The end of 1997 brought plenty of media attention to Cornell University for its latest "discovery." This time it was not another psychology breakthrough or physics project but instead the presence of a single pumpkin on the campus....towering some 173 feet above the Arts Quad atop McGraw Tower. Five months later the orange gourd still rests upon the spire high above Cornell. Critics have claimed that there is no way a real pumpkin could survive almost half a year "at the top." Scientists have reportedly performed tests and noted that even with similar conditions, they could not repeat the feat. Many have decided that only an artificial pumpkin could outlast the elements of Mother Nature.

In recent weeks several groups have set out to find the truth by floating expensive weather balloons to the top of the tower to obtain a small piece for analysis. But in this race to determine the real pumpkin, these groups have gone to the extreme in "using their analytical abilities and powers of observation to draw conclusions about the makeup of the pumpkin."

Unfortunately, these groups haven't met the brother of the now-famous McGraw pumpkin. Less than a mile away from the chiming bells, another pumpkin has been braving the elements for as long as the famous McGraw gourd. Through true powers of daily observation, I have observed the changes in the pumpkins since October. This is a tale of two pumpkins, both real, both still with us, both showing us that the rules of nature sometimes work differently than even the most ingenious lab demonstrations could ever predict.

At about the same time (within a week) of the arrival of the clock tower pumpkin, another gourd made its debut at 106 The Knoll. Purchased by my house in celebration of Halloween, the pumpkin, quickly dubbed "Mortimer," became a balcony fixture on the railing above our front porch. A week or so before Halloween, Mortimer was carved with the usual jeering jack-o-lantern face that most pumpkins receive. He was again placed on the outdoor ledge for all passersby to see.

So far, nothing unusual. In fact while the pumpkin some several hundred feet higher and a mile a way received national press coverage (without a smiling face), Mortimer continued to grin at the sorority girls of Delta Phi Epsilon and drunken fraternity brothers of Delta Chi without the visit of a single reporter.

Most stories would end here except that Mother Nature didn't plan a quick death for either pumpkin. Five months later the somewhat shriveled McGraw pumpkin still sits high above the tower reconstruction project. Mortimer, though rather collapsed, still sits as a single contained object leaning precipitously over our balcony edge. It has become a ongoing contest to see which pumpkin will survive the longest.

The first question people ask our house is, "Why did we keep Mortimer long past the end of his usual lifespan?" In the days after Halloween, prelims and course pressures quickly left house cleaning time to a minimum. Laziness prevailed, and the pumpkin went on happily grinning at the squirrels. Eventually the collapse of the Mortimer's lid (from snowfall) helped to form a rainwater basin. Mortimer became rather waterlogged, and at this point, nobody ventured to even attempt his disgusting removal. Our Certified Properties landlord also told us that part of the roof over the porch isn't safe for walking. This scared a few people into not going near the pumpkin for fear of falling onto our front porch.

But in the end, the real reason this pumpkin stayed in place despite a continued and slow collapse was what was parked underneath the railing. Our house group occupies the first two floors of 106 The Knoll, but several others continue to live on the third floor. After occasional disagreements between these people and house members, it was decided to see what "might" happen if Mortimer someday took a rotten nose-dive onto the hood of the Mercedes underneath. Every day we have looked to see how the weather was affecting Mortimer....hoping that one day the perfect amount of water would collect in just the right spot, forcing him over the edge. Our contest began to guess when he would fall. We believed both our pumpkin and the McGraw pumpkin would eventually fall at the same time. Just as for the fall of the McGraw pumpkin, we are still waiting.

In my opinion based on comparable evidence and continued observation, the pumpkin on the clock tower, just like Mortimer, is 100% real. If you don't believe Mortimer exists, I'm sure he can easily be scooped into a bag for display. But I don't want to be the one to do it!

Of course we must go beyond silly narratives to explain the reasons why both pumpkins survived adverse weather conditions well into 1998. Although there are differences in location between Mortimer and McGraw, slightly different circumstances will not affect my argument. Here is my theory on the McGraw Tower's pumpkin's life.

Before being placed on the tower, this pumpkin had to have been cut on the top, much like the top of every pumpkin is cut in the first step of making a jack-o-lantern. Some of the innards (commonly referred to as 'goo') were probably also removed to make it slightly lighter. A lighter pumpkin would have been easier to carry up the last yards of the shingled tower and easier to impale on the spire. If just enough material was removed, the pumpkin would fit tightly over the spire, allowing little initial lateral movement from wind gusts. A "tight fit" would certainly promote the longevity of the pumpkin's stay at the top.

So far in this scheme we have done little to decrease the strength of the pumpkin's skin, which is one of the more resilient coatings in nature. This protective layer of skin keeps the pumpkin's seeds and innards from being damaged by wind and rain while growing in the pumpkin patch. It has a certain amount of waterproofing which would easily prevent rotting from fall rain and snow storms. By the time this skin was weakened enough to allow rotting of the McGraw pumpkin, Ithaca temperatures would have dropped enough to freeze the pumpkin to the tower.

Another concern in the discussion of the pumpkin's survival are the wind gusts that are felt by an object several hundred feet above the ground. Obviously the McGraw pumpkin was subjected to gusty winds at numerous times through the fall and winter, but the initial quality of the pumpkin's outer layer would easily prevent all but hurricane force gusts from shearing slices off the side of the pumpkin. By the time the outer skin had lost some of its protective and structural qualities, the inner pumpkin layers were firmly frozen to the tower.

As stated before, pumpkins have an tremendous capacity to stay structurally sound for long periods. When they do start to rot they collapse inward on themselves. Due to the continued properties of the skin they rarely if ever fall apart in random chunks. (How often have you seen a jack-o-lantern randomly split into several pieces?) The skin, despite the interior rotting, still hold them as one cohesive rotting unit.

In the case of the McGraw pumpkin it would have tended to collapse inward at some point, but this would only bring it further onto the tower, if the whole gourd wasn't already frozen solid to the structure. Even with the hole cut in the bottom, the pumpkin could have easily supported itself for a long period of time without using the spire of the tower as a place to lean on. This is akin to every jack-o-lantern ever made. When the top is cut to scrape out the 'goo,' the pumpkin remains stable and doesn't cave in on itself. Even if the skin had failed and pumpkin had caved inward at any point, it would have only collapsed closer to the tower.

Of all places in the structure, shear stresses in the ring of skin at the top of the pumpkin were most likely to fail. As the weight of the pumpkin pulled on the slowly weakening skin, the sharp upper points of the tower could have poked through the top of the pumpkin, causing it to slowly slide down the spire. Luckily for the pumpkin, the skin obviously held until freezing prevented such movement.

Some clever individual (next contest?) clearly spiked the tower with the pumpkin. This upside down pumpkin probably lived just happily in the Ithaca weather until it started to rot. Conveniently, the weather changed from bad to worse at this point, and any rotting that would tend to run out the hole probably froze to the tower.

What about those warm spells throughout the winter months? These days clearly brought the greatest chance for destruction of the pumpkin. On those days the warmth of the sun melted some of the frozen pumpkin 'goo' which slowly leaked toward the hole around the bottom. This loss of material slowly led to the shrunken pumpkin that can now be seen atop the tower. If the pumpkin was artificial, simple warming trends couldn't have easily forced the shriveling of its structure like what was viewed atop the tower. And remember, despite the occasional warm spells, this is still Ithaca. Warm spells quickly turned cold again refreezing the pumpkin even closer to the tower. And even on those warmest days I'm sure there were still some mighty cold wind blasts 173 feet above the Arts Quad that kept things from getting too toasty!

Now although this theory may seem perfectly realistic, how can we relate it to my personal observations of Mortimer? Immediately questions can be raised about differences in height and location. Yes, the McGraw pumpkin is 150 feet higher than Mortimer, but both have felt the same amounts of precipitation. The temperature changes have probably been slightly more extreme for Mortimer since winds at the top of McGraw could have kept the air just a bit cooler. It is windier atop the tower, but as stated before, only huge gusts could shear sections from either pumpkin, an event that did not happen during the five months. Winds probably helped the McGraw Tower pumpkin by helping it stay cool and frozen to the tower. And with it being firmly wedged on the tower's spire, there is no way it could have "rolled over." Mortimer, on the other hand, has been free standing and could easily have been blown off the railing by a gust of wind. While winds made life more difficult for Mortimer, the same winds (or stronger blasts) may have actually promoted the longevity of the pumpkin atop the tower.

Mortimer is also structurally weaker than the McGraw pumpkin due to the jack-o-lantern face carved by house members. These cuts clearly reduce the structural unity of the protective skin, a problem that has led to Mortimer's slow collapse. The pumpkin atop the clock tower is was not subjected to these weakening factors.

Another difference is the force of gravity on each pumpkin. While the value is the same (within all comparable reason), the location of the force is slightly different. On the McGraw pumpkin, the force is directly downward, pulling the mass of the pumpkin onto the spire. For Mortimer's collapsed state, the center of gravity is located slightly over the edge of the balcony. Only due to friction, gooey stickiness, and some luck has Mortimer managed to keep his forces balanced. Just a little extra water here or there could send him tumbling.

Many others have tried to determine the pumpkin's composition through complex and expensive procedures. All they really had to do was walk a half mile and join in our contest. We'd have even left them out on the roof (at their own risk) to take a sample if they really wanted. While complicated experimentation often works, processes can be bogged down by high costs and time commitments. Those who have doubted the composition of the McGraw pumpkin need only visit 106 The Knoll to understand how weather conditions affect a real pumpkin. After months of observation of our parallel case, it is easy to see that the now famous McGraw pumpkin is truly a pumpkin. And now that it looks like Mortimer will outlast McGraw due to the tower reconstruction, we have to reopen bets...on when our pumpkin, amid no media attention, will fall onto the teal Mercedes below.