Moon Magic

It was a close race Thursday between the low clouds creeping up from the south and the rose-gray moon trying to rise above it all in the sky. In the end, the clouds won, and the moon took an early exit from its own party.

But none of the 4,000 moon worshipers gathered at Griffith Observatory to see the last total lunar eclipse until 2000 seemed to mind.

On the observatory lawn, a circle of meditators swayed and chanted. Lovers cuddled. Parents explained to their children why the moon “looked like a cookie with a bite taken out of it,” as one child put it. And children explained astronomy to their parents.

A lunar eclipse occurs when the sun, the Earth and the moon align, and the Earth’s shadow obscures the face of the full moon.

Under ideal conditions, Thursday’s eclipse would have made its appearance about 6:37 p.m. About that time, however, the eastern sky was full of haze and there was no sign of the moon.

Still, long lines snaked around the hilltop observatory, while elsewhere around Southern California, amateur astronomers were still hoping for a glimpse of the moon or of Saturn, which was supposed to be visible 2 degrees to the lower right of the moon with the aid of a small telescope or binoculars.

“I’d like to see what all the fuss is about if the darn thing ever comes out,” said David Price, 43, a Burbank construction worker waiting for the bus at Van Nuys and Ventura boulevards about 6:44 p.m., seven minutes after the moon should have been visible. “All I see is smog over on that side.”

Reaction to the eclipse on Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks was mixed, with some people eagerly anticipating the phenomenon and others puzzled at why people were looking at the sky:

“Hurry up!” said 11-year-old Carly Timmens as she rushed home on her roller skates with friends Anne Hollis, 12, and Lori Taylor, 11, at about 6:30 p.m. “We’re going to miss it.”

Griffith Observatory Director Ed Krupp had been set to bang pots and pans--a holdover from an ancient ritual when men would howl at the moon or make loud noises to chase away demons. But he never got the chance.

Planetarium lecturer Roger Keen said he preferred a “sky I can control. . . . It’s too frustrating when you can’t push a button and make the sky clear.” By about 6:50 the moon had risen--or at least a yellowish slice of it had.

“Wow! That’s so cool. I’m so embarrassed I didn’t know,” said Mimi Umidon, 35, passing out movie screening passes outside a theater and sneaking glances at the eclipse after someone pointed it out.

“Oh, yeah!” said her partner Scott Jensen, 27, who knew but had not shared the news with Umidon. “But I figured it’s L.A.--who’s going to see it through the smog?”

Steve Cubias, 12, from Orville Junior High School explained to his mother how Johannes Kepler figured out that the world was round by noticing the circular shadow it cast on the moon during a lunar eclipse.

Patricia and Henry Iroro of Long Beach brought along daughter Violets, a third-grader who spun around in circles, showing how the Earth turns. Her teacher, Mrs. Beard, had told her class about the eclipse, and Violets’ expertise was impressive. Asked if she’d like to visit the moon someday, she said with great authority: “No way! It takes three days to get there!”

Other people were less interested and even puzzled by all the commotion.

“Maybe I’ll watch it from here or from home,” said 16-year-old Adi Dagan of Northridge. “Right now I’m going to Iguana’s, you know, that store.”