Above a jagged, shadowy skyline, Saturn looms like an ancient god – immense, commanding, otherworldly. Its vast form dominates the sky, demanding reverence more than mere awe. Behind it, along the hazy edges of its swirling gases and glittering rings, stars form a delicate backdrop, resembling swarms of luminous insects drawn to the planet’s celestial gravity.
Beneath this breathtaking spectacle stands a lone human figure, head tilted skyward, eyes transfixed. The glow from the gas giant washes over his face, illuminating a wordless wonder. He appears impossibly small, as if standing on one of Saturn’s moons – or perhaps watching from the surface of a drifting asteroid, deep in the black silence of space.
But this isn’t a glimpse of some far-off future, plucked from the pages of Arthur C. Clarke or Robert A. Heinlein. This moment is unfolding in Chattanooga, in an aging building tucked away on a hidden hilltop, nestled above a church and beside a cemetery.
The man is Steven Kline, and he’s standing inside the planetarium of the Clarence T. Jones Observatory, a storied outpost of stargazing operated by the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga.
From Saturn to “Spaceballs”
Kline, 33, is the planetarium’s director. A UTC physics graduate and former public school teacher, he was first drawn to astronomy by images like the one projected above him. More than a picture of Saturn hanging in the sky, it sparked the kind of wide-eyed awe that grabs hold of curious minds and doesn’t let go.
“Astronomy is a great entry point into physics for a lot of people,” he says. “It’s very ‘Ooh, cool, pretty things’ – until suddenly math. But for me, it really did start with ‘Ooh, cool, pretty things.’”
Kline fell in love with the observatory as a student when he volunteered at its Sunday night star parties – free public events that feature an informal lecture, a guided planetarium show and, weather permitting, a real-time view of the cosmos through an 88-year-old telescope.
Guiding Kline on this whirlwind tour of the solar system is Kevin Hon, 53, an adjunct professor at UTC and president of the Barnard Astronomical Society of Chattanooga. Another interstellar traveler, Hon is at the controls of the observatory’s digital projector, installed in 2019, which can replicate the night sky and whisk guests through a three-dimensional model of space.
Just moments ago, Hon launched from Chattanooga’s coordinates, racing past planets and asteroids until Saturn filled the 4-inch thick plaster dome in seconds.
“I joke about going ‘ludicrous speed,’ like the ship in ‘Spaceballs,’” Kline laughs, referencing Mel Brooks’ classic sci-fi spoof. “But the projector has great bells and whistles. It plays video, it has sound and we can set the location. It defaults to Chattanooga, so we can say, ‘This is your sky, right now,’ but we’ve also used it to show what the sky looks like in Sydney, Australia. It’s been a big part of drawing people in on Sunday nights.”
Hon’s own passion for astronomy began nearly 30 years ago, after he spotted Comet Hale-Bopp and picked up a telescope from the shelves at Sears. He worked as a geologist until retiring two years ago to teach part-time at UTC – but his love for the stars never dimmed.
That passion led him to “stumble upon” the observatory in 2016, six years after he and his wife, Amy, also a geologist, moved to Chattanooga. In a blink of cosmic time, he was volunteering with the BAS and helping run public programs.
“We saw what this place was doing – reaching out, introducing people to science,” Hon says. “That’s a mission we love. We’ve been involved ever since. This place is special to all of us. We have a fantastic team, and it’s exciting to see what this place can do for the Chattanooga community.”
The projector Hon is operating replaced one that had been in place since 1958, built by hand in a local hobby shop by Clarence T. Jones himself. Jones, the observatory’s founder and namesake, installed it in the newly constructed planetarium – an expansion spearheaded by the BAS. (Hon jokes that the planetarium is “the new part of the building.”)
The original projector – a copper dodecahedron pierced with hundreds of tiny holes to cast a starry sky across the planetarium dome – now rests in a classroom-like space used for lectures. It stands not just as a relic but also as a reminder: at the observatory, every journey to the stars begins with a step into the past.
Built for the stars
The Jones Observatory has stood on its hilltop perch at 10 N. Tuxedo Avenue for nearly nine decades, an enduring sentinel of civic ambition. The building itself was completed in 1936. The telescope inside, an engineering marvel by the standards of the day, followed a year later.
“The building is 89 years old,” says Hon, doing the math out loud. “And the telescope is 88.”
The observatory’s foundation might rest in concrete, but its origin story is pure Great Depression ingenuity. Built in partnership with the local school system and funded by federal Public Works Administration (PWA) money, the observatory began as a dream of Jones – a local architect, amateur astronomer and then-president of the BAS.
“Clarence was the right person at the right time,” Hon says. “As an architect, he knew everybody in town. He donated his time, rallied support and helped bring this place to life.”
Jones worked with Chattanooga’s commissioner of education, T.H. McMillan, to include the construction of an observatory under PWA funding for the city. Financial backing for the telescope, however, had to come from elsewhere. To make it possible, Jones enlisted the help of local businesses, many of which donated time, materials or both.
While Jones didn’t build the telescope himself, he supervised its design and construction from start to finish. He also obtained raw glass for the mirror from Corning, New York. Then, in the basement of the observatory, he and his sons ground and polished the glass using machines they’d built themselves.
The result was astounding: a 20.5-inch reflecting telescope – at the time, the largest amateur-built scope in the country. In the 1930s, a 4- or 6-inch mirror was considered impressive, and a 12-inch mirror was rare. A 20-inch mirror was virtually unheard of at the time – and was a feat that stretched the boundaries of what amateur astronomers were thought capable of achieving, Hon says.
“Clarence wanted to see more. And he wanted something the community could share. He had an observatory in his own backyard, but this was different. This was a dream the entire astronomy club had. And he helped make it real.”
In the decades since, the observatory has cycled through periods of use and decline – once a public treasure, later nearly forgotten, and now again a source of interest and community pride.
“The observatory has weathered its share of challenges,” Hon admits. “The doors have been shut. There were break-ins. Homeless folks were living here at one point. But the right people showed up at the right times and kept it going. Right now, we’re on a major high – which is amazing.”
Remarkably, the building still operates under the original 99-year lease signed in 1936 – for the symbolic sum of one dollar, with no rent hike expected when it comes due in 2035, Hon speculates.
Despite its storied past, the observatory was never intended to be a research facility. Its mission has always been education and public outreach – offering the people of Chattanooga not just a look at the stars but also a way to connect with them.
Still, it once played a small but meaningful role in the broader world of science. In the 1950s, BAS members participated in Operation Moonwatch, a nationwide citizen science effort organized by the Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory to track the earliest artificial satellites.
“After Sputnik launched, BAS members would be up on the roof with binoculars and star charts, logging data and sending it around the country,” Hon says. “We didn’t discover new planets or anything, but every observation builds on something. What happened here mattered.”
Star parties, Chattanooga-style
Upon entering the observatory, visitors first encounter a massive concrete pillar rising from the center of a small, circular room. The column supports the historic telescope mounted above and runs all the way to bedrock – anchoring the instrument to the Earth even as it reaches into the sky.
Behind the pillar, an arc of backlit photographs lines the wall, displaying vivid images of galaxies, planets and nebulae. More photographs hang in the nearby lecture room, each one contributed by members of the BAS.
Among them is an image of the Milky Way, its dense core stretching across the frame like a shimmering river of stars. From Earth’s position on the galaxy’s edge, this is the view looking inward – into the heart of a system that contains hundreds of billions of stars, with the planet itself adrift as a single speck among them.
For Kline, the scale is what stands out most. Earth, he notes, occupies just one corner of a single galaxy – and that galaxy is merely one among billions. The immensity of the universe, he says, defies comprehension.
Hon sees something similar in the image. Though modern cameras can capture what the human eye cannot, the photo serves as a reminder of how much of the universe remains beyond reach. Even the most powerful instruments reveal only a fraction of what’s out there.
That cosmic perspective is echoed Sunday evenings, when the observatory hosts its weekly star parties.
Visitors often ask how far the telescope can see. According to Kline, the answer depends more on an object’s brightness than its distance. Pluto, though relatively close in cosmic terms, is too small and dim to observe. Yet the Orion Nebula, which is more than 1,300 light-years away, can often be seen through the Jones Telescope as a glowing swirl of pinks, purples and blues.
Each Sunday night event begins with a brief lecture, often delivered by university faculty, students or invited speakers. Topics range from scientific and technical to cultural and artistic. One recent lecture explored how composers have drawn inspiration from the cosmos, weaving connections between Gustav Holst’s “The Planets” and John Williams’ iconic “Star Wars” score.
The lectures are intentionally casual and designed to keep audiences engaged and eager to return.
Star parties typically follow UTC’s academic calendar, beginning in September during the fall semester and running through the spring. Occasionally, one-time events are added, such as the “Sisterhood of the Stars” gathering held in March to celebrate International Women’s Day and spotlight women in astronomy.
But the heart of the experience remains steady: an invitation to learn about and witness the night sky through one of Chattanooga’s enduring scientific landmarks.
“We offer Chattanooga something most cities don’t – a hands-on space that gets people excited about astronomy and also connects to the city’s history,” Hon says. “People walk in and say, ‘Wow, I love this place.’ It sparks curiosity. I’ve seen kids – and adults decades older than me – look through a telescope for the first time. If we can spark that interest, we’ve done our job.”
A legacy in good hands
The Jones Observatory might be rooted in the past, but it’s the dedication of present-day volunteers that keeps it alive.
The BAS, founded in 1923, has played a central role from the beginning. Though the organization has never owned the observatory, its members helped design and build it nearly a century ago – and have remained involved ever since.
“We’ve never left,” says Hon. “We’re still stewards of this place. That relationship has held since Day One.”
With deep institutional knowledge of the telescope, BAS members continue to help maintain and operate it, often working behind the scenes to keep its historic parts functioning.
This summer, Hon and his wife personally drove the telescope’s original mirror across the country to Ostahowski Optics in California for restoration. Weighing over 100 pounds, the Jones Telescope’s components are unlike anything manufactured today. So, rather than risk shipping the hand-ground, 88-year-old part, the Hons delivered it themselves.
The company, known for its precision work, was so taken by the telescope’s history and uniqueness that it donated the full cost of the recoating – an intricate process involving ultra-thin layers of aluminum applied to the mirrors’ surfaces.
The observatory is sustained by more than BAS. Faculty and students from UTC, who share the same passion for science and public engagement that has animated the observatory for decades, regularly volunteer their time.
“This place is a labor of love,” says Kline. “People aren’t getting paid to do this. They do it because they care – about the science, about the history and about the community. That’s what’s given us so much momentum.”
Efforts to maintain and improve the observatory continue on multiple fronts. Lumberjacks Tree Service have volunteered to help clear the growing canopy that has gradually obscured parts of the horizon over the past 90 years, opening up the night sky for better viewing.
Grants and fundraising initiatives have also played a role. A recent $8,000 grant will fund the renovation of the observatory’s library, which will soon feature interactive displays. Meanwhile, the building’s former dark room, once used to develop telescope photographs, is being converted into an ADA-accessible bathroom – a thoughtful update to a structure originally built without accessibility in mind.
All of it speaks to a renewed sense of purpose – a recognition that this place, with its handmade amateur telescope, still has much to offer.
Making space feel close
For Kline, the power of the observatory lies not just in its historic telescope or updated planetarium, but in its ability to make science approachable.
“Physics can be an intimidating – and not everybody has the best experience with science in K–12,” he says. “So, having a space that’s outside of that framework to engage with people of all ages – whether it’s a 4-year-old who’s curious and asks a ton of questions or an 80-year-old who’s like, ‘I heard about this place and wanted to check it out’ – that’s the biggest draw for me.
“I love watching the reaction of people as they look through the telescope at Saturn, Jupiter, the Orion Nebula – whatever – and are awestruck. Space is no longer a concept they learned about in school; Earth is one of many planets in our solar system. They can see the rings of Saturn. They can see the bands on Jupiter.”
In short, they can see all the cool, pretty things.