Upstart & Old Timer

Two active volcanoes got into the news last week. One is so young (four years) that science has studied only the first few geological moments of its infancy. The other is so old that its fiery record antedates human history.

Young Paricutin. In Mexico, the infant volcano Paricutin was marked as a sightseeing highlight of Harry Truman's trip below the border (see NATIONAL AFFAIRS).

When Paricutin first poked its red-hot nose out of Dionisio Polido's cornfield on Feb. 20, 1943, geologists predicted it would soon die down. But it fooled the experts and kept on growing. In its first year, spewing lava, ash and massive "bombs," Paricutin grew 1,290 feet. It is still adding slowly to its present height (1,380 ft). Geologists estimate that it has ejected by now 1,058,220,800 tons of material. The crater, for the moment, is in a quiet phase, with only a dull glow at night and a pillar of smoke by day.

So far, geologists know little about the underground conditions responsible for Paricutin. It lies in the "Michoacan volcanic province," dotted with old, dead craters. The whole region may be resting on a "batholith," an enormous mass of "magma" or hot, plastic rock. More likely, Paricutin gets its lava from a smaller "local chamber" of molten basalt which gnawed its way toward the surface until it finally broke through. If the underground lava supply is large enough and active enough, Paricutin may grow as tall as 17,876-ft. Popocatepetl, 200 miles to the east.

Old Etna. In Sicily, Mt. Etna was erupting again. A wide stream of lava creeping down its 10,741-ft. slope had cut a mountain highway, partially filled a reservoir, and frightened the villagers of Cisterna from their homes.

It had all happened before. Mt. Etna was a familiar story to Julius Caesar and Pericles. Even before Homer's day, Sicilians were fleeing from their huts pursued by Etna's lava. Geologists estimate that Etna broke through the earth's crust in the middle Pleistocene period, some 300,000 years ago.

By the time the Greeks began telling their myths, Etna was deeply encrusted with legend. Somewhere under the sea, the lame god Vulcan (for whom volcanoes are named) had his workshop. It was said that the smoke and flame from his forge, where he devised various contraptions to annoy his estranged mother (Juno) and his wife (Venus), roared up through Etna's crater.

By the time Paricutin has been erupting for a thousand years, it, too, may have collected its gaudy legends. Until the legends bloom, it will have only the true miracle-tale: the story of an Indian peasant who tilled his cornfield and one day grew a tall volcano.

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