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When Dylan Anderson was eight years old, he discovered an old telescope of his grandfather’s. The pirate-esque rig was dusty from years in the garage, but Anderson was instantly intrigued.
“I was like, ‘Hey, what’s this?’ ” the now-18-year-old member of the Los Angeles Astronomical Society said. “I saw Jupiter and its four moons, and I was hooked.”
You’ll hear similar stories from a lot of astronomy enthusiasts, who say that seeing their first big planet was what sparked a lifelong enchantment with the stars. So perhaps it should come as no surprise that the line to see Jupiter, with its milky stripes and four moons, seemed to never end last Thursday evening at the Los Angeles Astronomical Society’s (LAAS) monthly Star Party Silverlake.
The premise for the party is simple: members of the 100-year-old society set up their personal telescopes; community members can circle through and gaze at whatever is on view that night.
This month’s event featured free wine and live music — singer and gayageum player Joyce Kwon accompanied by two harpists. It was also the first time LAAS co-hosted Star Party with Usal Project, an outdoors club dedicated to “newfound nature enthusiasts.” With the additional draw from Usal’s network, over 200 people came to the Sunset Triangle Plaza in Silver Lake to, as LAAS encourages, “look up.”
“We walk around with the pressures of the world, but there’s a lot of reward in just looking up at the universe,” said Bobby Cabbagestalk, 37, an LAAS member who created Star Party in October 2024.
“The idea of ‘looking up’ really translates from an ethos standpoint for the whole reason we both started our projects,” said Michael Washington, 34, the founder of Usal Project. “Being curious, stepping outside your comfort zone, and trying something new.”
Cabbagestalk joined LAAS last summer after running into a group of members stargazing at the Sunset Triangle Plaza, a Thursday night tradition which began in the fall of 2023. The experience immediately sent him back to growing up stargazing with his mom — he recalled that on his 12th birthday, she woke him up in the middle of the night to watch the 2001 Perseid meteor shower. After getting involved with the group, he decided to expand the weekly gatherings with a party once a month, complete with music, drinks and programming, such as happy hour provided by the restaurant Pine and Crane. Cabbagestalk said he hopes guests will have the same sense of childlike wonder that he had when they come to these events.
And if the chatter from the animated crowd was any indication, Star Party was successful in accomplishing its mission.
“Can I ask a really silly question? ... What’s a nebula?”
“Is this the line for Jupiter?
“It better change my life.”
“They should have this here every night!”
Anjalika Lobo, 33, walked from her apartment to the event where she met her friend Katy Maravala, 35. Both women expressed that in a city that can feel so “sceney,” Star Party offered a “low-key” opportunity for community.
“I feel like this is the event that so many people have been craving,” Lobo said. “It’s like that mythical third space that everyone has been whining about.”
“It’s more interesting than going to a bar,” said Maravala. “It’s nice to be surrounded by people who are just as interested in doing something different on their Thursday night.”
“We needed this!” the women laughed.
That same sense of joy in community has buoyed membership of LAAS, which skyrocketed from 300 to 900 members during the pandemic, and now sits at around 1,100 members, according to the president Keith Armstrong.
“We’re all just kinda like orphans, who didn’t have friends and family who were into it, so we all kinda found each other,” said Armstrong, 47. “Because of that, it’s easy to make friends here.”
Armstrong explained that the society is made of everyone from tech bros to actual scientists to astrophotography nerds — and everyone got into it for a different reason. For Alex Vidal, 46, the owner of the telescope that was trained on Jupiter, joining LAAS was about sharing the night sky with as many people as possible; for Justin Hawkins, 40, whose great uncle designed astronaut helmets, exploring astronomy was inevitable as soon as he could budget for his first telescope; for Nasir Jeevanjee, 68, the joy comes from taking long exposure photographs of the stars from his backyard.
But for Armstrong, it always comes back to community: even if the weather conditions are poor and the planets aren’t visible, it’s still a chance for the stargazing regulars to grab a beer together on Thursday nights.
“For every unit of energy I put into this thing, I get a unit and a half back,” he said.
At this star party, Jupiter and its moons, Mars, and constellations like Orion, were visible despite Los Angeles’ light pollution. Like Cabbagestalk had hoped, people spilled into the plaza from nearby establishments like El Condor or the Win-Dow to try something different. For most, the wait to see Jupiter was worth it.
“It’s a good reminder that there’s things bigger than us,” said Emily Guarin, 26, whose far-flung group of friends had reconnected specifically for the event. “I was staring at the lines of Jupiter, and it’s like I am here and Jupiter is there, and it doesn’t even know I’m looking at it.”
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