The Eclipse is Worth the Trip

If you can see the solar eclipse “in totality,” meaning the moon completely blocks out the sun, you should make the effort, assuming cloud cover doesn’t eclipse the eclipse.

When the event occurs Monday, you’ll be able to see at least a partial eclipse in all 48 contiguous states. Totality will span 13 states over a three-hour period, from Texas to Maine, beginning around 1:25pCT.

Tourism related to the eclipse could bring in $1 billion in economic activity, with four million people on the move — “50 Super Bowls happening at the same time.” I’ve no idea how accurate these numbers are, but they sound nice.

The last total eclipse traveled across the country in August 2017, and it generated big money for small states — $167 million for Wyoming alone. This time winners will include Indiana and Ohio.

Go.

Here’s why.

CNBC sent me to cover the 2017 eclipse. I reported from Madras, Oregon, as it reached the western U.S. the morning of August 21st.

I’m an astronomy geek, and it’s hard to put into words how awed and humbled I felt watching something so wondrous. The light began to dim and the temperature dropped in the middle of the morning as I stood in a large field with thousands of other people.

Then, around 10:19am, the moon completely blotted out the sun, except for a “corona,” or ring. It got chilly and dark, and there was a weird dusk on the horizon encircling me for 360 degrees.

At that moment, I could finally take off my safety glasses for nearly two minutes to look at the eclipse without harming my eyes.

It. Was. Epic.

Even as I reported what was happening on live television, I felt a catch in my throat. The event moved me more than I expected. I felt so small, while the solar system was so big.

Here’s a photo from NASA of what it looked like in Madras that morning. Mind you, this is 10:20AM, not PM.

NASA

Other than encouraging you to go see it, I also thought it might be mildly interesting to share some behind-the-scenes planning that went into my coverage in 2017. Sometimes people want to know how the sausage is made in TV news. If you’re one of those people, read on! (If not, go about your business… )

I’m competitive by nature, and so I began thinking about how to make my coverage stand out from everyone else’s. I knew that other reporters would show crowds of eclipse-gazers on live television. That would require camerapeople to open up their apertures, or turn on lights, as the world went dark.

I wondered, what if you *couldn’t* see anyone? What if, minute-by-minute, I began to disappear on screen in the middle of the morning? This might show viewers a bit of the real drama.

The producers of “Power Lunch” agreed to interrupt coverage of Wall Street that morning and come to me in Oregon to watch totality in real time. I suggested that we have a split screen showing two shots, one on the right side of the screen showing NASA’s camera aimed at the moon’s path crossing the sun, and the other on the left side showing me in the field. I convinced cameraman Dan Edblom to leave his iris untouched and to use no lights. He resisted at first. A cameraperson’s job is, after all, to make sure you see what’s going on, and I was telling him to do the opposite.

It worked out nearly perfectly. The only imperfection was that the NASA camera shot we used was to the west of me, so viewers saw totality about 90 seconds before I did.

Even with the time discrepancy, I hope that my live shot was the most visually effective. Every other reporter’s live shot was lit up a little so you could see people watching, while mine went dark. Experiences like this are why I still get jazzed about being a TV reporter.

Here’s a time-lapse video of my camera shot, condensing about 6 minutes into 30 seconds.

I can’t tell you how much I appreciated CNBC and “Power Lunch” devoting a good chunk of time that morning to something that wasn’t “investible.” One anchor told me later that she didn’t care about the story until she watched it live.

I wish I could cover the 2024 eclipse on Monday, but it wouldn’t be the same, and it’s another reporter’s turn to watch in wonder.

One final funny note about TV news sausage-making.

I had to do a tease for “Squawk Box” before dawn the morning of the eclipse, hours before totality. My team and I had spent the night sleeping in tents we’d just purchased. I hadn’t slept in a tent in a very, very long time.

To make the tease humorous — and better than everyone else’s! — I decided to emerge from the tent wearing safety goggles acting groggy, as if I’d just awakened.

So I zipped myself into this new tent and prepared to pop out. When I heard anchor Joe Kernen introduce me, I went to open the tent… but the zipper stuck. I started to panic as the seconds ticked by. The zipper wouldn’t budge. I even prayed it would open, which is laughable.

God must have heard my prayer! Because at the very last second, I suddenly remembered there was a second zipper, which opened the bottom of the tent’s entrance (remember, I hadn’t been in a tent in a long time). That zipper opened, and my head popped out.

Viewers never knew. Watch the video below. (Also check out the Nasdaq that day at 6216 — almost seven years later, it’s up 158%!)