The Magic of Cranbrook

Six miles from Caroline Street were stars, lasers, a collection of Michigan minerals, and wonder.

I once sailed with Rush through the constellations on laser trails. Typed 90 words a minute on a laser keyboard for bursts of patterns and colors. Saw the Andromeda Galaxy through a telescope in an observatory.

From the first exhibits in 1930 to today’s panorama of science, the Cranbrook Institute of Science was a playground for my family and me. After attending a family astronomy series by my (later) friend Ray, my children and I fell in love with the museum.

When I signed up to learn more about the laser shows, I became an enthusiastic volunteer. The best job I’ve ever had was to be one of the fortunate laser show operators in the planetarium. The designer and director of Lasera, Mel, “Laser Captain,” also became a friend.

In those days, the two lasers were water-cooled, which could cause a problem with water pressure when school groups took their bathroom breaks at the same time. We fired up the argon and krypton lasers, logged the times, and set up the control board in the planetarium. Picture this, 360 degree music around you, stars and laser patterns above, while you soared in space.

When the planetarium was free, I practiced the shows, matching pattern movements to music with joy sticks, effect buttons, and keyboard. My children had the run of the science museum. What a wonderful way to celebrate science.

One Friday night at a late Rush show, I stood at the planetarium door taking tickets when I heard, from farther down the line, “Oh, good, it’s her.” No accolade could be more welcome. We all had a good time in the Rush shows, and I never squelched audience enthusiasm. I sang with them.

Rocking in Space, with its variety of artists, was the most popular show I worked on. One weekend, Mel and I did so many shows together, from the school groups on Friday afternoon, to extra weekend shows for Girl Scouts, to the evening performances, that when I left late Saturday night, I glanced up at the full moon and fully expected to see Doug’s programmed rocket man dance across the face of the moon to the Police song. “…feet they hardly touch the ground walking on the moon…”

After Mel introduced me to the walkways and gardens around Cranbrook House, I spent many hours there, year after year. My sister JoAnn and I strolled the garden paths around the manor house. I dreamed about tea on the terrace overlooking garden levels to the reflecting pond. Walked barefoot down Daffodil Hill in the early spring. Strolled to the Japanese garden past summer woods, and savored the luxury of elegance and beauty.

George Booth and Ellen Scripps Booth bought a farm in 1904 in the countryside of Bloomfield Hills, and over the years, were determined to use their wealth to share arts and sciences and beauty with others. They built their beautiful home, schools, an art academy, a science academy, and Christ Church Cranbrook with its carillon.

Occasionally I toured the inside of the house, and of course, dreamed about living there. In fact, in one of my fantasy series, I used the house as the Portal Guardians’ home base.

My sister and I always avoided the tiny room at the front of the house, though, and felt a distinct aversion to the mirror inside. We were convinced that the eerie feeling we got when we crossed the narrow room came from that mirror, and if we looked too long, we’d see other times and places.

Wish I could go back with her today and peer into eternity.

When spring and summer roll through Michigan, I heartily encourage you to visit Cranbrook gardens and the house and the science museum, and experience the magic for yourself.

Oh, and Ray? Thank you for the Andromeda Galaxy.

And Mel? Thank you for the laser rides through the cosmos.