Ernst Zinner
DOI: 10.1063/PT.5.6166
Ernst Zinner, Renowned and Beloved Astrophysicist
ST. LOUIS, August 3, 2015—Ernst K. Zinner, a Washington University astrophysicist whose pioneering findings about stardust and nurturing personality stirred equal admiration among scientists around the world, died July 30 of complications arising from mantle cell lymphoma. He was 78.
As a Research Professor in Physics and Earth and Planetary Sciences at Washington University in St. Louis, Dr. Zinner in 1987 identified for the first time material on earth that pre-dated the formation of the solar system 4.6 billion years ago. In meteorites, Dr. Zinner and his team proved they had found minute amounts of stardust – silicon carbide and diamond—from origins beyond our solar system.
This work represented an enormous triumph of detection that involved an extremely refined measurement technique called secondary ion mass spectrometry (SIMS), conducted with an instrument called an ion probe. Dr. Zinner, a pianist himself, became a kind of Vladimir Horowitz of the ion probe; he was widely considered one of, if not the, leading authorities in the world on the instrument, and he trained scientists from around the world in its secrets.
But beyond its significance as a miracle of detection, the work opened up new insights into the secrets of the stars, their evolution and their internal processes, and even the age and chemical evolution of our galaxy. Among those who used the findings to generate new theories concerning the stars was Zinner himself. That made him the rare scientist whose contributions—found in an astonishing output of more than 230 peer-reviewed scientific papers published over five decades, the last one on the day of his death—spanned both the technical and theoretical sides of the field.
Some, including an editor at Physics Today, Charles Day, publicly Leonard Medal (also 1997) from The Meteoritical Society, an international scientific group. In the citation for the latter award, he was credited with having replaced the “peephole” humanity had previously achieved into our galaxy “with a picture window.”
Another indication of his influence came in a symposium entitled “SIMS in the Space Sciences: The Zinner Impact,” held at Washington University in 2007 in conjunction with his 70th birthday. More than 125 scientists from all over the globe attended.
At the time of that symposium, Dr. Donald D. Clayton, professor emeritus in the Department of Physics & Astronomy at Clemson University, explained Dr. Zinner’s contributions this way:
“Ernst developed the SIMS technology to the point that it was able to revolutionize astronomy. It did so by proving that solid chunks of stars exist in the interstellar matter, some of which were incorporated into the meteorite mixing pot when the solar system formed from interstellar matter 4.6 billion years ago.
“This is the only technique available to astronomers for ‘seeing’ stars that ended their own lives before our earth was even born,” Clayton continued. “Telescopes cannot measure isotopic ratios in long-dead stars. Each stardust grain is now seen to be an observation of an ancient star that was recorded long ago, some 5 to 9 billion years ago, and that has lain unknown for the intervening time until today. It is as if some ancient astronomer from a presolar civilization observed these ancient stars, and his measurements have just been found! It was long felt impossible to study in our laboratories — as Ernst has done — solid matter that predates the earth.
“Ernst used SIMS to decode these ancient messages of presolar nucleosynthesis and of the evolution of our Milky Way galaxy. This knowledge has revolutionized astronomy.”
He was also, for example, a skilled photographer, ping pong and tennis player, as well as pianist; an avid skier and bicycle rider; and a passionate lover of classical music and opera and theater. Dr. Zinner likely held or at minimum tied the record for most classical music concerts attended in the St. Louis area for the last 40 years. He also managed to stay well-informed about American and European politics and an astonishing array of literary and artistic subjects. At the same time, his pronouncements on the quality of pastries served at various scientific gatherings were considered authoritative, and he developed into a knowledgeable fan of the St. Louis Cardinals baseball team.
Finally, he managed to be a committed family man, inseparable from his wife, Brigitte Wopenka, an analytical chemist herself, and devoted to their son, Max. At age 55, he took up the cello so he could play it with Max, who was then starting instruction as a four-year-old. Dr. Zinner became accomplished.
What helped make Dr. Zinner so beloved by his colleagues in St. Louis and the global scientific community, however, was not so much the nature of his accomplishments, but the way he went about them. Dr. Zinner pursued his interests with an unusual blend of modesty—he refused, for example, to create a Wikipedia page for himself – and intensity and zest. His enthusiasm and good nature were infectious, and even his not-infrequent explosions of cursing at balky scientific instruments or unwanted experimental results carried a comic effect.
He was also entirely kind. Although deeply competitive with himself, he never spoke critically of others. He allowed his students to have first place on papers in order to advance them in their careers. And despite being diagnosed with mantle cell lymphoma in 1996, and suffering several life-threatening crises with the disease over the years, he rarely spoke of it. In an autobiographical piece he wrote recently for his high school, he did not mention it at all.
Dr. Zinner was immensely grateful for his care, however, to his wife, who managed it, and to his oncologist, Dr. Elliot Abbey. When his disease was diagnosed, he was given about 18 months to live. He credited the team of wife and doctor with his survival for nearly two decades instead.
Since news of his death began to be learned last weekend, tributes to Dr. Zinner have been pouring into his wife from scientists around the world. One note came from the parents of a former female graduate student from India.
It read in part:
“For our family Ernst was a father figure who treated my daughter Manavi with so much love and respect, without his guidance Manavi would not have reached where she is today. We will always remember him as a kind and loving soul, a fighter and a person who was always ready to part his knowledge to the younger generation.”
We were on the verge of communicating officially to Ernst that he would be granted with the Honour Degree in Physics by the University of Perugia. We were expecting this as a moment of pleasure to share with him and with you.
Ernst remains in my heart, in my memory. Even more, he remains as the example of a courage I would like to have, as the courage and love for life that makes this world worth living in, even for short; only to have the privilege of knowing persons like him.
Dr. Zinner died with his wife at his bedside at St. Luke’s Hospital here. He is survived by her and their son, Max, of New York City, as well as countless relatives in Austria, including all four of his younger siblings. He had an opportunity to see them all this past May on a last trip home. True to his character, he kept a count of the relatives who visited him. The number came to 61.
Dr. Zinner will be cremated in a private ceremony, his ashes to be moved later to Austria. A memorial reception in the form of an open house will take place at the St. Louis Art Museum on Sunday August 16 from 6 –10 p.m. A fund for advanced cello students, The “Ernst Zinner Memorial Cello Scholarship,” has been established at the Community Music School at Webster University in St. Louis. Donations can be made at: www.crowdrise.com/ErnstZinner .
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