The owners of the Space Needle are acting coy about uses for giant spotlights newly installed on the roof. These are not lights to accent a building, but three 7-kilowatt beams with the combined illumination of 85 million candles. When those bulbs are powered up, Mars may know.

Under a 1998 agreement with the city, the owners say they are entitled to use "seasonal" and "promotional" lighting. But how often is that?

At first, the owners said they would use the spotlights up to 70 times a year, but backed away from a specific number after opposition from the Landmarks Preservation Board. The board's authority over the sky beams, however, is disputed. Vagueness in the agreement weakens the city's regulatory hand.

The question is whether Seattle's most famous structure may get too much of a good thing. A skyward blast on one night seems fun and special. A light saber makes sense for a spacey building.

On five nights, though, the practice would begin to seem familiar. On 50 nights, the displays would be routine and tacky. That frequency would stretch a reasonable understanding of temporary and seasonal. That much promotional use would turn the Space Needle into a 605-foot billboard, and Seattle Center into a car lot. The lights would add to the urban glow that diminishes views of stars for residents and amateur astronomers. The needle should not drain the Milky Way.

Needle owners and managers should apply the less-is-more philosophy, and if they don't, city officials should attempt to block any plans that go overboard. Also, the City Council should review how the agreement contained such glaring loopholes. Center officials lobbied the Landmarks Board to approve the new lighting without a specific understanding about usage.

Management of the needle acknowledges the appropriateness of a limited use. "If you did it too much," says Dean Nelson, chief executive of the Space Needle Corporation, "it would lessen the impact. It would turn it into a circus."

The public can evaluate the sky beams on New Year's Eve. Nelson says management will evaluate future use based on how they perform.

It's risky to get solemn about the Needle. It's not Chartre. It's a flying saucer on legs. It's more Elvis than Frank Lloyd Wright. And part of its charm involves its adaption to silliness: giant crabs and cloth gorillas, and restaurant moguls dividing their empire by tossing a coin from the upper deck. Those uses, though, are temporary, and match the local culture.

On certain holidays, it's fine for the Space Needle to dress up in gaudy lights and join a party. Too much or too often bumps against public sensibilities and cheapens the entire skyline.

Copyright © 1999 The Seattle Times Company

Copyright © 1999 The Seattle Times Company