Rachel Feltman: Happy Monday, listeners! For Scientific American’s Science Quickly, I’m Rachel Feltman. I was out of the office taking a little break last week, so I didn’t have the chance to write and record our usual news roundup. Instead, I thought it would be fun to dive back into the Scientific American archives for the first time in a while. Let’s see what SciAm was up to 100 years ago.
The April 1925 issue of Scientific American had more in common with our coverage in 2024 than you might expect: 99 years apart everyone was going gaga over eclipses. While the January 1925 total solar eclipse didn’t quite hit the same swath of the U.S. as the one we got to enjoy last year, it did treat folks in Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, Rhode Island and Massachusetts to totality. According to SciAm’s April 1925 article on the subject, the weather was pristine for eclipse viewing. The article also details some apparently very eerie visual effects that showed up during the eclipse. Apparently, some folks in the path of totality saw patterns of dark, squirming bands on the ground during the last moments of sunlight. “Indeed,” the article states, “there was hardly anything more weird in the whole unearthly sequence than the appearance in the growing obscurity of these thousands of writhing serpents of shadow.”
The 1925 writer helpfully explains what scientists still think is behind these illusory snakes. Apparently they were the shadows cast by streaks of air with different densities. As anyone who’s ever gotten to experience an eclipse knows, the shadows cast by the sun sharpen as the light source narrows in scope. So while we don’t usually see the squiggles of warmer and cooler drafts of air refracting different amounts of light, an impending total eclipse can make the effect noticeable. There was reportedly some pristine snow on the ground during the 1925 eclipse, which likely created a perfect background for seeing some solar shadow play.
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One interesting difference between last year’s eclipse and the one in 1925? The moon was late—or, more accurately, all the humans were early—by about five seconds. The April 1925 edition of SciAm explains that while the general public probably found it delightful that the totality predictions were so close to exact, astronomers were “disappointed” by the discrepancy.
What I find really neat is how scientists became aware of the five-second delay at all. According to SciAm, observing stations along the path of totality were poised to send a signal over telegraph wire at the moment the moon completely covered the sun. Those signals were automatically recorded by “accurate time-measuring machines” at Bell Labs and Yale University so scientists could later analyze the event’s timing.
The same article predicts that an eclipse in 2025 “could be predicted not only within
an error of five seconds but within an error as small as can be observed.”
Predicting the exact arrival of totality requires knowledge of where the sun and moon will be in the sky at any given moment. We’ve now got an excellent read on where the moon is all the time, thanks to mirrors left there during the Apollo missions. And as we explained in our January episode on heliophysics, there are always plenty of scientists focused on the sun.
Moving on from eclipses, I can’t talk about vintage Scientific American without reminding you that the Scientific American Psychic Investigation was a very real, very serious endeavor in 1925. Technically the magazine’s official search for proof of genuine ghosts was held from 1923 to 1924, but the rules specified that the aptly-named Psychic Committee would review any applications still pending when the deadline closed. In April 1925 Scientific American spent an entire page explaining why it’s rejecting the claims of a woman known as “Margery,” who was apparently the wife of a well-known surgeon in Boston.
According to reporting by PBS, Margery was the most serious contender in SciAm’s hunt for a genuine spiritual medium, with famous illusionist and skeptic Henry Houdini included in the committee that investigated her. Apparently Houdini got so fed up with the length of how long it was taking Scientific American to reject Margery’s claims. That he published a pamphlet dismissing her claims at his own expense.
Now, you might assume that Scientific American’s readers were upset to see the magazine take mediums so seriously. But according to an article about the Margery investigation published in SciAm’s August 1924 issue, the “most persistent” criticism the magazine faced for its psychic challenge was that it was too “hasty” in dismissing individual mediums.
Rigorous as always, Scientific American waited to make its official declaration on Margery until members of its committee had attended almost 100 of her seances.
We’ll wrap up our tour of the April 1925 issue with a quick scan of the “Inventions New and Interesting” section. If you’ve never looked at our archives before, this is the place to start for a quick hit of delightfully weird historical ephemera. It features new patents the editors of the magazine found particularly innovative, and the result feels like an “as seen on TV” collection of late-night infomercial gadgets.
For instance, in April 1925 the magazine featured an electrical salon device that offered all sorts of attachments, from razors to dental-hygiene devices. I guess you could call it the original Dyson Airwrap. The magazine also showcases an elaborate device meant to remove the core of a grapefruit, which I have to admit is baffling to me for several reasons.
Another featured product is a small folding table for dogs, which the magazine suggested could “create good manners” by “rais[ing] their standard of living.” I see what you did there guys. Though it was noted that if most people had as much trouble getting their dog to eat off the table as the SciAm photographer did, “we should not call it a great success.”
In a blurb titled “Foiling the Highjacker” the magazine highlights “an extremely clever device to frustrate the motor-car holdup men.” Was it some kind of door lock or alarm system? Nope: it was a gun holster that reportedly kept revolvers safely—and accessibly!—pointed at either the floor or dashboard of the car.
That’s not to say all of SciAm’s favorite new inventions look silly in hindsight. The April 1925 issue also shares the game-changing news from the University of California that prunes can now be dehydrated artificially more efficiently than they can be dried out in the sun. And some of the magazine’s highlighted products are so practical that it makes me shudder for folks who had to live before their invention: serrated kitchen shears, rubber scrapers for cleaning kitchen sinks, and foot-powered mop wringers to save cleaners from bending over.
Perhaps the most thrilling entry is one called “Washing the Car in An Automobile Laundry,” which describes a bold new facility where cars are carried on a conveyor belt and washed in a stunning 14 minutes.
That’s all for this week’s vintage news roundup. The usual 21st-century news will be back next Monday. If you’re hungry for updates on current happenings, you can go check out ScientificAmerican.com. We’ll be back on Wednesday to explore how AI is changing the way some people grieve.
Science Quickly is produced by me, Rachel Feltman, along with Fonda Mwangi, Kelso Harper, Naeem Amarsy and Jeff DelViscio. This episode was edited by Alex Sugiura. Shayna Posses and Aaron Shattuck fact-check our show. Our theme music was composed by Dominic Smith. Subscribe to Scientific American for more up-to-date and in-depth science news.
For Scientific American, this is Rachel Feltman. Have a great week!