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{shortcode-be29865d8a9c7908fa05930b7f2d42574eaa573c}t was during a 1970 trip to Edinburgh that Harvard professor Owen J. Gingerich came across a book that would consume the next three decades of his life.

While perusing the library collections of the Royal Observatory, Gingerich came across a heavily annotated first edition copy of Nicolaus Copernicus’s seminal work, “De revolutionibus orbium coelestium,” in which Copernicus proposed that the Earth revolves around the Sun.

Finding the annotations led Gingerich to question the belief that when Copernicus published “De revolutionibus” in 1543, it was “the book that nobody read” — a phrase popularized by a 1959 bestselling book on the history of astronomy.

Motivated by “a skepticism about the idea, ‘No one read it’” — as historian of medicine and Harvard professor Allan M. Brandt described him — Gingerich embarked on an adventure lasting more than 30 years, crisscrossing the globe in search of every surviving first and second edition copy of Copernicus’s manuscript.

And in 2004, Gingerich published his rebuttal, analyzing the notes and margins in all 601 copies he found to establish that Copernicus’s theories were, in fact, widely read when first published. Gingerich titled his response “The Book That Nobody Read: Chasing the Revolutions of Nicolaus Copernicus.”

Upon his retirement in 2000 after a 40-year-long career, Gingerich had, with astronomer David W. Latham, taught the longest-running Harvard course under continuous leadership. He died on May 28, 2023, at the age of 93.

His career accomplishments include serving on the American Astronomical Society and American Philosophical Society, receiving the Order of Merit of the Republic of Poland for his research on Copernicus, and winning the French Astronomical Society’s Prix Jules Janssen.

Gingerich is survived by his wife of 69 years, Miriam Sensenig Gingerich; his sons Jonathan C. Gingerich ’79, Peter Gingerich, and Mark Gingerich; three grandchildren; and a great-grandchild.

‘An Incredible Collection of Books’

It wasn’t just Copernicus: Gingerich’s former students and colleagues recalled in detail the sheer size and historical value of his rare book collection.

His collection — which included first edition works by Isaac Newton and Johannes Kepler — was so vast that Gingerich had a heavy firearm safe installed in his office to store some of his books and his floor reinforced to support the safe.

“He had an incredible collection of books and he knew where all of them were — I mean, it was amazing,” said Astrophysics professor Irwin I. Shapiro, who holds Harvard’s highest faculty rank as a University Professor.

Shapiro, who worked with Gingerich while leading the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics from 1982 to 2004, said that Gingerich “had a room full of books and he could put his finger on any one at any instance.”

Charles R. Alcock — who led the Center from 2004 to 2023 — said that when he taught a freshman seminar at the College, “one of the absolute high points” of the course was taking his students to “the old telescope” in the Science Center where “they would meet with Owen and he would bring out his books.”

“It’s one thing to hear about Kepler, it’s another thing to understand it mathematically — but to actually see the original works and discuss it with a Kepler scholar was just one of the real high points of the entire semester for them,” Alcock said.

An esteemed authority on rare books and manuscripts, Gingerich twice helped the FBI in hunting down two stolen copies of Copernicus’s book. He was once also called as an expert witness in a book theft case to attest to an item’s value, according to Philip M. Sadler, director of the Center for Astrophysics’ Science Education Department.

In another instance, Michael F. Suarez — executive director of Rare Book School, an independent institute housed at the University of Virginia — raved about Gingerich’s knowledge and collection during a talk in Boston, unaware that the astronomy professor was sitting “about five rows in front of him” in the audience.

“Owen — in a very sweet and gentle way — went up and shook his hand and introduced himself,” said Jim S. Berkman ’77, a former student of Gingerich’s who attended the lecture with Suarez.

“[Suarez] was pleased to meet him but he was just so shocked that he’d been gushing about a man who was in the audience,” Berkman added, saying Suarez’s face turned “beet red.”

‘A Lively, Warm, Personal Interest’

It was because of Gingerich that Katharine Park ’72 — a renowned historian of science and Harvard professor emeritus — entered the field.

After attending her first lecture with Gingerich — one of her first classes as a Harvard undergraduate — she came out feeling like “I know what I want to do with my life.”

Park also underscored how in an era of deep sexism, misogyny, and “anti-Radcliffe sentiment” toward students of then-Radcliffe College, Gingerich was notable for being incredibly kind and gracious to women.

“You just got used to a kind of low-level barrage of misogynist humor, kind of catty jokes about Radcliffe students,” Park said. “And with Gingerich, there was not a whisper of that.”

“He was very welcoming and supportive of his female students and I benefited from that enormously,” she added. “You got the sense that he was actively looking out for and encouraging his female students.”

Gingerich was known for his teaching excellence, his collection of thousands of physical slides he used in his lectures, and his vivid experiments — including propelling himself out of a classroom using a fire extinguisher.

Carol D. Fisler ’77, a former student of Gingerich and Latham, described the professors’ course Natural Sciences 9: “The Astronomical Perspective” as “the best class that I had at Harvard.” Despite the course’s large size, Fisler and Berkman both remembered how close-knit the instructors made the class feel.

“[Gingerich] just had such a lively, warm, personal interest in everything that he was teaching that it all came to life in the most engaging way,” Fisler said. “There was just something about the atmosphere of the class that was conducive to people connecting with each other.”

Some attendees of Gingerich and Latham’s class were so enthralled by the course that, according to Latham, one “elderly listener” who was sitting in on the class handed Gingerich an envelope containing a large check meant to “support the course” in place of an end of semester course evaluation.

“We were an endowed course,” Latham quipped, saying that the check was “more money” than they could have imagined having for the course and that it supported course operations “for a decade.”

One year, enrollment in their course was lagging behind their expectations, so Latham “jokingly” suggested they get a skywriter plane to fly over campus during a lecture to attract more students.

Gingerich liked the idea — not jokingly — and so by the next lecture, they had paid a plane company to fly over Harvard Yard towing a banner that proclaimed “Sci A-17. M, W, F. Try it!” referring to the new course code for “The Astronomical Perspective.”

To their dismay, the trick did not work: Only one student joined.

“It turns out that Harvard students don’t look up,” Latham joked.

Brandt, the historian of medicine, said Gingerich was why many undergraduates declared History of Science as their concentration, adding that he really “helped to build” the program.

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Gingerich’s fellow faculty members also spoke fondly of his kindness and his ever-open door.

Brandt said Gingerich was “incredibly personable” and remembered how Gingerich visited him while he was sick for a couple of years. Meanwhile, Shapiro, the University Professor, said that when he had questions about astronomical history for a course he was teaching, Gingerich was “just so kind.”

Gingerich’s penchant for collecting extended beyond rare books. He was an avid acquirer of shells and other objects, such as a piece of a meteorite he used to loan out to Astronomy professor David Charbonneau to show to his class. He also possessed the world’s largest collection of ephemerides — books containing tables of star positions.

“When my kids were little, they used to love to come to his office,” said Sadler, the director of the Center for Astrophysics’ Science Education Department. “He always had something interesting to show them.”

And academically, Gingerich stood out for his unique strength in two different disciplines.

“Most of the people who are historians of science were not scientists,” said Robert P. Kirshner ’70, an astronomer and Harvard professor emeritus. “Owen had an unusually strong grip on the scientific subject, but he also had this special intensity that allowed him to do new things in the historical realm.”

Harvard History of Science professor emeritus Gerald J. Holton, 101, said that at a time when many of Gingerich’s contemporaries “might have been interested in more general things,” Gingerich was looking to study a “transformational historical figure,” who he found in both Copernicus and Kepler.

Gingerich continued his work even after retiring: along with publishing his book on Copernicus’s “De revolutionibus” in 2004, he was tapped in 2006 to chair the Planet Definition Committee of the International Astronomical Union to help determine whether or not Pluto was a planet.

Junichi Watanabe, a Japanese astronomer who was on the committee, said that as committee chair, Gingerich wanted to understand how different cultures understood planets.

“He has a wider view than the regular astronomer because he has the research on the history and the philosophy,” Watanabe said.

While Gingerich’s committee recommended Pluto remain a planet, the committee’s vote was reversed at the IAU’s General Assembly — a decision Gingerich did not approve of and called a “linguistic catastrophe.”

“He was very dismayed when Pluto got demoted,” said Charbonneau, the Astronomy professor, writing in a follow-up email that Gingerich joked about how “they started at the same time” — referencing how Gingerich was born just a month after Pluto’s discovery.

‘Christ Died For Our Sins But Once’

Gingerich was a devout Mennonite Christian — he attended Goshen College, a Mennonite school in Indiana — and came from a long line of Amish ministers. But in a field where religion is often viewed with great skepticism, Gingerich stood out to his colleagues and students as a man who maintained his deep religiosity.

Alcock — the former Center for Astrophysics director — said that while Gingerich openly discussed his beliefs, “he was not a proselytizer.”

“What I think some of us overlook is that a significant fraction of the population who support science — who write to their congressperson to support the NASA budget or the NSF budget — a very significant fraction of those folks have some religious affiliation,” he said.

“I think it’s a loss for us that we don’t have more people like Owen Gingerich to just remind us of another point of view,” Alcock added. “It’s occasionally illuminating to have a conversation with somebody who has a faith — sincerely held faith— that is not commonly shared among my colleagues.”

For Astronomy professor Abraham “Avi” Loeb — a prominent scholar in the search for extraterrestrial life — Gingerich’s religiosity added a “philosophical” angle to work that can often be very technical.

“He had a sense of spirituality,” Loeb explained. “Many of the scientists that you speak with are technical, oriented towards the technical details of the problem they’re working on, and he had a broad, philosophical view.”

Park — the historian of science — remembered that in the last weeks of Nat-Sci 9, there was a debate about alien life. At the end, the debaters turned to Gingerich to ask his opinion, to which he said, “I believe that Christ died for our sins but once.”

“It was so unusual to have a Harvard professor actually make a statement that reflected his personal religious beliefs,” Park said. “I think that’s why it was so striking.”

“You felt that there wasn’t really a filter between who he was as a person and who he was as a professor,” she added.

Correction: August 8, 2023

A previous version of this article incorrectly identified Allan M. Brandt as an emeritus professor. In fact, Brandt is a full professor.

—Staff writer Rahem D. Hamid can be reached at rahem.hamid@thecrimson.com.

—Staff writer Neil H. Shah can be reached at neil.shah@thecrimson.com. Follow him on Twitter @neilhshah15.