If you were looking up at 2 a.m. Tuesday, you might have wondered if the sky was falling. Turns out it was.

As the Earth passed through a debris field left behind long ago by the Tempel-Tuttle comet, those of us on the ground were treated to a late-night showing of the Leonid meteors, so named because their place of origin appears to be the constellation Leo the Lion. Fragments that slipped off as the sun melted the frozen comet fell into the Earth’s atmosphere streaking white and green across the moonless sky.

Of course it’s likely that you weren’t standing in the cold with your head cocked to the east, hours before sunrise, but Morg Staley most certainly was—and he just might be willing to tell you about it.

“I’m pretty much of a hermit and that’s OK with me,” said MJ “Morg” Staley who has built himself a commendable backyard observatory on a half-block just off Second Street.

From an elevated deck on the northeast side of his home at the end of a short and secluded street, he has clear views of the Tombstone sky and has been eager to share his interest with the city since he got there in 2003.

Staley, now 66, stands a little over five feet with slick, black hair and blue eyes. The Tombstone Sky Observatory, which he refers to as the only red light district left in town, is made up of the gear he has amassed since his relatively recent rediscovery of astronomy.

The primary scope is a 12-inch Meade brand telescope named “River” that rolls in and out of a plastic watertight shed. It can automatically align itself to objects in space by a link with a computer inside Staley’s house. Out on the deck, the walls were recently raised several feet to block out glare from neighboring lights.

“The city’s light pollution law is totally ineffective because it doesn’t limit anything, not a thing,” said Staley who, like most backyard observers, has had to battle with landscaping and security lights so he could gain dark views of the night sky.

It’s an issue that he takes seriously, devoting a page on his website to an explanation of the city’s law and his own research on the usefulness of bright outdoor lights.

However, light pollution is not a topic that has gained much support around town — a fact Staley attributes to a general lack of interest in stargazing among residents.

“I was trying to do some kind of an outreach program here in Tombstone. I still do outreach but I’ve got to reach beyond Tombstone because there’s just not any interest. It does not exist,” he said. “It is really discouraging; you can’t even seem to get any interest among kids.”

“I can’t remember anybody ever coming in here and checking out an astronomy book,” said Roger Duewel, a retired anthropologist who works part-time at the city library. “I’ve seen no interest in young people at all. I see no interest in most adults unless you’re already into it.”

There are no astronomy shops or formal stargazing groups in Tombstone, but the city’s views gives it great potential.

“You can see all the detailed structure of the Milky Way, stuff that you will never see form inside the city. There’s really quite excellent skies,” Duewel said. “If someone were to take the time to organize an astronomy program here, I’m sure it would take off quite well.” He mentioned it is something he’s been waiting for Staley to do.

Of course, Staley wasn’t always so deeply engrossed in the goings-on of the universe. A Cleveland native and graduate of the College of Wooster, he spent his entire working life in computer software including a four year stint in the Air Force during the Vietnam War.

“I joined up to avoid being drafted,” he said. “I really wanted no part of that war. I was willing to enlist. I was willing to take every order that they gave me an obey it, but I just didn’t want the order to go to Vietnam. The Purple Hart is a medal I could do without.”

Stanley served in the 71st fighter-interceptor squadron working with radar and computers on board F-106s and was flying night missions out of Osan Air Force Base in South Korea in 1968 and 1969 when his squadron won the Hughes Trophy, the highest Air Force award for air defense fighter achievement.

After the war, he landed himself a job with IBM doing software maintenance and by 1997, he ended up in Tampa, Fla. as an independent software developer. It was only a few years before he decided to head to the Southwest.

“I figured the only way I was going to get out of Florida was to just put what I could into the car and just leave everything else behind. So that’s exactly what I did. I got halfway across Texas and the car broke down,” he said.

The Dodge Daytona Pacifica that took him as far as Columbus, Texas left him there until 2002 when he opened the map again and found Tombstone.

“I thought it was great,” he said of his first impressions of Tombstone.  “No traffic lights. No McDonald’s. No Kentucky Fried Chicken. You could walk anyplace, day or night. You didn’t have to worry about being mugged. I love Tombstone.”

Soon after arriving in town, he purchased his current home where he lives by himself. It had been on the market for two days and was exactly what he was looking for. The death of his mother in 2002 left him mostly alone in his family.

“I’m it. I’ve probably got some relatives here or there. They don’t know where I am, I don’t know where they are and that’s fine with all of us,” he said.

“After mom died, between the money I made off of my software and the money I made off of my stock market and the inheritance, that was it. I was set. So I said to heck with this working. That’s when I moved here. I said, ‘Okay I’m here. What am I going to do now?’ I rediscovered astronomy and telescopes,” he said.

Because of health problems, he spends little time in town and mostly stays at home, surrounded by the wood-paneled walls of his living room and the constant hum of his computer.

He said he fills his days reading and watching DVDs on astronomy topics, constantly learning new things and forming his own hypotheses. What he finds most intriguing is a concept called nucleosynthesis.

“When our solar system formed, we were made out of the remnants of god-knows-how-many stars that blew up god-knows-how-long-ago,” Staley said. “All of those atoms were made inside stars, and I just find that fascinating.”

Through the scope, he said he focuses on the Orion Nebula, Andromeda galaxy and shadows on the moon’s craters, among other things. Although he has no star parties or events planned, he continues his outreach efforts through the Astronomy Forum of About.com. And he’s always hoping the hypotheses he posts on his website, Tombstonesky.com, will stir some interest.

“I don’t see why time can’t start and stop. We’re trying to understand how this cosmos works and I don’t think we’ve got a chance until we understand how time works,” Staley said of an idea he calls the Quantum Time theory. “I’m not even pretending that’s true, the way it’s written. What I’m hoping is, it’s going to take some undergraduate to see it and jog him and maybe do some more work on it.”