. Most likely, it would have ended with a rocket inadvertently launched toward the Bronx rather than to outer space.
COBE and the Space Shuttle -
While COBE was under construction at Goddard Space Flight Center, Mather published a 20-page, four-color brochure about the mission. Unfortunately, his opening sentence proclaimed that COBE “will be launched from the Space Shuttle…†which turned out to be wrong. After the Challenger disaster in 1986, NASA changed the rules for Shuttles in an attempt to cut risk.  In particular, the agency eliminated the option for launching Shuttles from the West Coast. This had a huge impact on the COBE project: COBE needed to be inserted in a carefully designed orbit at very high inclination to the Earth’s equator, so that it could steadily scan the universe while its deliberately cold detectors would never point near the Sun. To reach the required orbit from a US launch site, COBE had to lift off from Vandenberg Air Force Base where “Space Launch Complex 6†had been modified to accommodate the Space Shuttle. So there you are: COBE was designed and built to launch on the Shuttle, COBE had to launch from Vandenberg to reach a suitable orbit, and now no Shuttle would ever go up from Vandenberg. Mather and the team were in a heap of trouble.
To launch from Vandenberg without the aid of the Space Shuttle, COBE had to fit on an expendable rocket. As Mather recalled in a 1994 talk to the American Association for the Advancement of Science, his team had to re-engineer the satellite to “cut the weight by half.â€Â A large, sunshade, mounted in a fixed position on the spacecraft, was replaced with one that folded to fit within the shroud of a Delta rocket, then deployed in space. And, as a key COBE scientist recently reminded me, the redesigned, much smaller and lighter satellite had to be toughened as well. The Space Shuttle gives you a softer ride than a Delta, because the Shuttle carries people – it’s man-rated. COBE engineers had designed the satellite to the Shuttle launch environment; as first built, it was vulnerable –particularly in one of the delicate scientific instruments- to the harsher vibrations of an unmanned Delta. And of course, while you made COBE smaller, lighter, and stronger, you also had to preserve the scientific performance specs of the three onboard instruments. No use putting up a satellite that fit in the rocket , survived the launch, and reached the proper orbit if it would now be too small to detect much. That would be like launching a six-inch telescope and calling it “Hubble.â€Â Easy, but not too useful.
As the award of the Prize reminds us, all these modifications were made successfully – COBE worked like a charm, made measurements of exquisite precision, and led to Nobel-class discoveries. In my view, the re-engineering of COBE and its successful operations represent NASA at its best (some would say, the “old NASA’). The degree of difficulty wasn’t quite up to sending Man to the Moon and back, or the first focus-fixing repair of the orbiting Hubble Space Telescope, but it was great work, done just right.
Critical COBE Scientists
Mather estimated that about 1500 people worked on COBE. Most of them were engineers and technicians and managers and administrative personnel of all sorts. But about 20 were science team members and I have had the opportunity at one time or another to meet them all. I want to single out a few among many who deserve praise. For years, I sat just three or four doors down the hall from John Mather at the Goddard Space Flight Center, and for much of that time, George Smoot, although employed at the University of California, Berkeley, had a long-term visitor’s office not much further away. Smoot’s instrument, like all of COBE, was built at Goddard.  Smoot had to pass my door to reach Mather’s office and he often stopped in to shoot the breeze.
My boss at the time was Michael Hauser, who was also the third of the three top scientists of COBE. (COBE was loaded with Mather’s “Far Infrared Absolute Spectrophotometer,†Smoot’s “Differential Microwave Radiometers,†and Hauser’s “Diffuse Infrared Background Experiment.â€) Mike Hauser’s instrument worked splendidly, and went on gathering data even after the other two instruments stopped when the onboard supply of liquid helium coolant ran out. His instrument didn’t gather new facts on the Big Bang, but detected the infrared background radiation that was emitted over the whole subsequent history of the universe, originating in all the stars and galaxies that are or ever were. This too was a fine accomplishment.
Charles “Chuck†Bennett, now a Johns Hopkins Professor, was a Goddard scientist who was Deputy Principal Investigator on Smoot’s experiment, and critical to the program. David Wilkinson, a Princeton University physicist, was a COBE scientist from Day 1 – he participated in the original six-person meeting at 2880 Broadway, continued to contribute during the whole duration of the project, and went on to work with Bennett in developing NASA’s WMAP satellite, a follow-on to COBE that has earned equal acclaim from the scientific community. WMAP stands for Wilkinson Microwave Anisotropy Probe because sadly, Wilkinson died in 2002 while that spacecraft was under development at Goddard.
Nancy Boggess, now retired, is an astronomer and manager with terrific instincts, rare social and political skills, and intense determination. She kept the scientists working together at Goddard to meet project objectives and above all, thanks to her years of previous experience as the person who fostered the infrared astronomy program at NASA Headquarters, she had the street smarts to get COBE what it needed from NASA, while keeping Headquarters administrators, politicians, micro-managers and other well-meaning meddlers with every sort of policy agenda off the backs of the team.
What’s missing in the above kudos is the list of engineers and other key personnel who helped build, calibrate, and test COBE. The two chief engineers were Roger Mattson and Dennis McCarthy. I’m not sufficiently knowledgeable to name others, but I am reminded of how an elderly engineering professor verbally roughed me up at a meeting of the National Academy of Engineering. At the meeting, I spoke about how astronomers have learned to publicize our discoveries to share them with the public and encourage continued support of space science. In the question period, the old gentleman creaked to his feet and reminded me angrily that no astronomer ever built a space probe that went to Jupiter or a satellite that gathered great data like COBE or that made marvelous images like those from Hubble. “Everything is built by the engineers,†he said, “but the astronomers get all the publicity.â€
So let’s hear it for the COBE engineers!
How I was right for a change
When the discovery of the microwave background radiation was first announced and attributed to the Big Bang, I told friends and colleagues that I thought the work was wrong. Of course, it was right, and was later recognized with one-half of the Nobel Prize in Physics for 1978, awarded to Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson of the Bell Telephone Laboratories (a Russian got the other half for low-temperature research).
When George Smoot announced his findings at an American Physical Society meeting on April 23, 1992, the Washington Post waxed rhapsodic, editorializing that “Science had one of its magical moments Friday, suddenly producing definitive evidence for the wacky, spooky, altogether hard-to-credit birth-of-the-universe scenario called the Big Bang Theory.â€Â The Post and other national newspapers also quoted me as saying that this work would earn a Nobel Prize. So as my wife says, I was right for once. Just once.
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