Richard Royal Fisher ’61, Doctor of Science
Richard Royal Fisher ’61 received an honorary Doctor of Science at Grinnell College Commencement 2019.
About Richard Royal Fisher ’61
In the fall of 1961, Dick Fisher saw a display of the northern lights that lasted for three nights. It was so bright that he could read a newspaper from the light it cast, and he wrote about it in his diary. “I have to know more about this,” he wrote. That aurora — caused by catastrophic solar flare activity on the sun — turned out to be an inflection point. Fisher’s desire to understand the connections between the sun and the Earth would drive much of the rest of his career. Fisher earned a degree in mathematics from Grinnell, and followed it with a doctorate in astrogeophysics from the University of Colorado.
He went on to join the University of Hawaii’s Institute for Astronomy. There, he helped build three telescopes called coronagraphs, which allow scientists to investigate the outer atmosphere of the sun, the solar corona. He went on to take roles at the U.S. Air Force’s Sacramento Peak Observatory in Sunspot, New Mexico, and the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Boulder, Colorado. At both organizations, he focused on building observatory-class instrumentation for solar physics research.
In 1991, he took on his first role at NASA. He spent more than a decade at NASA’S Goddard Space Flight Center’s Laboratory for Astronomy and Solar Physics, where he helped build and deploy satellites that supported a range of different missions.
In 2002, he became NASA’s laboratory chief for astrophysics and solar physics, a role in which he supervised 300 scientists. Later, he became the first director of the heliophysics division in the science mission directorate of NASA headquarters. There he managed the research grants program and served as the program director for two major NASA strategic flight development programs.
He received the Distinguished Service Medal for his work with NASA, an honor that is also used to recognize lunar astronauts. In addition, he received a Presidential Rank Award, a recognition given to career senior executive service members of the U.S. government.
For his efforts to investigate, study, and understand our solar system, Grinnell is proud to recognize Richard Royal Fisher ’61.
Transcript
President Kington, the faculty, and the staff of Grinnell College, alumni, families, and graduating seniors, I want to express my deep gratitude to you for your invitation for me to be with you here today, and to participate in your graduation ceremony. I am truly grateful for your kindness, and your hospitality, and I couldn't imagine in my wildest dreams ever being in a situation where I would talk before you today. Thank you. I am deeply touched.
I shall now tell a space story.
Now, first of all, I have to have a little remark. I know two kinds of stories. The first are stories about human activities, and these are riding — and that'd be horses or motorcycles — golf, fishing, flying, and space. I know another kind of story, which I'll get to in a moment. The ones with human activity always begin with exactly the same words, and this is useful when you're trying to understand what you're hearing. And they always begin, if you will, "you aren't going to believe this. But honest to gosh, I was right there, and I saw it with my own two eyes."
Now, fairytales, of course you know, always begin a different way. They use a similar formula, and that is "once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away," and so forth, and so on. But after these different beginnings, some of the stories are so similar that it's very difficult to distinguish what you're hearing. And I thought I would mention that, so you had some ideas, and some anticipation.
On a very cold, and very brisk November evening, 60 years ago at a location 131 meters behind me, I witnessed the biggest auroral display, the Northern Lights, that have been seen over Iowa during the 20th century. I wouldn't have believed it, except I saw it with my own two eyes. And that night, I was so impressed, I went up and I wrote in my one-page-a-day diary — and this is sort of like ... it's an analog iPhone idea, you're probably not familiar... — "I have to know more about this."
I had witnessed the visible aftermath of something called a GLE, and I didn't say jelly. It's GLE as in George, Lima, Echo, and when scientists don't know what they're talking about, they will habitually use a three letter acronym, so that you know they're familiar with it and they don't have the foggiest notion what they're talking about.
A GLE is a catastrophic solar flare, which is so powerful that it alters the entire magnetic field of the solar system. This was the tenth one that had ever been experienced by humans. By sheer chance, I had photographed the sunspot that produced the GLE two or three days before the flare and the aurora. And this was the output of an independent study project here at Grinnell.
I was enabled in this project by two wonderful guys, Mr. Oelke, who tutored me concerning photography and its processes and techniques, and by Mr. Sandmann, who taught me how to analyze an instrument as a linear filter. The result was the first of many, and I hesitate to put a number on it, but it would now be millions of solar images that I've collected. And I still keep these two, that image on my two laptops.
"I have to know more about this." This event occurred a little over 3,000 weeks ago, and I've sub-vocalized that phrase at least once a week for the last 60 years. I have since lost the ability to distinguish whether that is a promise, or a prayer, and it may have been both at some point in time.
At Grinnell soon after, my interests were transformed into a passion to know more about the connection between the sun and the Earth. And that passion, in fact, has influenced most of the major decisions of my life. It was the result of a very improbable intersection of an independent study, an infrequent natural phenomenon, and the kindness and generosity of those two faculty members. It allowed me to make modest cultural and intellectual contributions, but it also allowed me to support national and international research communities. I feel that I have been incredibly fortunate.
My hope for you today as graduates is that you've found your own moment of inspiration. Where your interests, your preoccupation, and your passion have forged together, so that you have a meaningful and significant life goal. Perhaps you had one before you got to Grinnell, and if so, congratulations. Perhaps you discovered one here at Grinnell. Good luck with it. Perhaps you haven't had this experience. Don't get discouraged. It doesn't happen right away. Just keep on looking, and the most important issue is to remain present and open to the possibilities. That moment of inspiration may crop up unanticipated in time or circumstance, as did mine, 30 years ago, 131 meters away, and a galaxy far, far away.
Thank you very much.
[ Cheers and applause ]