The setting provided by founding Director Bob Wilson’s creative design of the National Accelerator Laboratory, the architecture of the buildings and his many sculptures are an enduring source of pride for those associated with Fermilab and, indeed, for the surrounding community. One of the sculptures that has gained widespread attention is “Tractricious,” a piece that graces the space in front of the Fermilab Industrial Building Complex.
The Industrial Center Building (one of Wilson’s designs) was completed in 1983, when Richard Lundy was head of the Technical Support Section (later renamed the Technical Division). When I became head of Technical Support the following year, I began to consider ways to improve the visual appearance of the space in front of the handsome new building.
We started by moving a large, rather unsightly helium compressor building, then located in front of the Industrial Complex, to a new location behind the industrial buildings. Then in 1986, trees and other landscaping features were added to the front of the Industrial Complex. Still, something was still missing.
The Industrial Center Building, part of the five building complex, is shown in October 1986 flanked by two of the other industrial buildings. Photo: Fermilab
The area bounded by the new Center Building and the neighboring Industrial Buildings formed an expansive grassy semicircle. The center lines of the three buildings formed a focus at the center of the semicircle. It seemed that this focal point might provide a natural location for a sculpture that would complement the symmetry of the building and the formal style of the landscape plan. It was an ideal location for a “Bob Wilson” sculpture.
Cryostat pipe left over from the construction of Tevatron magnets was used to build the sculpture “Tractricious.” Photos from the Technical Support files
When I approached Wilson about the possibility of a sculpture, he was enthusiastic. He sent me off to assess the availability of scrap stainless steel that might suggest a theme for the sculpture. Technical support technician TJ Gardner and others searched the places where obsolete, unwanted equipment and scrap materials were kept. We came back with a collection of photos for Wilson of what we thought looked promising (although without the practiced eye of an artist).
Wilson was intrigued by the stainless steel tubing left over from the recently completed construction of the Tevatron superconducting magnets. After assessing the available material, Wilson decided on an array of six-and-a-half-inch diameter stainless steel cryostat tubes in the form of a paraboloid. He considered several designs, including one in which the array was asymmetric vertically, but concluded that it was too suggestive of a cooling tower at a nuclear power plant.
These drawings show early design concepts for “Tractricious.” Drawings from the Technical Support files
Wilson settled on a final design consisting of 16 members, each 39 feet long. The length of each member was achieved by welding two Tevatron cryostat tubes together end to end. The welding was carried out under the supervision of Jerry Peterson and Luis Ramirez in the Technical Support machine shop. The use of cryostat tubes would symbolize the key role the Technical Support Section had played in producing the superconducting magnets for the Tevatron.
Technical Support engineer Tom Nicol went to work designing the pedestal and tube support system. He performed a careful structural analysis, including dynamic response to extreme wind conditions. Tom was confident of the engineering but did tell Wilson that, if the tubes were left open at the top as Wilson wanted, they might fill up with pigeon droppings. Kurt Kasules and George Mikota took care of the pedestal construction and alignment of the tubes.
These drawings show the sculpture’s final design. Drawings from the Technical Support files
Wilson derived the name Tractricious from tracktrix, a curve such that any tangent segment from the tangent point on the curve to the curve’s asymptote have constant length, a concept first introduced by Claude Perrault in 1670.
Once satisfied with the design and the name, Wilson began thinking about enhancements. He decided that the sculpture, having a vague resemblance to pipes in an organ, needed to sing with the passing breezes (perhaps inspired by a recently completed sea organ in San Francisco Bay).
Having some familiarity with pipe organs, I thought about that idea for a while and even imagined baffles at different distances from the top of the pipes that might produce different pitches. Alas, in the end the idea turned out to be impractical. Wilson also wanted the base of the sculpture to project above a surrounding reflective pool. While certainly a pleasing addition, the pool ultimately also turned out to be impractical due to our limited resources.
The next hurdle was to find outside funding to construct the pedestal and erect the pipes since these were not normal lab expenditures. I wrote to Stanka Jovanovic, then president of the Friends of Fermilab, appealing for the necessary funding, which we estimated to be about $10,000.
In January, 1987, the Friends of Fermilab Board of Directors unanimously agreed to support raising the funds. Robert Riley, a member of the Friends of Fermilab Board (and president of Gary-Wheaton Bank of Batavia), led the fundraising effort. Riley located interested donors in the community and before long the funds were in hand. The sculpture was completed in June 1988, a tribute, not only to Wilson but to Fermilab’s close relationship to the community.
An attractive feature of the laboratory site, “Tractricious” gets a fair share of photographic attention, as is evident in this gallery. Click on the magnifying glass icon in the lower right to see the photos in their true orientations (landscape or portrait).
Sandhill cranes are annual visitors to Fermilab. Photo: Tina Smith
Beginning in August, Fermilab’s Batavia Road gate came under the watchful eyes of several sandhill cranes (Grus canadensis). As employees and visitors alike passed through the gate, it would be difficult to miss these stately sentinels. It’s hard to ignore a bird that can look you straight in the eye as you pass by seated in your car. They stand roughly four feet tall on long legs and have a 6-foot wingspan. They range in color from a powdery gray to rusty brown with a red crown.
Sandhill cranes are annual visitors to Fermilab. During spring and fall migration they will pass over in large flocks. Periodically, some individuals will be found foraging in agricultural fields.
Bird monitors on site keep an eye out for any signs that this species might use Fermilab for breeding. At this point there is no evidence that sandhill cranes have bred on site. The appearance of two pairs of adult sandhill cranes foraging on site late in the breeding season is intriguing as they likely spent the summer either at Fermilab or very nearby. They seem to like foraging in the short grasses that probably make hunting a lot easier for them. Perhaps this is a new benefit of co-existing in an urbanized environment.
This species is making a remarkable comeback in northeast Illinois. As recently as 1989 sandhill cranes were federally listed as an endangered species. Their numbers had plummeted due to hunting and wetlands destruction. Sandhill cranes since have benefited from both habitat and species protection. In 1999 the species was moved from endangered to threatened status. By 2009 they had recovered enough to be delisted. However, they are still protected under the Federal Migratory Bird Act. So, it is a big deal that sandhill cranes have decided to make Fermilab their home for part of the year.
These animals seem so relaxed and tame as they forage in the open lawns and planting beds. We need to remind ourselves that these are wild animals and should be treated as such. For the most part humans and vehicles are quite foreign to them. They do not know how to react to them and don’t realize the dangers involved in foraging in or along roadways. In September, a few miles from Fermilab’s east boundary, a sandhill crane was on the losing end of a collision with a vehicle. Its mate was seen standing over the body for the remainder of the day. These birds should be given their space for their safety as well as your own. They are well equipped to fend off large predators in the wild and they can easily inflict pain with their sharp bills.
The appropriate way to interact with our new neighbors is to give them plenty of room. When you observe them along roadways, slow down. Enjoy the opportunity to see them, but give them their space. Do not approach them. They don’t need a handout or a pat on the head. Just leave them to be the wild animals that they are.
Denis Kania is the manager of natural areas for the St. Charles Park District and a consulting member of the Fermilab Ecological Land Management Committee.
Robert Wilson constructs “Acqua Alle Funi,” also known as the Hyperbolic Obelisk, in 1978. Photo: Fermilab
Robert Wilson was a man born out of his time.
He lived in America from 1914 to 2000, but he really belonged to the central Italy of the 1500s. He knew this, but was determined to make the best of the opportunities afforded by the 20th century.
Robert Rathbun Wilson was a son of a small American township called Frontier, Wyoming, but while his intellectual brilliance and talents soon took him to many more interesting places, he never forgot or underestimated his roots in small-time America.
His academic success took him to California, where he studied physics to doctoral level, studying under Ernest O. Lawrence on the theory of the cyclotron. By the time the United States entered the war he was working with Robert Oppenheimer, who recruited him as a group leader at Los Alamos, where he contributed to the building of the first atomic bomb. He then retired to a more peaceful existence as a professor at Cornell University.
When in the 1960s United States decided to build the world’s largest particle accelerator, Robert Wilson was the obvious choice of a man to build it. A site was chosen on the prairie, 40 miles out of Chicago. Boring, flat farmland is not a very exciting place to attract the brains that would clearly be needed to man it.
“Acqua Alle Funi” has stood in the reflecting pond in front of Wilson Hall since 1978. Photo: Reidar Hahn
Robert Wilson was up to the challenge. His own personality and reputation were sufficient to attract the talent he needed, and he soon had a small team of potential group leaders with the requisite skills.
The site, about 10 square miles in extent, comprised more than 50 farms whose owners had been reimbursed by the government, some woods and an old cemetery. Wilson had the clapboard houses moved physically to make a charming little artificial village, found a site for the accelerator, which was to be a circular structure about a mile across, designed and built a laboratory building 15 stories high, stocked the site with a herd of American bison and the lakes with trumpeter swans, arranged for some of the land to be turned from farming back to its original tall grass prairie, and covered the site with sufficient roads for access. Characteristically, the roads are named after the Indian tribes that once inhabited the area.
As well as being a scientist, he was a sculptor and an architecture enthusiast, and the design of the high-rise building bore his influence. He covered the site with large abstract sculptures of his own design. At one time he took a course in welding so that he could realize his own art work. One of the pieces was an obelisk, placed at the end of a reflecting pool situated in front of the high-rise laboratory building. He called it “Acqua alle funi.”
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In the early 1500s, Bernini and Michelangelo were busy building and decorating St. Peter’s cathedral in Rome. Some years later, it was desired to re‑erect in the middle of the circular colonnade an enormous monumental pillar from antiquity that was there. The pillar, made from granite and weighing many tons, was to be brought to a vertical position and dropped into a prepared hole so that it would stand and occupy the most prominent position at the center of the most important piazza in the world.
Elaborate preparations were made for the raising. A huge wooden structure was erected, with pulleys and ropes enabling the column to be pulled up by the combined efforts of hundreds of workers. A day was set aside. Everything was ready for the effort. As an additional guarantee of success, the Pope decreed that no one was to speak while the work was in progress, so that the instructions of the overseer could be clearly heard. The penalty for speaking is variously reported as having been death or excommunication.
The work began. The workers toiled at the ropes, and the pillar began to rise. The hot Roman sun ascended in the sky. As the angle of the great stone obelisk increased, so did the temperature of the ropes. The energy expended by all those people pulling heated them, and the blazing sun did nothing to help. In due course they became so hot they began to smoke. If they caught fire, the obelisk would come crashing down. It might even shatter.
The obelisk in St. Peter Square in Vatican City was erected in 1586. Photo: Staselnik
It was at this time that one of the workers, a Ligurian sailor called Bresca, decided that the rule of silence was less important than the success of the project. He shouted out: “Acqua alle funi,” meaning “water to the ropes.” The astounded overseer, realizing that this was useful advice, had water fetched and poured on the ropes. The project was saved. The obelisk adorns St. Peter’s Square to this day.
When it was reported to the Holy Father, he decided on clemency. The punishment was lifted, and the brave worker was rewarded. He and his heirs were given the privilege of a monopoly in the sale of palm leaves to pilgrims in St. Peter’s Square on Palm Sunday of each year. Apparently the family survives, and still enjoys the privilege.
Wilson erected his obelisk on the site of his laboratory in May 1978.
Frank Beck is a retired CERN staff member living in England. He spent two years at the Fermilab as head of research services when the Energy Saver was being commissioned.
Editor’s note: For more about the construction and installation of “Acqua Alle Funi,” including historic photos, check out the History and Archives Project website. A May 1978 FermiNews article (see page 2) reports on the sculpture installation.