The story of the great sun ball power point

The Story of the Great Sun
Ball (or Gnomon)
Catherine Clary McLean
22 November 2006

Hallowell, Maine,
home of the Clary family,
just SW of Augusta.← Hallowell

Columbia University ↑
in New York City

It is 1914 and the Class of 1885 presents the Sun Ball to Columbia University

Delivery of the Sun Ball
(or Gnomon)
to Columbia University

Gnomon =
the "pointer"
in a sundial

Sundial pamphlet distributed
after the presentation
of the Sundial.

Earlier, in 1910, modifications
are made to the design of the
platform for the Sundial.

The Sun Ball was featured on a postcard.

A view looking south from Low Library in the 1920s

In 1944, a crack is discovered
In the granite sphere.
The Gnomon was
removed from the Sundial,
December 1946.
The New York Times reported
That the ball had broken into
pieces.
But we know that the ball
was returned to the Clary
stone yard in the Bronx.

In October
1961,
the Sun Ball is
moved to
Grass Lake.

Grass Lake in White Lake
Township, Michigan,
the current home
of the Sun Ball.
Grass Lake→

While at Grass Lake, the Sun Ball was kept company
for many years by a red Willys Jeep, similar to this one.

Recent Research
Not necessary to read
any of this now.

Student on Quest for Sundial's Lost Ball
A Columbia College junior hopes to restore the Low Plaza Sundial to
working order.
Lauren Appelbaum
Columbia Daily Spectator
Posted: 12/5/01
Like many students, Steve Pulimood, CC '03, has been meeting his friends at the
sundial since his first year of college. But unlike the majority of students who
simply use the sundial as a momentary meeting place, Pulimood thought a little
longer about the curious structure.
The sundial Pulimood encountered in 1999 for the first time was quite different
from the sundial when it was dedicated in 1914. At that time, a solid green granite
gnomon measuring seven-feet in diameter and weighing 16 tons stood atop the
base. Because the ball was removed in 1946 after it developed a crack, the
sundial is no longer functional in its traditional way.
"The sad truth is that I knew it was not a sundial. I remember thinking, ëHow does
this thing function as a sundial?'" Pulimood said.

Pulimood's curiosity spurred a personal investigation over the disappearance of
the ball. In the past three years, his increasing interest has caused him to work
toward having a new ball made.
Pulimood, a pre-med art history major, said his interest in the sundial started
with a more general interest in the aesthetic qualities of college campuses. He
said he is often disappointed with the lack of art on Columbia's campus, and has
become active in the Art Properties Group, which promotes art around campus.
He is also a staff writer in the Spectator art section.
"There was a time when the University had art all over its walls," Pulimood said.
This summer Pulimood spent his spare time searching through the Columbia
archives for information on the sundial. After seeing a picture with an intact
sundial in the background, Pulimood said he had a strong desire to learn about
the fate of the ball. He uncovered a vast and varied history.
The stone for the ball was quarried from a famous Vermont mountain and
granite quarry well-loved by a group from the class of 1885. According to
Pulimood, they wanted to put a piece of the famous granite on Columbia's
campus

Harold Jacoby, a Columbia professor of astronomy and donor from the class of 1885,
conceived of the idea to make the piece of granite into a sundial, something he
deemed a useful and intellectually stimulating function.
The ball was dedicated in 1914 but developed a crack that was discovered in 1944, a
defect that the University attributed to the ball having sat in one place for 30 years.
After two years of attempting to hold the ball together with a huge steel band,
University officials had the ball removed in the winter of 1946 amid safety concerns.
Interest soon waned because of a common belief that the ball was destroyed in 1946.
"[The ball] was broken up to make the transporting job possible and the foundation is
being capped for the present," read an article in the Dec. 20, 1946, issue of The New
York Times.
In 1996, a planning framework was developed for the campus. Mark Burstein, vice
president for Facilities Management, said one of the framework's themes was
restoring the beauty of the McKim, Meade, and White campus while ensuring that it
was appropriate for the present. Emily Lloyd, executive vice president for
Administration, said the makers of the framework considered restoring the sundial
and making a new granite ball. But in the end, the ball on the sundial was not brought
back.

This summer, an art curator called the Department of Art Properties to reveal that,
contrary to the Times' report, the ball was sitting on a triangular platform in the middle
of a Michigan field. The current owner of the field inherited the granite ball with the
land from the previous owner, who was affiliated with Columbia, though his exact
affiliation with the University is unknown. In order to build on the field, the current
owner contacted the art curator, who contacted Columbia.
The curator sent Columbia several pictures of the ball. While the rest were modern
and in color, one of the photographs appeared to be very old. Pulimood realized that
this photograph was a copy of one of the photographs in the archives.
At the time, Pulimood figured from the forest in the photograph's background that the
picture of the ball had been taken in Vermont, before it was brought to Columbia's
campus. Now it appears that the photograph was taken after the ball arrived in
Michigan; the base in the photograph matches the base in the current pictures of the
ball.
Pulimood met with President George Rupp in August to discuss the issue of bringing
the original ball back. He then held another meeting in September with the other
members of the Administration. Although several administrators had initial interest in
recovering the ball, some disagreed with returning it to its original location. A number
of administrators argued that in the ball's absence the base had taken on a new
purpose.

"For 30 years, the sundial has been used as a free speech corner; that would be no
longer possible with the sundial restored. I am not sure how [bringing back the ball]
would enhance the function," Provost Jonathan Cole said.
"The base has become such a lively space—kids playing, people making speeches.
It is better left as is," Lloyd said.
"I don't think we've made a final decision about it, but given that the campus is very
different from when it was designed and the sundial is used for something very
different today, it seems that the background does not support it coming back,"
Burstein said.
Pulimood also faces a number of financial difficulties. If administrators decide to
have the ball returned, Pulimood must buy the ball back from the art curator and
pay for its restoration and transportation to campus. Cole had approved $3,000 for
testing the stability of the structure, but other administrators have questioned that
allocation. If Pulimood receives this money, he will use it to hire someone in
Michigan to determine if the ball could survive a trip from Michigan to Manhattan.
Even if Pulimood does receive the $3,000, he will need a much larger amount of
money for the rest of the restoration project. The Mellon Foundation is giving $50
million to people creating or restoring art pieces in memory of lives lost on Sept. 11.
The smallest amount of money this foundation is allocating is $250,000. Pulimood
has inquired about receiving this amount, but he has yet to apply for it.

Pulimood is considering rededicating the monument in honor of the 43 University
alumni who died on Sept. 11. He suggests this would add rather than take away
from the sundial's original purpose.
"This would be one of the very early monuments dedicated to the people who died,"
Pulimood said.
Even if the granite ball is not brought back to campus, the base itself is falling apart
and in need of restoration. The facilities office is currently in the process of restoring
the existing structure.
"It is a complex restoration process, and we want to do it in a way that will keep most
of the old materials, so it is taking some time," Burstein said.
Pulimood's goal is to restore the existing base and bring back the granite ball. He
said he will not stop in his efforts until the ball is returned.
"We need to realize that this ball is part of our history, that it was part of the original
plan of our campus. Without the ball, it is incomplete," Pulimood said.

Catherine is trying
to contact Steve
Pulimood.
He’s currently
at Oxford.

116th was Gnomon’s Land
Once upon a time, a great granite globe graced the crux of college walk.
where is that sphere today?
By Steven K. Pulimood
Spectator Art Editor
Posted: 5/7/02
At the axis of Columbia's campus, under the providence of Alma Mater's gaze,
where once stood the literal timekeeper of Columbia's modern history now lies a
relic--the base of our sundial.
Conceived in 1910 as a "functional wonder," the sundial was the gift of a group of
alumni in cooperation with the celebrated architectural firm of McKim, Mead &
White. Neither telling monument nor artful sculpture, the sundial was placed at a
distance from Low Memorial Library so that its highly polished surface would
receive the maximum amount of sunlight.
The sundial was created to stir curiosity, "to stimulate a desire for knowledge." A
timepiece with an unprecedented cultural history (known at the time as the largest
granite sphere in the world), the ball was created and positioned to be visible to all
passersby. Integral to the focus of the commencement use of the plaza as well as a
conversation piece for visitors to the University, the green granite ball was based
on a principle of inspiring with intrigue.

"Horam Expecta Veniet," or "Await, the hour will come," reads the Latin motto at
the base of the dial. For what, one might ask? At twelve noon, Eastern Standard
Time, the elliptical shadow of the sphere would cut across the dates marked on
two semi-concentric plaques at the base of the ball. A student at the time would
question its calibrations; a modern New Yorker would check his wristwatch.
A functional and didactic purpose of the sundial was obfuscated, when in the
winter of 1946 the University was forced to relinquish the sixteen-ton granite
gnomon to a Bronx junkyard after the appearance of a fissure in the porous stone
created concern for the stability of the sphere. A New York Times article of the
following week read, "At the cost of $250, the University had the ball broken into
pieces, discarded for junk." Case closed, or so we thought.
We have recently learned that for the past half-century, the ball has rested in a
field in Michigan.

Today we stand, mindful of the exasperated anthropologist's deepest desire. A
new generation of Columbia students is grateful for the preservation of a rich
history, the vestiges of giant minds, its grandest tradition continued in fervent
academic propulsion, and preserved in memoriam through its symbols:
monuments, plaques, sculptures and portraits.
After John Jay and Alexander Hamilton, why do the portraits of Lionel Trilling
and Meyer Schapiro rest astray from the sight of Columbia's students? A deep
gratitude is left undirected and unappreciated. In the year 2002, Columbia
shines in its location and resources, creating a magnet for the most promising
students, yet within recent memory the generations who have arrived are
educated within an architecture that is largely stripped of its grandeur. It is the
legacy of these objects, great and impervious, that attest to the legends,
struggles, and accomplishments of Columbia.
On the approaching eve of the College's 250th anniversary, the globe that sat
atop our sundial has resurfaced in a location far from the cries of the Columbia
lion. Why should we not retrieve, restore, and refurbish the sundial?

The famed Core Curriculum, the educational cornerstone of Columbia that
exposes minds to the potent capability of open debate and practiced argument,
rests in its profundity by encouraging one to reconsider a set of challenging
writings during the course of a lifetime. As the names inscribed across the crown of
Butler Library were once reflected in the mirrored surface of the sundial, so too its
design and conception still today speak of our very ambition: to inspire through
intrigue.
A University bound together by resources, location, and an interest in progress
must provide for an environment that recognizes that we, as members of a unique
academic community, stand upon great shoulders. This is a rare opportunity to
restore a curiosity, thought to have been erased by time, to the full glory of its
stature; a moment to reclaim and reground ourselves in a tradition and
understanding of our campus. Columbians must challenge themselves to
understand the purpose of our physical environment and its extended position into
the process of learning, to encourage what Plato intentionally did not foster in the
Republic: the arts and traditions that inspire independence of thought, the rightful
and precarious mission of our education.

The base of the sundial at Columbia today.

Chris and Hunter Heine in front of the Sun Ball, Grass Lake,
White Lake Township, Michigan – August 2006

Hunter Heine in front of the Sun Ball, Grass Lake,

Sylvana McLean in front of the Sun Ball, Grass Lake,

The story of the great sun ball power point

More Related Content

Viewers also liked (16)

Similar to The story of the great sun ball power point (20)

Recently uploaded (20)

The story of the great sun ball power point