From the stars to Fort Worth

Meteorites: A passion that came from the stars  

Monnig had no formal scientific training. He enrolled in an astronomy course at the University of Texas, but it was canceled due to low enrollment. 

But that didn’t stop Monnig. In the 1930s, he founded the Texas Observers astronomy club and began collecting meteorites. He traveled to fall sites, handed out brochures explaining how to identify meteorites and offered to buy them by the pound. To encourage future finds, he often purchased duplicates, never wanting to discourage someone from bringing him a rock that just might be from space.  

In the early 1960s Monnig was given a rock that turned out not to be a meteorite. His search to find someone who could tell him what it was led him to the home of Dr. Art Ehlmann, a geologist who had recently been hired at TCU.  

Ehlmann was mowing his lawn when a well-dressed Monnig pulled up.

“Are you the new ‘rock man’ at TCU?” Ehlmann recounted in his essay, “My Friend Oscar Monnig,” which is included in "The Oscar E. Monnig Meteorite Collection Catalog."  

“The greatest geological Easter egg hunt ever.”  

After Monnig’s death, Ehlman and Dr. Nowell Donovan were also summoned to Monnig’s modest south Fort Worth home. 

Before his death, Monnig had hinted at the possibility of leaving his meteorite collection to TCU, along with some financial support.  

But what the three men learned was staggering. 

Monnig had left not just his lifetime collection of meteorites, but his entire estate to the TCU geology department.  

Morgan tells the story with detail and wonder, as if it's some sort of urban legend.  

Meteorites were not just kept in the Monnig residence; they decorated it.  

Along the walkway, ordinary-looking rocks were tucked neatly into the landscape, except these weren’t just rocks. 

“He had them lined up like steppingstones,” Morgan said. “Little retaining walls around flowerbeds made entirely of meteorites.” 

The shed contained crates upon crates of space rocks, each unique and documented. Living room drawers flung open to reveal more. 

 One meteorite, which was about the size of a small watermelon, was beside the mailbox. The large brown rock wasn’t much to look at. Just a dusty, unremarkable lump that never caught the eye of the mail carrier or a passerby.  

That unremarkable lump would go on to be sold to a group of German scientists for half a million dollars. 

Despite calls from the Smithsonian requesting ownership, TCU kept the meteorites. The funding received from the state would be used to create a display worthy of the world-class collection.  

The Monnig Meteorite Gallery opened in 2003, tucked away inside Sid Richardson Science Building, which is known for its low ceilings, winding hallways and twisting stairwells.  

Visitors can step into what Dr. Tim McCoy, curator of meteorites at the Smithsonian, has called "a true treasure for TCU."

Dr. Rhiannon Mayne, now the curator of the Monnig Gallery, first heard about the position in 2008 from McCoy, who had been her postdoctoral advisor. For her, the memory is still vivid. 

“We were on a walk,” Mayne said. “We'd probably gone to get snacks, and he said to me, ‘Your job has been advertised.’ And I was like, ‘What are you talking about?’ And he said, ‘There's a job coming up at Texas Christian University, and it's your job.’” 

It was. And it still is. 

“I can put Mars in one hand and moon in the other, and there's just something awe inspiring about that for most people,” Mayne said. 

Now, as both a professor and curator, Mayne continues to expand the collection that started because of one man's lifelong hobby.