Skulls in the Stars

Update: Additional images provided by Alice Zent at the end of the post!

Some five years ago, I shared an intriguing anecdote from the biography of Albert A. Michelson, in which Michelson — who had a reputation of being incredibly difficult to work with — began a friendship and tutelage of a talented young woman in physics, “Margarite O’Laughlin Crowe.”  The snippet from the biography is reproduced in its entirety below.

Upon resuming his classes after his return from Sweden, Michelson became aware of a girl in one of them. As a rule his students were male. As Edna [his second wife] had implied in their first conversation, he had never been much impressed with female students. They tended to radiate an earnest air which his generation did not associate with feminine charm, or they became hysterical during the Friday recitation and burst into tears. But Margarite O’Laughlin Crowe was an exception. Their friendship began when he caught her toasting marshmallows over her Bunsen burner in the laboratory. In his most severe tone he told her that the penalty was a fine of two golden-brown marshmallows which she must bring to his office at teatime. After the ice was broken she grew bolder. On St. Valentine’s Day, Michelson walked into Ryerson to find his name plaque decorated with hearts and cupids. Margarite Crowe had arranged a party. Fred and Julius Pearson had helped her trim the somber hall with red and white twisted streamers. Michelson relaxed his usual severity and joined in, even managing to drink with apparent relish the sweet punch she had concocted.

Not long after the party he heard that Margarite’s mother, with whom she had been living, had died rather suddenly, and that Margarite was thinking of giving up her career in physics. Sending for her immediately, he counseled her against such action. He suggested a change in her studies, advising her to go to Yerkes Observatory to work under the supervision of his friend Edwin Frost. He showed her a stellar map and suggested a part of the sky that might interest her. This was a turning point for Margarite, who later made some original scholarly contributions. In the spring after her graduation, she came to Michelson’s office to say good-by. As a keepsake he gave her the broken fragment of the grating that he had used at his Nobel lecture.

I found this description really charming, and it highlighted something I’ve noticed time and again: even when women were for the most part not taken seriously in physics, the smartest scientists knew better, and supported that often ignored talent.

At the time, I was unable to find any further information about “Margarite,” leaving me to wonder what happened to her. About a week ago, though, I was contacted by Alice Zent, a descendant of Crowe’s, who filled in a lot of information about her Great Aunt!  With her permission, I share below her comments on my blog as well as a few documents that show what an exceptional career Marguerite O’Loghlin Crowe¹ had.

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