Edison, His Life and Inventions
by Dyer and Martin
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman
Return to Part 1 of 2

"I knew it was a commercial problem to produce
high-grade Bessemer ore from these deposits, and
took steps to acquire a large amount of the property.
I also planned a great magnetic survey of the East,
and I believe it remains the most comprehensive of
its kind yet performed. I had a number of men survey
a strip reaching from Lower Canada to North
Carolina. The only instrument we used was the
special magnetic needle. We started in Lower Canada
and travelled across the line of march twenty-five
miles; then advanced south one thousand feet; then
back across the line of march again twenty-five miles;
then south another thousand feet, across again, and
so on. Thus we advanced all the way to North
Carolina, varying our cross-country march from two
to twenty-five miles, according to geological formation.
Our magnetic needle indicated the presence
and richness of the invisible deposits of magnetic ore.
We kept minute records of these indications, and
when the survey was finished we had exact information
of the deposits in every part of each State we
had passed through. We also knew the width, length,
and approximate depth of every one of these deposits,
which were enormous.

"The amount of ore disclosed by this survey was
simply fabulous. How much so may be judged from
the fact that in the three thousand acres immediately
surrounding the mills that I afterward established at
Edison there were over 200,000,000 tons of low-
grade ore. I also secured sixteen thousand acres in
which the deposit was proportionately as large.
These few acres alone contained sufficient ore to
supply the whole United States iron trade, including
exports, for seventy years."

Given a mountain of rock containing only one-fifth
to one-fourth magnetic iron, the broad problem confronting
Edison resolved itself into three distinct
parts--first, to tear down the mountain bodily and
grind it to powder; second, to extract from this
powder the particles of iron mingled in its mass;
and, third, to accomplish these results at a cost
sufficiently low to give the product a commercial
value.

Edison realized from the start that the true
solution of this problem lay in the continuous treatment
of the material, with the maximum employment
of natural forces and the minimum of manual labor
and generated power. Hence, all his conceptions
followed this general principle so faithfully and completely
that we find in the plant embodying his ideas
the forces of momentum and gravity steadily in harness
and keeping the traces taut; while there was no
touch of the human hand upon the material from the
beginning of the treatment to its finish--the staff being
employed mainly to keep watch on the correct working
of the various processes.

It is hardly necessary to devote space to the beginnings
of the enterprise, although they are full
of interest. They served, however, to convince
Edison that if he ever expected to carry out his
scheme on the extensive scale planned, he could not
depend upon the market to supply suitable machinery
for important operations, but would be obliged to
devise and build it himself. Thus, outside the steam-
shovel and such staple items as engines, boilers,
dynamos, and motors, all of the diverse and complex
machinery of the entire concentrating plant, as
subsequently completed, was devised by him especially
for the purpose. The necessity for this was due to the
many radical variations made from accepted methods.

No such departure was as radical as that of the
method of crushing the ore. Existing machinery for
this purpose had been designed on the basis of mining
methods then in vogue, by which the rock was
thoroughly shattered by means of high explosives and
reduced to pieces of one hundred pounds or less. These
pieces were then crushed by power directly applied. If
a concentrating mill, planned to treat five or six thousand
tons per day, were to be operated on this basis
the investment in crushers and the supply of power
would be enormous, to say nothing of the risk of
frequent breakdowns by reason of multiplicity of
machinery and parts. From a consideration of these
facts, and with his usual tendency to upset traditional
observances, Edison conceived the bold idea of
constructing gigantic rolls which, by the force of
momentum, would be capable of crushing individual
rocks of vastly greater size than ever before attempted.
He reasoned that the advantages thus obtained would
be fourfold: a minimum of machinery and parts;
greater compactness; a saving of power; and greater
economy in mining. As this last-named operation
precedes the crushing, let us first consider it as it
was projected and carried on by him.

Perhaps quarrying would be a better term than
mining in this case, as Edison's plan was to approach
the rock and tear it down bodily. The faith
that "moves mountains" had a new opportunity. In
work of this nature it had been customary, as above
stated, to depend upon a high explosive, such as
dynamite, to shatter and break the ore to lumps of
one hundred pounds or less. This, however, he
deemed to be a most uneconomical process, for energy
stored as heat units in dynamite at $260 per ton was
much more expensive than that of calories in a ton
of coal at $3 per ton. Hence, he believed that only
the minimum of work should be done with the costly
explosive; and, therefore, planned to use dynamite
merely to dislodge great masses of rock, and depended
upon the steam-shovel, operated by coal under the
boiler, to displace, handle, and remove the rock in
detail. This was the plan that was subsequently put
into practice in the great works at Edison, New Jersey.
A series of three-inch holes twenty feet deep were
drilled eight feet apart, about twelve feet back of the
ore-bank, and into these were inserted dynamite
cartridges. The blast would dislodge thirty to thirty-
five thousand tons of rock, which was scooped up by
great steam-shovels and loaded on to skips carried
by a line of cars on a narrow-gauge railroad running
to and from the crushing mill. Here the material
was automatically delivered to the giant rolls. The
problem included handling and crushing the "run
of the mine," without selection. The steam-shovel
did not discriminate, but picked up handily single
pieces weighing five or six tons and loaded them on
the skips with quantities of smaller lumps. When
the skips arrived at the giant rolls, their contents
were dumped automatically into a superimposed
hopper. The rolls were well named, for with ear-
splitting noise they broke up in a few seconds the great
pieces of rock tossed in from the skips.

It is not easy to appreciate to the full the daring
exemplified in these great crushing rolls, or rather
"rock-crackers," without having watched them in
operation delivering their "solar-plexus" blows. It
was only as one might stand in their vicinity and hear
the thunderous roar accompanying the smashing and
rending of the massive rocks as they disappeared from
view that the mind was overwhelmed with a sense
of the magnificent proportions of this operation. The
enormous force exerted during this process may be
illustrated from the fact that during its development,
in running one of the early forms of rolls,
pieces of rock weighing more than half a ton would
be shot up in the air to a height of twenty or twenty-
five feet.

The giant rolls were two solid cylinders, six feet in
diameter and five feet long, made of cast iron. To the
faces of these rolls were bolted a series of heavy,
chilled-iron plates containing a number of projecting
knobs two inches high. Each roll had also two rows
of four-inch knobs, intended to strike a series of
hammer-like blows. The rolls were set face to face
fourteen inches apart, in a heavy frame, and the total
weight was one hundred and thirty tons, of which
seventy tons were in moving parts. The space between
these two rolls allowed pieces of rock measuring
less than fourteen inches to descend to other smaller
rolls placed below. The giant rolls were belt-driven, in
opposite directions, through friction clutches, although
the belt was not depended upon for the actual crushing.
Previous to the dumping of a skip, the rolls were
speeded up to a circumferential velocity of nearly a
mile a minute, thus imparting to them the terrific
momentum that would break up easily in a few
seconds boulders weighing five or six tons each. It
was as though a rock of this size had got in the way
of two express trains travelling in opposite directions
at nearly sixty miles an hour. In other words, it was
the kinetic energy of the rolls that crumbled up the
rocks with pile-driver effect. This sudden strain
might have tended to stop the engine driving the
rolls; but by an ingenious clutch arrangement the
belt was released at the moment of resistance in the
rolls by reason of the rocks falling between them.
The act of breaking and crushing would naturally
decrease the tremendous momentum, but after the
rock was reduced and the pieces had passed through,
the belt would again come into play, and once more
speed up the rolls for a repetition of their regular
prize-fighter duty.

On leaving the giant rolls the rocks, having been reduced
to pieces not larger than fourteen inches, passed
into the series of "Intermediate Rolls" of similar
construction and operation, by which they were still
further reduced, and again passed on to three other
sets of rolls of smaller dimensions. These latter rolls
were also face-lined with chilled-iron plates; but, unlike
the larger ones, were positively driven, reducing
the rock to pieces of about one-half-inch size, or
smaller. The whole crushing operation of reduction
from massive boulders to small pebbly pieces having
been done in less time than the telling has occupied,
the product was conveyed to the "Dryer," a tower
nine feet square and fifty feet high, heated from below
by great open furnace fires. All down the inside
walls of this tower were placed cast-iron plates, nine
feet long and seven inches wide, arranged alternately
in "fish-ladder" fashion. The crushed rock, being delivered
at the top, would fall down from plate to plate,
constantly exposing different surfaces to the heat,
until it landed completely dried in the lower portion of
the tower, where it fell into conveyors which took it
up to the stock-house.

This method of drying was original with Edison.
At the time this adjunct to the plant was required,
the best dryer on the market was of a rotary type,
which had a capacity of only twenty tons per hour,
with the expenditure of considerable power. As
Edison had determined upon treating two hundred
and fifty tons or more per hour, he decided to devise
an entirely new type of great capacity, requiring a
minimum of power (for elevating the material), and
depending upon the force of gravity for handling it
during the drying process. A long series of experiments
resulted in the invention of the tower dryer
with a capacity of three hundred tons per hour.

The rock, broken up into pieces about the size of
marbles, having been dried and conveyed to the
stock-house, the surplusage was automatically carried
out from the other end of the stock-house by con-
veyors, to pass through the next process, by which it
was reduced to a powder. The machinery for accomplishing
this result represents another interesting and
radical departure of Edison from accepted usage. He
had investigated all the crushing-machines on the
market, and tried all he could get. He found them
all greatly lacking in economy of operation; indeed,
the highest results obtainable from the best were 18
per cent. of actual work, involving a loss of 82 per cent.
by friction. His nature revolted at such an immense
loss of power, especially as he proposed the crushing
of vast quantities of ore. Thus, he was obliged to
begin again at the foundation, and he devised a
crushing-machine which was subsequently named the
"Three-High Rolls," and which practically reversed
the above figures, as it developed 84 per cent. of work
done with only 16 per cent. loss in friction.

A brief description of this remarkable machine will
probably interest the reader. In the two end pieces
of a heavy iron frame were set three rolls, or cylinders
--one in the centre, another below, and the other
above--all three being in a vertical line. These rolls
were of cast iron three feet in diameter, having
chilled-iron smooth face-plates of considerable thickness.
The lowest roll was set in a fixed bearing at
the bottom of the frame, and, therefore, could only
turn around on its axis. The middle and top rolls
were free to move up or down from and toward the
lower roll, and the shafts of the middle and upper
rolls were set in a loose bearing which could slip up
and down in the iron frame. It will be apparent,
therefore, that any material which passed in between
the top and the middle rolls, and the middle and bottom
rolls, could be ground as fine as might be desired,
depending entirely upon the amount of pressure
applied to the loose rolls. In operation the material
passed first through the upper and middle rolls, and
then between the middle and lowest rolls.

This pressure was applied in a most ingenious manner.
On the ends of the shafts of the bottom and top
rolls there were cylindrical sleeves, or bearings, having
seven sheaves, in which was run a half-inch endless
wire rope. This rope was wound seven times over the
sheaves as above, and led upward and over a single-
groove sheave which was operated by the piston of
an air cylinder, and in this manner the pressure was
applied to the rolls. It will be seen, therefore, that
the system consisted in a single rope passed over
sheaves and so arranged that it could be varied in
length, thus providing for elasticity in exerting
pressure and regulating it as desired. The efficiency
of this system was incomparably greater than that
of any other known crusher or grinder, for while a
pressure of one hundred and twenty-five thousand
pounds could be exerted by these rolls, friction was
almost entirely eliminated because the upper and
lower roll bearings turned with the rolls and revolved
in the wire rope, which constituted the bearing proper.

The same cautious foresight exercised by Edison
in providing a safety device--the fuse--to prevent
fires in his electric-light system, was again displayed
in this concentrating plant, where, to save
possible injury to its expensive operating parts, he
devised an analogous factor, providing all the crush-
ing machinery with closely calculated "safety pins,"
which, on being overloaded, would shear off and thus
stop the machine at once.

The rocks having thus been reduced to fine powder,
the mass was ready for screening on its way to the
magnetic separators. Here again Edison reversed
prior practice by discarding rotary screens and devising
a form of tower screen, which, besides having
a very large working capacity by gravity, eliminated
all power except that required to elevate the material.
The screening process allowed the finest part of the
crushed rock to pass on, by conveyor belts, to the
magnetic separators, while the coarser particles were
in like manner automatically returned to the rolls for
further reduction.

In a narrative not intended to be strictly technical,
it would probably tire the reader to follow this material
in detail through the numerous steps attending
the magnetic separation. These may be seen in a
diagram reproduced from the above-named article
in the Iron Age, and supplemented by the following
extract from the Electrical Engineer, New York,
October 28, 1897: "At the start the weakest magnet
at the top frees the purest particles, and the second
takes care of others; but the third catches those to
which rock adheres, and will extract particles of
which only one-eighth is iron. This batch of material
goes back for another crushing, so that everything is
subjected to an equality of refining. We are now in
sight of the real `concentrates,' which are conveyed
to dryer No. 2 for drying again, and are then delivered
to the fifty-mesh screens. Whatever is fine enough
goes through to the eight-inch magnets, and the remainder
goes back for recrushing. Below the eight-
inch magnets the dust is blown out of the particles
mechanically, and they then go to the four-inch
magnets for final cleansing and separation.... Obviously,
at each step the percentage of felspar and
phosphorus is less and less until in the final concentrates
the percentage of iron oxide is 91 to 93 per cent.
As intimated at the outset, the tailings will be 75 per
cent. of the rock taken from the veins of ore, so that
every four tons of crude, raw, low-grade ore will have
yielded roughly one ton of high-grade concentrate
and three tons of sand, the latter also having its value
in various ways."

This sand was transported automatically by belt
conveyors to the rear of the works to be stored and
sold. Being sharp, crystalline, and even in quality,
it was a valuable by-product, finding a ready sale for
building purposes, railway sand-boxes, and various
industrial uses. The concentrate, in fine powdery
form, was delivered in similar manner to a stock-
house.

As to the next step in the process, we may now
quote again from the article in the Iron Age: "While
Mr. Edison and his associates were working on the
problem of cheap concentration of iron ore, an added
difficulty faced them in the preparation of the
concentrates for the market. Furnacemen object to more
than a very small proportion of fine ore in their
mixtures, particularly when the ore is magnetic, not
easily reduced. The problem to be solved was to
market an agglomerated material so as to avoid the
drawbacks of fine ore. The agglomerated product
must be porous so as to afford access of the furnace-
reducing gases to the ore. It must be hard enough
to bear transportation, and to carry the furnace burden
without crumbling to pieces. It must be waterproof,
to a certain extent, because considerations
connected with securing low rates of freight make it
necessary to be able to ship the concentrates to market
in open coal cars, exposed to snow and rain. In
many respects the attainment of these somewhat conflicting
ends was the most perplexing of the problems
which confronted Mr. Edison. The agglomeration of
the concentrates having been decided upon, two other
considerations, not mentioned above, were of primary
importance--first, to find a suitable cheap binding
material; and, second, its nature must be such that
very little would be necessary per ton of concentrates.
These severe requirements were staggering,
but Mr. Edison's courage did not falter. Although
it seemed a well-nigh hopeless task, he entered upon
the investigation with his usual optimism and vim.
After many months of unremitting toil and research,
and the trial of thousands of experiments, the goal was
reached in the completion of a successful formula for
agglomerating the fine ore and pressing it into briquettes
by special machinery."

This was the final process requisite for the making
of a completed commercial product. Its practice, of
course, necessitated the addition of an entirely new
department of the works, which was carried into
effect by the construction and installation of the novel
mixing and briquetting machinery, together with ex-
tensions of the conveyors, with which the plant had
already been liberally provided.

Briefly described, the process consisted in mixing
the concentrates with the special binding material in
machines of an entirely new type, and in passing the
resultant pasty mass into the briquetting machines,
where it was pressed into cylindrical cakes three
inches in diameter and one and a half inches thick,
under successive pressures of 7800, 14,000, and 60,000
pounds. Each machine made these briquettes at the
rate of sixty per minute, and dropped them into
bucket conveyors by which they were carried into
drying furnaces, through which they made five loops,
and were then delivered to cross-conveyors which
carried them into the stock-house. At the end of
this process the briquettes were so hard that they
would not break or crumble in loading on the cars or
in transportation by rail, while they were so porous
as to be capable of absorbing 26 per cent. of their own
volume in alcohol, but repelling water absolutely--
perfect "old soaks."

Thus, with never-failing persistence and patience,
coupled with intense thought and hard work,
Edison met and conquered, one by one, the complex
difficulties that confronted him. He succeeded in
what he had set out to do, and it is now to be noted
that the product he had striven so sedulously to obtain
was a highly commercial one, for not only did
the briquettes of concentrated ore fulfil the purpose
of their creation, but in use actually tended to increase
the working capacity of the furnace, as the
following test, quoted from the Iron Age, October
28, 1897, will attest: " The only trial of any magnitude
of the briquettes in the blast-furnace was carried
through early this year at the Crane Iron Works,
Catasauqua, Pennsylvania, by Leonard Peckitt.

"The furnace at which the test was made produces
from one hundred to one hundred and ten tons per
day when running on the ordinary mixture. The
charging of briquettes was begun with a percentage
of 25 per cent., and was carried up to 100 per cent.
The following is the record of the results:

RESULTS OF WORKING BRIQUETTES AT THE CRANE FURNACE
                Quantity of                       Phos-             Man-
Date             Briquette      Tons     Silica   phorus   Sulphur  ganese
                  Working
                 Per Cent.
January 5th          25        104        2.770    0.830    0.018    0.500
January 6th          37 1/2  4 1/2     2.620    0 740    0.018    0.350
January 7th          50        138 1/2   2.572    0.580    0.015    0.200
January 8th          75        119        1.844    0.264    0.022    0.200
January 9th         100        138 1/2   1.712    0.147    0.038    0.185

"On the 9th, at 5 P.M., the briquettes having been
nearly exhausted, the percentage was dropped to
25 per cent., and on the 10th the output dropped to
120 tons, and on the 11th the furnace had resumed
the usual work on the regular standard ores.

"These figures prove that the yield of the furnace
is considerably increased. The Crane trial was too
short to settle the question to what extent the increase
in product may be carried. This increase in
output, of course, means a reduction in the cost of
labor and of general expenses.

"The richness of the ore and its purity of course
affect the limestone consumption. In the case of the
Crane trial there was a reduction from 30 per cent. to
12 per cent. of the ore charge.

"Finally, the fuel consumption is reduced, which
in the case of the Eastern plants, with their relatively
costly coke, is a very important consideration. It is
regarded as possible that Eastern furnaces will be
able to use a smaller proportion of the costlier coke
and correspondingly increase in anthracite coal, which
is a cheaper fuel in that section. So far as foundry
iron is concerned, the experience at Catasauqua,
Pennsylvania, brief as it has been, shows that a
stronger and tougher metal is made."

Edison himself tells an interesting little story in
this connection, when he enjoyed the active help of
that noble character, John Fritz, the distinguished
inventor and pioneer of the modern steel industry in
America. He says: "When I was struggling along
with the iron-ore concentration, I went to see several
blast-furnace men to sell the ore at the market price.
They saw I was very anxious to sell it, and they would
take advantage of my necessity. But I happened to
go to Mr. John Fritz, of the Bethlehem Steel Company,
and told him what I was doing. `Well,' he
said to me, `Edison, you are doing a good thing for
the Eastern furnaces. They ought to help you, for
it will help us out. I am willing to help you. I mix
a little sentiment with business, and I will give you
an order for one hundred thousand tons.' And he
sat right down and gave me the order."

The Edison concentrating plant has been sketched
in the briefest outline with a view of affording merely
a bare idea of the great work of its projector. To tell
the whole story in detail and show its logical sequence,
step by step, would take little less than a volume in
itself, for Edison's methods, always iconoclastic
when progress is in sight, were particularly so at the
period in question. It has been said that "Edison's
scrap-heap contains the elements of a liberal education,"
and this was essentially true of the "discard"
during the ore-milling experience. Interesting as it
might be to follow at length the numerous phases of
ingenious and resourceful development that took
place during those busy years, the limit of present
space forbids their relation. It would, however, be
denying the justice that is Edison's due to omit all
mention of two hitherto unnamed items in particular
that have added to the world's store of useful devices.
We refer first to the great travelling hoisting-crane
having a span of two hundred and fifteen feet, and
used for hoisting loads equal to ten tons, this being the
largest of the kind made up to that time, and afterward
used as a model by many others. The second item was
the ingenious and varied forms of conveyor belt,
devised and used by Edison at the concentrating
works, and subsequently developed into a separate
and extensive business by an engineer to whom he
gave permission to use his plans and patterns.

Edison's native shrewdness and knowledge of human
nature was put to practical use in the busy days
of plant construction. It was found impossible to
keep mechanics on account of indifferent residential
accommodations afforded by the tiny village, remote
from civilization, among the central mountains of
New Jersey. This puzzling question was much discussed
between him and his associate, Mr. W. S.
Mallory, until finally he said to the latter: "If we
want to keep the men here we must make it attractive
for the women--so let us build some houses that
will have running water and electric lights, and rent
at a low rate." He set to work, and in a day finished
a design for a type of house. Fifty were quickly built
and fully described in advertising for mechanics.
Three days' advertisements brought in over six hundred
and fifty applications, and afterward Edison had no
trouble in obtaining all the first-class men he required,
as settlers in the artificial Yosemite he was creating.

We owe to Mr. Mallory a characteristic story of this
period as to an incidental unbending from toil, which
in itself illustrates the ever-present determination to
conquer what is undertaken: "Along in the latter
part of the nineties, when the work on the problem
of concentrating iron ore was in progress, it became
necessary when leaving the plant at Edison to wait
over at Lake Hopatcong one hour for a connecting
train. During some of these waits Mr. Edison had
seen me play billiards. At the particular time this
incident happened, Mrs. Edison and her family were
away for the summer, and I was staying at the Glenmont
home on the Orange Mountains.

"One hot Saturday night, after Mr. Edison had
looked over the evening papers, he said to me: `Do
you want to play a game of billiards?' Naturally this
astonished me very much, as he is a man who cares
little or nothing for the ordinary games, with the single
exception of parcheesi, of which he is very fond. I said
I would like to play, so we went up into the billiard-
room of the house. I took off the cloth, got out the
balls, picked out a cue for Mr. Edison, and when we
banked for the first shot I won and started the game.
After making two or three shots I missed, and a long
carom shot was left for Mr. Edison, the cue ball and
object ball being within about twelve inches of each
other, and the other ball a distance of nearly the
length of the table. Mr. Edison attempted to make
the shot, but missed it and said `Put the balls back.'
So I put them back in the same position and he missed
it the second time. I continued at his request to put
the balls back in the same position for the next
fifteen minutes, until he could make the shot every
time--then he said: `I don't want to play any
more.' "

Having taken a somewhat superficial survey of
the great enterprise under consideration; having had
a cursory glance at the technical development of the
plant up to the point of its successful culmination
in the making of a marketable, commercial product
as exemplified in the test at the Crane Furnace, let
us revert to that demonstration and note the events
that followed. The facts of this actual test are far
more eloquent than volumes of argument would be
as a justification of Edison's assiduous labors for over
eight years, and of the expenditure of a fortune in
bringing his broad conception to a concrete possibility.
In the patient solving of tremendous problems
he had toiled up the mountain-side of success--
scaling its topmost peak and obtaining a view of the
boundless prospect. But, alas! "The best laid plans
o' mice and men gang aft agley." The discovery of
great deposits of rich Bessemer ore in the Mesaba
range of mountains in Minnesota a year or two previous
to the completion of his work had been followed
by the opening up of those deposits and the marketing
of the ore. It was of such rich character that, being
cheaply mined by greatly improved and inexpensive
methods, the market price of crude ore of like iron
units fell from about $6.50 to $3.50 per ton at the
time when Edison was ready to supply his concentrated
product. At the former price he could have
supplied the market and earned a liberal profit on
his investment, but at $3.50 per ton he was left without
a reasonable chance of competition. Thus was
swept away the possibility of reaping the reward so
richly earned by years of incessant thought, labor,
and care. This great and notable plant, representing
a very large outlay of money, brought to completion,
ready for business, and embracing some of
the most brilliant and remarkable of Edison's
inventions and methods, must be abandoned by force
of circumstances over which he had no control, and
with it must die the high hopes that his progressive,
conquering march to success had legitimately engendered.

The financial aspect of these enterprises is often
overlooked and forgotten. In this instance it was
of more than usual import and seriousness, as Edison
was virtually his own "backer," putting into the
company almost the whole of all the fortune his
inventions had brought him. There is a tendency to
deny to the capital that thus takes desperate chances
its full reward if things go right, and to insist that it
shall have barely the legal rate of interest and far less
than the return of over-the-counter retail trade. It
is an absolute fact that the great electrical inventors
and the men who stood behind them have had little return
for their foresight and courage. In this instance,
when the inventor was largely his own financier, the
difficulties and perils were redoubled. Let Mr. Mallory
give an instance: "During the latter part of the
panic of 1893 there came a period when we were
very hard up for ready cash, due largely to the panicky
conditions; and a large pay-roll had been raised with
considerable difficulty. A short time before pay-day
our treasurer called me up by telephone, and said:
`I have just received the paid checks from the bank,
and I am fearful that my assistant, who has forged
my name to some of the checks, has absconded with
about $3000.' I went immediately to Mr. Edison
and told him of the forgery and the amount of money
taken, and in what an embarrassing position we
were for the next pay-roll. When I had finished
he said: `It is too bad the money is gone, but
I will tell you what to do. Go and see the president
of the bank which paid the forged checks. Get him
to admit the bank's liability, and then say to him
that Mr. Edison does not think the bank should
suffer because he happened to have a dishonest clerk
in his employ. Also say to him that I shall not ask
them to make the amount good.' This was done;
the bank admitting its liability and being much
pleased with this action. When I reported to Mr.
Edison he said: `That's all right. We have made a
friend of the bank, and we may need friends later
on.' And so it happened that some time afterward,
when we greatly needed help in the way of loans,
the bank willingly gave us the accommodations we
required to tide us over a critical period."

This iron-ore concentrating project had lain close
to Edison's heart and ambition--indeed, it had permeated
his whole being to the exclusion of almost
all other investigations or inventions for a while.
For five years he had lived and worked steadily at
Edison, leaving there only on Saturday night to
spend Sunday at his home in Orange, and returning
to the plant by an early train on Monday morning.
Life at Edison was of the simple kind--work, meals,
and a few hours' sleep--day by day. The little village,
called into existence by the concentrating works,
was of the most primitive nature and offered nothing
in the way of frivolity or amusement. Even the
scenery is austere. Hence Edison was enabled to
follow his natural bent in being surrounded day
and night by his responsible chosen associates, with
whom he worked uninterrupted by outsiders from
early morning away into the late hours of the evening.
Those who were laboring with him, inspired by
his unflagging enthusiasm, followed his example and
devoted all their long waking hours to the furtherance
of his plans with a zeal that ultimately bore
fruit in the practical success here recorded.

In view of its present status, this colossal enterprise
at Edison may well be likened to the prologue
of a play that is to be subsequently enacted for the
benefit of future generations, but before ringing
down the curtain it is desirable to preserve the unities
by quoting the words of one of the principal actors,
Mr. Mallory, who says: "The Concentrating Works
had been in operation, and we had produced a considerable
quantity of the briquettes, and had been
able to sell only a portion of them, the iron market
being in such condition that blast-furnaces were not
making any new purchases of iron ore, and were
having difficulty to receive and consume the ores
which had been previously contracted for, so what
sales we were able to make were at extremely low
prices, my recollection being that they were between
$3.50 and $3.80 per ton, whereas when the works had
started we had hoped to obtain $6.00 to $6.50 per ton
for the briquettes. We had also thoroughly
investigated the wonderful deposit at Mesaba, and it
was with the greatest possible reluctance that Mr.
Edison was able to come finally to the conclusion
that, under existing conditions, the concentrating
plant could not then be made a commercial success.
This decision was reached only after the most careful
investigations and calculations, as Mr. Edison was
just as full of fight and ambition to make it a success
as when he first started.

"When this decision was reached Mr. Edison and
I took the Jersey Central train from Edison, bound
for Orange, and I did not look forward to the immediate
future with any degree of confidence, as the
concentrating plant was heavily in debt, without any
early prospect of being able to pay off its indebtedness.
On the train the matter of the future was discussed,
and Mr. Edison said that, inasmuch as we had the
knowledge gained from our experience in the concentrating
problem, we must, if possible, apply it to
some practical use, and at the same time we must
work out some other plans by which we could make
enough money to pay off the Concentrating Company's
indebtedness, Mr. Edison stating most positively
that no company with which he had personally
been actively connected had ever failed to pay its
debts, and he did not propose to have the Concentrating
Company any exception.

"In the discussion that followed he suggested several
kinds of work which he had in his mind, and
which might prove profitable. We figured carefully
over the probabilities of financial returns from the
Phonograph Works and other enterprises, and after
discussing many plans, it was finally decided that we
would apply the knowledge we had gained in the
concentrating plant by building a plant for manufacturing
Portland cement, and that Mr. Edison would
devote his attention to the developing of a storage
battery which did not use lead and sulphuric acid.
So these two lines of work were taken up by Mr.
Edison with just as much enthusiasm and energy as
is usual with him, the commercial failure of the
concentrating plant seeming not to affect his spirits in
any way. In fact, I have often been impressed
strongly with the fact that, during the dark days of
the concentrating problem, Mr. Edison's desire was
very strong that the creditors of the Concentrating
Works should be paid in full; and only once did I
hear him make any reference to the financial loss
which he himself made, and he then said: `As far as
I am concerned, I can any time get a job at $75 per
month as a telegrapher, and that will amply take
care of all my personal requirements.' As already
stated, however, he started in with the maximum
amount of enthusiasm and ambition, and in the course
of about three years we succeeded in paying off all
the indebtedness of the Concentrating Works, which
amounted to several hundred thousand dollars.

"As to the state of Mr. Edison's mind when the
final decision was reached to close down, if he was
specially disappointed, there was nothing in his manner
to indicate it, his every thought being for the
future, and as to what could be done to pull us out
of the financial situation in which we found ourselves,
and to take advantage of the knowledge which we had
acquired at so great a cost."

It will have been gathered that the funds for this
great experiment were furnished largely by Edison.
In fact, over two million dollars were spent in the
attempt. Edison's philosophic view of affairs is given
in the following anecdote from Mr. Mallory: "During
the boom times of 1902, when the old General Electric
stock sold at its high-water mark of about $330,
Mr. Edison and I were on our way from the cement
plant at New Village, New Jersey, to his home at
Orange. When we arrived at Dover, New Jersey,
we got a New York newspaper, and I called his attention
to the quotation of that day on General Electric.
Mr. Edison then asked: `If I hadn't sold any of mine,
what would it be worth to-day?' and after some figuring
I replied: `Over four million dollars.' When Mr.
Edison is thinking seriously over a problem he is in
the habit of pulling his right eyebrow, which he did
now for fifteen or twenty seconds. Then his face
lighted up, and he said: `Well, it's all gone, but we
had a hell of a good time spending it.' " With which
revelation of an attitude worthy of Mark Tapley himself,
this chapter may well conclude.

CHAPTER XX

EDISON PORTLAND CEMENT

NEW developments in recent years have been more
striking than the general adoption of cement
for structural purposes of all kinds in the United
States; or than the increase in its manufacture here.
As a material for the construction of office buildings,
factories, and dwellings, it has lately enjoyed an
extraordinary vogue; yet every indication is
confirmatory of the belief that such use has barely begun.
Various reasons may be cited, such as the growing
scarcity of wood, once the favorite building material
in many parts of the country, and the increasing dearness
of brick and stone. The fact remains, indisputable,
and demonstrated flatly by the statistics
of production. In 1902 the American output of
cement was placed at about 21,000,000 barrels, valued
at over $17,000,000. In 1907 the production is given
as nearly 49,000,000 barrels. Here then is an
industry that doubled in five years. The average rate
of industrial growth in the United States is 10 per
cent. a year, or doubling every ten years. It is a
singular fact that electricity also so far exceeds the
normal rate as to double in value and quantity of
output and investment every five years. There is
perhaps more than ordinary coincidence in the as-
sociation of Edison with two such active departments
of progress.

As a purely manufacturing business the general
cement industry is one of even remote antiquity, and
if Edison had entered into it merely as a commercial
enterprise by following paths already so well
trodden, the fact would hardly have been worthy of
even passing notice. It is not in his nature, however,
to follow a beaten track except in regard to the
recognition of basic principles; so that while the
manufacture of Edison Portland cement embraces the
main essentials and familiar processes of cement-
making, such as crushing, drying, mixing, roasting,
and grinding, his versatility and originality, as
exemplified in the conception and introduction of some
bold and revolutionary methods and devices, have
resulted in raising his plant from the position of an
outsider to the rank of the fifth largest producer in
the United States, in the short space of five years
after starting to manufacture.

Long before his advent in cement production,
Edison had held very pronounced views on the value
of that material as the one which would obtain largely
for future building purposes on account of its stability.
More than twenty-five years ago one of the writers of
this narrative heard him remark during a discussion
on ancient buildings: "Wood will rot, stone will chip
and crumble, bricks disintegrate, but a cement and
iron structure is apparently indestructible. Look at
some of the old Roman baths. They are as solid as
when they were built." With such convictions, and
the vast fund of practical knowledge and experience
he had gained at Edison in the crushing and manipulation
of large masses of magnetic iron ore during the
preceding nine years, it is not surprising that on that
homeward railway journey, mentioned at the close
of the preceding chapter, he should have decided to
go into the manufacture of cement, especially in view
of the enormous growth of its use for structural purposes
during recent times.

The field being a new one to him, Edison followed
his usual course of reading up every page of
authoritative literature on the subject, and seeking
information from all quarters. In the mean time,
while he was busy also with his new storage battery,
Mr. Mallory, who had been hard at work on the
cement plan, announced that he had completed
arrangements for organizing a company with sufficient
financial backing to carry on the business; concluding
with the remark that it was now time to engage
engineers to lay out the plant. Edison replied
that he intended to do that himself, and invited Mr.
Mallory to go with him to one of the draughting-
rooms on an upper floor of the laboratory.

Here he placed a large sheet of paper on a draughting-
table, and immediately began to draw out a plan
of the proposed works, continuing all day and away
into the evening, when he finished; thus completing
within the twenty-four hours the full lay-out of the
entire plant as it was subsequently installed, and as
it has substantially remained in practical use to this
time. It will be granted that this was a remarkable
engineering feat, especially in view of the fact that
Edison was then a new-comer in the cement busi-
ness, and also that if the plant were to be rebuilt
to-day, no vital change would be desirable or
necessary. In that one day's planning every part
was considered and provided for, from the crusher to
the packing-house. From one end to the other, the
distance over which the plant stretches in length is
about half a mile, and through the various buildings
spread over this space there passes, automatically,
in course of treatment, a vast quantity of material
resulting in the production of upward of two and a
quarter million pounds of finished cement every
twenty-four hours, seven days in the week.

In that one day's designing provision was made not
only for all important parts, but minor details, such,
for instance, as the carrying of all steam, water, and
air pipes, and electrical conductors in a large subway
running from one end of the plant to the other; and,
an oiling system for the entire works. This latter
deserves special mention, not only because of its
arrangement for thorough lubrication, but also on
account of the resultant economy affecting the cost
of manufacture.

Edison has strong convictions on the liberal
use of lubricants, but argued that in the ordinary
oiling of machinery there is great waste, while much
dirt is conveyed into the bearings. He therefore
planned a system by which the ten thousand bearings
in the plant are oiled automatically; requiring the
services of only two men for the entire work. This
is accomplished by a central pumping and filtering
plant and the return of the oil from all parts of the
works by gravity. Every bearing is made dust-
proof, and is provided with two interior pipes. One
is above and the other below the bearing. The oil
flows in through the upper pipe, and, after lubricating
the shaft, flows out through the lower pipe back to
the pumping station, where any dirt is filtered out and
the oil returned to circulation. While this system of
oiling is not unique, it was the first instance of its
adaptation on so large and complete a scale, and
illustrates the far-sightedness of his plans.

In connection with the adoption of this lubricating
system there occurred another instance of his knowledge
of materials and intuitive insight into the nature
of things. He thought that too frequent circulation
of a comparatively small quantity of oil would, to
some extent, impair its lubricating qualities, and
requested his assistants to verify this opinion by
consultation with competent authorities. On making
inquiry of the engineers of the Standard Oil Company,
his theory was fully sustained. Hence, provision
was made for carrying a large stock of oil, and
for giving a certain period of rest to that already used.

A keen appreciation of ultimate success in the
production of a fine quality of cement led Edison to
provide very carefully in his original scheme for those
details that he foresaw would become requisite--such,
for instance, as ample stock capacity for raw materials
and their automatic delivery in the various stages of
manufacture, as well as mixing, weighing, and frequent
sampling and analyzing during the progress
through the mills. This provision even included the
details of the packing-house, and his perspicacity in
this case is well sustained from the fact that nine
years afterward, in anticipation of building an additional
packing-house, the company sent a representative
to different parts of the country to examine
the systems used by manufacturers in the packing of
large quantities of various staple commodities involving
somewhat similar problems, and found that
there was none better than that devised before the
cement plant was started. Hence, the order was
given to build the new packing-house on lines similar
to those of the old one.

Among the many innovations appearing in this
plant are two that stand out in bold relief as
indicating the large scale by which Edison measures
his ideas. One of these consists of the crushing and
grinding machinery, and the other of the long kilns.
In the preceding chapter there has been given a
description of the giant rolls, by means of which great
masses of rock, of which individual pieces may weigh
eight or more tons, are broken and reduced to about
a fourteen-inch size. The economy of this is apparent
when it is considered that in other cement plants
the limit of crushing ability is "one-man size"--that
is, pieces not too large for one man to lift.

The story of the kiln, as told by Mr. Mallory, is
illustrative of Edison's tendency to upset tradition
and make a radical departure from generally accepted
ideas. "When Mr. Edison first decided to go
into the cement business, it was on the basis of his
crushing-rolls and air separation, and he had every
expectation of installing duplicates of the kilns which
were then in common use for burning cement. These
kilns were usually made of boiler iron, riveted, and
were about sixty feet long and six feet in diameter,
and had a capacity of about two hundred barrels of
cement clinker in twenty-four hours.

"When the detail plans for our plant were being
drawn, Mr. Edison and I figured over the coal capacity
and coal economy of the sixty-foot kiln, and each
time thought that both could he materially bettered.
After having gone over this matter several times,
he said: `I believe I can make a kiln which will give
an output of one thousand barrels in twenty-four
hours.' Although I had then been closely associated
with him for ten years and was accustomed to see
him accomplish great things, I could not help feeling
the improbability of his being able to jump into an
old-established industry--as a novice--and start by
improving the `heart' of the production so as to
increase its capacity 400 per cent. When I pressed
him for an explanation, he was unable to give any
definite reasons, except that he felt positive it could
be done. In this connection let me say that very
many times I have heard Mr. Edison make predictions
as to what a certain mechanical device ought
to do in the way of output and costs, when his statements
did not seem to be even among the possibilities.
Subsequently, after more or less experience, these
predictions have been verified, and I cannot help coming
to the conclusion that he has a faculty, not possessed
by the average mortal, of intuitively and correctly
sizing up mechanical and commercial possibilities.

"But, returning to the kiln, Mr. Edison went to
work immediately and very soon completed the design
of a new type which was to be one hundred and
fifty feet long and nine feet in diameter, made up in
ten-foot sections of cast iron bolted together and
arranged to be revolved on fifteen bearings. He had
a wooden model made and studied it very carefully,
through a series of experiments. These resulted so
satisfactorily that this form was finally decided upon,
and ultimately installed as part of the plant.

"Well, for a year or so the kiln problem was a
nightmare to me. When we started up the plant
experimentally, and the long kiln was first put in
operation, an output of about four hundred barrels
in twenty-four hours was obtained. Mr. Edison was
more than disappointed at this result. His terse
comment on my report was: `Rotten. Try it again.'
When we became a little more familiar with the operation
of the kiln we were able to get the output up to
about five hundred and fifty barrels, and a little later
to six hundred and fifty barrels per day. I would
go down to Orange and report with a great deal of
satisfaction the increase in output, but Mr. Edison
would apparently be very much disappointed, and
often said to me that the trouble was not with the
kiln, but with our method of operating it; and he
would reiterate his first statement that it would
make one thousand barrels in twenty-four hours.

"Each time I would return to the plant with the
determination to increase the output if possible, and
we did increase it to seven hundred and fifty, then to
eight hundred and fifty barrels. Every time I reported
these increases Mr. Edison would still be disappointed.
I said to him several times that if he was
so sure the kiln could turn out one thousand barrels
in twenty-four hours we would be very glad to have
him tell us how to do it, and that we would run it
in any way he directed. He replied that he did not
know what it was that kept the output down, but he
was just as confident as ever that the kiln would
make one thousand barrels per day, and that if he
had time to work with and watch the kiln it would
not take him long to find out the reasons why. He
had made a number of suggestions throughout these
various trials, however, and, as we continued to
operate, we learned additional points in handling,
and were able to get the output up to nine hundred
barrels, then one thousand, and finally to over eleven
hundred barrels per day, thus more than realizing the
prediction made by Mr. Edison before even the plans
were drawn. It is only fair to say, however, that
prolonged experience has led us to the conclusion that
the maximum economy in continuous operation of
these kilns is obtained by working them at a little less
than their maximum capacity.

"It is interesting to note, in connection with the
Edison type of kiln, that when the older cement
manufacturers first learned of it, they ridiculed the
idea universally, and were not slow to predict our
early `finish' as cement manufacturers. The ultimate
success of the kiln, however, proved their criticisms
to be unwarranted. Once aware of its possibility,
some of the cement manufacturers proceeded to
avail themselves of the innovation (at first without
Mr. Edison's consent), and to-day more than one-half
of the Portland cement produced in this country is
made in kilns of the Edison type. Old plants are
lengthening their kilns wherever practicable, and no
wide-awake manufacturer building a modern plant
could afford to install other than these long kilns.
This invention of Mr. Edison has been recognized
by the larger cement manufacturers, and there is
every prospect now that the entire trade will take
licenses under his kiln patents."

When he decided to go into the cement business,
Edison was thoroughly awake to the fact that he
was proposing to "butt into" an old-established
industry, in which the principal manufacturers were
concerns of long standing. He appreciated fully its
inherent difficulties, not only in manufacture, but
also in the marketing of the product. These
considerations, together with his long-settled principle
of striving always to make the best, induced him
at the outset to study methods of producing the
highest quality of product. Thus he was led to
originate innovations in processes, some of which have
been preserved as trade secrets; but of the others
there are two deserving special notice--namely, the
accuracy of mixing and the fineness of grinding.

In cement-making, generally speaking, cement rock
and limestone in the rough are mixed together in such
relative quantities as may be determined upon in
advance by chemical analysis. In many plants this
mixture is made by barrow or load units, and may be
more or less accurate. Rule-of-thumb methods are
never acceptable to Edison, and he devised therefore
a system of weighing each part of the mixture,
so that it would be correct to a pound, and, even at
that, made the device "fool-proof," for as he observed
to one of his associates: "The man at the scales
might get to thinking of the other fellow's best girl,
so fifty or a hundred pounds of rock, more or less,
wouldn't make much difference to him." The Edison
checking plan embraces two hoppers suspended above
two platform scales whose beams are electrically
connected with a hopper-closing device by means of
needles dipping into mercury cups. The scales are
set according to the chemist's weighing orders, and
the material is fed into the scales from the hoppers.
The instant the beam tips, the connection is broken
and the feed stops instantly, thus rendering it impossible
to introduce any more material until the charge
has been unloaded.

The fine grinding of cement clinker is distinctively
Edisonian in both origin and application. As has
been already intimated, its author followed a thorough
course of reading on the subject long before reaching
the actual projection or installation of a plant, and
he had found all authorities to agree on one important
point--namely, that the value of cement depends
upon the fineness to which it is ground.[16] He also
ascertained that in the trade the standard of fineness
was that 75 per cent. of the whole mass would pass
through a 200-mesh screen. Having made some
improvements in his grinding and screening apparatus,
and believing that in the future engineers, builders,
and contractors would eventually require a higher
degree of fineness, he determined, in advance of
manufacturing, to raise the standard ten points, so that at
least 85 per cent. of his product should pass through
a 200-mesh screen. This was a bold step to be taken
by a new-comer, but his judgment, backed by a full
confidence in ability to live up to this standard, has
been fully justified in its continued maintenance,
despite the early incredulity of older manufacturers
as to the possibility of attaining such a high degree
of fineness.

[16] For a proper understanding and full appreciation of the
importance of fine grinding, it may be explained that Portland
cement (as manufactured in the Lehigh Valley) is made from
what is commonly spoken of as "cement rock," with the addition
of sufficient limestone to give the necessary amount of lime.
The rock is broken down and then ground to a fineness of 80 to
90 per cent. through a 200-mesh screen. This ground material
passes through kilns and comes out in "clinker." This is ground
and that part of this finely ground clinker that will pass a 200-
mesh screen is cement; the residue is still clinker. These coarse
particles, or clinkers, absorb water very slowly, are practically
inert, and have very feeble cementing properties. The residue
on a 200-mesh screen is useless.

If Edison measured his happiness, as men often
do, by merely commercial or pecuniary rewards of
success, it would seem almost redundant to state
that he has continued to manifest an intense interest
in the cement plant. Ordinarily, his interest as an
inventor wanes in proportion to the approach to mere
commercialism--in other words, the keenness of his
pleasure is in overcoming difficulties rather than the
mere piling up of a bank account. He is entirely
sensible of the advantages arising from a good balance
at the banker's, but that has not been the goal of his
ambition. Hence, although his cement enterprise
reached the commercial stage a long time ago, he has
been firmly convinced of his own ability to devise
still further improvements and economical processes
of greater or less fundamental importance, and has,
therefore, made a constant study of the problem as
a whole and in all its parts. By means of frequent
reports, aided by his remarkable memory, he keeps
in as close touch with the plant as if he were there in
person every day, and is thus enabled to suggest
improvement in any particular detail. The engineering
force has a great respect for the accuracy of his
knowledge of every part of the plant, for he remembers
the dimensions and details of each item of machinery,
sometimes to the discomfiture of those who
are around it every day.

A noteworthy instance of Edison's memory occurred
in connection with this cement plant. Some
years ago, as its installation was nearing completion,
he went up to look it over and satisfy himself as to
what needed to be done. On the arrival of the train
at 10.40 in the morning, he went to the mill, and,
with Mr. Mason, the general superintendent, started
at the crusher at one end, and examined every detail
all the way through to the packing-house at the other
end. He made neither notes nor memoranda, but
the examination required all the day, which happened
to be a Saturday. He took a train for home at 5.30
in the afternoon, and on arriving at his residence at
Orange, got out some note-books and began to write
entirely from memory each item consecutively. He
continued at this task all through Saturday night,
and worked steadily on until Sunday afternoon,
when he completed a list of nearly six hundred items.
The nature of this feat is more appreciable from
the fact that a large number of changes included
all the figures of new dimensions he had decided
upon for some of the machinery throughout the
plant.

As the reader may have a natural curiosity to learn
whether or not the list so made was practical, it may
be stated that it was copied and sent up to the general
superintendent with instructions to make the
modifications suggested, and report by numbers as
they were attended to. This was faithfully done, all
the changes being made before the plant was put into
operation. Subsequent experience has amply proven
the value of Edison's prescience at this time.

Although Edison's achievements in the way of improved
processes and machinery have already made a
deep impression in the cement industry, it is probable
that this impression will become still more profoundly
stamped upon it in the near future with the
exploitation of his "Poured Cement House." The
broad problem which he set himself was to provide
handsome and practically indestructible detached
houses, which could be taken by wage-earners at very
moderate monthly rentals. He turned this question
over in his mind for several years, and arrived at the
conclusion that a house cast in one piece would be
the answer. To produce such a house involved the
overcoming of many engineering and other technical
difficulties. These he attacked vigorously and disposed
of patiently one by one.

In this connection a short anecdote may be quoted
from Edison as indicative of one of the influences
turning his thoughts in this direction. In the story
of the ore-milling work, it has been noted that the
plant was shut down owing to the competition of
the cheap ore from the Mesaba Range. Edison says:
"When I shut down, the insurance companies cancelled
my insurance. I asked the reason why. `Oh,' they
said, `this thing is a failure. The moral risk is too
great.' `All right; I am glad to hear it. I will now
construct buildings that won't have any moral risk.'
I determined to go into the Portland cement business.
I organized a company and started cement-works
which have now been running successfully for several
years. I had so perfected the machinery in trying
to get my ore costs down that the making of cheap
cement was an easy matter to me. I built these
works entirely of concrete and steel, so that there is
not a wagon-load of lumber in them; and so that
the insurance companies would not have any possibility
of having any `moral risk.' Since that time
I have put up numerous factory buildings all of steel
and concrete, without any combustible whatever
about them--to avoid this `moral risk.' I am carrying
further the application of this idea in building
private houses for poor people, in which there will be
no `moral risk' at all--nothing whatever to burn,
not even by lightning."

As a casting necessitates a mold, together with a
mixture sufficiently fluid in its nature to fill all the
interstices completely, Edison devoted much attention
to an extensive series of experiments for producing
a free-flowing combination of necessary
materials. His proposition was against all precedent.
All expert testimony pointed to the fact that a mixture
of concrete (cement, sand, crushed stone, and
water) could not be made to flow freely to the small-
est parts of an intricate set of molds; that the heavy
parts of the mixture could not be held in suspension,
but would separate out by gravity and make an unevenly
balanced structure; that the surface would
be full of imperfections, etc.

Undeterred by the unanimity of adverse opinions,
however, he pursued his investigations with the
thorough minuteness that characterizes all his
laboratory work, and in due time produced a mixture
which on elaborate test overcame all objections and
answered the complex requirements perfectly,
including the making of a surface smooth, even, and
entirely waterproof. All the other engineering
problems have received study in like manner, and have
been overcome, until at the present writing the whole
question is practically solved and has been reduced
to actual practice. The Edison poured or cast cement
house may be reckoned as a reality.

The general scheme, briefly outlined, is to prepare
a model and plans of the house to be cast, and then
to design a set of molds in sections of convenient
size. When all is ready, these molds, which are of
cast iron with smooth interior surfaces, are taken to
the place where the house is to be erected. Here
there has been provided a solid concrete cellar floor,
technically called "footing." The molds are then
locked together so that they rest on this footing.
Hundreds of pieces are necessary for the complete
set. When they have been completely assembled, there
will be a hollow space in the interior, representing the
shape of the house. Reinforcing rods are also placed
in the molds, to be left behind in the finished house.

Next comes the pouring of the concrete mixture
into this form. Large mechanical mixers are used,
and, as it is made, the mixture is dumped into tanks,
from which it is conveyed to a distributing tank on
the top, or roof, of the form. From this tank a large
number of open troughs or pipes lead the mixture to
various openings in the roof, whence it flows down
and fills all parts of the mold from the footing in
the basement until it overflows at the tip of the
roof.

The pouring of the entire house is accomplished in
about six hours, and then the molds are left undisturbed
for six days, in order that the concrete may
set and harden. After that time the work of taking
away the molds is begun. This requires three or
four days. When the molds are taken away an entire
house is disclosed, cast in one piece, from cellar
to tip of roof, complete with floors, interior walls,
stairways, bath and laundry tubs, electric-wire
conduits, gas, water, and heating pipes. No plaster is
used anywhere; but the exterior and interior walls
are smooth and may be painted or tinted, if desired.
All that is now necessary is to put in the windows,
doors, heater, and lighting fixtures, and to connect
up the plumbing and heating arrangements, thus
making the house ready for occupancy.

As these iron molds are not ephemeral like the
wooden framing now used in cement construction, but
of practically illimitable life, it is obvious that they
can be used a great number of times. A complete
set of molds will cost approximately $25,000, while
the necessary plant will cost about $15,000 more.
It is proposed to work as a unit plant for successful
operation at least six sets of molds, to keep the men
busy and the machinery going. Any one, with a
sheet of paper, can ascertain the yearly interest on
the investment as a fixed charge to be assessed against
each house, on the basis that one hundred and forty-
four houses can be built in a year with the battery of
six sets of molds. Putting the sum at $175,000, and
the interest at 6 per cent. on the cost of the molds
and 4 per cent. for breakage, together with 6 per
cent. interest and 15 per cent. depreciation on
machinery, the plant charge is approximately $140
per house. It does not require a particularly acute
prophetic vision to see "Flower Towns" of "Poured
Houses" going up in whole suburbs outside all our
chief centres of population.

Edison's conception of the workingman's ideal
house has been a broad one from the very start. He
was not content merely to provide a roomy, moderately
priced house that should be fireproof, waterproof,
and vermin-proof, and practically indestructible, but
has been solicitous to get away from the idea of a
plain "packing-box" type. He has also provided for
ornamentation of a high class in designing the details
of the structure. As he expressed it: "We will
give the workingman and his family ornamentation
in their house. They deserve it, and besides, it costs
no more after the pattern is made to give decorative
effects than it would to make everything plain."
The plans have provided for a type of house that
would cost not far from $30,000 if built of cut stone.
He gave to Messrs. Mann & McNaillie, architects,
New York, his idea of the type of house he wanted.
On receiving these plans he changed them considerably,
and built a model. After making many more
changes in this while in the pattern shop, he produced
a house satisfactory to himself.

This one-family house has a floor plan twenty-five
by thirty feet, and is three stories high. The first
floor is divided off into two large rooms--parlor and
living-room--and the upper floors contain four large
bedrooms, a roomy bath-room, and wide halls. The
front porch extends eight feet, and the back porch
three feet. A cellar seven and a half feet high extends
under the whole house, and will contain the boiler,
wash-tubs, and coal-bunker. It is intended that the
house shall be built on lots forty by sixty feet, giving
a lawn and a small garden.

It is contemplated that these houses shall be built
in industrial communities, where they can be put up
in groups of several hundred. If erected in this manner,
and by an operator buying his materials in large
quantities, Edison believes that these houses can
be erected complete, including heating apparatus and
plumbing, for $1200 each. This figure would also rest
on the basis of using in the mixture the gravel
excavated on the site. Comment has been made by
persons of artistic taste on the monotony of a cluster
of houses exactly alike in appearance, but this
criticism has been anticipated, and the molds are so
made as to be capable of permutations of arrangement.
Thus it will be possible to introduce almost
endless changes in the style of house by variation of
the same set of molds.

For more than forty years Edison was avowedly
an inventor for purely commercial purposes; but
within the last two years he decided to retire from
that field so far as new inventions were concerned,
and to devote himself to scientific research and
experiment in the leisure hours that might remain after
continuing to improve his existing devices. But
although the poured cement house was planned during
the commercial period, the spirit in which it was
conceived arose out of an earnest desire to place within
the reach of the wage-earner an opportunity to better
his physical, pecuniary, and mental conditions in so
far as that could be done through the medium of
hygienic and beautiful homes at moderate rentals.
From the first Edison has declared that it was not
his intention to benefit pecuniarily through the
exploitation of this project. Having actually demonstrated
the practicability and feasibility of his plans,
he will allow responsible concerns to carry them into
practice under such limitations as may be necessary
to sustain the basic object, but without any payment
to him except for the actual expense incurred. The
hypercritical may cavil and say that, as a manufacturer
of cement, Edison will be benefited. True,
but as ANY good Portland cement can be used,
and no restrictions as to source of supply are enforced,
he, or rather his company, will be merely one
of many possible purveyors.

This invention is practically a gift to the workingmen
of the world and their families. The net result
will be that those who care to avail themselves of the
privilege may, sooner or later, forsake the crowded
apartment or tenement and be comfortably housed
in sanitary, substantial, and roomy homes fitted with
modern conveniences, and beautified by artistic
decorations, with no outlay for insurance or repairs; no
dread of fire, and all at a rental which Edison
believes will be not more, but probably less than, $10
per month in any city of the United States. While his
achievement in its present status will bring about
substantial and immediate benefits to wage-earners,
his thoughts have already travelled some years ahead
in the formulation of a still further beneficial project
looking toward the individual ownership of these
houses on a basis startling in its practical possibilities.

CHAPTER XXI

MOTION PICTURES

THE preceding chapters have treated of Edison in
various aspects as an inventor, some of which
are familiar to the public, others of which are believed
to be in the nature of a novel revelation, simply because
no one had taken the trouble before to put the
facts together. To those who have perhaps grown
weary of seeing Edison's name in articles of a sensational
character, it may sound strange to say that,
after all, justice has not been done to his versatile
and many-sided nature; and that the mere prosaic
facts of his actual achievement outrun the wildest
flights of irrelevant journalistic imagination. Edison
hates nothing more than to be dubbed a genius or
played up as a "wizard"; but this fate has dogged
him until he has come at last to resign himself to it
with a resentful indignation only to be appreciated
when watching him read the latest full-page Sunday
"spread" that develops a casual conversation into
oracular verbosity, and gives to his shrewd surmise
the cast of inspired prophecy.

In other words, Edison's real work has seldom been
seriously discussed. Rather has it been taken as a
point of departure into a realm of fancy and romance,
where as a relief from drudgery he is sometimes quite
willing to play the pipe if some one will dance to it.
Indeed, the stories woven around his casual suggestions
are tame and vapid alongside his own essays
in fiction, probably never to be published, but which
show what a real inventor can do when he cuts loose
to create a new heaven and a new earth, unrestrained
by any formal respect for existing conditions of servitude
to three dimensions and the standard elements.

The present chapter, essentially technical in its
subject-matter, is perhaps as significant as any in this
biography, because it presents Edison as the Master
Impresario of his age, and maybe of many following
ages also. His phonographs and his motion pictures
have more audiences in a week than all the theatres
in America in a year. The "Nickelodeon" is the central
fact in modern amusement, and Edison founded
it. All that millions know of music and drama he
furnishes; and the whole study of the theatrical managers
thus reaching the masses is not to ascertain the
limitations of the new art, but to discover its boundless
possibilities. None of the exuberant versions of
things Edison has not done could endure for a moment
with the simple narrative of what he has really done
as the world's new Purveyor of Pleasure. And yet
it all depends on the toilful conquest of a subtle and
intricate art. The story of the invention of the
phonograph has been told. That of the evolution
of motion pictures follows. It is all one piece of
sober, careful analysis, and stubborn, successful
attack on the problem.

The possibility of making a record of animate movement,
and subsequently reproducing it, was predicted
long before the actual accomplishment. This, as we
have seen, was also the case with the phonograph,
the telephone, and the electric light. As to the
phonograph, the prediction went only so far as the
RESULT; the apparent intricacy of the problem being
so great that the MEANS for accomplishing the desired
end were seemingly beyond the grasp of the imagination
or the mastery of invention.

With the electric light and the telephone the prediction
included not only the result to be accomplished,
but, in a rough and general way, the mechanism
itself; that is to say, long before a single sound
was intelligibly transmitted it was recognized that
such a thing might be done by causing a diaphragm,
vibrated by original sounds, to communicate its
movements to a distant diaphragm by a suitably
controlled electric current. In the case of the electric
light, the heating of a conductor to incandescence in
a highly rarefied atmosphere was suggested as a
scheme of illumination long before its actual
accomplishment, and in fact before the production of a
suitable generator for delivering electric current in a
satisfactory and economical manner.

It is a curious fact that while the modern art of
motion pictures depends essentially on the development
of instantaneous photography, the suggestion
of the possibility of securing a reproduction of animate
motion, as well as, in a general way, of the
mechanism for accomplishing the result, was made
many years before the instantaneous photograph became
possible. While the first motion picture was
not actually produced until the summer of 1889, its
real birth was almost a century earlier, when Plateau,
in France, constructed an optical toy, to which the
impressive name of "Phenakistoscope" was applied,
for producing an illusion of motion. This toy in turn
was the forerunner of the Zoetrope, or so-called
"Wheel of Life," which was introduced into this
country about the year 1845. These devices were
essentially toys, depending for their successful
operation (as is the case with motion pictures) upon a
physiological phenomenon known as persistence of
vision. If, for instance, a bright light is moved
rapidly in front of the eye in a dark room, it appears
not as an illuminated spark, but as a line of fire; a
so-called shooting star, or a flash of lightning produces
the same effect. This result is purely physiological,
and is due to the fact that the retina of the eye may
be considered as practically a sensitized plate of
relatively slow speed, and an image impressed upon it
remains, before being effaced, for a period of from
one-tenth to one-seventh of a second, varying according
to the idiosyncrasies of the individual and the intensity
of the light. When, therefore, it is said that
we should only believe things we actually see, we
ought to remember that in almost every instance we
never see things as they are.

Bearing in mind the fact that when an image is
impressed on the human retina it persists for an
appreciable period, varying as stated, with the
individual, and depending also upon the intensity of the
illumination, it will be seen that, if a number of pictures
or photographs are successively presented to the
eye, they will appear as a single, continuous photo-
graph, provided the periods between them are short
enough to prevent one of the photographs from being
effaced before its successor is presented. If, for
instance, a series of identical portraits were rapidly
presented to the eye, a single picture would apparently
be viewed, or if we presented to the eye the series
of photographs of a moving object, each one representing
a minute successive phase of the movement,
the movements themselves would apparently again
take place.

With the Zoetrope and similar toys rough drawings
were used for depicting a few broadly outlined
successive phases of movement, because in their day
instantaneous photography was unknown, and in addition
there were certain crudities of construction that
seriously interfered with the illumination of the pictures,
rendering it necessary to make them practically
as silhouettes on a very conspicuous background.
Hence it will be obvious that these toys produced
merely an ILLUSION of THEORETICAL motion.

But with the knowledge of even an illusion of
motion, and with the philosophy of persistence of
vision fully understood, it would seem that, upon the
development of instantaneous photography, the
reproduction of ACTUAL motion by means of pictures
would have followed, almost as a necessary consequence.
Yet such was not the case, and success was
ultimately accomplished by Edison only after
persistent experimenting along lines that could not
have been predicted, including the construction of
apparatus for the purpose, which, if it had not been
made, would undoubtedly be considered impossible.
In fact, if it were not for Edison's peculiar mentality,
that refuses to recognize anything as impossible until
indubitably demonstrated to be so, the production
of motion pictures would certainly have been delayed
for years, if not for all time.

One of the earliest suggestions of the possibility of
utilizing photography for exhibiting the illusion of
actual movement was made by Ducos, who, as early
as 1864, obtained a patent in France, in which he said:
"My invention consists in substituting rapidly and
without confusion to the eye not only of an individual,
but when so desired of a whole assemblage, the enlarged
images of a great number of pictures when taken
instantaneously and successively at very short
intervals.... The observer will believe that he sees
only one image, which changes gradually by reason of
the successive changes of form and position of the
objects which occur from one picture to the other.
Even supposing that there be a slight interval of
time during which the same object was not shown,
the persistence of the luminous impression upon the
eye will fill this gap. There will be as it were a living
representation of nature and . . . the same scene will
be reproduced upon the screen with the same degree
of animation.... By means of my apparatus I am
enabled especially to reproduce the passing of a
procession, a review of military manoeuvres, the
movements of a battle, a public fete, a theatrical scene,
the evolution or the dances of one or of several persons,
the changing expression of countenance, or, if
one desires, the grimaces of a human face; a marine
view, the motion of waves, the passage of clouds in
a stormy sky, particularly in a mountainous country,
the eruption of a volcano," etc.

Other dreamers, contemporaries of Ducos, made
similar suggestions; they recognized the scientific
possibility of the problem, but they were irretrievably
handicapped by the shortcomings of photography.
Even when substantially instantaneous photographs
were evolved at a somewhat later date they
were limited to the use of wet plates, which have
to be prepared by the photographer and used immediately,
and were therefore quite out of the question
for any practical commercial scheme. Besides
this, the use of plates would have been impracticable,
because the limitations of their weight and size would
have prevented the taking of a large number of pictures
at a high rate of speed, even if the sensitized
surface had been sufficiently rapid.

Nothing ever came of Ducos' suggestions and those
of the early dreamers in this essentially practical and
commercial art, and their ideas have made no greater
impress upon the final result than Jules Verne's
Nautilus of our boyhood days has developed the
modern submarine. From time to time further
suggestions were made, some in patents, and others in
photographic and scientific publications, all dealing
with the fascinating thought of preserving and
representing actual scenes and events. The first serious
attempt to secure an illusion of motion by photography
was made in 1878 by Eadward Muybridge as a result
of a wager with the late Senator Leland Stanford,
the California pioneer and horse-lover, who had
asserted, contrary to the usual belief, that a trotting-
horse at one point in its gait left the ground entirely.
At this time wet plates of very great rapidity were
known, and by arranging a series of cameras along
the line of a track and causing the horse in trotting
past them, by striking wires or strings attached to the
shutters, to actuate the cameras at the right instant,
a series of very clear instantaneous photographs was
obtained. From these negatives, when developed,
positive prints were made, which were later mounted
on a modified form of Zoetrope and projected upon
a screen.

One of these early exhibitions is described in the
Scientific American of June 5, 1880: "While the
separate photographs had shown the successive positions
of a trotting or running horse in making a
single stride, the Zoogyroscope threw upon the screen
apparently the living animal. Nothing was wanting
but the clatter of hoofs upon the turf, and an occasional
breath of steam from the nostrils, to make the
spectator believe that he had before him genuine
flesh-and-blood steeds. In the views of hurdle-leaping,
the simulation was still more admirable, even
to the motion of the tail as the animal gathered for
the jump, the raising of his head, all were there.
Views of an ox trotting, a wild bull on the charge,
greyhounds and deer running and birds flying in mid-
air were shown, also athletes in various positions."
It must not be assumed from this statement that
even as late as the work of Muybridge anything like
a true illusion of movement had been obtained, because
such was not the case. Muybridge secured
only one cycle of movement, because a separate
camera had to be used for each photograph and
consequently each cycle was reproduced over and
over again. To have made photographs of a trotting-
horse for one minute at the moderate rate of twelve
per second would have required, under the Muybridge
scheme, seven hundred and twenty separate cameras,
whereas with the modern art only a single camera is
used. A further defect with the Muybridge pictures
was that since each photograph was secured when
the moving object was in the centre of the plate, the
reproduction showed the object always centrally on
the screen with its arms or legs in violent movement,
but not making any progress, and with the scenery
rushing wildly across the field of view!

In the early 80's the dry plate was first introduced
into general use, and from that time onward its rapidity
and quality were gradually improved; so much
so that after 1882 Prof. E. J. Marey, of the French
Academy, who in 1874 had published a well-known
treatise on "Animal Movement," was able by the
use of dry plates to carry forward the experiments of
Muybridge on a greatly refined scale. Marey was,
however, handicapped by reason of the fact that glass
plates were still used, although he was able with
a single camera to obtain twelve photographs on
successive plates in the space of one second. Marey,
like Muybridge, photographed only one cycle of the
movements of a single object, which was subsequently
reproduced over and over again, and the
camera was in the form of a gun, which could follow
the object so that the successive pictures would be
always located in the centre of the plates.

The review above given, as briefly as possible,
comprises substantially the sum of the world's
knowledge at the time the problem of recording and
reproducing animate movement was first undertaken
by Edison. The most that could be said of the
condition of the art when Edison entered the field was
that it had been recognized that if a series of
instantaneous photographs of a moving object could
be secured at an enormously high rate many times
per second--they might be passed before the eye
either directly or by projection upon a screen, and
thereby result in a reproduction of the movements.
Two very serious difficulties lay in the way of actual
accomplishment, however--first, the production of a
sensitive surface in such form and weight as to be
capable of being successively brought into position
and exposed, at the necessarily high rate; and, second,
the production of a camera capable of so taking
the pictures. There were numerous other workers
in the field, but they added nothing to what had already
been proposed. Edison himself knew nothing
of Ducos, or that the suggestions had advanced beyond
the single centrally located photographs of
Muybridge and Marey. As a matter of public policy,
the law presumes that an inventor must be familiar
with all that has gone before in the field within which
he is working, and if a suggestion is limited to a patent
granted in New South Wales, or is described in a
single publication in Brazil, an inventor in America,
engaged in the same field of thought, is by legal fiction
presumed to have knowledge not only of the existence
of that patent or publication, but of its contents.
We say this not in the way of an apology for the
extent of Edison's contribution to the motion-picture
art, because there can be no question that he was as
much the creator of that art as he was of the phonographic
art; but to show that in a practical sense the
suggestion of the art itself was original with him. He
himself says: "In the year 1887 the idea occurred
to me that it was possible to devise an instrument
which should do for the eye what the phonograph
does for the ear, and that by a combination of the
two, all motion and sound could be recorded and
reproduced simultaneously. This idea, the germ of
which came from the little toy called the Zoetrope
and the work of Muybridge, Marey, and others, has
now been accomplished, so that every change of
facial expression can be recorded and reproduced life-
size. The kinetoscope is only a small model illustrating
the present stage of the progress, but with
each succeeding month new possibilities are brought
into view. I believe that in coming years, by my
own work and that of Dickson, Muybridge, Marey,
and others who will doubtless enter the field, grand
opera can be given at the Metropolitan Opera House
at New York without any material change from the
original, and with artists and musicians long since
dead."

In the earliest experiments attempts were made
to secure the photographs, reduced microscopically,
arranged spirally on a cylinder about the size of a
phonograph record, and coated with a highly sensitized
surface, the cylinder being given an intermittent
movement, so as to be at rest during each
exposure. Reproductions were obtained in the same
way, positive prints being observed through a
magnifying glass. Various forms of apparatus following
this general type were made, but they were all open
to the serious objection that the very rapid emulsions
employed were relatively coarse-grained and prevented
the securing of sharp pictures of microscopic
size. On the other hand, the enlarging of the
apparatus to permit larger pictures to be obtained
would present too much weight to be stopped and
started with the requisite rapidity. In these early
experiments, however, it was recognized that, to
secure proper results, a single camera should be used,
so that the objects might move across its field just
as they move across the field of the human eye; and
the important fact was also observed that the rate
at which persistence of vision took place represented
the minimum speed at which the pictures should be
obtained. If, for instance, five pictures per second
were taken (half of the time being occupied in
exposure and the other half in moving the exposed
portion of the film out of the field of the lens and
bringing a new portion into its place), and the same ratio
is observed in exhibiting the pictures, the interval of
time between successive pictures would be one-tenth
of a second; and for a normal eye such an exhibition
would present a substantially continuous photograph.
If the angular movement of the object across the field
is very slow, as, for instance, a distant vessel, the
successive positions of the object are so nearly coincident
that when reproduced before the eye an impression
of smooth, continuous movement is secured. If, how-
ever, the object is moving rapidly across the field of
view, one picture will be separated from its successor
to a marked extent, and the resulting impression will
be jerky and unnatural. Recognizing this fact, Edison
always sought for a very high speed, so as to give
smooth and natural reproductions, and even with his
experimental apparatus obtained upward of forty-
eight pictures per second, whereas, in practice, at the
present time, the accepted rate varies between twenty
and thirty per second. In the efforts of the present
day to economize space by using a minimum length
of film, pictures are frequently taken at too slow a
rate, and the reproductions are therefore often
objectionable, by reason of more or less jerkiness.

During the experimental period and up to the early
part of 1889, the kodak film was being slowly
developed by the Eastman Kodak Company. Edison
perceived in this product the solution of the problem
on which he had been working, because the film presented
a very light body of tough material on which
relatively large photographs could be taken at rapid
intervals. The surface, however, was not at first
sufficiently sensitive to admit of sharply defined
pictures being secured at the necessarily high rates.
It seemed apparent, therefore, that in order to obtain
the desired speed there would have to be sacrificed
that fineness of emulsion necessary for the securing
of sharp pictures. But as was subsequently seen,
this sacrifice was in time rendered unnecessary.
Much credit is due the Eastman experts--stimulated
and encouraged by Edison, but independently of
him--for the production at last of a highly sensitized,
fine-grained emulsion presenting the highly sensitized
surface that Edison sought.

Having at last obtained apparently the proper
material upon which to secure the photographs, the
problem then remained to devise an apparatus by
means of which from twenty to forty pictures per
second could be taken; the film being stationary
during the exposure and, upon the closing of the
shutter, being moved to present a fresh surface. In
connection with this problem it is interesting to note
that this question of high speed was apparently regarded
by all Edison's predecessors as the crucial
point. Ducos, for example, expended a great deal
of useless ingenuity in devising a camera by means
of which a tape-line film could receive the photographs
while being in continuous movement, necessitating
the use of a series of moving lenses. Another
experimenter, Dumont, made use of a single large
plate and a great number of lenses which were
successively exposed. Muybridge, as we have seen,
used a series of cameras, one for each plate. Marey
was limited to a very few photographs, because the
entire surface had to be stopped and started in
connection with each exposure.

After the accomplishment of the fact, it would seem
to be the obvious thing to use a single lens and move
the sensitized film with respect to it, intermittently
bringing the surface to rest, then exposing it, then
cutting off the light and moving the surface to a
fresh position; but who, other than Edison, would
assume that such a device could be made to repeat
these movements over and over again at the rate of
twenty to forty per second? Users of kodaks and
other forms of film cameras will appreciate perhaps
better than others the difficulties of the problem,
because in their work, after an exposure, they have
to advance the film forward painfully to the extent of
the next picture before another exposure can take
place, these operations permitting of speeds of but a
few pictures per minute at best. Edison's solution of
the problem involved the production of a kodak in
which from twenty to forty pictures should be taken
IN EACH SECOND, and with such fineness of adjustment
that each should exactly coincide with its predecessors
even when subjected to the test of enlargement by
projection. This, however, was finally accomplished,
and in the summer of 1889 the first modern motion-
picture camera was made. More than this, the
mechanism for operating the film was so constructed
that the movement of the film took place in one-
tenth of the time required for the exposure, giving
the film an opportunity to come to rest prior to the
opening of the shutter. From that day to this the
Edison camera has been the accepted standard for
securing pictures of objects in motion, and such
changes as have been made in it have been purely
in the nature of detail mechanical refinements.

The earliest form of exhibiting apparatus, known
as the Kinetoscope, was a machine in which a positive
print from the negative obtained in the camera
was exhibited directly to the eye through a peep-
hole; but in 1895 the films were applied to modified
forms of magic lanterns, by which the images are
projected upon a screen. Since that date the industry
has developed very rapidly, and at the present time
(1910) all of the principal American manufacturers
of motion pictures are paying a royalty to Edison
under his basic patents.

From the early days of pictures representing simple
movements, such as a man sneezing, or a skirt-dance,
there has been a gradual evolution, until now the
pictures represent not only actual events in all their
palpitating instantaneity, but highly developed dramas
and scenarios enacted in large, well-equipped
glass studios, and the result of infinite pains and
expense of production. These pictures are exhibited
in upward of eight thousand places of amusement in
the United States, and are witnessed by millions of
people each year. They constitute a cheap, clean
form of amusement for many persons who cannot
spare the money to go to the ordinary theatres, or
they may be exhibited in towns that are too small
to support a theatre. More than this, they offer to
the poor man an effective substitute for the saloon.
Probably no invention ever made has afforded more
pleasure and entertainment than the motion picture.

Aside from the development of the motion picture
as a spectacle, there has gone on an evolution in its
use for educational purposes of wide range, which
must not be overlooked. In fact, this form of utilization
has been carried further in Europe than in this
country as a means of demonstration in the arts and
sciences. One may study animal life, watch a surgical
operation, follow the movement of machinery,
take lessons in facial expression or in calisthenics.
It seems a pity that in motion pictures should at last
have been found the only competition that the ancient
marionettes cannot withstand. But aside from
the disappearance of those entertaining puppets, all
else is gain in the creation of this new art.

The work at the Edison laboratory in the development
of the motion picture was as usual intense and
concentrated, and, as might be expected, many of
the early experiments were quite primitive in their
character until command had been secured of relatively
perfect apparatus. The subjects registered
jerkily by the films were crude and amusing, such as
of Fred Ott's sneeze, Carmencita dancing, Italians
and their performing bears, fencing, trapeze stunts,
horsemanship, blacksmithing--just simple movements
without any attempt to portray the silent drama.
One curious incident of this early study occurred
when "Jim" Corbett was asked to box a few rounds
in front of the camera, with a "dark un" to be selected
locally. This was agreed to, and a celebrated
bruiser was brought over from Newark. When this
"sparring partner" came to face Corbett in the imitation
ring he was so paralyzed with terror he could
hardly move. It was just after Corbett had won
one of his big battles as a prize-fighter, and the dismay
of his opponent was excusable. The "boys" at the
laboratory still laugh consumedly when they tell
about it.

The first motion-picture studio was dubbed by the
staff the "Black Maria." It was an unpretentious
oblong wooden structure erected in the laboratory
yard, and had a movable roof in the central part.
This roof could be raised or lowered at will. The
building was covered with black roofing paper, and
was also painted black inside. There was no scenery
to render gay this lugubrious environment, but the
black interior served as the common background for
the performers, throwing all their actions into high
relief. The whole structure was set on a pivot so
that it could be swung around with the sun; and
the movable roof was opened so that the accentuating
sunlight could stream in upon the actor whose
gesticulations were being caught by the camera.
These beginnings and crudities are very remote from
the elaborate and expensive paraphernalia and machinery
with which the art is furnished to-day.

At the present time the studios in which motion
pictures are taken are expensive and pretentious
affairs. An immense building of glass, with all the
properties and stage-settings of a regular theatre,
is required. The Bronx Park studio of the Edison
company cost at least one hundred thousand dollars,
while the well-known house of Pathe Freres in
France--one of Edison's licensees--makes use of no
fewer than seven of these glass theatres. All of the
larger producers of pictures in this country and
abroad employ regular stock companies of actors,
men and women selected especially for their skill in
pantomime, although, as most observers have perhaps
suspected, in the actual taking of the pictures the
performers are required to carry on an animated and
prepared dialogue with the same spirit and animation
as on the regular stage. Before setting out on
the preparation of a picture, the book is first written
--known in the business as a scenario--giving a
complete statement as to the scenery, drops and
background, and the sequence of events, divided into
scenes as in an ordinary play. These are placed in
the hands of a "producer," corresponding to a stage-
director, generally an actor or theatrical man of
experience, with a highly developed dramatic instinct.
The various actors are selected, parts are assigned,
and the scene-painters are set to work on the production
of the desired scenery. Before the photographing
of a scene, a long series of rehearsals takes
place, the incidents being gone over and over again
until the actors are "letter perfect." So persistent
are the producers in the matter of rehearsals and the
refining and elaboration of details, that frequently
a picture that may be actually photographed and
reproduced in fifteen minutes, may require two or
three weeks for its production. After the rehearsal
of a scene has advanced sufficiently to suit the
critical requirements of the producer, the camera
man is in requisition, and he is consulted as to lighting
so as to produce the required photographic effect.
Preferably, of course, sunlight is used whenever
possible, hence the glass studios; but on dark days, and
when night-work is necessary, artificial light of
enormous candle-power is used, either mercury arcs or
ordinary arc lights of great size and number.

Under all conditions the light is properly screened
and diffused to suit the critical eye of the camera
man. All being in readiness, the actual picture is
taken, the actors going through their rehearsed parts,
the producer standing out of the range of the camera,
and with a megaphone to his lips yelling out his
instructions, imprecations, and approval, and the
camera man grinding at the crank of the camera and
securing the pictures at the rate of twenty or more
per second, making a faithful and permanent record
of every movement and every change of facial
expression. At the end of the scene the negative is
developed in the ordinary way, and is then ready for
use in the printing of the positives for sale. When a
further scene in the play takes place in the same
setting, and without regard to its position in the
plot, it is taken up, rehearsed, and photographed in
the same way, and afterward all the scenes are
cemented together in the proper sequence, and form
the complete negative. Frequently, therefore, in the
production of a motion-picture play, the first and the
last scene may be taken successively, the only thing
necessary being, of course, that after all is done the
various scenes should be arranged in their proper
order. The frames, having served their purpose, now
go back to the scene-painter for further use. All
pictures are not taken in studios, because when light
and weather permit and proper surroundings can be
secured outside, scenes can best be obtained with
natural scenery--city streets, woods, and fields. The
great drawback to the taking of pictures out-of-doors,
however, is the inevitable crowd, attracted by the
novelty of the proceedings, which makes the camera
man's life a torment by getting into the field of his
instrument. The crowds are patient, however, and
in one Edison picture involving the blowing up of a
bridge by the villain of the piece and the substitution
of a pontoon bridge by a company of engineers just
in time to allow the heroine to pass over in her
automobile, more than a thousand people stood around
for almost an entire day waiting for the tedious
rehearsals to end and the actual performance to begin.
Frequently large bodies of men are used in pictures,
such as troops of soldiers, and it is an open secret that
for weeks during the Boer War regularly equipped
British and Boer armies confronted each other on the
peaceful hills of Orange, New Jersey, ready to enact
before the camera the stirring events told by the
cable from the seat of hostilities. These conflicts
were essentially harmless, except in one case during
the battle of Spion Kopje, when "General Cronje,"
in his efforts to fire a wooden cannon, inadvertently
dropped his fuse into a large glass bottle containing
gunpowder. The effect was certainly most dramatic,
and created great enthusiasm among the many audiences
which viewed the completed production; but
the unfortunate general, who is still an employee, was
taken to the hospital, and even now, twelve years
afterward, he says with a grin that whenever he has
a moment of leisure he takes the time to pick a few
pieces of glass from his person!

Edison's great contribution to the regular stage
was the incandescent electric lamp, which enabled
the production of scenic effects never before even
dreamed of, but which we accept now with so much
complacency. Yet with the motion picture, effects
are secured that could not be reproduced to the
slightest extent on the real stage. The villain, overcome
by a remorseful conscience, sees on the wall of
the room the very crime which he committed, with
HIMSELF as the principal actor; one of the easy effects
of double exposure. The substantial and ofttimes
corpulent ghost or spirit of the real stage has been
succeeded by an intangible wraith, as transparent
and unsubstantial as may be demanded in the best
book of fairy tales--more double exposure. A man
emerges from the water with a splash, ascends feet
foremost ten yards or more, makes a graceful curve
and lands on a spring-board, runs down it to the bank,
and his clothes fly gently up from the ground and
enclose his person--all unthinkable in real life, but
readily possible by running the motion-picture film
backward! The fairy prince commands the princess
to appear, consigns the bad brothers to instant
annihilation, turns the witch into a cat, confers life
on inanimate things; and many more startling and
apparently incomprehensible effects are carried out
with actual reality, by stop-work photography. In
one case, when the command for the heroine to come
forth is given, the camera is stopped, the young
woman walks to the desired spot, and the camera is
again started; the effect to the eye--not knowing of
this little by-play--is as if she had instantly appeared
from space. The other effects are perhaps obvious,
and the field and opportunities are absolutely
unlimited. Other curious effects are secured by taking
the pictures at a different speed from that at which
they are exhibited. If, for example, a scene occupying
thirty seconds is reproduced in ten seconds, the
movements will be three times as fast, and vice
versa. Many scenes familiar to the reader, showing
automobiles tearing along the road and rounding
corners at an apparently reckless speed, are really
pictures of slow and dignified movements reproduced
at a high speed.

Brief reference has been made to motion pictures
of educational subjects, and in this field there are
very great opportunities for development. The study
of geography, scenes and incidents in foreign countries,
showing the lives and customs and surroundings
of other peoples, is obviously more entertaining
to the child when actively depicted on the screen
than when merely described in words. The lives of
great men, the enacting of important historical
events, the reproduction of great works of literature,
if visually presented to the child must necessarily
impress his mind with greater force than if shown
by mere words. We predict that the time is not
far distant when, in many of our public schools, two
or three hours a week will be devoted to this rational
and effective form of education.

By applying microphotography to motion pictures
an additional field is opened up, one phase of
which may be the study of germ life and bacteria,
so that our future medical students may become as
familiar with the habits and customs of the Anthrax
bacillus, for example, as of the domestic cat.

From whatever point of view the subject is approached,
the fact remains that in the motion picture,
perhaps more than with any other invention, Edison
has created an art that must always make a special
appeal to the mind and emotions of men, and although
so far it has not advanced much beyond the
field of amusement, it contains enormous possibilities
for serious development in the future. Let us not
think too lightly of the humble five-cent theatre with
its gaping crowd following with breathless interest
the vicissitudes of the beautiful heroine. Before us
lies an undeveloped land of opportunity which is
destined to play an important part in the growth
and welfare of the human race.

CHAPTER XXII

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE EDISON STORAGE
BATTERY

IT is more than a hundred years since the elementary
principle of the storage battery or "accumulator"
was detected by a Frenchman named Gautherot; it
is just fifty years since another Frenchman, named
Plante, discovered that on taking two thin plates of
sheet lead, immersing them in dilute sulphuric acid,
and passing an electric current through the cell, the
combination exhibited the ability to give back part
of the original charging current, owing to the chemical
changes and reactions set up. Plante coiled up his
sheets into a very handy cell like a little roll of carpet
or pastry; but the trouble was that the battery took a
long time to "form." One sheet becoming coated
with lead peroxide and the other with finely divided
or spongy metallic lead, they would receive current,
and then, even after a long period of inaction, furnish
or return an electromotive force of from 1.85
to 2.2 volts. This ability to store up electrical energy
produced by dynamos in hours otherwise idle, whether
driven by steam, wind, or water, was a distinct advance
in the art; but the sensational step was taken about
1880, when Faure in France and Brush in America
broke away from the slow and weary process of "form-
ing" the plates, and hit on clever methods of furnishing
them "ready made," so to speak, by dabbing red
lead onto lead-grid plates, just as butter is spread on a
slice of home-made bread. This brought the storage
battery at once into use as a practical, manufactured
piece of apparatus; and the world was captivated
with the idea. The great English scientist, Sir
William Thomson, went wild with enthusiasm when
a Faure "box of electricity" was brought over from
Paris to him in 1881 containing a million foot-pounds
of stored energy. His biographer, Dr. Sylvanus P.
Thompson, describes him as lying ill in bed with a
wounded leg, and watching results with an incandescent
lamp fastened to his bed curtain by a safety-pin,
and lit up by current from the little Faure cell. Said
Sir William: "It is going to be a most valuable,
practical affair--as valuable as water-cisterns to
people whether they had or had not systems of water-
pipes and water-supply." Indeed, in one outburst
of panegyric the shrewd physicist remarked that he
saw in it "a realization of the most ardently and
increasingly felt scientific aspiration of his life--an
aspiration which he hardly dared to expect or to see
realized." A little later, however, Sir William,
always cautious and canny, began to discover the
inherent defects of the primitive battery, as to
disintegration, inefficiency, costliness, etc., and though
offered tempting inducements, declined to lend his
name to its financial introduction. Nevertheless, he
accepted the principle as valuable, and put the battery
to actual use.

For many years after this episode, the modern lead-
lead type of battery thus brought forward with so
great a flourish of trumpets had a hard time of it.
Edison's attitude toward it, even as a useful
supplement to his lighting system, was always one of
scepticism, and he remarked contemptuously that the
best storage battery he knew was a ton of coal. The
financial fortunes of the battery, on both sides of the
Atlantic, were as varied and as disastrous as its
industrial; but it did at last emerge, and "made good."
By 1905, the production of lead-lead storage batteries
in the United States alone had reached a value for
the year of nearly $3,000,000, and it has increased
greatly since that time. The storage battery is now
regarded as an important and indispensable adjunct
in nearly all modern electric-lighting and electric-
railway systems of any magnitude; and in 1909, in
spite of its weight, it had found adoption in over ten
thousand automobiles of the truck, delivery wagon,
pleasure carriage, and runabout types in America.

Edison watched closely all this earlier development
for about fifteen years, not changing his mind as to
what he regarded as the incurable defects of the lead-
lead type, but coming gradually to the conclusion
that if a storage battery of some other and better
type could be brought forward, it would fulfil all the
early hopes, however extravagant, of such men as
Kelvin (Sir William Thomson), and would become as
necessary and as universal as the incandescent lamp
or the electric motor. The beginning of the present
century found him at his point of new departure.

Generally speaking, non-technical and uninitiated
persons have a tendency to regard an invention as
being more or less the ultimate result of some happy
inspiration. And, indeed, there is no doubt that such
may be the fact in some instances; but in most cases
the inventor has intentionally set out to accomplish
a definite and desired result--mostly through the
application of the known laws of the art in which he
happens to be working. It is rarely, however, that
a man will start out deliberately, as Edison did, to
evolve a radically new type of such an intricate device
as the storage battery, with only a meagre clew and
a vague starting-point.

In view of the successful outcome of the problem
which, in 1900, he undertook to solve, it will be
interesting to review his mental attitude at that period.
It has already been noted at the end of a previous
chapter that on closing the magnetic iron-ore
concentrating plant at Edison, New Jersey, he resolved
to work on a new type of storage battery. It was
about this time that, in the course of a conversation
with Mr. R. H. Beach, then of the street-railway
department of the General Electric Company, he said:
"Beach, I don't think Nature would be so unkind as
to withhold the secret of a GOOD storage battery if a
real earnest hunt for it is made. I'm going to hunt."

Frequently Edison has been asked what he considers
the secret of achievement. To this query he
has invariably replied: "Hard work, based on hard
thinking." The laboratory records bear the fullest
witness that he has consistently followed out this
prescription to the utmost. The perfection of all his
great inventions has been signalized by patient,
persistent, and incessant effort which, recognizing noth-
ing short of success, has resulted in the ultimate
accomplishment of his ideas. Optimistic and hopeful
to a high degree, Edison has the happy faculty of
beginning the day as open-minded as a child--yesterday's
disappointments and failures discarded and
discounted by the alluring possibilities of to-morrow.

Of all his inventions, it is doubtful whether any one
of them has called forth more original thought, work,
perseverance, ingenuity, and monumental patience
than the one we are now dealing with. One of his
associates who has been through the many years of
the storage-battery drudgery with him said: "If
Edison's experiments, investigations, and work on
this storage battery were all that he had ever done,
I should say that he was not only a notable inventor,
but also a great man. It is almost impossible to
appreciate the enormous difficulties that have been
overcome."

From a beginning which was made practically in
the dark, it was not until he had completed more
than ten thousand experiments that he obtained any
positive preliminary results whatever. Through all
this vast amount of research there had been no previous
signs of the electrical action he was looking for.
These experiments had extended over many months
of constant work by day and night, but there was
no breakdown of Edison's faith in ultimate success--
no diminution of his sanguine and confident expectations.
The failure of an experiment simply meant
to him that he had found something else that would
not work, thus bringing the possible goal a little nearer
by a process of painstaking elimination.

Now, however, after these many months of arduous
toil, in which he had examined and tested practically
all the known elements in numerous chemical
combinations, the electric action he sought for had
been obtained, thus affording him the first inkling of
the secret that he had industriously tried to wrest
from Nature. It should be borne in mind that from
the very outset Edison had disdained any intention of
following in the only tracks then known by employing
lead and sulphuric acid as the components of a
successful storage battery. Impressed with what he
considered the serious inherent defects of batteries
made of these materials, and the tremendously complex
nature of the chemical reactions taking place in
all types of such cells, he determined boldly at the
start that he would devise a battery without lead,
and one in which an alkaline solution could be used--
a form which would, he firmly believed, be inherently
less subject to decay and dissolution than the standard
type, which after many setbacks had finally won
its way to an annual production of many thousands
of cells, worth millions of dollars.

Two or three thousand of the first experiments followed
the line of his well-known primary battery in
the attempted employment of copper oxide as an
element in a new type of storage cell; but its use
offered no advantages, and the hunt was continued
in other directions and pursued until Edison satisfied
himself by a vast number of experiments that nickel
and iron possessed the desirable qualifications he was
in search of.

This immense amount of investigation which had
consumed so many months of time, and which had
culminated in the discovery of a series of reactions
between nickel and iron that bore great promise,
brought Edison merely within sight of a strange and
hitherto unexplored country. Slowly but surely the
results of the last few thousands of his preliminary
experiments had pointed inevitably to a new and
fruitful region ahead. He had discovered the hidden
passage and held the clew which he had so industriously
sought. And now, having outlined a definite path,
Edison was all afire to push ahead vigorously in order
that he might enter in and possess the land.

It is a trite saying that "history repeats itself,"
and certainly no axiom carries more truth than this
when applied to the history of each of Edison's
important inventions. The development of the storage
battery has been no exception; indeed, far from
otherwise, for in the ten years that have elapsed since
the time he set himself and his mechanics, chemists,
machinists, and experimenters at work to develop a
practical commercial cell, the old story of incessant
and persistent efforts so manifest in the working out
of other inventions was fully repeated.

Very soon after he had decided upon the use of
nickel and iron as the elemental metals for his storage
battery, Edison established a chemical plant at Silver
Lake, New Jersey, a few miles from the Orange
laboratory, on land purchased some time previously.
This place was the scene of the further experiments
to develop the various chemical forms of nickel and
iron, and to determine by tests what would be best
adapted for use in cells manufactured on a com-
mercial scale. With a little handful of selected
experimenters gathered about him, Edison settled down
to one of his characteristic struggles for supremacy.
To some extent it was a revival of the old Menlo
Park days (or, rather, nights). Some of these who
had worked on the preliminary experiments, with the
addition of a few new-comers, toiled together regardless
of passing time and often under most discouraging
circumstances, but with that remarkable esprit
de corps that has ever marked Edison's relations with
his co-workers, and that has contributed so largely
to the successful carrying out of his ideas.

The group that took part in these early years of
Edison's arduous labors included his old-time assistant,
Fred Ott, together with his chemist, J. W.
Aylsworth, as well as E. J. Ross, Jr., W. E. Holland,
and Ralph Arbogast, and a little later W. G. Bee, all
of whom have grown up with the battery and still
devote their energies to its commercial development.
One of these workers, relating the strenuous experiences
of these few years, says: "It was hard work
and long hours, but still there were some things that
made life pleasant. One of them was the supper-hour
we enjoyed when we worked nights. Mr. Edison
would have supper sent in about midnight, and we
all sat down together, including himself. Work was
forgotten for the time, and all hands were ready for
fun. I have very pleasant recollections of Mr. Edison
at these times. He would always relax and help to
make a good time, and on some occasions I have seen
him fairly overflow with animal spirits, just like a boy
let out from school. After the supper-hour was over,
however, he again became the serious, energetic inventor,
deeply immersed in the work at hand.

"He was very fond of telling and hearing stories,
and always appreciated a joke. I remember one that
he liked to get off on us once in a while. Our lighting
plant was in duplicate, and about 12.30 or 1 o'clock
in the morning, at the close of the supper-hour, a
change would be made from one plant to the other,
involving the gradual extinction of the electric lights
and their slowly coming up to candle-power again,
the whole change requiring probably about thirty
seconds. Sometimes, as this was taking place, Edison
would fold his hands, compose himself as if he
were in sound sleep, and when the lights were full
again would apparently wake up, with the remark,
`Well, boys, we've had a fine rest; now let's pitch into
work again.' "

Another interesting and amusing reminiscence of
this period of activity has been gathered from another
of the family of experimenters: "Sometimes,
when Mr. Edison had been working long hours, he
would want to have a short sleep. It was one of the
funniest things I ever witnessed to see him crawl into
an ordinary roll-top desk and curl up and take a nap.
If there was a sight that was still more funny, it was
to see him turn over on his other side, all the time
remaining in the desk. He would use several volumes
of Watts's Dictionary of Chemistry for a pillow, and
we fellows used to say that he absorbed the contents
during his sleep, judging from the flow of new ideas
he had on waking."

Such incidents as these serve merely to illustrate
the lighter moments that stand out in relief against
the more sombre background of the strenuous years,
for, of all the absorbingly busy periods of Edison's
inventive life, the first five years of the storage-
battery era was one of the very busiest of them all. It
was not that there remained any basic principle to
be discovered or simplified, for that had already been
done; but it was in the effort to carry these principles
into practice that there arose the numerous
difficulties that at times seemed insurmountable.
But, according to another co-worker, "Edison seemed
pleased when he used to run up against a serious
difficulty. It would seem to stiffen his backbone
and make him more prolific of new ideas. For a
time I thought I was foolish to imagine such a thing,
but I could never get away from the impression that
he really appeared happy when he ran up against
a serious snag. That was in my green days, and I
soon learned that the failure of an experiment never
discourages him unless it is by reason of the carelessness
of the man making it. Then Edison gets disgusted.
If it fails on its merits, he doesn't worry or
fret about it, but, on the contrary, regards it as a
useful fact learned; remains cheerful and tries something
else. I have known him to reverse an unsuccessful
experiment and come out all right."

To follow Edison's trail in detail through the
innumerable twists and turns of his experimentation
and research on the storage battery, during the past
ten years, would not be in keeping with the scope of
this narrative, nor would it serve any useful purpose.
Besides, such details would fill a big volume. The
narrative, however, would not be complete without
some mention of the general outline of his work, and
reference may be made briefly to a few of the chief
items. And lest the reader think that the word
"innumerable" may have been carelessly or hastily
used above, we would quote the reply of one of the
laboratory assistants when asked how many experiments
had been made on the Edison storage battery
since the year 1900: "Goodness only knows! We
used to number our experiments consecutively from
1 to 10,000, and when we got up to 10,000 we turned
back to 1 and ran up to 10,000 again, and so on.
We ran through several series--I don't know how
many, and have lost track of them now, but it was
not far from fifty thousand."

From the very first, Edison's broad idea of his
storage battery was to make perforated metallic
containers having the active materials packed therein;
nickel hydrate for the positive and iron oxide for the
negative plate. This plan has been adhered to
throughout, and has found its consummation in the
present form of the completed commercial cell, but
in the middle ground which stands between the early
crude beginnings and the perfected type of to-day
there lies a world of original thought, patient plodding,
and achievement.

The first necessity was naturally to obtain the best
and purest compounds for active materials. Edison
found that comparatively little was known by manufacturing
chemists about nickel and iron oxides of the
high grade and purity he required. Hence it became
necessary for him to establish his own chemical works
and put them in charge of men specially trained by
himself, with whom he worked. This was the plant
at Silver Lake, above referred to. Here, for several
years, there was ceaseless activity in the preparation
of these chemical compounds by every imaginable
process and subsequent testing. Edison's chief chemist
says: "We left no stone unturned to find a way
of making those chemicals so that they would give
the highest results. We carried on the experiments
with the two chemicals together. Sometimes the
nickel would be ahead in the tests, and then again
it would fall behind. To stimulate us to greater
improvement, Edison hung up a card which showed
the results of tests in milliampere-hours given by the
experimental elements as we tried them with the
various grades of nickel and iron we had made. This
stirred up a great deal of ambition among the boys
to push the figures up. Some of our earliest tests
showed around 300, but as we improved the material,
they gradually crept up to over 500. Just
about that time Edison made a trip to Canada, and
when he came back we had made such good progress
that the figures had crept up to about 1000. I well
remember how greatly he was pleased."

In speaking of the development of the negative
element of the battery, Mr. Aylsworth said: "In
like manner the iron element had to be developed
and improved; and finally the iron, which had generally
enjoyed superiority in capacity over its companion,
the nickel element, had to go in training in
order to retain its lead, which was imperative, in
order to produce a uniform and constant voltage
curve. In talking with me one day about the difficulties
under which we were working and contrasting
them with the phonograph experimentation,
Edison said: `In phonographic work we can use our
ears and our eyes, aided with powerful microscopes;
but in the battery our difficulties cannot be seen or
heard, but must be observed by our mind's eye!' And
by reason of the employment of such vision in the past,
Edison is now able to see quite clearly through the
forest of difficulties after eliminating them one by
one."

The size and shape of the containing pockets in the
battery plates or elements and the degree of their
perforation were matters that received many years of
close study and experiment; indeed, there is still to-
day constant work expended on their perfection,
although their present general form was decided upon
several years ago. The mechanical construction of
the battery, as a whole, in its present form, compels
instant admiration on account of its beauty and
completeness. Mr. Edison has spared neither thought,
ingenuity, labor, nor money in the effort to make it
the most complete and efficient storage cell obtainable,
and the results show that his skill, judgment,
and foresight have lost nothing of the power that
laid the foundation of, and built up, other great arts at
each earlier stage of his career.

Among the complex and numerous problems that
presented themselves in the evolution of the battery
was the one concerning the internal conductivity of
the positive unit. The nickel hydrate was a poor
electrical conductor, and although a metallic nickel
pocket might be filled with it, there would not be
the desired electrical action unless a conducting
substance were mixed with it, and so incorporated and
packed that there would be good electrical contact
throughout. This proved to be a most knotty and
intricate puzzle--tricky and evasive--always leading
on and promising something, and at the last slipping
away leaving the work undone. Edison's remarkable
patience and persistence in dealing with this
trying problem and in finally solving it successfully
won for him more than ordinary admiration from his
associates. One of them, in speaking of the seemingly
interminable experiments to overcome this
trouble, said: "I guess that question of conductivity
of the positive pocket brought lots of gray hairs to
his head. I never dreamed a man could have such
patience and perseverance. Any other man than
Edison would have given the whole thing up a thousand
times, but not he! Things looked awfully blue
to the whole bunch of us many a time, but he was
always hopeful. I remember one time things looked
so dark to me that I had just about made up my
mind to throw up my job, but some good turn came
just then and I didn't. Now I'm glad I held on, for
we've got a great future."

The difficulty of obtaining good electrical contact
in the positive element was indeed Edison's chief
trouble for many years. After a great amount of
work and experimentation he decided upon a certain
form of graphite, which seemed to be suitable for the
purpose, and then proceeded to the commercial
manufacture of the battery at a special factory in
Glen Ridge, New Jersey, installed for the purpose.
There was no lack of buyers, but, on the contrary,
the factory was unable to turn out batteries enough.
The newspapers had previously published articles
showing the unusual capacity and performance of the
battery, and public interest had thus been greatly
awakened.

Notwithstanding the establishment of a regular
routine of manufacture and sale, Edison did not
cease to experiment for improvement. Although
the graphite apparently did the work desired of it,
he was not altogether satisfied with its performance
and made extended trials of other substances, but at
that time found nothing that on the whole served
the purpose better. Continuous tests of the commercial
cells were carried on at the laboratory, as
well as more practical and heavy tests in automobiles,
which were constantly kept running around the adjoining
country over all kinds of roads. All these
tests were very closely watched by Edison, who demanded
rigorously that the various trials of the
battery should be carried on with all strenuousness
so as to get the utmost results and develop any possible
weakness. So insistent was he on this, that if
any automobile should run several days without
bursting a tire or breaking some part of the machine,
he would accuse the chauffeur of picking out easy
roads.

After these tests had been going on for some time,
and some thousands of cells had been sold and were
giving satisfactory results to the purchasers, the test
sheets and experience gathered from various sources
pointed to the fact that occasionally a cell here and
there would show up as being short in capacity.
Inasmuch as the factory processes were very exact
and carefully guarded, and every cell was made as
uniform as human skill and care could provide,
there thus arose a serious problem. Edison
concentrated his powers on the investigation of this
trouble, and found that the chief cause lay in the
graphite. Some other minor matters also attracted
his attention. What to do, was the important question
that confronted him. To shut down the factory
meant great loss and apparent failure. He realized
this fully, but he also knew that to go on would simply
be to increase the number of defective batteries in
circulation, which would ultimately result in a
permanent closure and real failure. Hence he took the
course which one would expect of Edison's common
sense and directness of action. He was not satisfied
that the battery was a complete success, so he shut
down and went to experimenting once more.

"And then," says one of the laboratory men, "we
started on another series of record-breaking experiments
that lasted over five years. I might almost
say heart-breaking, too, for of all the elusive,
disappointing things one ever hunted for that was the
worst. But secrets have to be long-winded and
roost high if they want to get away when the `Old
Man' goes hunting for them. He doesn't get mad
when he misses them, but just keeps on smiling and
firing, and usually brings them into camp. That's
what he did on the battery, for after a whole lot of
work he perfected the nickel-flake idea and process,
besides making the great improvement of using
tubes instead of flat pockets for the positive. He
also added a minor improvement here and there, and
now we have a finer battery than we ever expected."

In the interim, while the experimentation of these
last five years was in progress, many customers who
had purchased batteries of the original type came
knocking at the door with orders in their hands for
additional outfits wherewith to equip more wagons
and trucks. Edison expressed his regrets, but said
he was not satisfied with the old cells and was
engaged in improving them. To which the customers
replied that THEY were entirely satisfied and ready and
willing to pay for more batteries of the same kind;
but Edison could not be moved from his determination,
although considerable pressure was at times
brought to bear to sway his decision.

Experiment was continued beyond the point of
peradventure, and after some new machinery had
been built, the manufacture of the new type of cell
was begun in the early summer of 1909, and at the
present writing is being extended as fast as the
necessary additional machinery can be made. The
product is shipped out as soon as it is completed.

The nickel flake, which is Edison's ingenious solution
of the conductivity problem, is of itself a most
interesting product, intensely practical in its
application and fascinating in its manufacture. The
flake of nickel is obtained by electroplating upon a
metallic cylinder alternate layers of copper and
nickel, one hundred of each, after which the combined
sheet is stripped from the cylinder. So thin
are the layers that this sheet is only about the thickness
of a visiting-card, and yet it is composed of two
hundred layers of metal. The sheet is cut into tiny
squares, each about one-sixteenth of an inch, and
these squares are put into a bath where the copper
is dissolved out. This releases the layers of nickel,
so that each of these small squares becomes one
hundred tiny sheets, or flakes, of pure metallic nickel,
so thin that when they are dried they will float in the
air, like thistle-down.

In their application to the manufacture of batteries,
the flakes are used through the medium of a special
machine, so arranged that small charges of nickel
hydrate and nickel flake are alternately fed into the
pockets intended for positives, and tamped down with
a pressure equal to about four tons per square inch.
This insures complete and perfect contact and consequent
electrical conductivity throughout the entire
unit.

The development of the nickel flake contains in itself
a history of patient investigation, labor, and
achievement, but we have not space for it, nor for
tracing the great work that has been done in developing
and perfecting the numerous other parts and
adjuncts of this remarkable battery. Suffice it to
say that when Edison went boldly out into new territory,
after something entirely unknown, he was quite
prepared for hard work and exploration. He encountered
both in unstinted measure, but kept on
going forward until, after long travel, he had found
all that he expected and accomplished something
more beside. Nature DID respond to his whole-
hearted appeal, and, by the time the hunt was ended,
revealed a good storage battery of entirely new type.
Edison not only recognized and took advantage of
the principles he had discovered, but in adapting
them for commercial use developed most ingenious
processes and mechanical appliances for carrying his
discoveries into practical effect. Indeed, it may be
said that the invention of an enormous variety of
new machines and mechanical appliances rendered
necessary by each change during the various stages
of development of the battery, from first to last,
stands as a lasting tribute to the range and versatility
of his powers.

It is not within the scope of this narrative to enter
into any description of the relative merits of the
Edison storage battery, that being the province of a
commercial catalogue. It does, however, seem entirely
allowable to say that while at the present
writing the tests that have been made extend over a
few years only, their results and the intrinsic value
of this characteristic Edison invention are of such a
substantial nature as to point to the inevitable
growth of another great industry arising from its
manufacture, and to its wide-spread application to
many uses.

The principal use that Edison has had in mind for
his battery is transportation of freight and passengers
by truck, automobile, and street-car. The greatly
increased capacity in proportion to weight of the
Edison cell makes it particularly adaptable for this
class of work on account of the much greater radius
of travel that is possible by its use. The latter point
of advantage is the one that appeals most to the
automobilist, as he is thus enabled to travel, it is
asserted, more than three times farther than ever
before on a single charge of the battery.

Edison believes that there are important advantages
possible in the employment of his storage battery
for street-car propulsion. Under the present
system of operation, a plant furnishing the electric
power for street railways must be large enough to
supply current for the maximum load during "rush
hours," although much of the machinery may be
lying idle and unproductive in the hours of minimum
load. By the use of storage-battery cars, this
immense and uneconomical maximum investment in
plant can be cut down to proportions of true commercial
economy, as the charging of the batteries can
be conducted at a uniform rate with a reasonable
expenditure for generating machinery. Not only this,
but each car becomes an independently moving unit,
not subject to delay by reason of a general breakdown
of the power plant or of the line. In addition
to these advantages, the streets would be freed from
their burden of trolley wires or conduits. To put his
ideas into practice, Edison built a short railway line
at the Orange works in the winter of 1909-10, and, in
co-operation with Mr. R. H. Beach, constructed a
special type of street-car, and equipped it with motor,
storage battery, and other necessary operating devices.
This car was subsequently put upon the street-car
lines in New York City, and demonstrated its efficiency
so completely that it was purchased by one
of the street-car companies, which has since ordered
additional cars for its lines. The demonstration of
this initial car has been watched with interest by
many railroad officials, and its performance has been
of so successful a nature that at the present writing
(the summer of 1910) it has been necessary to organize
and equip a preliminary factory in which to
construct many other cars of a similar type that
have been ordered by other street-railway companies.
This enterprise will be conducted by a corporation
which has been specially organized for the purpose.
Thus, there has been initiated the development of a
new and important industry whose possible ultimate
proportions are beyond the range of present calculation.
Extensive as this industry may become, however,
Edison is firmly convinced that the greatest
field for his storage battery lies in its adaptation to
commercial trucking and hauling, and to pleasure
vehicles, in comparison with which the street-car
business even with its great possibilities--will not
amount to more than 1 per cent.

Edison has pithily summed up his work and his
views in an article on "The To-Morrows of Electricity
and Invention" in Popular Electricity for June, 1910,
in which he says: "For years past I have been trying
to perfect a storage battery, and have now rendered
it entirely suitable to automobile and other work.
There is absolutely no reason why horses should be
allowed within city limits; for between the gasoline
and the electric car, no room is left for them. They
are not needed. The cow and the pig have gone,
and the horse is still more undesirable. A higher
public ideal of health and cleanliness is working tow-
ard such banishment very swiftly; and then we shall
have decent streets, instead of stables made out of
strips of cobblestones bordered by sidewalks. The
worst use of money is to make a fine thoroughfare,
and then turn it over to horses. Besides that, the
change will put the humane societies out of business.
Many people now charge their own batteries because
of lack of facilities; but I believe central stations
will find in this work very soon the largest part of
their load. The New York Edison Company, or the
Chicago Edison Company, should have as much current
going out for storage batteries as for power
motors; and it will be so some near day."

CHAPTER XXIII

MISCELLANEOUS INVENTIONS

IT has been the endeavor in this narrative to group
Edison's inventions and patents so that his work in
the different fields can be studied independently and
separately. The history of his career has therefore
fallen naturally into a series of chapters, each aiming
to describe some particular development or art; and,
in a way, the plan has been helpful to the writers while
probably useful to the readers. It happens, however,
that the process has left a vast mass of discovery and
invention wholly untouched, and relegates to a
concluding brief chapter some of the most interesting
episodes of a fruitful life. Any one who will turn to the
list of Edison patents at the end of the book will find
a large number of things of which not even casual
mention has been made, but which at the time occupied
no small amount of the inventor's time and attention,
and many of which are now part and parcel of modern
civilization. Edison has, indeed, touched nothing
that he did not in some way improve. As Thoreau
said: "The laws of the Universe are not indifferent,
but are forever on the side of the most sensitive," and
there never was any one more sensitive to the defects
of every art and appliance, nor any one more active in
applying the law of evolution. It is perhaps this
many-sidedness of Edison that has impressed the multitude,
and that in the "popular vote" taken a couple
of years ago by the New York Herald placed his name
at the head of the list of ten greatest living Americans.
It is curious and pertinent to note that a similar
plebiscite taken by a technical journal among its expert
readers had exactly the same result. Evidently the
public does not agree with the opinion expressed by
the eccentric artist Blake in his "Marriage of Heaven
and Hell," when he said: "Improvement makes
strange roads; but the crooked roads without improvements
are roads of Genius."

The product of Edison's brain may be divided into
three classes. The first embraces such arts and industries,
or such apparatus, as have already been treated.
The second includes devices like the tasimeter, phonomotor,
odoroscope, etc., and others now to be noted.
The third embraces a number of projected inventions,
partially completed investigations, inventions in use
but not patented, and a great many caveats filed in
the Patent Office at various times during the last forty
years for the purpose of protecting his ideas pending
their contemplated realization in practice. These
caveats served their purpose thoroughly in many
instances, but there have remained a great variety of
projects upon which no definite action was ever taken.
One ought to add the contents of an unfinished piece
of extraordinary fiction based wholly on new inventions
and devices utterly unknown to mankind. Some
day the novel may be finished, but Edison has no
inclination to go back to it, and says he cannot under-
stand how any man is able to make a speech or write
a book, for he simply can't do it.

After what has been said in previous chapters, it
will not seem so strange that Edison should have
hundreds of dormant inventions on his hands. There
are human limitations even for such a tireless worker
as he is. While the preparation of data for this chapter
was going on, one of the writers in discussing with
him the vast array of unexploited things said: "Don't
you feel a sense of regret in being obliged to leave so
many things uncompleted?" To which he replied:
"What's the use? One lifetime is too short, and I am
busy every day improving essential parts of my established
industries." It must suffice to speak briefly of
a few leading inventions that have been worked out,
and to dismiss with scant mention all the rest, taking
just a few items, as typical and suggestive,
especially when Edison can himself be quoted as to
them. Incidentally it may be noted that things, not
words, are referred to; for Edison, in addition to
inventing the apparatus, has often had to coin the word
to describe it. A large number of the words and
phrases in modern electrical parlance owe their origin
to him. Even the "call-word" of the telephone,
"Hello!" sent tingling over the wire a few million
times daily was taken from Menlo Park by men installing
telephones in different parts of the world, men
who had just learned it at the laboratory, and thus
made it a universal sesame for telephonic conversation.

It is hard to determine where to begin with Edison's
miscellaneous inventions, but perhaps telegraphy has
the "right of line," and Edison's work in that field
puts him abreast of the latest wireless developments
that fill the world with wonder. "I perfected a system
of train telegraphy between stations and trains
in motion whereby messages could be sent from the
moving train to the central office; and this was the
forerunner of wireless telegraphy. This system was
used for a number of years on the Lehigh Valley Railroad
on their construction trains. The electric wave
passed from a piece of metal on top of the car across
the air to the telegraph wires; and then proceeded to
the despatcher's office. In my first experiments with
this system I tried it on the Staten Island Railroad,
and employed an operator named King to do the
experimenting. He reported results every day, and
received instructions by mail; but for some reason he
could send messages all right when the train went in
one direction, but could not make it go in the contrary
direction. I made suggestions of every kind to get
around this phenomenon. Finally I telegraphed King
to find out if he had any suggestions himself; and I
received a reply that the only way he could propose
to get around the difficulty was to put the island on
a pivot so it could be turned around! I found the
trouble finally, and the practical introduction on the
Lehigh Valley road was the result. The system was
sold to a very wealthy man, and he would never sell
any rights or answer letters. He became a spiritualist
subsequently, which probably explains it." It is
interesting to note that Edison became greatly interested
in the later developments by Marconi, and is an admiring
friend and adviser of that well-known inventor.

The earlier experiments with wireless telegraphy at
Menlo Park were made at a time when Edison was
greatly occupied with his electric-light interests, and
it was not until the beginning of 1886 that he was able
to spare the time to make a public demonstration of
the system as applied to moving trains. Ezra T.
Gilliland, of Boston, had become associated with him
in his experiments, and they took out several joint
patents subsequently. The first practical use of the
system took place on a thirteen-mile stretch of the
Staten Island Railroad with the results mentioned
by Edison above.

A little later, Edison and Gilliland joined forces with
Lucius J. Phelps, another investigator, who had been
experimenting along the same lines and had taken
out several patents. The various interests were combined
in a corporation under whose auspices the system
was installed on the Lehigh Valley Railroad,
where it was used for several years. The official
demonstration trip on this road took place on October
6, 1887, on a six-car train running to Easton, Pennsylvania,
a distance of fifty-four miles. A great many
telegrams were sent and received while the train was
at full speed, including a despatch to the "cable king,"
John Pender. London, England, and a reply from
him.[17]

[17] Broadly described in outline, the system consisted of an induction
circuit obtained by laying strips of tin along the top or
roof of a railway car, and the installation of a special telegraph
line running parallel with the track and strung on poles of only
medium height. The train and also each signalling station were
equipped with regulation telegraphic apparatus, such as battery,
key, relay, and sounder, together with induction-coil and condenser.
In addition, there was a transmitting device in the shape of a
musical reed, or buzzer. In practice, this buzzer was continuously
operated at high speed by a battery. Its vibrations were broken
by means of a key into long and short periods, representing Morse
characters, which were transmitted inductively from the train
circuit to the pole line, or vice versa, and received by the operator
at the other end through a high-resistance telephone receiver
inserted in the secondary circuit of the induction-coil.

Although the space between the cars and the pole
line was probably not more than about fifty feet, it is
interesting to note that in Edison's early experiments
at Menlo Park he succeeded in transmitting messages
through the air at a distance of 580 feet. Speaking of
this and of his other experiments with induction
telegraphy by means of kites, communicating from one to
the other and thus from the kites to instruments on
the earth, Edison said recently: "We only transmitted
about two and one-half miles through the kites.
What has always puzzled me since is that I did not
think of using the results of my experiments on
`etheric force' that I made in 1875. I have never
been able to understand how I came to overlook them.
If I had made use of my own work I should have had
long-distance wireless telegraphy."

In one of the appendices to this book is given a brief
technical account of Edison's investigations of the
phenomena which lie at the root of modern wireless
or "space" telegraphy, and the attention of the reader
is directed particularly to the description and quotations
there from the famous note-books of Edison's experiments
in regard to what he called "etheric force."
It will be seen that as early as 1875 Edison detected
and studied certain phenomena--i.e., the production
of electrical effects in non-closed circuits, which for a
time made him think he was on the trail of a new
force, as there was no plausible explanation for them
by the then known laws of electricity and magnetism.
Later came the magnificent work of Hertz identifying
the phenomena as "electromagnetic waves" in the
ether, and developing a new world of theory and
science based upon them and their production by
disruptive discharges.

Edison's assertions were treated with scepticism by
the scientific world, which was not then ready for the
discovery and not sufficiently furnished with corroborative
data. It is singular, to say the least, to note
how Edison's experiments paralleled and proved in
advance those that came later; and even his apparatus
such as the "dark box" for making the tiny sparks
visible (as the waves impinged on the receiver) bears
close analogy with similar apparatus employed by
Hertz. Indeed, as Edison sent the dark-box apparatus
to the Paris Exposition in 1881, and let Batchelor
repeat there the puzzling experiments, it seems by no
means unlikely that, either directly or on the report of
some friend, Hertz may thus have received from
Edison a most valuable suggestion, the inventor
aiding the physicist in opening up a wonderful new
realm. In this connection, indeed, it is very interesting
to quote two great authorities. In May, 1889, at
a meeting of the Institution of Electrical Engineers in
London, Dr. (now Sir) Oliver Lodge remarked in a
discussion on a paper of his own on lightning conductors,
embracing the Hertzian waves in its treatment:
"Many of the effects I have shown--sparks in unsuspected
places and other things--have been observed
before. Henry observed things of the kind and Edison
noticed some curious phenomena, and said it was not
electricity but `etheric force' that caused these sparks;
and the matter was rather pooh-poohed. It was a
small part of THIS VERY THING; only the time was not
ripe; theoretical knowledge was not ready for it."
Again in his "Signalling without Wires," in giving
the history of the coherer principle, Lodge remarks:
"Sparks identical in all respects with those discovered
by Hertz had been seen in recent times both by Edison
and by Sylvanus Thompson, being styled `etheric
force' by the former; but their theoretic significance
had not been perceived, and they were somewhat
sceptically regarded." During the same discussion in
London, in 1889, Sir William Thomson (Lord Kelvin),
after citing some experiments by Faraday with his
insulated cage at the Royal Institution, said: "His
(Faraday's) attention was not directed to look for
Hertz sparks, or probably he might have found them
in the interior. Edison seems to have noticed something
of the kind in what he called `etheric force.'
His name `etheric' may thirteen years ago have
seemed to many people absurd. But now we are all
beginning to call these inductive phenomena `etheric.'
"With which testimony from the great Kelvin
as to his priority in determining the vital fact, and
with the evidence that as early as 1875 he built apparatus
that demonstrated the fact, Edison is probably
quite content.

It should perhaps be noted at this point that a
curious effect observed at the laboratory was shown
in connection with Edison lamps at the Philadelphia
Exhibition of 1884. It became known in scientific
parlance as the "Edison effect," showing a curious
current condition or discharge in the vacuum of the
bulb. It has since been employed by Fleming in
England and De Forest in this country, and others,
as the basis for wireless-telegraph apparatus. It is in
reality a minute rectifier of alternating current, and
analogous to those which have since been made on a
large scale.

When Roentgen came forward with his discovery of
the new "X"-ray in 1895, Edison was ready for it, and
took up experimentation with it on a large scale; some
of his work being recorded in an article in the Century
Magazine of May, 1896, where a great deal of data may
be found. Edison says with regard to this work:
"When the X-ray came up, I made the first fluoroscope,
using tungstate of calcium. I also found that
this tungstate could be put into a vacuum chamber of
glass and fused to the inner walls of the chamber; and
if the X-ray electrodes were let into the glass chamber
and a proper vacuum was attained, you could get a
fluorescent lamp of several candle-power. I started in
to make a number of these lamps, but I soon found
that the X-ray had affected poisonously my assistant,
Mr. Dally, so that his hair came out and his flesh
commenced to ulcerate. I then concluded it would not
do, and that it would not be a very popular kind of
light; so I dropped it.

"At the time I selected tungstate of calcium because
it was so fluorescent, I set four men to making all kinds
of chemical combinations, and thus collected upward
of 8000 different crystals of various chemical combinations,
discovering several hundred different sub-
stances which would fluoresce to the X-ray. So far
little had come of X-ray work, but it added another
letter to the scientific alphabet. I don't know any
thing about radium, and I have lots of company."
The Electrical Engineer of June 3, 1896, contains a
photograph of Mr. Edison taken by the light of one of
his fluorescent lamps. The same journal in its issue
of April 1, 1896, shows an Edison fluoroscope in use
by an observer, in the now familiar and universal
form somewhat like a stereoscope. This apparatus as
invented by Edison consists of a flaring box, curved
at one end to fit closely over the forehead and eyes,
while the other end of the box is closed by a paste-
board cover. On the inside of this is spread a layer
of tungstate of calcium. By placing the object to be
observed, such as the hand, between the vacuum-tube
and the fluorescent screen, the "shadow" is formed on
the screen and can be observed at leisure. The apparatus
has proved invaluable in surgery and has become
an accepted part of the equipment of modern surgery.
In 1896, at the Electrical Exhibition in the Grand
Central Palace, New York City, given under the
auspices of the National Electric Light Association,
thousands and thousands of persons with the use of
this apparatus in Edison's personal exhibit were
enabled to see their own bones; and the resultant
public sensation was great. Mr. Mallory tells a
characteristic story of Edison's own share in the memorable
exhibit: "The exhibit was announced for opening
on Monday. On the preceding Friday all the apparatus,
which included a large induction-coil, was shipped
from Orange to New York, and on Saturday afternoon
Edison, accompanied by Fred Ott, one of his assistants,
and myself, went over to install it so as to have
it ready for Monday morning. Had everything been
normal, a few hours would have sufficed for completion
of the work, but on coming to test the big coil, it was
found to be absolutely out of commission, having been
so seriously injured as to necessitate its entire
rewinding. It being summer-time, all the machine shops
were closed until Monday morning, and there were
several miles of wire to be wound on the coil. Edison
would not consider a postponement of the exhibition,
so there was nothing to do but go to work and wind it
by hand. We managed to find a lathe, but there was
no power; so each of us, including Edison, took turns
revolving the lathe by pulling on the belt, while the
other two attended to the winding of the wire. We
worked continuously all through that Saturday night
and all day Sunday until evening, when we finished
the job. I don't remember ever being conscious of
more muscles in my life. I guess Edison was tired
also, but he took it very philosophically." This was
apparently the first public demonstration of the X-ray
to the American public.

Edison's ore-separation work has been already fully
described, but the story would hardly be complete
without a reference to similar work in gold extraction,
dating back to the Menlo Park days: "I got up a
method," says Edison, "of separating placer gold by
a dry process, in which I could work economically ore
as lean as five cents of gold to the cubic yard. I had
several car-loads of different placer sands sent to me
and proved I could do it. Some parties hearing I had
succeeded in doing such a thing went to work and got
hold of what was known as the Ortiz mine grant,
twelve miles from Santa Fe, New Mexico. This mine,
according to the reports of several mining engineers
made in the last forty years, was considered one of the
richest placer deposits in the United States, and
various schemes had been put forward to bring water
from the mountains forty miles away to work those
immense beds. The reports stated that the Mexicans
had been panning gold for a hundred years out of these
deposits.

"These parties now made arrangements with the
stockholders or owners of the grant, and with me, to
work the deposits by my process. As I had had some
previous experience with the statements of mining
men, I concluded I would just send down a small plant
and prospect the field before putting up a large one.
This I did, and I sent two of my assistants, whom I
could trust, down to this place to erect the plant; and
started to sink shafts fifty feet deep all over the area.
We soon learned that the rich gravel, instead of being
spread over an area of three by seven miles, and rich
from the grass roots down, was spread over a space of
about twenty-five acres, and that even this did not
average more than ten cents to the cubic yard. The
whole placer would not give more than one and one-
quarter cents per cubic yard. As my business
arrangements had not been very perfectly made, I lost
the usual amount."

Going to another extreme, we find Edison grappling
with one of the biggest problems known to the authorities
of New York--the disposal of its heavy snows.
It is needless to say that witnessing the ordinary slow
and costly procedure would put Edison on his mettle.
"One time when they had a snow blockade in New
York I started to build a machine with Batchelor--a
big truck with a steam-engine and compressor on it.
We would run along the street, gather all the snow up
in front of us, pass it into the compressor, and deliver
little blocks of ice behind us in the gutter, taking one-
tenth the room of the snow, and not inconveniencing
anybody. We could thus take care of a snow-storm
by diminishing the bulk of material to be handled.
The preliminary experiment we made was dropped
because we went into other things. The machine
would go as fast as a horse could walk."

Edison has always taken a keen interest in aerial
flight, and has also experimented with aeroplanes, his
preference inclining to the helicopter type, as noted
in the newspapers and periodicals from time to time.
The following statement from him refers to a type of
aeroplane of great novelty and ingenuity: "James
Gordon Bennett came to me and asked that I try
some primary experiments to see if aerial navigation
was feasible with `heavier-than-air' machines. I got
up a motor and put it on the scales and tried a large
number of different things and contrivances connected
to the motor, to see how it would lighten itself on the
scales. I got some data and made up my mind that
what was needed was a very powerful engine for its
weight, in small compass. So I conceived of an engine
employing guncotton. I took a lot of ticker paper
tape, turned it into guncotton and got up an engine
with an arrangement whereby I could feed this gun-
cotton strip into the cylinder and explode it inside
electrically. The feed took place between two copper
rolls. The copper kept the temperature down, so that
it could only explode up to the point where it was in
contact with the feed rolls. It worked pretty well;
but once the feed roll didn't save it, and the flame
went through and exploded the whole roll and kicked
up such a bad explosion I abandoned it. But the
idea might be made to work."

Turning from the air to the earth, it is interesting to
note that the introduction of the underground Edison
system in New York made an appeal to inventive
ingenuity and that one of the difficulties was met as
follows: "When we first put the Pearl Street station
in operation, in New York, we had cast-iron junction-
boxes at the intersections of all the streets. One
night, or about two o'clock in the morning, a policeman
came in and said that something had exploded
at the corner of William and Nassau streets. I happened
to be in the station, and went out to see what it
was. I found that the cover of the manhole, weighing
about 200 pounds, had entirely disappeared, but
everything inside was intact. It had even stripped
some of the threads of the bolts, and we could never
find that cover. I concluded it was either leakage of
gas into the manhole, or else the acid used in pickling
the casting had given off hydrogen, and air had leaked
in, making an explosive mixture. As this was a pretty
serious problem, and as we had a good many of the
manholes, it worried me very much for fear that it
would be repeated and the company might have to
pay a lot of damages, especially in districts like that
around William and Nassau, where there are a good
many people about. If an explosion took place in the
daytime it might lift a few of them up. However, I
got around the difficulty by putting a little bottle of
chloroform in each box, corked up, with a slight hole
in the cork. The chloroform being volatile and very
heavy, settled in the box and displaced all the air. I
have never heard of an explosion in a manhole where
this chloroform had been used. Carbon tetrachloride,
now made electrically at Niagara Falls, is very cheap
and would be ideal for the purpose."

Edison has never paid much attention to warfare,
and has in general disdained to develop inventions for
the destruction of life and property. Some years ago,
however, he became the joint inventor of the Edison-
Sims torpedo, with Mr. W. Scott Sims, who sought his
co-operation. This is a dirigible submarine torpedo
operated by electricity. In the torpedo proper, which
is suspended from a long float so as to be submerged
a few feet under water, are placed the small electric
motor for propulsion and steering, and the explosive
charge. The torpedo is controlled from the shore or
ship through an electric cable which it pays out as it
goes along, and all operations of varying the speed,
reversing, and steering are performed at the will of the
distant operator by means of currents sent through
the cable. During the Spanish-American War of 1898
Edison suggested to the Navy Department the adoption
of a compound of calcium carbide and calcium
phosphite, which when placed in a shell and fired from
a gun would explode as soon as it struck water and
ignite, producing a blaze that would continue several
minutes and make the ships of the enemy visible for
four or five miles at sea. Moreover, the blaze could
not be extinguished.

Edison has always been deeply interested in
"conservation," and much of his work has been directed
toward the economy of fuel in obtaining electrical
energy directly from the consumption of coal. Indeed,
it will be noted that the example of his handwriting
shown in these volumes deals with the importance of
obtaining available energy direct from the combustible
without the enormous loss in the intervening stages
that makes our best modern methods of steam generation
and utilization so barbarously extravagant and
wasteful. Several years ago, experimenting in this
field, Edison devised and operated some ingenious
pyromagnetic motors and generators, based, as the
name implies, on the direct application of heat to the
machines. The motor is founded upon the principle
discovered by the famous Dr. William Gilbert--court
physician to Queen Elizabeth, and the Father of
modern electricity--that the magnetic properties of
iron diminish with heat. At a light-red heat, iron
becomes non-magnetic, so that a strong magnet exerts
no influence over it. Edison employed this peculiar
property by constructing a small machine in which a
pivoted bar is alternately heated and cooled. It is
thus attracted toward an adjacent electromagnet
when cold and is uninfluenced when hot, and as the
result motion is produced.

The pyromagnetic generator is based on the same
phenomenon; its aim being of course to generate electrical
energy directly from the heat of the combustible.
The armature, or moving part of the machine, consists
in reality of eight separate armatures all constructed
of corrugated sheet iron covered with asbestos and
wound with wire. These armatures are held in place
by two circular iron plates, through the centre of
which runs a shaft, carrying at its lower extremity a
semicircular shield of fire-clay, which covers the ends
of four of the armatures. The heat, of whatever origin,
is applied from below, and the shaft being revolved,
four of the armatures lose their magnetism
constantly, while the other four gain it, so to speak.
As the moving part revolves, therefore, currents of
electricity are set up in the wires of the armatures and
are collected by a commutator, as in an ordinary
dynamo, placed on the upper end of the central shaft.

A great variety of electrical instruments are
included in Edison's inventions, many of these in
fundamental or earlier forms being devised for his systems
of light and power, as noted already. There are
numerous others, and it might be said with truth that
Edison is hardly ever without some new device of this
kind in hand, as he is by no means satisfied with the
present status of electrical measurements. He holds
in general that the meters of to-day, whether for heavy
or for feeble currents, are too expensive, and that
cheaper instruments are a necessity of the times.
These remarks apply more particularly to what may
be termed, in general, circuit meters. In other classes
Edison has devised an excellent form of magnetic
bridge, being an ingenious application of the principles
of the familiar Wheatstone bridge, used so extensively
for measuring the electrical resistance of wires; the
testing of iron for magnetic qualities being determined
by it in the same way. Another special instrument
is a "dead beat" galvanometer which differs from the
ordinary form of galvanometer in having no coils or
magnetic needle. It depends for its action upon the
heating effect of the current, which causes a fine
platinum-iridium wire enclosed in a glass tube to
expand; thus allowing a coiled spring to act on a
pivoted shaft carrying a tiny mirror. The mirror as
it moves throws a beam of light upon a scale and the
indications are read by the spot of light. Most novel
of all the apparatus of this measuring kind is the
odoroscope, which is like the tasimeter described in
an earlier chapter, except that a strip of gelatine takes
the place of hard rubber, as the sensitive member.
Besides being affected by heat, this device is exceedingly
sensitive to moisture. A few drops of water or
perfume thrown on the floor of a room are sufficient
to give a very decided indication on the galvanometer
in circuit with the instrument. Barometers, hygrometers,
and similar instruments of great delicacy can
be constructed on the principle of the odoroscope;
and it may also be used in determining the character
or pressure of gases and vapors in which it has been
placed.

In the list of Edison's patents at the end of this
work may be noted many other of his miscellaneous
inventions, covering items such as preserving fruit
in vacuo, making plate-glass, drawing wire, and
metallurgical processes for treatment of nickel, gold, and
copper ores; but to mention these inventions separately
would trespass too much on our limited space
here. Hence, we shall leave the interested reader to
examine that list for himself.

From first to last Edison has filed in the United States
Patent Office--in addition to more than 1400 applications
for patents--some 120 caveats embracing not
less than 1500 inventions. A "caveat" is essentially
a notice filed by an inventor, entitling him to receive
warning from the Office of any application for a patent
for an invention that would "interfere" with his own,
during the year, while he is supposed to be perfecting
his device. The old caveat system has now been
abolished, but it served to elicit from Edison a most
astounding record of ideas and possible inventions
upon which he was working, and many of which he of
course reduced to practice. As an example of Edison's
fertility and the endless variety of subjects engaging
his thoughts, the following list of matters covered by
ONE caveat is given. It is needless to say that all the
caveats are not quite so full of "plums," but this is
certainly a wonder.

Forty-one distinct inventions relating to the phonograph,
covering various forms of recorders, arrangement
of parts, making of records, shaving tool, adjustments,
etc.

Eight forms of electric lamps using infusible earthy
oxides and brought to high incandescence in vacuo by
high potential current of several thousand volts; same
character as impingement of X-rays on object in bulb.

A loud-speaking telephone with quartz cylinder and
beam of ultra-violet light.

Four forms of arc light with special carbons.

A thermostatic motor.

A device for sealing together the inside part and
bulb of an incandescent lamp mechanically.

Regulators for dynamos and motors.

Three devices for utilizing vibrations beyond the
ultra violet.

A great variety of methods for coating incandescent
lamp filaments with silicon, titanium, chromium,
osmium, boron, etc.

Several methods of making porous filaments.

Several methods of making squirted filaments of a
variety of materials, of which about thirty are specified.

Seventeen different methods and devices for separating
magnetic ores.

A continuously operative primary battery.

A musical instrument operating one of Helmholtz's
artificial larynxes.

A siren worked by explosion of small quantities of
oxygen and hydrogen mixed.

Three other sirens made to give vocal sounds or
articulate speech.

A device for projecting sound-waves to a distance
without spreading and in a straight line, on the principle
of smoke rings.

A device for continuously indicating on a galvanometer
the depths of the ocean.

A method of preventing in a great measure friction
of water against the hull of a ship and incidentally
preventing fouling by barnacles.

A telephone receiver whereby the vibrations of the
diaphragm are considerably amplified.

Two methods of "space" telegraphy at sea.

An improved and extended string telephone.

Devices and method of talking through water for
considerable distances.

An audiphone for deaf people.

Sound-bridge for measuring resistance of tubes and
other materials for conveying sound.

A method of testing a magnet to ascertain the existence
of flaws in the iron or steel composing the same.

Method of distilling liquids by incandescent conductor
immersed in the liquid.

Method of obtaining electricity direct from coal.

An engine operated by steam produced by the
hydration and dehydration of metallic salts.

Device and method for telegraphing photographically.

Carbon crucible kept brilliantly incandescent by
current in vacuo, for obtaining reaction with refractory
metals.

Device for examining combinations of odors and
their changes by rotation at different speeds.

From one of the preceding items it will be noted
that even in the eighties Edison perceived much advantage
to be gained in the line of economy by the use
of lamp filaments employing refractory metals in their
construction. From another caveat, filed in 1889, we
extract the following, which shows that he realized the
value of tungsten also for this purpose. "Filaments
of carbon placed in a combustion tube with a little
chloride ammonium. Chloride tungsten or titanium
passed through hot tube, depositing a film of metal on
the carbon; or filaments of zirconia oxide, or alumina
or magnesia, thoria or other infusible oxides mixed or
separate, and obtained by moistening and squirting
through a die, are thus coated with above metals and
used for incandescent lamps. Osmium from a volatile
compound of same thus deposited makes a filament
as good as carbon when in vacuo."

In 1888, long before there arose the actual necessity
of duplicating phonograph records so as to produce
replicas in great numbers, Edison described in one of
his caveats a method and process much similar to the
one which was put into practice by him in later years.
In the same caveat he describes an invention whereby
the power to indent on a phonograph cylinder, instead
of coming directly from the voice, is caused by power
derived from the rotation or movement of the phonogram
surface itself. He did not, however, follow up
this invention and put it into practice. Some twenty
years later it was independently invented and patented
by another inventor. A further instance of this kind
is a method of telegraphy at sea by means of a diaphragm
in a closed port-hole flush with the side of the
vessel, and actuated by a steam-whistle which is controlled
by a lever, similarly to a Morse key. A receiving
diaphragm is placed in another and near-by chamber,
which is provided with very sensitive stethoscopic
ear-pieces, by which the Morse characters sent from
another vessel may be received. This was also invented
later by another inventor, and is in use to-day,
but will naturally be rivalled by wireless telegraphy.
Still another instance is seen in one of Edison's caveats,
where he describes a method of distilling liquids by
means of internally applied heat through electric
conductors. Although Edison did not follow up the idea
and take out a patent, this system of distillation was
later hit upon by others and is in use at the present
time.

In the foregoing pages of this chapter the authors
have endeavored to present very briefly a sketchy
notion of the astounding range of Edison's practical
ideas, but they feel a sense of impotence in being unable
to deal adequately with the subject in the space
that can be devoted to it. To those who, like the
authors, have had the privilege of examining the
voluminous records which show the flights of his
imagination, there comes a feeling of utter inadequacy
to convey to others the full extent of the story they
reveal.

The few specific instances above related, although
not representing a tithe of Edison's work, will probably
be sufficient to enable the reader to appreciate
to some extent his great wealth of ideas and fertility
of imagination, and also to realize that this imagination
is not only intensely practical, but that it works
prophetically along lines of natural progress.

CHAPTER XXIV

EDISON'S METHOD IN INVENTING

WHILE the world's progress depends largely upon
their ingenuity, inventors are not usually persons
who have adopted invention as a distinct profession,
but, generally speaking, are otherwise engaged
in various walks of life. By reason of more or
less inherent native genius they either make improvements
along lines of present occupation, or else
evolve new methods and means of accomplishing
results in fields for which they may have personal
predilections.

Now and then, however, there arises a man so
greatly endowed with natural powers and originality
that the creative faculty within him is too strong to
endure the humdrum routine of affairs, and manifests
itself in a life devoted entirely to the evolution of
methods and devices calculated to further the world's
welfare. In other words, he becomes an inventor by
profession. Such a man is Edison. Notwithstanding
the fact that nearly forty years ago (not a great while
after he had emerged from the ranks of peripatetic
telegraph operators) he was the owner of a large and
profitable business as a manufacturer of the telegraphic
apparatus invented by him, the call of his
nature was too strong to allow of profits being laid
away in the bank to accumulate. As he himself has
said, he has "too sanguine a temperament to allow
money to stay in solitary confinement." Hence, all
superfluous cash was devoted to experimentation. In
the course of years he grew more and more impatient
of the shackles that bound him to business routine,
and, realizing the powers within him, he drew away
gradually from purely manufacturing occupations,
determining deliberately to devote his life to inventive
work, and to depend upon its results as a means of
subsistence.

All persons who make inventions will necessarily
be more or less original in character, but to the man
who chooses to become an inventor by profession
must be conceded a mind more than ordinarily replete
with virility and originality. That these
qualities in Edison are superabundant is well known
to all who have worked with him, and, indeed, are
apparent to every one from his multiplied achievements
within the period of one generation.

If one were allowed only two words with which to
describe Edison, it is doubtful whether a close examination
of the entire dictionary would disclose any
others more suitable than "experimenter--inventor."
These would express the overruling characteristics of
his eventful career. It is as an "inventor" that he
sets himself down in the membership list of the
American Institute of Electrical Engineers. To attempt
the strict placing of these words in relation to
each other (except alphabetically) would be equal
to an endeavor to solve the old problem as to which
came first, the egg or the chicken; for although all
his inventions have been evolved through experiment,
many of his notable experiments have called
forth the exercise of highly inventive faculties in their
very inception. Investigation and experiment have
been a consuming passion, an impelling force from
within, as it were, from his petticoat days when he
collected goose-eggs and tried to hatch them out by
sitting over them himself. One might be inclined to
dismiss this trivial incident smilingly, as a mere
childish, thoughtless prank, had not subsequent
development as a child, boy, and man revealed a born
investigator with original reasoning powers that,
disdaining crooks and bends, always aimed at the
centre, and, like the flight of the bee, were accurate
and direct.

It is not surprising, therefore, that a man of this
kind should exhibit a ceaseless, absorbing desire for
knowledge, and an apparently uncontrollable tendency
to experiment on every possible occasion, even
though his last cent were spent in thus satisfying the
insatiate cravings of an inquiring mind.

During Edison's immature years, when he was
flitting about from place to place as a telegraph
operator, his experimentation was of a desultory,
hand-to-mouth character, although it was always
notable for originality, as expressed in a number of
minor useful devices produced during this period.
Small wonder, then, that at the end of these wanderings,
when he had found a place to "rest the sole of
his foot," he established a laboratory in which to
carry on his researches in a more methodical and
practical manner. In this was the beginning of the
work which has since made such a profound impression
on contemporary life.

There is nothing of the helter-skelter, slap-dash
style in Edison's experiments. Although all the
laboratory experimenters agree in the opinion that
he "tries everything," it is not merely the mixing of
a little of this, some of that, and a few drops of the
other, in the HOPE that SOMETHING will come of it.
Nor is the spirit of the laboratory work represented
in the following dialogue overheard between two
alleged carpenters picked up at random to help on a
hurry job.

"How near does she fit, Mike?"

"About an inch."

"Nail her!"

A most casual examination of any of the laboratory
records will reveal evidence of the minutest exactitude
insisted on in the conduct of experiments, irrespective
of the length of time they occupied. Edison's
instructions, always clear cut and direct, followed by
his keen oversight, admit of nothing less than implicit
observance in all details, no matter where
they may lead, and impel to the utmost minuteness
and accuracy.

To some extent there has been a popular notion
that many of Edison's successes have been due to
mere dumb fool luck--to blind, fortuitous "happenings."
Nothing could be further from the truth, for,
on the contrary, it is owing almost entirely to the
comprehensive scope of his knowledge, the breadth
of his conception, the daring originality of his methods,
and minuteness and extent of experiment, com-
bined with unwavering pertinacity, that new arts
have been created and additions made to others
already in existence. Indeed, without this tireless
minutiae, and methodical, searching spirit, it would
have been practically impossible to have produced
many of the most important of these inventions.

Needless to say, mastery of its literature is regarded
by him as a most important preliminary in
taking up any line of investigation. What others
may have done, bearing directly or collaterally on
the subject, in print, is carefully considered and
sifted to the point of exhaustion. Not that he takes
it for granted that the conclusions are correct, for
he frequently obtains vastly different results by
repeating in his own way experiments made by others
as detailed in books.

"Edison can travel along a well-used road and still
find virgin soil," remarked recently one of his most
practical experimenters, who had been working along
a certain line without attaining the desired result.
"He wanted to get a particular compound having
definite qualities, and I had tried in all sorts of ways
to produce it but with only partial success. He was
confident that it could be done, and said he would
try it himself. In doing so he followed the same path
in which I had travelled, but, by making an undreamed-of
change in one of the operations, succeeded
in producing a compound that virtually came up to
his specifications. It is not the only time I have
known this sort of thing to happen."

In speaking of Edison's method of experimenting,
another of his laboratory staff says: "He is never
hindered by theory, but resorts to actual experiment
for proof. For instance, when he conceived the idea
of pouring a complete concrete house it was universally
held that it would be impossible because the
pieces of stone in the mixture would not rise to the
level of the pouring-point, but would gravitate to a
lower plane in the soft cement. This, however, did
not hinder him from making a series of experiments
which resulted in an invention that proved conclusively
the contrary."

Having conceived some new idea and read everything
obtainable relating to the subject in general,
Edison's fertility of resource and originality come into
play. Taking one of the laboratory note-books, he
will write in it a memorandum of the experiments to
be tried, illustrated, if necessary, by sketches. This
book is then passed on to that member of the experimental
staff whose special training and experience
are best adapted to the work. Here strenuousness is
expected; and an immediate commencement of investigation
and prompt report are required. Sometimes
the subject may be such as to call for a long
line of frequent tests which necessitate patient and
accurate attention to minute details. Results must
be reported often--daily, or possibly with still greater
frequency. Edison does not forget what is going on;
but in his daily tours through the laboratory keeps
in touch with all the work that is under the hands of
his various assistants, showing by an instant grasp
of the present conditions of any experiment that he
has a full consciousness of its meaning and its reference
to his original conception.

The year 1869 saw the beginning of Edison's career
as an acknowledged inventor of commercial devices.
From the outset, an innate recognition of system
dictated the desirability and wisdom of preserving
records of his experiments and inventions. The
primitive records, covering the earliest years, were
mainly jotted down on loose sheets of paper covered
with sketches, notes, and data, pasted into large scrap-
books, or preserved in packages; but with the passing
of years and enlargement of his interests, it became
the practice to make all original laboratory
notes in large, uniform books. This course was pursued
until the Menlo Park period, when he instituted
a new regime that has been continued down to the
present day. A standard form of note-book, about
eight and a half by six inches, containing about two
hundred pages, was adopted. A number of these
books were (and are now) always to be found scattered
around in the different sections of the laboratory,
and in them have been noted by Edison all
his ideas, sketches, and memoranda. Details of the
various experiments concerning them have been set
down by his assistants from time to time.

These later laboratory note-books, of which there
are now over one thousand in the series, are eloquent
in the history they reveal of the strenuous labors of
Edison and his assistants and the vast fields of
research he has covered during the last thirty years.
They are overwhelmingly rich in biographic material,
but analysis would be a prohibitive task for one person,
and perhaps interesting only to technical readers.
Their pages cover practically every department of
science. The countless thousands of separate experiments
recorded exhibit the operations of a master
mind seeking to surprise Nature into a betrayal of
her secrets by asking her the same question in a
hundred different ways. For instance, when Edison
was investigating a certain problem of importance
many years ago, the note-books show that on this
point alone about fifteen thousand experiments and
tests were made by one of his assistants.

A most casual glance over these note-books will
illustrate the following remark, which was made to
one of the writers not long ago by a member of the
laboratory staff who has been experimenting there
for twenty years: "Edison can think of more ways
of doing a thing than any man I ever saw or heard
of. He tries everything and never lets up, even
though failure is apparently staring him in the face.
He only stops when he simply can't go any further
on that particular line. When he decides on any
mode of procedure he gives his notes to the experimenter
and lets him alone, only stepping in from
time to time to look at the operations and receive
reports of progress."

The history of the development of the telephone
transmitter, phonograph, incandescent lamp, dynamo,
electrical distributing systems from central stations,
electric railway, ore-milling, cement, motion pictures,
and a host of minor inventions may be found embedded
in the laboratory note-books. A passing
glance at a few pages of these written records will
serve to illustrate, though only to a limited extent,
the thoroughness of Edison's method. It is to be
observed that these references can be but of the most
meagre kind, and must be regarded as merely throwing
a side-light on the subject itself. For instance,
the complex problem of a practical telephone transmitter
gave rise to a series of most exhaustive experiments.
Combinations in almost infinite variety,
including gums, chemical compounds, oils, minerals,
and metals were suggested by Edison; and his assistants
were given long lists of materials to try with
reference to predetermined standards of articulation,
degrees of loudness, and perfection of hissing sounds.
The note-books contain hundreds of pages showing
that a great many thousands of experiments were
tried and passed upon. Such remarks as "N. G.";
"Pretty good"; "Whistling good, but no articulation";
"Rattly"; "Articulation, whispering, and
whistling good"; "Best to-night so far"; and others
are noted opposite the various combinations as they
were tried. Thus, one may follow the investigation
through a maze of experiments which led up to the
successful invention of the carbon button transmitter,
the vital device to give the telephone its
needed articulation and perfection.

The two hundred and odd note-books, covering the
strenuous period during which Edison was carrying
on his electric-light experiments, tell on their forty
thousand pages or more a fascinating story of the
evolution of a new art in its entirety. From the crude
beginnings, through all the varied phases of this
evolution, the operations of a master mind are apparent
from the contents of these pages, in which are
recorded the innumerable experiments, calculations,
and tests that ultimately brought light out of darkness.

The early work on a metallic conductor for lamps
gave rise to some very thorough research on melting
and alloying metals, the preparation of metallic
oxides, the coating of fine wires by immersing them
in a great variety of chemical solutions. Following
his usual custom, Edison would indicate the lines of
experiment to be followed, which were carried out
and recorded in the note-books. He himself, in
January, 1879, made personally a most minute and
searching investigation into the properties and behavior
of plating-iridium, boron, rutile, zircon, chromium,
molybdenum, and nickel, under varying degrees
of current strength, on which there may be
found in the notes about forty pages of detailed
experiments and deductions in his own handwriting,
concluding with the remark (about nickel): "This
is a great discovery for electric light in the way of
economy."

This period of research on nickel, etc., was evidently
a trying one, for after nearly a month's close
application he writes, on January 27, 1879: "Owing
to the enormous power of the light my eyes commenced
to pain after seven hours' work, and I had
to quit." On the next day appears the following
entry: "Suffered the pains of hell with my eyes last
night from 10 P.M. till 4 A.M., when got to sleep with
a big dose of morphine. Eyes getting better, and
do not pain much at 4 P.M.; but I lose to-day."

The "try everything" spirit of Edison's method is
well illustrated in this early period by a series of
about sixteen hundred resistance tests of various ores,
minerals, earths, etc., occupying over fifty pages of
one of the note-books relating to the metallic filament
for his lamps.

But, as the reader has already learned, the metallic
filament was soon laid aside in favor of carbon, and
we find in the laboratory notes an amazing record of
research and experiment conducted in the minute
and searching manner peculiar to Edison's method.
His inquiries were directed along all the various roads
leading to the desired goal, for long before he had
completed the invention of a practical lamp he realized
broadly the fundamental requirements of a successful
system of electrical distribution, and had
given instructions for the making of a great variety
of calculations which, although far in advance of the
time, were clearly foreseen by him to be vitally
important in the ultimate solution of the complicated
problem. Thus we find many hundreds of pages of
the note-books covered with computations and
calculations by Mr. Upton, not only on the numerous
ramifications of the projected system and
comparisons with gas, but also on proposed forms of
dynamos and the proposed station in New York. A
mere recital by titles of the vast number of experiments
and tests on carbons, lamps, dynamos, armatures,
commutators, windings, systems, regulators,
sockets, vacuum-pumps, and the thousand and one
details relating to the subject in general, originated
by Edison, and methodically and systematically carried
on under his general direction, would fill a
great many pages here, and even then would serve
only to convey a confused impression of ceaseless
probing.

It is possible only to a broad, comprehensive mind
well stored with knowledge, and backed with resistless,
boundless energy, that such a diversified series
of experiments and investigations could be carried
on simultaneously and assimilated, even though they
should relate to a class of phenomena already understood
and well defined. But if we pause to consider
that the commercial subdivision of the electric current
(which was virtually an invention made to order)
involved the solution of problems so unprecedented
that even they themselves had to be created, we cannot
but conclude that the afflatus of innate genius
played an important part in the unique methods of
investigation instituted by Edison at that and other
times.

The idea of attributing great successes to "genius"
has always been repudiated by Edison, as evidenced
by his historic remark that "Genius is 1 per cent.
inspiration and 99 per cent. perspiration." Again,
in a conversation many years ago at the laboratory
between Edison, Batchelor, and E. H. Johnson, the
latter made allusion to Edison's genius as evidenced
by some of his achievements, when Edison replied:

"Stuff! I tell you genius is hard work, stick-to-it-
iveness, and common sense."

"Yes," said Johnson, "I admit there is all that to
it, but there's still more. Batch and I have those
qualifications, but although we knew quite a lot about
telephones, and worked hard, we couldn't invent a
brand-new non-infringing telephone receiver as you
did when Gouraud cabled for one. Then, how about
the subdivision of the electric light?"

"Electric current," corrected Edison.

"True," continued Johnson; "you were the one
to make that very distinction. The scientific world
had been working hard on subdivision for years,
using what appeared to be common sense. Results
worse than nil. Then you come along, and about the
first thing you do, after looking the ground over, is
to start off in the opposite direction, which subsequently
proves to be the only possible way to reach
the goal. It seems to me that this is pretty close
to the dictionary definition of genius."

It is said that Edison replied rather incoherently
and changed the topic of conversation.

This innate modesty, however, does not prevent
Edison from recognizing and classifying his own
methods of investigation. In a conversation with
two old associates recently (April, 1909), he remarked:
"It has been said of me that my methods are empirical.
That is true only so far as chemistry is concerned.
Did you ever realize that practically all industrial
chemistry is colloidal in its nature? Hard
rubber, celluloid, glass, soap, paper, and lots of others,
all have to deal with amorphous substances, as to
which comparatively little has been really settled.
My methods are similar to those followed by Luther
Burbank. He plants an acre, and when this is in
bloom he inspects it. He has a sharp eye, and can
pick out of thousands a single plant that has promise
of what he wants. From this he gets the seed, and
uses his skill and knowledge in producing from it a
number of new plants which, on development, furnish
the means of propagating an improved variety
in large quantity. So, when I am after a chemical
result that I have in mind, I may make hundreds or
thousands of experiments out of which there may be
one that promises results in the right direction. This
I follow up to its legitimate conclusion, discarding
the others, and usually get what I am after. There is
no doubt about this being empirical; but when it
comes to problems of a mechanical nature, I want
to tell you that all I've ever tackled and solved have
been done by hard, logical thinking." The intense
earnestness and emphasis with which this was said
were very impressive to the auditors. This empirical
method may perhaps be better illustrated by a specific
example. During the latter part of the storage
battery investigations, after the form of positive
element had been determined upon, it became necessary
to ascertain what definite proportions and what quality
of nickel hydrate and nickel flake would give the
best results. A series of positive tubes were filled
with the two materials in different proportions--say,
nine parts hydrate to one of flake; eight parts
hydrate to two of flake; seven parts hydrate to three of
flake, and so on through varying proportions. Three
sets of each of these positives were made, and all put
into separate test tubes with a uniform type of negative
element. These were carried through a long series
of charges and discharges under strict test conditions.
From the tabulated results of hundreds of tests there
were selected three that showed the best results.
These, however, showed only the superiority of cer-
tain PROPORTIONS of the materials. The next step would
be to find out the best QUALITY. Now, as there are
several hundred variations in the quality of nickel
flake, and perhaps a thousand ways to make the
hydrate, it will be realized that Edison's methods led
to stupendous detail, for these tests embraced a trial
of all the qualities of both materials in the three
proportions found to be most suitable. Among these
many thousands of experiments any that showed
extraordinary results were again elaborated by still
further series of tests, until Edison was satisfied that
he had obtained the best result in that particular line.

The laboratory note-books do not always tell the
whole story or meaning of an experiment that may
be briefly outlined on one of their pages. For example,
the early filament made of a mixture of lampblack
and tar is merely a suggestion in the notes, but
its making afforded an example of Edison's
pertinacity. These materials, when mixed, became a
friable mass, which he had found could be brought
into such a cohesive, putty-like state by manipulation,
as to be capable of being rolled out into filaments as
fine as seven-thousandths of an inch in cross-section.
One of the laboratory assistants was told to make some
of this mixture, knead it, and roll some filaments.
After a time he brought the mass to Edison, and said:

"There's something wrong about this, for it crumbles
even after manipulating it with my fingers."

"How long did you knead it?" said Edison.

"Oh! more than an hour," replied the assistant.

"Well, just keep on for a few hours more and it
will come out all right," was the rejoinder. And this
proved to be correct, for, after a prolonged kneading
and rolling, the mass changed into a cohesive, stringy,
homogeneous putty. It was from a mixture of this
kind that spiral filaments were made and used in
some of the earliest forms of successful incandescent
lamps; indeed, they are described and illustrated in
Edison's fundamental lamp patent (No. 223,898).

The present narrative would assume the proportions
of a history of the incandescent lamp, should
the authors attempt to follow Edison's investigations
through the thousands of pages of note-books away
back in the eighties and early nineties. Improvement
of the lamp was constantly in his mind all those years,
and besides the vast amount of detail experimental
work he laid out for his assistants, he carried on a great
deal of research personally. Sometimes whole books
are filled in his own handwriting with records of
experiments showing every conceivable variation of some
particular line of inquiry; each trial bearing some
terse comment expressive of results. In one book
appear the details of one of these experiments on
September 3, 1891, at 4.30 A.M., with the comment:
"Brought up lamp higher than a 16-c.p. 240 was ever
brought before--Hurrah!" Notwithstanding the late
hour, he turns over to the next page and goes on to
write his deductions from this result as compared
with those previously obtained. Proceeding day by
day, as appears by this same book, he follows up another
line of investigation on lamps, apparently full
of difficulty, for after one hundred and thirty-two
other recorded experiments we find this note: "Saturday
3.30 went home disgusted with incandescent
lamps." This feeling was evidently evanescent, for
on the succeeding Monday the work was continued
and carried on by him as keenly as before, as shown
by the next batch of notes.

This is the only instance showing any indication of
impatience that the authors have found in looking
through the enormous mass of laboratory notes. All
his assistants agree that Edison is the most patient,
tireless experimenter that could be conceived of.
Failures do not distress him; indeed, he regards them
as always useful, as may be gathered from the following,
related by Dr. E. G. Acheson, formerly one
of his staff: "I once made an experiment in Edison's
laboratory at Menlo Park during the latter part of
1880, and the results were not as looked for. I
considered the experiment a perfect failure, and while
bemoaning the results of this apparent failure Mr.
Edison entered, and, after learning the facts of the
case, cheerfully remarked that I should not look
upon it as a failure, for he considered every experiment
a success, as in all cases it cleared up the atmosphere,
and even though it failed to accomplish the
results sought for, it should prove a valuable lesson
for guidance in future work. I believe that Mr.
Edison's success as an experimenter was, to a large
extent, due to this happy view of all experiments."

Edison has frequently remarked that out of a hundred
experiments he does not expect more than one
to be successful, and as to that one he is always
suspicious until frequent repetition has verified the
original results.

This patient, optimistic view of the outcome of
experiments has remained part of his character down
to this day, just as his painstaking, minute, incisive
methods are still unchanged. But to the careless,
stupid, or lazy person he is a terror for the short
time they remain around him. Honest mistakes may
be tolerated, but not carelessness, incompetence, or
lack of attention to business. In such cases Edison
is apt to express himself freely and forcibly, as when
he was asked why he had parted with a certain man,
he said: "Oh, he was so slow that it would take him
half an hour to get out of the field of a microscope."
Another instance will be illustrative. Soon after the
Brockton (Massachusetts) central station was started
in operation many years ago, he wrote a note to Mr.
W. S. Andrews, containing suggestions as to future
stations, part of which related to the various employees
and their duties. After outlining the duties
of the meter man, Edison says: "I should not take
too young a man for this, say, a man from twenty-
three to thirty years old, bright and businesslike.
Don't want any one who yearns to enter a laboratory
and experiment. We have a bad case of that at
Brockton; he neglects business to potter. What we
want is a good lamp average and no unprofitable
customer. You should have these men on probation
and subject to passing an examination by me.
This will wake them up."

Edison's examinations are no joke, according to Mr.
J. H. Vail, formerly one of the Menlo Park staff. "I
wanted a job," he said, "and was ambitious to take
charge of the dynamo-room. Mr. Edison led me to
a heap of junk in a corner and said: `Put that to-
gether and let me know when it's running.' I didn't
know what it was, but received a liberal education in
finding out. It proved to be a dynamo, which I
finally succeeded in assembling and running. I got
the job." Another man who succeeded in winning a
place as assistant was Mr. John F. Ott, who has remained
in his employ for over forty years. In 1869,
when Edison was occupying his first manufacturing
shop (the third floor of a small building in Newark),
he wanted a first-class mechanician, and Mr. Ott was
sent to him. "He was then an ordinary-looking young
fellow," says Mr. Ott, "dirty as any of the other
workmen, unkempt, and not much better dressed
than a tramp, but I immediately felt that there was
a great deal in him." This is the conversation that
ensued, led by Mr. Edison's question:

"What do you want?"

" Work."

"Can you make this machine work?" (exhibiting
it and explaining its details).

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, you needn't pay me if I don't."

And thus Mr. Ott went to work and succeeded in
accomplishing the results desired. Two weeks afterward
Mr. Edison put him in charge of the shop.

Edison's life fairly teems with instances of unruffled
patience in the pursuit of experiments. When
he feels thoroughly impressed with the possibility of
accomplishing a certain thing, he will settle down
composedly to investigate it to the end.

This is well illustrated in a story relating to his
invention of the type of storage battery bearing his
name. Mr. W. S. Mallory, one of his closest associates
for many years, is the authority for the following:
"When Mr. Edison decided to shut down the ore-
milling plant at Edison, New Jersey, in which I had
been associated with him, it became a problem as to
what he could profitably take up next, and we had
several discussions about it. He finally thought that
a good storage battery was a great requisite, and
decided to try and devise a new type, for he declared
emphatically he would make no battery requiring
sulphuric acid. After a little thought he conceived
the nickel-iron idea, and started to work at once
with characteristic energy. About 7 or 7.30 A.M. he
would go down to the laboratory and experiment,
only stopping for a short time at noon to eat a lunch
sent down from the house. About 6 o'clock the carriage
would call to take him to dinner, from which he
would return by 7.30 or 8 o'clock to resume work.
The carriage came again at midnight to take him
home, but frequently had to wait until 2 or 3 o'clock,
and sometimes return without him, as he had decided
to continue all night.

"This had been going on more than five months,
seven days a week, when I was called down to the
laboratory to see him. I found him at a bench about
three feet wide and twelve to fifteen feet long, on which
there were hundreds of little test cells that had been
made up by his corps of chemists and experimenters.
He was seated at this bench testing, figuring, and
planning. I then learned that he had thus made
over nine thousand experiments in trying to devise
this new type of storage battery, but had not produced
a single thing that promised to solve the question.
In view of this immense amount of thought
and labor, my sympathy got the better of my judgment,
and I said: `Isn't it a shame that with the
tremendous amount of work you have done you
haven't been able to get any results?' Edison turned
on me like a flash, and with a smile replied: `Results!
Why, man, I have gotten a lot of results! I know
several thousand things that won't work.'

"At that time he sent me out West on a special
mission. On my return, a few weeks later, his
experiments had run up to over ten thousand, but he
had discovered the missing link in the combination
sought for. Of course, we all remember how the
battery was completed and put on the market.
Then, because he was dissatisfied with it, he stopped
the sales and commenced a new line of investigation,
which has recently culminated successfully. I
shouldn't wonder if his experiments on the battery
ran up pretty near to fifty thousand, for they fill
more than one hundred and fifty of the note-books,
to say nothing of some thousands of tests in curve
sheets."

Although Edison has an absolute disregard for the
total outlay of money in investigation, he is particular
to keep down the cost of individual experiments to a
minimum, for, as he observed to one of his assistants:
"A good many inventors try to develop things life-
size, and thus spend all their money, instead of first
experimenting more freely on a small scale." To
Edison life is not only a grand opportunity to find
out things by experiment, but, when found, to improve
them by further experiment. One night, after
receiving a satisfactory report of progress from Mr.
Mason, superintendent of the cement plant, he said:
"The only way to keep ahead of the procession is to
experiment. If you don't, the other fellow will.
When there's no experimenting there's no progress.
Stop experimenting and you go backward. If anything
goes wrong, experiment until you get to the
very bottom of the trouble."

It is easy to realize, therefore, that a character so
thoroughly permeated with these ideas is not apt to
stop and figure out expense when in hot pursuit of
some desired object. When that object has been
attained, however, and it passes from the experimental
to the commercial stage, Edison's monetary views
again come into strong play, but they take a
diametrically opposite position, for he then begins
immediately to plan the extreme of economy in the
production of the article. A thousand and one instances
could be quoted in illustration; but as they
would tend to change the form of this narrative into
a history of economy in manufacture, it will suffice
to mention but one, and that a recent occurrence,
which serves to illustrate how closely he keeps in
touch with everything, and also how the inventive
faculty and instinct of commercial economy run
close together. It was during Edison's winter stay
in Florida, in March, 1909. He had reports sent to
him daily from various places, and studied them
carefully, for he would write frequently with comments,
instructions, and suggestions; and in one
case, commenting on the oiling system at the cement
plant, he wrote: "Your oil losses are now getting
lower, I see." Then, after suggesting some changes
to reduce them still further, he went on to say:
"Here is a chance to save a mill per barrel based on
your regular daily output."

This thorough consideration of the smallest detail
is essentially characteristic of Edison, not only in
economy of manufacture, but in all his work, no matter
of what kind, whether it be experimenting,
investigating, testing, or engineering. To follow him
through the labyrinthine paths of investigation
contained in the great array of laboratory note-books is
to become involved in a mass of minutely detailed
searches which seek to penetrate the inmost recesses
of nature by an ultimate analysis of an infinite variety
of parts. As the reader will obtain a fuller comprehension
of this idea, and of Edison's methods, by concrete
illustration rather than by generalization, the
authors have thought it well to select at random
two typical instances of specific investigations out of
the thousands that are scattered through the notebooks.
These will be found in the following extracts
from one of the note-books, and consist of Edison's
instructions to be carried out in detail by his
experimenters:

"Take, say, 25 lbs. hard Cuban asphalt and separate all
the different hydrocarbons, etc., as far as possible by
means of solvents. It will be necessary first to dissolve
everything out by, say, hot turpentine, then successively
treat the residue with bisulphide carbon, benzol, ether,
chloroform, naphtha, toluol, alcohol, and other probable
solvents. After you can go no further, distil off all the
solvents so the asphalt material has a tar-like consistency.
Be sure all the ash is out of the turpentine portion; now,
after distilling the turpentine off, act on the residue with
all the solvents that were used on the residue, using for
the first the solvent which is least likely to dissolve a great
part of it. By thus manipulating the various solvents
you will be enabled probably to separate the crude
asphalt into several distinct hydrocarbons. Put each in
a bottle after it has been dried, and label the bottle with
the process, etc., so we may be able to duplicate it; also
give bottle a number and describe everything fully in
note-book."

" Destructively distil the following substances down to
a point just short of carbonization, so that the residuum
can be taken out of the retort, powdered, and acted on
by all the solvents just as the asphalt in previous page.
The distillation should be carried to, say, 600 degrees or 700 degrees
Fahr., but not continued long enough to wholly reduce
mass to charcoal, but always run to blackness. Separate
the residuum in as many definite parts as possible, bottle
and label, and keep accurate records as to process,
weights, etc., so a reproduction of the experiment can at
any time be made: Gelatine, 4 lbs.; asphalt, hard
Cuban, 10 lbs.; coal-tar or pitch, 10 lbs.; wood-pitch,
10 lbs.; Syrian asphalt, 10 lbs.; bituminous coal, 10 lbs.;
cane-sugar, 10 lbs.; glucose, 10 lbs.; dextrine, 10 lbs.;
glycerine, 10 lbs.; tartaric acid, 5 lbs.; gum guiac, 5 lbs.;
gum amber, 3 lbs.; gum tragacanth, 3 Lbs.; aniline red,
1 lb.; aniline oil, 1 lb.; crude anthracene, 5 lbs.; petroleum
pitch, 10 lbs.; albumen from eggs, 2 lbs.; tar from
passing chlorine through aniline oil, 2 lbs.; citric acid,
5 lbs.; sawdust of boxwood, 3 lbs.; starch, 5 lbs.; shellac,
3 lbs.; gum Arabic, 5 lbs.; castor oil, 5 lbs."

The empirical nature of his method will be apparent
from an examination of the above items; but in pur-
suing it he leaves all uncertainty behind and, trusting
nothing to theory, he acquires absolute knowledge.
Whatever may be the mental processes by which he
arrives at the starting-point of any specific line of
research, the final results almost invariably prove
that he does not plunge in at random; indeed, as an
old associate remarked: "When Edison takes up
any proposition in natural science, his perceptions
seem to be elementally broad and analytical, that
is to say, in addition to the knowledge he has
acquired from books and observation, he appears to
have an intuitive apprehension of the general order
of things, as they might be supposed to exist in
natural relation to each other. It has always seemed
to me that he goes to the core of things at once."

Although nothing less than results from actual experiments
are acceptable to him as established facts,
this view of Edison may also account for his peculiar
and somewhat weird ability to "guess" correctly, a
faculty which has frequently enabled him to take
short cuts to lines of investigation whose outcome has
verified in a most remarkable degree statements
apparently made offhand and without calculation.
Mr. Upton says: "One of the main impressions left
upon me, after knowing Mr. Edison for many years,
is the marvellous accuracy of his guesses. He will
see the general nature of a result long before it can
be reached by mathematical calculation." This was
supplemented by one of his engineering staff, who
remarked: "Mr. Edison can guess better than a
good many men can figure, and so far as my experience
goes, I have found that he is almost invariably
correct. His guess is more than a mere starting-
point, and often turns out to be the final solution of
a problem. I can only account for it by his remarkable
insight and wonderful natural sense of the proportion
of things, in addition to which he seems to
carry in his head determining factors of all kinds,
and has the ability to apply them instantly in
considering any mechanical problem."

While this mysterious intuitive power has been of
the greatest advantage in connection with the vast
number of technical problems that have entered into
his life-work, there have been many remarkable instances
in which it has seemed little less than prophecy,
and it is deemed worth while to digress to the extent
of relating two of them. One day in the summer of
1881, when the incandescent lamp-industry was still
in swaddling clothes, Edison was seated in the room
of Major Eaton, vice-president of the Edison Electric
Light Company, talking over business matters, when
Mr. Upton came in from the lamp factory at Menlo
Park, and said: "Well, Mr. Edison, we completed a
thousand lamps to-day." Edison looked up and
said "Good," then relapsed into a thoughtful mood.
In about two minutes he raised his head, and said:
"Upton, in fifteen years you will be making forty
thousand lamps a day." None of those present
ventured to make any remark on this assertion,
although all felt that it was merely a random guess,
based on the sanguine dream of an inventor. The
business had not then really made a start, and being
entirely new was without precedent upon which to
base any such statement, but, as a matter of fact, the
records of the lamp factory show that in 1896 its
daily output of lamps was actually about forty
thousand.

The other instance referred to occurred shortly
after the Edison Machine Works was moved up to
Schenectady, in 1886. One day, when he was at the
works, Edison sat down and wrote on a sheet of paper
fifteen separate predictions of the growth and future
of the electrical business. Notwithstanding the fact
that the industry was then in an immature state, and
that the great boom did not set in until a few years
afterward, twelve of these predictions have been fully
verified by the enormous growth and development in
all branches of the art.

What the explanation of this gift, power, or intuition
may be, is perhaps better left to the psychologist
to speculate upon. If one were to ask Edison,
he would probably say, "Hard work, not too much
sleep, and free use of the imagination." Whether or
not it would be possible for the average mortal to
arrive at such perfection of "guessing" by faithfully
following this formula, even reinforced by the Edison
recipe for stimulating a slow imagination with pastry,
is open for demonstration.

Somewhat allied to this curious faculty is another
no less remarkable, and that is, the ability to point
out instantly an error in a mass of reported experimental
results. While many instances could be definitely
named, a typical one, related by Mr. J. D.
Flack, formerly master mechanic at the lamp factory,
may be quoted: "During the many years of lamp
experimentation, batches of lamps were sent to the
photometer department for test, and Edison would
examine the tabulated test sheets. He ran over
every item of the tabulations rapidly, and, apparently
without any calculation whatever, would check off
errors as fast as he came to them, saying: `You have
made a mistake; try this one over.' In every case
the second test proved that he was right. This wonderful
aptitude for infallibly locating an error without
an instant's hesitation for mental calculation, has
always appealed to me very forcibly."

The ability to detect errors quickly in a series of
experiments is one of the things that has enabled
Edison to accomplish such a vast amount of work
as the records show. Examples of the minuteness of
detail into which his researches extend have already
been mentioned, and as there are always a number
of such investigations in progress at the laboratory,
this ability stands Edison in good stead, for he is
thus enabled to follow, and, if necessary, correct each
one step by step. In this he is aided by the great
powers of a mind that is able to free itself from
absorbed concentration on the details of one problem,
and instantly to shift over and become deeply and
intelligently concentrated in another and entirely
different one. For instance, he may have been busy
for hours on chemical experiments, and be called
upon suddenly to determine some mechanical questions.
The complete and easy transition is the constant
wonder of his associates, for there is no confusion
of ideas resulting from these quick changes,
no hesitation or apparent effort, but a plunge into
the midst of the new subject, and an instant acquaint-
ance with all its details, as if he had been studying
it for hours.

A good stiff difficulty--one which may, perhaps, appear
to be an unsurmountable obstacle--only serves to
make Edison cheerful, and brings out variations of his
methods in experimenting. Such an occurrence will
start him thinking, which soon gives rise to a line
of suggestions for approaching the trouble from various
sides; or he will sit down and write out a series
of eliminations, additions, or changes to be worked
out and reported upon, with such variations as may
suggest themselves during their progress. It is at
such times as these that his unfailing patience and
tremendous resourcefulness are in evidence. Ideas and
expedients are poured forth in a torrent, and although
some of them have temporarily appeared to
the staff to be ridiculous or irrelevant, they have
frequently turned out to be the ones leading to a
correct solution of the trouble.

Edison's inexhaustible resourcefulness and fertility
of ideas have contributed largely to his great
success, and have ever been a cause of amazement
to those around him. Frequently, when it
would seem to others that the extreme end of an
apparently blind alley had been reached, and that it
was impossible to proceed further, he has shown that
there were several ways out of it. Examples without
number could be quoted, but one must suffice by way
of illustration. During the progress of the ore-milling
work at Edison, it became desirable to carry on
a certain operation by some special machinery. He
requested the proper person on his engineering staff
to think this matter up and submit a few sketches
of what he would propose to do. He brought three
drawings to Edison, who examined them and said
none of them would answer. The engineer remarked
that it was too bad, for there was no other way to
do it. Mr. Edison turned to him quickly, and said:
"Do you mean to say that these drawings represent
the only way to do this work?" To which he received
the reply: "I certainly do." Edison said
nothing. This happened on a Saturday. He followed
his usual custom of spending Sunday at home
in Orange. When he returned to the works on
Monday morning, he took with him sketches he had
made, showing FORTY-EIGHT other ways of accomplishing
the desired operation, and laid them on the engineer's
desk without a word. Subsequently one of
these ideas, with modifications suggested by some of
the others, was put into successful practice.

Difficulties seem to have a peculiar charm for
Edison, whether they relate to large or small things;
and although the larger matters have contributed
most to the history of the arts, the same carefulness
of thought has often been the means of leading to
improvements of permanent advantage even in
minor details. For instance, in the very earliest
days of electric lighting, the safe insulation of two
bare wires fastened together was a serious problem
that was solved by him. An iron pot over a fire, some
insulating material melted therein, and narrow strips
of linen drawn through it by means of a wooden
clamp, furnished a readily applied and adhesive
insulation, which was just as perfect for the purpose
as the regular and now well-known insulating tape,
of which it was the forerunner.

Dubious results are not tolerated for a moment
in Edison's experimental work. Rather than pass
upon an uncertainty, the experiment will be dissected
and checked minutely in order to obtain absolute
knowledge, pro and con. This searching method
is followed not only in chemical or other investigations,
into which complexities might naturally enter,
but also in more mechanical questions, where simplicity
of construction might naturally seem to preclude
possibilities of uncertainty. For instance, at
the time when he was making strenuous endeavors
to obtain copper wire of high conductivity, strict
laboratory tests were made of samples sent by
manufacturers. One of these samples tested out poorer
than a previous lot furnished from the same factory.
A report of this to Edison brought the following
note: "Perhaps the ---- wire had a bad spot in it.
Please cut it up into lengths and test each one and
send results to me immediately." Possibly the electrical
fraternity does not realize that this earnest
work of Edison, twenty-eight years ago, resulted in
the establishment of the high quality of copper wire
that has been the recognized standard since that
time. Says Edison on this point: "I furnished the
expert and apparatus to the Ansonia Brass and Copper
Company in 1883, and he is there yet. It was this
expert and this company who pioneered high-conductivity
copper for the electrical trade."

Nor is it generally appreciated in the industry that
the adoption of what is now regarded as a most ob-
vious proposition--the high-economy incandescent
lamp--was the result of that characteristic foresight
which there has been occasion to mention frequently
in the course of this narrative, together with the
courage and "horse-sense" which have always been
displayed by the inventor in his persistent pushing
out with far-reaching ideas, in the face of pessimistic
opinions. As is well known, the lamps of the first
ten or twelve years of incandescent lighting were of
low economy, but had long life. Edison's study of
the subject had led him to the conviction that the
greatest growth of the electric-lighting industry
would be favored by a lamp taking less current, but
having shorter, though commercially economical life;
and after gradually making improvements along this
line he developed, finally, a type of high-economy
lamp which would introduce a most radical change
in existing conditions, and lead ultimately to highly
advantageous results. His start on this lamp, and
an expressed desire to have it manufactured for regular
use, filled even some of his business associates
with dismay, for they could see nothing but disaster
ahead in forcing such a lamp on the market. His
persistence and profound conviction of the ultimate
results were so strong and his arguments so sound,
however, that the campaign was entered upon.
Although it took two or three years to convince the
public of the correctness of his views, the idea gradually
took strong root, and has now become an integral
principle of the business.

In this connection it may be noted that with
remarkable prescience Edison saw the coming of the
modern lamps of to-day, which, by reason of their
small consumption of energy to produce a given
candle-power, have dismayed central-station managers.
A few years ago a consumption of 3.1 watts
per candle-power might safely be assumed as an
excellent average, and many stations fixed their
rates and business on such a basis. The results on
income when the consumption, as in the new metallic-
filament lamps, drops to 1.25 watts per candle can
readily be imagined. Edison has insisted that central
stations are selling light and not current; and
he points to the predicament now confronting them
as truth of his assertion that when selling light they
share in all the benefits of improvement, but that
when they sell current the consumer gets all those
benefits without division. The dilemma is encountered
by central stations in a bewildered way,
as a novel and unexpected experience; but Edison
foresaw the situation and warned against it long ago.
It is one of the greatest gifts of statesmanship to see
new social problems years before they arise and
solve them in advance. It is one of the greatest
attributes of invention to foresee and meet its own
problems in exactly the same way.

CHAPTER XXV

THE LABORATORY AT ORANGE AND THE STAFF

A LIVING interrogation-point and a born investigator
from childhood, Edison has never been without
a laboratory of some kind for upward of half a
century.

In youthful years, as already described in this book,
he became ardently interested in chemistry, and even
at the early age of twelve felt the necessity for a
special nook of his own, where he could satisfy his
unconvinced mind of the correctness or inaccuracy
of statements and experiments contained in the few
technical books then at his command.

Ordinarily he was like other normal lads of his age
--full of boyish, hearty enjoyments--but withal possessed
of an unquenchable spirit of inquiry and an
insatiable desire for knowledge. Being blessed with
a wise and discerning mother, his aspirations were
encouraged; and he was allowed a corner in her
cellar. It is fair to offer tribute here to her bravery
as well as to her wisdom, for at times she was in mortal
terror lest the precocious experimenter below
should, in his inexperience, make some awful
combination that would explode and bring down the
house in ruins on himself and the rest of the family.

Fortunately no such catastrophe happened, but
young Edison worked away in his embryonic laboratory,
satisfying his soul and incidentally depleting
his limited pocket-money to the vanishing-point. It
was, indeed, owing to this latter circumstance that in
a year or two his aspirations necessitated an increase
of revenue; and a consequent determination to earn
some money for himself led to his first real commercial
enterprise as "candy butcher" on the Grand Trunk
Railroad, already mentioned in a previous chapter.
It has also been related how his precious laboratory
was transferred to the train; how he and it were
subsequently expelled; and how it was re-established in
his home, where he continued studies and experiments
until the beginning of his career as a telegraph
operator.

The nomadic life of the next few years did not
lessen his devotion to study; but it stood seriously
in the way of satisfying the ever-present craving for
a laboratory. The lack of such a place never prevented
experimentation, however, as long as he had
a dollar in his pocket and some available "hole in
the wall." With the turning of the tide of fortune
that suddenly carried him, in New York in 1869, from
poverty to the opulence of $300 a month, he drew
nearer to a realization of his cherished ambition in
having money, place, and some time (stolen from
sleep) for more serious experimenting. Thus matters
continued until, at about the age of twenty-two,
Edison's inventions had brought him a relatively
large sum of money, and he became a very busy
manufacturer, and lessee of a large shop in Newark,
New Jersey.

Now, for the first time since leaving that boyish
laboratory in the old home at Port Huron, Edison
had a place of his own to work in, to think in; but
no one in any way acquainted with Newark as a
swarming centre of miscellaneous and multitudinous
industries would recommend it as a cloistered retreat
for brooding reverie and introspection, favorable to
creative effort. Some people revel in surroundings
of hustle and bustle, and find therein no hindrance
to great accomplishment. The electrical genius of
Newark is Edward Weston, who has thriven amid its
turmoil and there has developed his beautiful
instruments of precision; just as Brush worked out his
arc-lighting system in Cleveland; or even as Faraday,
surrounded by the din and roar of London, laid the
intellectual foundations of the whole modern science
of dynamic electricity. But Edison, though deaf,
could not make too hurried a retreat from Newark
to Menlo Park, where, as if to justify his change of
base, vital inventions soon came thick and fast, year
after year. The story of Menlo has been told in
another chapter, but the point was not emphasized
that Edison then, as later, tried hard to drop
manufacturing. He would infinitely rather be philosopher
than producer; but somehow the necessity of
manufacturing is constantly thrust back upon him by a
profound--perhaps finical--sense of dissatisfaction
with what other people make for him. The world
never saw a man more deeply and desperately convinced
that nothing in it approaches perfection. Edison
is the doctrine of evolution incarnate, applied to
mechanics. As to the removal from Newark, he may
be allowed to tell his own story: "I had a shop at
Newark in which I manufactured stock tickers and
such things. When I moved to Menlo Park I took
out only the machinery that would be necessary for
experimental purposes and left the manufacturing
machinery in the place. It consisted of many milling
machines and other tools for duplicating. I rented
this to a man who had formerly been my bookkeeper,
and who thought he could make money out of
manufacturing. There was about $10,000 worth of
machinery. He was to pay me $2000 a year for the
rent of the machinery and keep it in good order.
After I moved to Menlo Park, I was very busy with
the telephone and phonograph, and I paid no attention
to this little arrangement. About three years
afterward, it occurred to me that I had not heard at
all from the man who had rented this machinery, so
I thought I would go over to Newark and see how
things were going. When I got there, I found that
instead of being a machine shop it was a hotel! I
have since been utterly unable to find out what be
came of the man or the machinery." Such incidents
tend to justify Edison in his rather cynical remark
that he has always been able to improve machinery
much quicker than men. All the way up he has had
discouraging experiences. "One day while I was
carrying on my work in Newark, a Wall Street broker
came from the city and said he was tired of the
`Street,' and wanted to go into something real. He
said he had plenty of money. He wanted some kind
of a job to keep his mind off Wall Street. So we gave
him a job as a `mucker' in chemical experiments.
The second night he was there he could not stand the
long hours and fell asleep on a sofa. One of the boys
took a bottle of bromine and opened it under the
sofa. It floated up and produced a violent effect on
the mucous membrane. The broker was taken with
such a fit of coughing he burst a blood-vessel, and
the man who let the bromine out got away and never
came back. I suppose he thought there was going
to be a death. But the broker lived, and left the
next day; and I have never seen him since, either."
Edison tells also of another foolhardy laboratory
trick of the same kind: "Some of my assistants in
those days were very green in the business, as I did
not care whether they had had any experience or
not. I generally tried to turn them loose. One day
I got a new man, and told him to conduct a certain
experiment. He got a quart of ether and started to
boil it over a naked flame. Of course it caught fire.
The flame was about four feet in diameter and eleven
feet high. We had to call out the fire department;
and they came down and put a stream through the
window. That let all the fumes and chemicals out
and overcame the firemen; and there was the devil to
pay. Another time we experimented with a tub full of
soapy water, and put hydrogen into it to make large
bubbles. One of the boys, who was washing bottles in
the place, had read in some book that hydrogen was
explosive, so he proceeded to blow the tub up. There
was about four inches of soap in the bottom of the
tub, fourteen inches high; and he filled it with soap
bubbles up to the brim. Then he took a bamboo
fish-pole, put a piece of paper at the end, and
touched it off. It blew every window out of the
place."

Always a shrewd, observant, and kindly critic of
character, Edison tells many anecdotes of the men
who gathered around him in various capacities at
that quiet corner of New Jersey--Menlo Park--and
later at Orange, in the Llewellyn Park laboratory;
and these serve to supplement the main narrative by
throwing vivid side-lights on the whole scene. Here,
for example, is a picture drawn by Edison of a
laboratory interlude--just a bit Rabelaisian: "When
experimenting at Menlo Park we had all the way from
forty to fifty men. They worked all the time. Each
man was allowed from four to six hours' sleep. We
had a man who kept tally, and when the time came
for one to sleep, he was notified. At midnight we
had lunch brought in and served at a long table at
which the experimenters sat down. I also had an
organ which I procured from Hilbourne Roosevelt--
uncle of the ex-President--and we had a man play
this organ while we ate our lunch. During the summer-
time, after we had made something which was
successful, I used to engage a brick-sloop at Perth
Amboy and take the whole crowd down to the fishing-
banks on the Atlantic for two days. On one occasion
we got outside Sandy Hook on the banks and anchored.
A breeze came up, the sea became rough,
and a large number of the men were sick. There was
straw in the bottom of the boat, which we all slept
on. Most of the men adjourned to this straw very
sick. Those who were not got a piece of rancid salt
pork from the skipper, and cut a large, thick slice
out of it. This was put on the end of a fish-hook
and drawn across the men's faces. The smell was
terrific, and the effect added to the hilarity of the
excursion.

"I went down once with my father and two assistants
for a little fishing inside Sandy Hook. For some
reason or other the fishing was very poor. We anchored,
and I started in to fish. After fishing for
several hours there was not a single bite. The others
wanted to pull up anchor, but I fished two days and
two nights without a bite, until they pulled up anchor
and went away. I would not give up. I was going
to catch that fish if it took a week."

This is general. Let us quote one or two piquant
personal observations of a more specific nature as to
the odd characters Edison drew around him in his
experimenting. "Down at Menlo Park a man came
in one day and wanted a job. He was a sailor. I
hadn't any particular work to give him, but I had a
number of small induction coils, and to give him
something to do I told him to fix them up and sell
them among his sailor friends. They were fixed up,
and he went over to New York and sold them all.
He was an extraordinary fellow. His name was
Adams. One day I asked him how long it was since
he had been to sea, and he replied two or three years.
I asked him how he had made a living in the mean
time, before he came to Menlo Park. He said he
made a pretty good living by going around to different
clinics and getting $10 at each clinic, because of
having the worst case of heart-disease on record. I
told him if that was the case he would have to be very
careful around the laboratory. I had him there to
help in experimenting, and the heart-disease did not
seem to bother him at all.

"It appeared that he had once been a slaver; and
altogether he was a tough character. Having no
other man I could spare at that time, I sent him over
with my carbon transmitter telephone to exhibit it
in England. It was exhibited before the Post-Office
authorities. Professor Hughes spent an afternoon in
examining the apparatus, and in about a month came
out with his microphone, which was absolutely nothing
more nor less than my exact invention. But no
mention was made of the fact that, just previously,
he had seen the whole of my apparatus. Adams
stayed over in Europe connected with the telephone
for several years, and finally died of too much whiskey
--but not of heart-disease. This shows how whiskey
is the more dangerous of the two.

"Adams said that at one time he was aboard a
coffee-ship in the harbor of Santos, Brazil. He fell
down a hatchway and broke his arm. They took
him up to the hospital--a Portuguese one--where he
could not speak the language, and they did not
understand English. They treated him for two weeks for
yellow fever! He was certainly the most profane
man we ever had around the laboratory. He stood
high in his class."

And there were others of a different stripe. "We
had a man with us at Menlo called Segredor. He was
a queer kind of fellow. The men got in the habit of
plaguing him; and, finally, one day he said to the
assembled experimenters in the top room of the
laboratory: `The next man that does it, I will kill
him.' They paid no attention to this, and next day
one of them made some sarcastic remark to him.
Segredor made a start for his boarding-house, and
when they saw him coming back up the hill with a
gun, they knew there would be trouble, so they all
made for the woods. One of the men went back and
mollified him. He returned to his work; but he was
not teased any more. At last, when I sent men out
hunting for bamboo, I dispatched Segredor to Cuba.
He arrived in Havana on Tuesday, and on the Friday
following he was buried, having died of the black
vomit. On the receipt of the news of his death, half
a dozen of the men wanted his job, but my searcher
in the Astor Library reported that the chances of
finding the right kind of bamboo for lamps in Cuba
were very small; so I did not send a substitute."

Another thumb-nail sketch made of one of his
associates is this: "When experimenting with vacuum-
pumps to exhaust the incandescent lamps, I required
some very delicate and close manipulation of glass,
and hired a German glass-blower who was said to be
the most expert man of his kind in the United States.
He was the only one who could make clinical thermometers.
He was the most extraordinarily conceited
man I have ever come across. His conceit was
so enormous, life was made a burden to him by all
the boys around the laboratory. He once said that
he was educated in a university where all the students
belonged to families of the aristocracy; and the highest
class in the university all wore little red caps.
He said HE wore one."

Of somewhat different caliber was "honest" John
Kruesi, who first made his mark at Menlo Park, and
of whom Edison says: "One of the workmen I had
at Menlo Park was John Kruesi, who afterward became,
from his experience, engineer of the lighting
station, and subsequently engineer of the Edison
General Electric Works at Schenectady. Kruesi was
very exact in his expressions. At the time we were
promoting and putting up electric-light stations in
Pennsylvania, New York, and New England, there
would be delegations of different people who proposed
to pay for these stations. They would come to our
office in New York, at `65,' to talk over the specifications,
the cost, and other things. At first, Mr. Kruesi
was brought in, but whenever a statement was made
which he could not understand or did not believe could
be substantiated, he would blurt right out among
these prospects that he didn't believe it. Finally
it disturbed these committees so much, and raised so
many doubts in their minds, that one of my chief
associates said: `Here, Kruesi, we don't want you to
come to these meetings any longer. You are too painfully
honest.' I said to him: `We always tell the
truth. It may be deferred truth, but it is the truth.'
He could not understand that."

Various reasons conspired to cause the departure
from Menlo Park midway in the eighties. For Edison,
in spite of the achievement with which its name
will forever be connected, it had lost all its attractions
and all its possibilities. It had been outgrown
in many ways, and strange as the remark may seem,
it was not until he had left it behind and had settled
in Orange, New Jersey, that he can be said to have
given definite shape to his life. He was only forty
in 1887, and all that he had done up to that time,
tremendous as much of it was, had worn a haphazard,
Bohemian air, with all the inconsequential freedom
and crudeness somehow attaching to pioneer life.
The development of the new laboratory in West
Orange, just at the foot of Llewellyn Park, on the
Orange Mountains, not only marked the happy beginning
of a period of perfect domestic and family
life, but saw in the planning and equipment of a
model laboratory plant the consummation of youthful
dreams, and of the keen desire to enjoy resources
adequate at any moment to whatever strain the fierce
fervor of research might put upon them. Curiously
enough, while hitherto Edison had sought to
dissociate his experimenting from his manufacturing,
here he determined to develop a large industry to
which a thoroughly practical laboratory would be a
central feature, and ever a source of suggestion and
inspiration. Edison's standpoint to-day is that an
evil to be dreaded in manufacture is that of over-
standardization, and that as soon as an article is
perfect that is the time to begin improving it. But he
who would improve must experiment.

The Orange laboratory, as originally planned, consisted
of a main building two hundred and fifty feet
long and three stories in height, together with four
other structures, each one hundred by twenty-five
feet, and only one story in height. All these were
substantially built of brick. The main building was
divided into five chief divisions--the library, office,
machine shops, experimental and chemical rooms,
and stock-room. The use of the smaller buildings
will be presently indicated.

Surrounding the whole was erected a high picket
fence with a gate placed on Valley Road. At this
point a gate-house was provided and put in charge
of a keeper, for then, as at the present time, Edison
was greatly sought after; and, in order to accomplish
any work at all, he was obliged to deny himself to all
but the most important callers. The keeper of the
gate was usually chosen with reference to his capacity
for stony-hearted implacability and adherence to
instructions; and this choice was admirably made in
one instance when a new gateman, not yet thoroughly
initiated, refused admittance to Edison himself. It
was of no use to try and explain. To the gateman
EVERY ONE was persona non grata without proper
credentials, and Edison had to wait outside until he
could get some one to identify him.

On entering the main building the first doorway
from the ample passage leads the visitor into a handsome
library finished throughout in yellow pine,
occupying the entire width of the building, and
almost as broad as long. The centre of this spacious
room is an open rectangular space about forty by
twenty-five feet, rising clear about forty feet
from the main floor to a panelled ceiling. Around
the sides of the room, bounding this open space, run
two tiers of gallery, divided, as is the main floor
beneath them; into alcoves of liberal dimensions. These
alcoves are formed by racks extending from floor to
ceiling, fitted with shelves, except on two sides of both
galleries, where they are formed by a series of glass-
fronted cabinets containing extensive collections of
curious and beautiful mineralogical and geological
specimens, among which is the notable Tiffany-Kunz
collection of minerals acquired by Edison some years
ago. Here and there in these cabinets may also be
found a few models which he has used at times in his
studies of anatomy and physiology.

The shelves on the remainder of the upper gallery
and part of those on the first gallery are filled with
countless thousands of specimens of ores and minerals
of every conceivable kind gathered from all parts of
the world, and all tagged and numbered. The remaining
shelves of the first gallery are filled with current
numbers (and some back numbers) of the numerous
periodicals to which Edison subscribes. Here
may be found the popular magazines, together with
those of a technical nature relating to electricity,
chemistry, engineering, mechanics, building, cement,
building materials, drugs, water and gas, power,
automobiles, railroads, aeronautics, philosophy, hygiene,
physics, telegraphy, mining, metallurgy, metals,
music, and others; also theatrical weeklies, as well
as the proceedings and transactions of various learned
and technical societies.

The first impression received as one enters on the
main floor of the library and looks around is that of
noble proportions and symmetry as a whole. The
open central space of liberal dimensions and height,
flanked by the galleries and relieved by four handsome
electric-lighting fixtures suspended from the
ceiling by long chains, conveys an idea of lofty
spaciousness; while the huge open fireplace, surmounted
by a great clock built into the wall, at one
end of the room, the large rugs, the arm-chairs
scattered around, the tables and chairs in the alcoves,
give a general air of comfort combined with utility.
In one of the larger alcoves, at the sunny end of the
main hall, is Edison's own desk, where he may usually
be seen for a while in the early morning hours looking
over his mail or otherwise busily working on matters
requiring his attention.

At the opposite end of the room, not far from the
open fireplace, is a long table surrounded by swivel
desk-chairs. It is here that directors' meetings are
sometimes held, and also where weighty matters are
often discussed by Edison at conference with his
closer associates. It has been the privilege of the
writers to be present at some of these conferences,
not only as participants, but in some cases as lookers-
on while awaiting their turn. On such occasions an
interesting opportunity is offered to study Edison
in his intense and constructive moods. Apparently
oblivious to everything else, he will listen with
concentrated mind and close attention, and then pour
forth a perfect torrent of ideas and plans, and,
if the occasion calls for it, will turn around to the
table, seize a writing-pad and make sketch after
sketch with lightning-like rapidity, tearing off each
sheet as filled and tossing it aside to the floor. It
is an ordinary indication that there has been an
interesting meeting when the caretaker about fills a
waste-basket with these discarded sketches.

Directly opposite the main door is a beautiful
marble statue purchased by Edison at the Paris
Exposition in 1889, on the occasion of his visit there.
The statue, mounted on a base three feet high, is an
allegorical representation of the supremacy of electric
light over all other forms of illumination, carried out
by the life-size figure of a youth with half-spread
wings seated upon the ruins of a street gas-lamp,
holding triumphantly high above his head an electric
incandescent lamp. Grouped about his feet are a
gear-wheel, voltaic pile, telegraph key, and telephone.
This work of art was executed by A. Bordiga, of Rome,
held a prominent place in the department devoted to
Italian art at the Paris Exposition, and naturally
appealed to Edison as soon as he saw it.

In the middle distance, between the entrance door
and this statue, has long stood a magnificent palm,
but at the present writing it has been set aside to
give place to a fine model of the first type of the
Edison poured cement house, which stands in a
miniature artificial lawn upon a special table prepared
for it; while on the floor at the foot of the
table are specimens of the full-size molds in which
the house will be cast.

The balustrades of the galleries and all other available
places are filled with portraits of great scientists
and men of achievement, as well as with pictures of historic
and scientific interest. Over the fireplace hangs
a large photograph showing the Edison cement plant
in its entire length, flanked on one end of the mantel
by a bust of Humboldt, and on the other by a statuette
of Sandow, the latter having been presented to Edison
by the celebrated athlete after the visit he made to
Orange to pose for the motion pictures in the earliest
days of their development. On looking up under
the second gallery at this end is seen a great roll
resting in sockets placed on each side of the room.
This is a huge screen or curtain which may be drawn
down to the floor to provide a means of projection
for lantern slides or motion pictures, for the
entertainment or instruction of Edison and his guests.
In one of the larger alcoves is a large terrestrial globe
pivoted in its special stand, together with a relief
map of the United States; and here and there are
handsomely mounted specimens of underground
conductors and electric welds that were made at the
Edison Machine Works at Schenectady before it was
merged into the General Electric Company. On two
pedestals stand, respectively, two other mementoes
of the works, one a fifteen-light dynamo of the Edison
type, and the other an elaborate electric fan--both
of them gifts from associates or employees.

In noting these various objects of interest one
must not lose sight of the fact that this part of the
building is primarily a library, if indeed that fact did
not at once impress itself by a glance at the well-
filled unglazed book-shelves in the alcoves of the
main floor. Here Edison's catholic taste in reading
becomes apparent as one scans the titles of
thousands of volumes ranged upon the shelves,
for they include astronomy, botany, chemistry,
dynamics, electricity, engineering, forestry, geology,
geography, mechanics, mining, medicine, metallurgy,
magnetism, philosophy, psychology, physics, steam,
steam-engines, telegraphy, telephony, and many
others. Besides these there are the journals and
proceedings of numerous technical societies;
encyclopaedias of various kinds; bound series of important
technical magazines; a collection of United States
and foreign patents, embracing some hundreds of
volumes, together with an extensive assortment of
miscellaneous books of special and general interest.
There is another big library up in the house on the
hill--in fact, there are books upon books all over the
home. And wherever they are, those books are read.

As one is about to pass out of the library attention
is arrested by an incongruity in the form of a cot,
which stands in an alcove near the door. Here Edison,
throwing himself down, sometimes seeks a short
rest during specially long working tours. Sleep is
practically instantaneous and profound, and he awakes
in immediate and full possession of his faculties,
arising from the cot and going directly "back to the
job" without a moment's hesitation, just as a person
wide awake would arise from a chair and proceed to
attend to something previously determined upon.

Immediately outside the library is the famous
stock-room, about which much has been written and
invented. Its fame arose from the fact that Edison
planned it to be a repository of some quantity, great
or small, of every known and possibly useful substance
not readily perishable, together with the most
complete assortment of chemicals and drugs that
experience and knowledge could suggest. Always
strenuous in his experimentation, and the living
embodiment of the spirit of the song, I Want What I
Want When I Want It, Edison had known for years
what it was to be obliged to wait, and sometimes
lack, for some substance or chemical that he thought
necessary to the success of an experiment. Naturally
impatient at any delay which interposed in his
insistent and searching methods, and realizing the
necessity of maintaining the inspiration attending
his work at any time, he determined to have within
his immediate reach the natural resources of the
world.

Hence it is not surprising to find the stock-room
not only a museum, but a sample-room of nature, as
well as a supply department. To a casual visitor the
first view of this heterogeneous collection is quite
bewildering, but on more mature examination it resolves
itself into a natural classification--as, for instance,
objects pertaining to various animals, birds,
and fishes, such as skins, hides, hair, fur, feathers,
wool, quills, down, bristles, teeth, bones, hoofs,
horns, tusks, shells; natural products, such as woods,
barks, roots, leaves, nuts, seeds, herbs, gums, grains,
flours, meals, bran; also minerals in great assortment;
mineral and vegetable oils, clay, mica, ozokerite,
etc. In the line of textiles, cotton and silk
threads in great variety, with woven goods of all
kinds from cheese-cloth to silk plush. As for paper,
there is everything in white and colored, from thinnest
tissue up to the heaviest asbestos, even a few
newspapers being always on hand. Twines of all
sizes, inks, waxes, cork, tar, resin, pitch, turpentine,
asphalt, plumbago, glass in sheets and tubes; and a
host of miscellaneous articles revealed on looking
around the shelves, as well as an interminable col-
lection of chemicals, including acids, alkalies, salts,
reagents, every conceivable essential oil and all the
thinkable extracts. It may be remarked that this
collection includes the eighteen hundred or more
fluorescent salts made by Edison during his experimental
search for the best material for a fluoroscope
in the initial X-ray period. All known metals in
form of sheet, rod and tube, and of great variety in
thickness, are here found also, together with a most
complete assortment of tools and accessories for machine
shop and laboratory work.

The list is confined to the merest general mention
of the scope of this remarkable and interesting collection,
as specific details would stretch out into a
catalogue of no small proportions. When it is
stated, however, that a stock clerk is kept
exceedingly busy all day answering the numerous and
various demands upon him, the reader will appreciate
that this comprehensive assortment is not merely a
fad of Edison's, but stands rather as a substantial
tribute to his wide-angled view of possible requirements
as his various investigations take him far afield.
It has no counterpart in the world!

Beyond the stock-room, and occupying about half
the building on the same floor, lie a machine shop,
engine-room, and boiler-room. This machine shop is
well equipped, and in it is constantly employed a
large force of mechanics whose time is occupied in
constructing the heavier class of models and mechanical
devices called for by the varied experiments and
inventions always going on.

Immediately above, on the second floor, is found
another machine shop in which is maintained a corps
of expert mechanics who are called upon to do work
of greater precision and fineness, in the construction
of tools and experimental models. This is the realm
presided over lovingly by John F. Ott, who has been
Edison's designer of mechanical devices for over
forty years. He still continues to ply his craft with
unabated skill and oversees the work of the mechanics
as his productions are wrought into concrete shape.

In one of the many experimental-rooms lining the
sides of the second floor may usually be seen his
younger brother, Fred Ott, whose skill as a dexterous
manipulator and ingenious mechanic has found
ample scope for exercise during the thirty-two years
of his service with Edison, not only at the regular
laboratories, but also at that connected with the
inventor's winter home in Florida. Still another
of the Ott family, the son of John F., for some
years past has been on the experimental staff of the
Orange laboratory. Although possessing in no small
degree the mechanical and manipulative skill of the
family, he has chosen chemistry as his special domain,
and may be found with the other chemists in one of
the chemical-rooms.

On this same floor is the vacuum-pump room with
a glass-blowers' room adjoining, both of them historic
by reason of the strenuous work done on incandescent
lamps and X-ray tubes within their walls.
The tools and appliances are kept intact, for Edison
calls occasionally for their use in some of his later
experiments, and there is a suspicion among the
laboratory staff that some day he may resume work
on incandescent lamps. Adjacent to these rooms are
several others devoted to physical and mechanical
experiments, together with a draughting-room.

Last to be mentioned, but the first in order as
one leaves the head of the stairs leading up to this
floor, is No. 12, Edison's favorite room, where he
will frequently be found. Plain of aspect, being
merely a space boarded off with tongued-and-grooved
planks--as all the other rooms are--without ornament
or floor covering, and containing only a few
articles of cheap furniture, this room seems to exercise
a nameless charm for him. The door is always
open, and often he can be seen seated at a plain table
in the centre of the room, deeply intent on some of
the numerous problems in which he is interested.
The table is usually pretty well filled with specimens
or data of experimental results which have been put
there for his examination. At the time of this writing
these specimens consist largely of sections of
positive elements of the storage battery, together
with many samples of nickel hydrate, to which
Edison devotes deep study. Close at hand is a microscope
which is in frequent use by him in these investigations.
Around the room, on shelves, are hundreds
of bottles each containing a small quantity of
nickel hydrate made in as many different ways, each
labelled correspondingly. Always at hand will be
found one or two of the laboratory note-books, with
frequent entries or comments in the handwriting which
once seen is never forgotten.

No. 12 is at times a chemical, a physical, or a
mechanical room--occasionally a combination of all,
while sometimes it might be called a consultation-
room or clinic--for often Edison may be seen there in
animated conference with a group of his assistants;
but its chief distinction lies in its being one of his
favorite haunts, and in the fact that within its walls
have been settled many of the perplexing problems
and momentous questions that have brought about
great changes in electrical and engineering arts during
the twenty-odd years that have elapsed since the
Orange laboratory was built.

Passing now to the top floor the visitor finds himself
at the head of a broad hall running almost the
entire length of the building, and lined mostly with
glass-fronted cabinets containing a multitude of
experimental incandescent lamps and an immense
variety of models of phonographs, motors, telegraph
and telephone apparatus, meters, and a host of other
inventions upon which Edison's energies have at one
time and another been bent. Here also are other
cabinets containing old papers and records, while
further along the wall are piled up boxes of historical
models and instruments. In fact, this hallway, with
its conglomerate contents, may well be considered
a scientific attic. It is to be hoped that at no distant
day these Edisoniana will be assembled and arranged
in a fireproof museum for the benefit of posterity.

In the front end of the building, and extending
over the library, is a large room intended originally and
used for a time as the phonograph music-hall for
record-making, but now used only as an experimental-
room for phonograph work, as the growth of the
industry has necessitated a very much larger and
more central place where records can be made on a
commercial scale. Even the experimental work imposes
no slight burden on it. On each side of the
hallway above mentioned, rooms are partitioned off
and used for experimental work of various kinds,
mostly phonographic, although on this floor are also
located the storage-battery testing-room, a chemical
and physical room and Edison's private office, where
all his personal correspondence and business affairs
are conducted by his personal secretary, Mr. H. F.
Miller. A visitor to this upper floor of the laboratory
building cannot but be impressed with a consciousness
of the incessant efforts that are being made to
improve the reproducing qualities of the phonograph,
as he hears from all sides the sounds of vocal and
instrumental music constantly varying in volume and
timbre, due to changes in the experimental devices
under trial.

The traditions of the laboratory include cots placed
in many of the rooms of these upper floors, but that
was in the earlier years when the strenuous scenes
of Menlo Park were repeated in the new quarters.
Edison and his closest associates were accustomed
to carry their labors far into the wee sma' hours,
and when physical nature demanded a respite from
work, a short rest would be obtained by going to bed
on a cot. One would naturally think that the wear
and tear of this intense application, day after day
and night after night, would have tended to induce
a heaviness and gravity of demeanor in these busy
men; but on the contrary, the old spirit of good-
humor and prankishness was ever present, as its fre-
quent outbursts manifested from time to time. One
instance will serve as an illustration. One morning,
about 2.30, the late Charles Batchelor announced that
he was tired and would go to bed. Leaving Edison
and the others busily working, he went out and returned
quietly in slippered feet, with his nightgown
on, the handle of a feather duster stuck down his
back with the feathers waving over his head, and his
face marked. With unearthly howls and shrieks, a
l'Indien, he pranced about the room, incidentally giving
Edison a scare that made him jump up from his
work. He saw the joke quickly, however, and joined
in the general merriment caused by this prank.

Leaving the main building with its corps of busy
experimenters, and coming out into the spacious
yard, one notes the four long single-story brick
structures mentioned above. The one nearest the Valley
Road is called the galvanometer-room, and was
originally intended by Edison to be used for the most
delicate and minute electrical measurements. In
order to provide rigid resting-places for the numerous
and elaborate instruments he had purchased for this
purpose, the building was equipped along three-
quarters of its length with solid pillars, or tables, of
brick set deep in the earth. These were built up to
a height of about two and a half feet, and each was
surmounted with a single heavy slab of black marble.
A cement floor was laid, and every precaution was
taken to render the building free from all magnetic
influences, so that it would be suitable for electrical
work of the utmost accuracy and precision. Hence,
iron and steel were entirely eliminated in its con-
struction, copper being used for fixtures for steam
and water piping, and, indeed, for all other purposes
where metal was employed.

This room was for many years the headquarters of
Edison's able assistant, Dr. A. E. Kennelly, now professor
of electrical engineering in Harvard University
to whose energetic and capable management were intrusted
many scientific investigations during his long
sojourn at the laboratory. Unfortunately, however, for
the continued success of Edison's elaborate plans, he
had not been many years established in the laboratory
before a trolley road through West Orange was projected
and built, the line passing in front of the plant
and within seventy-five feet of the galvanometer-
room, thus making it practically impossible to use
it for the delicate purposes for which it was originally
intended.

For some time past it has been used for photography
and some special experiments on motion pictures as
well as for demonstrations connected with physical
research; but some reminders of its old-time glory
still remain in evidence. In lofty and capacious
glass-enclosed cabinets, in company with numerous
models of Edison's inventions, repose many of the
costly and elaborate instruments rendered useless by
the ubiquitous trolley. Instruments are all about,
on walls, tables, and shelves, the photometer is covered
up; induction coils of various capacities, with
other electrical paraphernalia, lie around, almost as
if the experimenter were absent for a few days but
would soon return and resume his work.

In numbering the group of buildings, the galva-
nometer-room is No. 1, while the other single-story
structures are numbered respectively 2, 3, and 4.
On passing out of No. 1 and proceeding to the succeeding
building is noticed, between the two, a garage
of ample dimensions and a smaller structure, at the
door of which stands a concrete-mixer. In this
small building Edison has made some of his most
important experiments in the process of working out
his plans for the poured house. It is in this little
place that there was developed the remarkable mixture
which is to play so vital a part in the successful
construction of these everlasting homes for
living millions.

Drawing near to building No. 2, olfactory evidence
presents itself of the immediate vicinity of a chemical
laboratory. This is confirmed as one enters the door
and finds that the entire building is devoted to
chemistry. Long rows of shelves and cabinets filled
with chemicals line the room; a profusion of retorts,
alembics, filters, and other chemical apparatus on
numerous tables and stands, greet the eye, while a
corps of experimenters may be seen busy in the
preparation of various combinations, some of which are
boiling or otherwise cooking under their dexterous
manipulation.

It would not require many visits to discover that
in this room, also, Edison has a favorite nook. Down
at the far end in a corner are a plain little table and
chair, and here he is often to be found deeply immersed
in a study of the many experiments that are
being conducted. Not infrequently he is actively
engaged in the manipulation of some compound of
special intricacy, whose results might be illuminative
of obscure facts not patent to others than himself.
Here, too, is a select little library of chemical literature.

The next building, No. 3, has a double mission--
the farther half being partitioned off for a pattern-
making shop, while the other half is used as a store-
room for chemicals in quantity and for chemical
apparatus and utensils. A grimly humorous incident,
as related by one of the laboratory staff, attaches to
No. 3. It seems that some time ago one of the
helpers in the chemical department, an excitable
foreigner, became dissatisfied with his wages, and
after making an unsuccessful application for an
increase, rushed in desperation to Edison, and said
"Eef I not get more money I go to take ze cyanide
potassia." Edison gave him one quick, searching
glance and, detecting a bluff, replied in an offhand
manner: "There's a five-pound bottle in No. 3," and
turned to his work again. The foreigner did not go
to get the cyanide, but gave up his job.

The last of these original buildings, No. 4, was used
for many years in Edison's ore-concentrating experiments,
and also for rough-and-ready operations of
other kinds, such as furnace work and the like. At
the present writing it is used as a general stock-room.

In the foregoing details, the reader has been afforded
but a passing glance at the great practical working
equipment which constitutes the theatre of Edison's
activities, for, in taking a general view of such a
unique and comprehensive laboratory plant, its salient
features only can be touched upon to advantage.
It would be but repetition to enumerate here the practical
results of the laboratory work during the past two
decades, as they appear on other pages of this work.
Nor can one assume for a moment that the history
of Edison's laboratory is a closed book. On the contrary,
its territorial boundaries have been increasing
step by step with the enlargement of its labors, until
now it has been obliged to go outside its own proper
domains to occupy some space in and about the great
Edison industrial buildings and space immediately
adjacent. It must be borne in mind that the laboratory
is only the core of a group of buildings devoted
to production on a huge scale by hundreds of artisans.

Incidental mention has already been made of the
laboratory at Edison's winter residence in Florida,
where he goes annually to spend a month or six
weeks. This is a miniature copy of the Orange laboratory,
with its machine shop, chemical-room, and general
experimental department. While it is only in
use during his sojourn there, and carries no extensive
corps of assistants, the work done in it is not of a
perfunctory nature, but is a continuation of his regular
activities, and serves to keep him in touch with the
progress of experiments at Orange, and enables him
to give instructions for their variation and continuance
as their scope is expanded by his own investigations
made while enjoying what he calls "vacation." What
Edison in Florida speaks of as "loafing" would be
for most of us extreme and healthy activity in the
cooler Far North.

A word or two may be devoted to the visitors received
at the laboratory, and to the correspondence.
It might be injudicious to gauge the greatness of a
man by the number of his callers or his letters; but
they are at least an indication of the degree to which
he interests the world. In both respects, for these
forty years, Edison has been a striking example of
the manner in which the sentiment of hero-worship
can manifest itself, and of the deep desire of curiosity
to get satisfaction by personal observation or contact.
Edison's mail, like that of most well-known
men, is extremely large, but composed in no small
degree of letters--thousands of them yearly--that
concern only the writers, and might well go to the
waste-paper basket without prolonged consideration.
The serious and important part of the mail, some
personal and some business, occupies the attention of
several men; all such letters finding their way promptly
into the proper channels, often with a pithy
endorsement by Edison scribbled on the margin. What
to do with a host of others it is often difficult to
decide, even when written by "cranks," who imagine
themselves subject to strange electrical ailments from
which Edison alone can relieve them. Many people
write asking his opinion as to a certain invention, or
offering him an interest in it if he will work it out.
Other people abroad ask help in locating lost
relatives; and many want advice as to what they shall
do with their sons, frequently budding geniuses whose
ability to wire a bell has demonstrated unusual
qualities. A great many persons want autographs,
and some would like photographs. The amazing
thing about it all is that this flood of miscellaneous
letters flows on in one steady, uninterrupted stream,
year in and year out; always a curious psychological
study in its variety and volume; and ever a
proof of the fact that once a man has become established
as a personality in the public eye and mind,
nothing can stop the tide of correspondence that
will deluge him.

It is generally, in the nature of things, easier to
write a letter than to make a call; and the semi-
retirement of Edison at a distance of an hour by
train from New York stands as a means of protection
to him against those who would certainly present
their respects in person, if he could be got at without
trouble. But it may be seriously questioned whether
in the aggregate Edison's visitors are less numerous
or less time-consuming than his epistolary besiegers.
It is the common experience of any visitor to the
laboratory that there are usually several persons
ahead of him, no matter what the hour of the day, and
some whose business has been sufficiently vital to
get them inside the porter's gate, or even into the big
library and lounging-room. Celebrities of all kinds
and distinguished foreigners are numerous--princes,
noblemen, ambassadors, artists, litterateurs, scientists,
financiers, women. A very large part of the visiting
is done by scientific bodies and societies; and then
the whole place will be turned over to hundreds of
eager, well-dressed men and women, anxious to see
everything and to be photographed in the big courtyard
around the central hero. Nor are these groups
and delegations limited to this country, for even
large parties of English, Dutch, Italian, or Japanese
visitors come from time to time, and are greeted with
the same ready hospitality, although Edison, it is easy to
see, is torn between the conflicting emotions of a desire to
be courteous, and an anxiety to guard the precious hours
of work, or watch the critical stage of a new experiment.

One distinct group of visitors has always been
constituted by the "newspaper men." Hardly a day
goes by that the journals do not contain some reference
to Edison's work or remarks; and the items are
generally based on an interview. The reporters are
never away from the laboratory very long; for if they
have no actual mission of inquiry, there is always the
chance of a good story being secured offhand; and
the easy, inveterate good-nature of Edison toward
reporters is proverbial in the craft. Indeed, it must
be stated here that once in a while this confidence has
been abused; that stories have been published utterly
without foundation; that interviews have been
printed which never took place; that articles with
Edison's name as author have been widely circulated,
although he never saw them; and that in such ways
he has suffered directly. But such occasional incidents
tend in no wise to lessen Edison's warm admiration
of the press or his readiness to avail himself of
it whenever a representative goes over to Orange to
get the truth or the real facts in regard to any matter
of public importance. As for the newspaper clippings
containing such articles, or others in which Edison's
name appears--they are literally like sands of the
sea-shore for number; and the archives of the laboratory
that preserve only a very minute percentage of
them are a further demonstration of what publicity
means, where a figure like Edison is concerned.

CHAPTER XXVI

EDISON IN COMMERCE AND MANUFACTURE

AN applicant for membership in the Engineers'
Club of Philadelphia is required to give a brief
statement of the professional work he has done.
Some years ago a certain application was made, and
contained the following terse and modest sentence:

"I have designed a concentrating plant and built a
machine shop, etc., etc.             THOMAS A. EDISON."

Although in the foregoing pages the reader has been
made acquainted with the tremendous import of the
actualities lying behind those "etc., etc.," the narrative
up to this point has revealed Edison chiefly in
the light of inventor, experimenter, and investigator.
There have been some side glimpses of the industries
he has set on foot, and of their financial aspects, and
a later chapter will endeavor to sum up the intrinsic
value of Edison's work to the world. But there are
some other interesting points that may be touched on
now in regard to a few of Edison's financial and commercial
ventures not generally known or appreciated.

It is a popular idea founded on experience that an
inventor is not usually a business man. One of the
exceptions proving the rule may perhaps be met in
Edison, though all depends on the point of view.
All his life he has had a great deal to do with finance
and commerce, and as one looks at the magnitude of
the vast industries he has helped to create, it would
not be at all unreasonable to expect him to be among
the multi-millionaires. That he is not is due to the
absence of certain qualities, the lack of which Edison
is himself the first to admit. Those qualities may not
be amiable, but great wealth is hardly ever accumulated
without them. If he had not been so intent
on inventing he would have made more of his great
opportunities for getting rich. If this utter detachment
from any love of money for its own sake has not
already been illustrated in some of the incidents
narrated, one or two stories are available to emphasize
the point. They do not involve any want of the higher
business acumen that goes to the proper conduct
of affairs. It was said of Gladstone that he was the
greatest Chancellor of the Exchequer England ever
saw, but that as a retail merchant he would soon
have ruined himself by his bookkeeping.

Edison confesses that he has never made a cent
out of his patents in electric light and power--in
fact, that they have been an expense to him, and thus
a free gift to the world.[18] This was true of the Euro-
pean patents as well as the American. "I endeavored
to sell my lighting patents in different countries
of Europe, and made a contract with a couple of
men. On account of their poor business capacity
and lack of practicality, they conveyed under the
patents all rights to different corporations but in
such a way and with such confused wording of the
contracts that I never got a cent. One of the companies
started was the German Edison, now the great
Allgemeine Elektricitaets Gesellschaft. The English
company I never got anything for, because a
lawyer had originally advised Drexel, Morgan & Co.
as to the signing of a certain document, and said it
was all right for me to sign. I signed, and I never
got a cent because there was a clause in it which
prevented me from ever getting anything." A certain
easy-going belief in human nature, and even a
certain carelessness of attitude toward business
affairs, are here revealed. We have already pointed
out two instances where in his dealings with the
Western Union Company he stipulated that payments
of $6000 per year for seventeen years were to
be made instead of $100,000 in cash, evidently forgetful
of the fact that the annual sum so received was
nothing more than legal interest, which could have
been earned indefinitely if the capital had been only
insisted upon. In later life Edison has been more
circumspect, but throughout his early career he was
constantly getting into some kind of scrape. Of one
experience he says:

[18] Edison received some stock from the parent lighting company,
but as the capital stock of that company was increased from time
to time, his proportion grew smaller, and he ultimately used it to
obtain ready money with which to create and finance the various
"shops" in which were manufactured the various items of electric-
lighting apparatus necessary to exploit his system. Besides, he
was obliged to raise additional large sums of money from other
sources for this purpose. He thus became a manufacturer with
capital raised by himself, and the stock that he received later, on
the formation of the General Electric Company, was not for his
electric-light patents, but was in payment for his manufacturing
establishments, which had then grown to be of great commercial
importance.

"In the early days I was experimenting with metallic
filaments for the incandescent light, and sent a
certain man out to California in search of platinum.
He found a considerable quantity in the sluice-boxes
of the Cherokee Valley Mining Company; but just
then he found also that fruit-gardening was the thing,
and dropped the subject. He then came to me and
said that if he could raise $4000 he could go into some
kind of orchard arrangement out there, and would
give me half the profits. I was unwilling to do it,
not having very much money just then, but his persistence
was such that I raised the money and gave
it to him. He went back to California, and got into
mining claims and into fruit-growing, and became
one of the politicians of the Coast, and, I believe, was
on the staff of the Governor of the State. A couple
of years ago he wounded his daughter and shot himself
because he had become ruined financially. I
never heard from him after he got the money."

Edison tells of another similar episode. "I had two
men working for me--one a German, the other a Jew.
They wanted me to put up a little money and start
them in a shop in New York to make repairs, etc. I
put up $800, and was to get half of the profits, and
each of them one-quarter. I never got anything for
it. A few years afterward I went to see them, and
asked what they were doing, and said I would like
to sell my interest. They said: `Sell out what?'
`Why,' I said, `my interest in the machinery.' They
said: `You don't own this machinery. This is our
machinery. You have no papers to show anything.
You had better get out.' I am inclined to think that
the percentage of crooked people was smaller when
I was young. It has been steadily rising, and has got
up to a very respectable figure now. I hope it will
never reach par." To which lugubrious episode so
provocative of cynicism, Edison adds: "When I was
a young fellow the first thing I did when I went to
a town was to put something into the savings-bank
and start an account. When I came to New York
I put $30 into a savings-bank under the New York
Sun office. After the money had been in about two
weeks the bank busted. That was in 1870. In 1909
I got back $6.40, with a charge for $1.75 for law
expenses. That shows the beauty of New York
receiverships."

It is hardly to be wondered at that Edison is rather
frank and unsparing in some of his criticisms of shady
modern business methods, and the mention of the
following incident always provokes him to a fine
scorn. "I had an interview with one of the wealthiest
men in New York. He wanted me to sell out my
associates in the electric lighting business, and offered
me all I was going to get and $100,000 besides. Of
course I would not do it. I found out that the reason
for this offer was that he had had trouble with Mr.
Morgan, and wanted to get even with him." Wall
Street is, in fact, a frequent object of rather sarcastic
reference, applying even to its regular and probably
correct methods of banking. "When I was running
my ore-mine," he says, "and got up to the point of
making shipments to John Fritz, I didn't have capital
enough to carry the ore, so I went to J. P. Morgan &
Co. and said I wanted them to give me a letter
to the City Bank. I wanted to raise some money.
I got a letter to Mr. Stillman; and went over and told
him I wanted to open an account and get some loans
and discounts. He turned me down, and would not
do it. `Well,' I said, `isn't it banking to help a man
in this way?' He said: `What you want is a partner.'
I felt very much crestfallen. I went over to a bank
in Newark--the Merchants'--and told them what I
wanted. They said: `Certainly, you can have the
money.' I made my deposit, and they pulled me
through all right. My idea of Wall Street banking
has been very poor since that time. Merchant banking
seems to be different."

As a general thing, Edison has had no trouble in
raising money when he needed it, the reason being
that people have faith in him as soon as they come
to know him. A little incident bears on this point.
"In operating the Schenectady works Mr. Insull and
I had a terrible burden. We had enormous orders and
little money, and had great difficulty to meet our pay-
rolls and buy supplies. At one time we had so many
orders on hand we wanted $200,000 worth of copper,
and didn't have a cent to buy it. We went down to
the Ansonia Brass and Copper Company, and told Mr.
Cowles just how we stood. He said: `I will see what
I can do. Will you let my bookkeeper look at your
books?' We said: `Come right up and look them
over.' He sent his man up and found we had the
orders and were all right, although we didn't have the
money. He said: `I will let you have the copper.'
And for years he trusted us for all the copper we wanted,
even if we didn't have the money to pay for it."

It is not generally known that Edison, in addition
to being a newsboy and a contributor to the technical
press, has also been a backer and an "angel" for
various publications. This is perhaps the right place
at which to refer to the matter, as it belongs in the
list of his financial or commercial enterprises. Edison
sums up this chapter of his life very pithily. "I was
interested, as a telegrapher, in journalism, and started
the Telegraph Journal, and got out about a dozen
numbers when it was taken over by W. J. Johnston,
who afterward founded the Electrical World on it as
an offshoot from the Operator. I also started Science,
and ran it for a year and a half. It cost me too much
money to maintain, and I sold it to Gardiner Hubbard,
the father-in-law of Alexander Graham Bell.
He carried it along for years." Both these papers are
still in prosperous existence, particularly the Electrical
World, as the recognized exponent of electrical
development in America, where now the public spends
as much annually for electricity as it does for daily
bread.

From all that has been said above it will be understood
that Edison's real and remarkable capacity for
business does not lie in ability to "take care of himself,"
nor in the direction of routine office practice,
nor even in ordinary administrative affairs. In short,
he would and does regard it as a foolish waste of his
time to give attention to the mere occupancy of a
desk.

His commercial strength manifests itself rather in
the outlining of matters relating to organization and
broad policy with a sagacity arising from a shrewd
perception and appreciation of general business
requirements and conditions, to which should be added
his intensely comprehensive grasp of manufacturing
possibilities and details, and an unceasing vigilance
in devising means of improving the quality of products
and increasing the economy of their manufacture.

Like other successful commanders, Edison also possesses
the happy faculty of choosing suitable lieutenants
to carry out his policies and to manage the
industries he has created, such, for instance, as those
with which this chapter has to deal--namely, the
phonograph, motion picture, primary battery, and
storage battery enterprises.

The Portland cement business has already been
dealt with separately, and although the above remarks
are appropriate to it also, Edison being its head and
informing spirit, the following pages are intended to
be devoted to those industries that are grouped around
the laboratory at Orange, and that may be taken as
typical of Edison's methods on the manufacturing side.

Within a few months after establishing himself at
the present laboratory, in 1887, Edison entered upon
one of those intensely active periods of work that
have been so characteristic of his methods in
commercializing his other inventions. In this case his
labors were directed toward improving the phonograph
so as to put it into thoroughly practicable
form, capable of ordinary use by the public at large.
The net result of this work was the general type of
machine of which the well-known phonograph of today
is a refinement evolved through many years of
sustained experiment and improvement.

After a considerable period of strenuous activity
in the eighties, the phonograph and its wax records
were developed to a sufficient degree of perfection to
warrant him in making arrangements for their manufacture
and commercial introduction. At this time
the surroundings of the Orange laboratory were
distinctly rural in character. Immediately adjacent to
the main building and the four smaller structures,
constituting the laboratory plant, were grass meadows
that stretched away for some considerable distance
in all directions, and at its back door, so to
speak, ducks paddled around and quacked in a pond
undisturbed. Being now ready for manufacturing,
but requiring more facilities, Edison increased his
real-estate holdings by purchasing a large tract of
land lying contiguous to what he already owned. At
one end of the newly acquired land two unpretentious
brick structures were erected, equipped with first-
class machinery, and put into commission as shops
for manufacturing phonographs and their record
blanks; while the capacious hall forming the third
story of the laboratory, over the library, was fitted
up and used as a music-room where records were
made.

Thus the modern Edison phonograph made its
modest debut in 1888, in what was then called the
"Improved" form to distinguish it from the original
style of machine he invented in 1877, in which the
record was made on a sheet of tin-foil held in place
upon a metallic cylinder. The "Improved" form is
the general type so well known for many years and
sold at the present day--viz., the spring or electric
motor-driven machine with the cylindrical wax record--in
fact, the regulation Edison phonograph.

It did not take a long time to find a market for the
products of the newly established factory, for a world-
wide public interest in the machine had been created
by the appearance of newspaper articles from time
to time, announcing the approaching completion by
Edison of his improved phonograph. The original
(tin-foil) machine had been sufficient to illustrate the
fact that the human voice and other sounds could
be recorded and reproduced, but such a type
of machine had sharp limitations in general use;
hence the coming into being of a type that any
ordinary person could handle was sufficient of itself
to insure a market. Thus the demand for the new
machines and wax records grew apace as the corporations
organized to handle the business extended their
lines. An examination of the newspaper files of the
years 1888, 1889, and 1890 will reveal the great
excitement caused by the bringing out of the new
phonograph, and how frequently and successfully it
was employed in public entertainments, either for
the whole or part of an evening. In this and other
ways it became popularized to a still further extent.
This led to the demand for a nickel-in-the-slot
machine, which, when established, became immensely
popular over the whole country. In its earlier forms
the "Improved" phonograph was not capable of
such general non-expert handling as is the machine
of the present day, and consequently there was a
constant endeavor on Edison's part to simplify the
construction of the machine and its manner of opera-
tion. Experimentation was incessantly going on with
this in view, and in the processes of evolution changes
were made here and there that resulted in a still greater
measure of perfection.

In various ways there was a continual slow and
steady growth of the industry thus created, necessitating
the erection of many additional buildings as the
years passed by. During part of the last decade
there was a lull, caused mostly from the failure of
corporate interests to carry out their contract relations
with Edison, and he was thereby compelled to
resort to legal proceedings, at the end of which he
bought in the outstanding contracts and assumed
command of the business personally.

Being thus freed from many irksome restrictions
that had hung heavily upon him, Edison now proceeded
to push the phonograph business under a
broader policy than that which obtained under his
previous contractual relations. With the ever-increasing
simplification and efficiency of the machine
and a broadening of its application, the results of this
policy were manifested in a still more rapid growth
of the business that necessitated further additions to
the manufacturing plant. And thus matters went on
until the early part of the present decade, when the
factory facilities were becoming so rapidly outgrown
as to render radical changes necessary. It
was in these circumstances that Edison's sagacity and
breadth of business capacity came to the front. With
characteristic boldness and foresight he planned the
erection of the series of magnificent concrete buildings
that now stand adjacent to and around the
laboratory, and in which the manufacturing plant is
at present housed.

There was no narrowness in his views in designing
these buildings, but, on the contrary, great faith in
the future, for his plans included not only the phonograph
industry, but provided also for the coming
development of motion pictures and of the primary
and storage battery enterprises.

In the aggregate there are twelve structures (including
the administration building), of which six
are of imposing dimensions, running from 200 feet
long by 50 feet wide to 440 feet in length by 115 feet
in width, all these larger buildings, except one, being
five stories in height. They are constructed entirely
of reinforced concrete with Edison cement, including
walls, floors, and stairways, thus eliminating fire
hazard to the utmost extent, and insuring a high
degree of protection, cleanliness, and sanitation. As
fully three-fourths of the area of their exterior framework
consists of windows, an abundance of daylight
is secured. These many advantages, combined with
lofty ceilings on every floor, provide ideal conditions
for the thousands of working people engaged in this
immense plant.

In addition to these twelve concrete structures
there are a few smaller brick and wooden buildings on
the grounds, in which some special operations are
conducted. These, however, are few in number, and
at some future time will be concentrated in one or
more additional concrete buildings. It will afford a
clearer idea of the extent of the industries clustered
immediately around the laboratory when it is stated
that the combined floor space which is occupied by
them in all these buildings is equivalent in the aggregate
to over fourteen acres.

It would be instructive, but scarcely within the
scope of the narrative, to conduct the reader through
this extensive plant and see its many interesting
operations in detail. It must suffice, however, to
note its complete and ample equipment with modern
machinery of every kind applicable to the work;
its numerous (and some of them wonderfully ingenious)
methods, processes, machines, and tools
specially designed or invented for the manufacture
of special parts and supplemental appliances for the
phonograph or other Edison products; and also to
note the interesting variety of trades represented in
the different departments, in which are included
chemists, electricians, electrical mechanicians, machinists,
mechanics, pattern-makers, carpenters, cabinet-makers,
varnishers, japanners, tool-makers, lapidaries,
wax experts, photographic developers and
printers, opticians, electroplaters, furnacemen, and
others, together with factory experimenters and a
host of general employees, who by careful training
have become specialists and experts in numerous
branches of these industries.

Edison's plans for this manufacturing plant were
sufficiently well outlined to provide ample capacity
for the natural growth of the business; and although
that capacity (so far as phonographs is concerned)
has actually reached an output of over 6000 complete
phonographs PER WEEK, and upward of 130,000
molded records PER DAY--with a pay-roll embracing
over 3500 employees, including office force--and
amounting to about $45,000 per week--the limits of
production have not yet been reached.

The constant outpouring of products in such large
quantities bespeaks the unremitting activities of an
extensive and busy selling organization to provide
for their marketing and distribution. This important
department (the National Phonograph Company), in
all its branches, from president to office-boy, includes
about two hundred employees on its office pay-roll, and
makes its headquarters in the administration building,
which is one of the large concrete structures
above referred to. The policy of the company is to
dispose of its wares through regular trade channels
rather than to deal direct with the public, trusting
to local activity as stimulated by a liberal policy of
national advertising. Thus, there has been gradually
built up a very extensive business until at the present
time an enormous output of phonographs and records
is distributed to retail customers in the United
States and Canada through the medium of about
one hundred and fifty jobbers and over thirteen
thousand dealers. The Edison phonograph industry
thus organized is helped by frequent conventions of
this large commercial force.

Besides this, the National Phonograph Company
maintains a special staff for carrying on the business
with foreign countries. While the aggregate transactions
of this department are not as extensive as
those for the United States and Canada, they are of
considerable volume, as the foreign office distributes
in bulk a very large number of phonographs and rec-
ords to selling companies and agencies in Europe,
Asia, Australia, Japan, and, indeed, to all the countries
of the civilized world.[19] Like England's drumbeat,
the voice of the Edison phonograph is heard around
the world in undying strains throughout the twenty-
four hours.

[19] It may be of interest to the reader to note some parts of
the globe to which shipments of phonographs and records are made:

Samoan Islands
Falkland Islands
Siam
Corea
Crete Island
Paraguay
Chile
Canary Islands
Egypt
British East Africa
Cape Colony
Portuguese East Africa
Liberia
Java
Straits Settlements
Madagascar
Fanning Islands
New Zealand
French Indo-China
Morocco
Ecuador
Brazil
Madeira
South Africa
Azores
Manchuria
Ceylon
Sierra
Leone

In addition to the main manufacturing plant at
Orange, another important adjunct must not be forgotten,
and that is, the Recording Department in
New York City, where the master records are made
under the superintendence of experts who have
studied the intricacies of the art with Edison himself.
This department occupies an upper story in
a lofty building, and in its various rooms may be
seen and heard many prominent musicians, vocalists,
speakers, and vaudeville artists studiously and busily
engaged in making the original records, which are
afterward sent to Orange, and which, if approved by
the expert committee, are passed on to the proper
department for reproduction in large quantities.

When we consider the subject of motion pictures
we find a similarity in general business methods, for
while the projecting machines and copies of picture
films are made in quantity at the Orange works (just
as phonographs and duplicate records are so made),
the original picture, or film, like the master record,
is made elsewhere. There is this difference, however:
that, from the particular nature of the work, practically
ALL master records are made at one convenient
place, while the essential interest in SOME motion
pictures lies in the fact that they are taken in various
parts of the world, often under exceptional circumstances.
The "silent drama," however, calls also for
many representations which employ conventional
acting, staging, and the varied appliances of stage-
craft. Hence, Edison saw early the necessity of
providing a place especially devised and arranged for
the production of dramatic performances in pantomime.

It is a far cry from the crude structure of early
days--the "Black Maria" of 1891, swung around on
its pivot in the Orange laboratory yard--to the well-
appointed Edison theatres, or pantomime studios, in
New York City. The largest of these is located in
the suburban Borough of the Bronx, and consists of
a three-story-and-basement building of reinforced
concrete, in which are the offices, dressing-rooms,
wardrobe and property-rooms, library and developing
department. Contiguous to this building, and
connected with it, is the theatre proper, a large and
lofty structure whose sides and roof are of glass, and
whose floor space is sufficiently ample for six different
sets of scenery at one time, with plenty of room left
for a profusion of accessories, such as tables, chairs,
pianos, bunch-lights, search-lights, cameras, and a
host of varied paraphernalia pertaining to stage
effects.

The second Edison theatre, or studio, is located
not far from the shopping district in New York City.
In all essential features, except size and capacity, it
is a duplicate of the one in the Bronx, of which it
is a supplement.

To a visitor coming on the floor of such a theatre
for the first time there is a sense of confusion in
beholding the heterogeneous "sets" of scenery and the
motley assemblage of characters represented in the
various plays in the process of "taking," or rehearsal.
While each set constitutes virtually a separate stage,
they are all on the same floor, without wings or
proscenium-arches, and separated only by a few feet.
Thus, for instance, a Japanese house interior may be
seen cheek by jowl with an ordinary prison cell,
flanked by a mining-camp, which in turn stands next
to a drawing-room set, and in each a set of appropriate
characters in pantomimic motion. The action
is incessant, for in any dramatic representation
intended for the motion-picture film every second
counts.

The production of several completed plays per
week necessitates the employment of a considerable
staff of people of miscellaneous trades and abilities.
At each of these two studios there is employed a
number of stage-directors, scene-painters, carpenters,
property-men, photographers, costumers, electricians,
clerks, and general assistants, besides a capable stock
company of actors and actresses, whose generous num-
bers are frequently augmented by the addition of a
special star, or by a number of extra performers, such
as Rough Riders or other specialists. It may be,
occasionally, that the exigencies of the occasion require
the work of a performing horse, dog, or other animal.
No matter what the object required may be, whether
animate or inanimate, if it is necessary for the play
it is found and pressed into service.

These two studios, while separated from the main
plant, are under the same general management, and
their original negative films are forwarded as made
to the Orange works, where the large copying department
is located in one of the concrete buildings.
Here, after the film has been passed upon by a committee,
a considerable number of positive copies are
made by ingenious processes, and after each one is
separately tested, or "run off," in one or other of the
three motion-picture theatres in the building, they
are shipped out to film exchanges in every part of
the country. How extensive this business has become
may be appreciated when it is stated that at
the Orange plant there are produced at this time
over eight million feet of motion-picture film per
year. And Edison's company is only one of many
producers.

Another of the industries at the Orange works is
the manufacture of projecting kinetoscopes, by means
of which the motion pictures are shown. While this
of itself is also a business of considerable magnitude
in its aggregate yearly transactions, it calls for no
special comment in regard to commercial production,
except to note that a corps of experimenters is con-
stantly employed refining and perfecting details of
the machine. Its basic features of operation as conceived
by Edison remain unchanged.

On coming to consider the Edison battery enterprises,
we must perforce extend the territorial view to
include a special chemical-manufacturing plant, which
is in reality a branch of the laboratory and the Orange
works, although actually situated about three miles
away.

Both the primary and the storage battery employ
certain chemical products as essential parts of their
elements, and indeed owe their very existence to the
peculiar preparation and quality of such products, as
exemplified by Edison's years of experimentation and
research. Hence the establishment of his own chemical
works at Silver Lake, where, under his personal
supervision, the manufacture of these products is carried
on in charge of specially trained experts. At the
present writing the plant covers about seven acres
of ground; but there is ample room for expansion,
as Edison, with wise forethought, secured over forty
acres of land, so as to be prepared for developments.

Not only is the Silver Lake works used for the
manufacture of the chemical substances employed in
the batteries, but it is the plant at which the Edison
primary battery is wholly assembled and made up
for distribution to customers. This in itself is a
business of no small magnitude, having grown steadily
on its merits year by year until it has now arrived at
a point where its sales run into the hundreds of
thousands of cells per annum, furnished largely to the
steam railroads of the country for their signal service.

As to the storage battery, the plant at Silver Lake
is responsible only for the production of the chemical
compounds, nickel-hydrate and iron oxide, which enter
into its construction. All the mechanical parts, the
nickel plating, the manufacture of nickel flake, the
assembling and testing, are carried on at the Orange
works in two of the large concrete buildings above
referred to. A visit to this part of the plant reveals an
amazing fertility of resourcefulness and ingenuity in the
devising of the special machines and appliances employed
in constructing the mechanical parts of these
cells, for it is practically impossible to fashion them
by means of machinery and tools to be found in the
open market, notwithstanding the immense variety
that may be there obtained.

Since Edison completed his final series of investigations
on his storage battery and brought it to its
present state of perfection, the commercial values
have increased by leaps and bounds. The battery,
as it was originally put out some years ago, made for
itself an enviable reputation; but with its improved
form there has come a vast increase of business.
Although the largest of the concrete buildings where
its manufacture is carried on is over four hundred
feet long and four stories in height, it has already
become necessary to plan extensions and enlargements
of the plant in order to provide for the production
of batteries to fill the present demands. It
was not until the summer of 1909 that Edison was
willing to pronounce the final verdict of satisfaction
with regard to this improved form of storage battery;
but subsequent commercial results have justified his
judgment, and it is not too much to predict that in
all probability the business will assume gigantic
proportions within a very few years. At the present
time (1910) the Edison storage-battery enterprise is
in its early stages of growth, and its status may be
compared with that of the electric-light system about
the year 1881.

There is one more industry, though of comparatively
small extent, that is included in the activities
of the Orange works, namely, the manufacture and
sale of the Bates numbering machine. This is a well-
known article of commerce, used in mercantile
establishments for the stamping of consecutive,
duplicate, and manifold numbers on checks and other
documents. It is not an invention of Edison, but
the organization owning it, together with the patent
rights, were acquired by him some years ago, and he
has since continued and enlarged the business both
in scope and volume, besides, of course, improving
and perfecting the apparatus itself. These machines
are known everywhere throughout the country, and
while the annual sales are of comparatively moderate
amount in comparison with the totals of the other
Edison industries at Orange, they represent in the
aggregate a comfortable and encouraging business.

In this brief outline review of the flourishing and
extensive commercial enterprises centred around the
Orange laboratory, the facts, it is believed, contain a
complete refutation of the idea that an inventor
cannot be a business man. They also bear abundant
evidence of the compatibility of these two widely
divergent gifts existing, even to a high degree, in the
same person. A striking example of the correctness
of this proposition is afforded in the present case,
when it is borne in mind that these various industries
above described (whose annual sales run into many
millions of dollars) owe not only their very creation
(except the Bates machine) and existence to Edison's
inventive originality and commercial initiative, but
also their continued growth and prosperity to his
incessant activities in dealing with their multifarious
business problems. In publishing a portrait of Edison
this year, one of the popular magazines placed under
it this caption: "Were the Age called upon to pay
Thomas A. Edison all it owes to him, the Age would
have to make an assignment." The present chapter
will have thrown some light on the idiosyncrasies of
Edison as financier and as manufacturer, and will
have shown that while the claim thus suggested may
be quite good, it will certainly never be pressed or
collected.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE VALUE OF EDISON'S INVENTIONS TO
THE WORLD

IF the world were to take an account of stock, so
to speak, and proceed in orderly fashion to marshal
its tangible assets in relation to dollars and
cents, the natural resources of our globe, from centre
to circumference, would head the list. Next would
come inventors, whose value to the world as an asset
could be readily estimated from an increase of its
wealth resulting from the actual transformations of
these resources into items of convenience and comfort
through the exercise of their inventive ingenuity.

Inventors of practical devices may be broadly divided
into two classes--first, those who may be said
to have made two blades of grass grow where only
one grew before; and, second, great inventors, who
have made grass grow plentifully on hitherto unproductive
ground. The vast majority of practical inventors
belong to and remain in the first of these
divisions, but there have been, and probably always
will be, a less number who, by reason of their greater
achievements, are entitled to be included in both
classes. Of these latter, Thomas Alva Edison is one,
but in the pages of history he stands conspicuously
pre-eminent--a commanding towering figure, even
among giants.

The activities of Edison have been of such great
range, and his conquests in the domains of practical
arts so extensive and varied, that it is somewhat
difficult to estimate with any satisfactory degree of
accuracy the money value of his inventions to the
world of to-day, even after making due allowance
for the work of other great inventors and the propulsive
effect of large amounts of capital thrown into
the enterprises which took root, wholly or in part,
through the productions of his genius and energies.
This difficulty will be apparent, for instance, when we
consider his telegraph and telephone inventions.
These were absorbed in enterprises already existing,
and were the means of assisting their rapid growth
and expansion, particularly the telephone industry.
Again, in considering the fact that Edison was one
of the first in the field to design and perfect a practical
and operative electric railway, the main features
of which are used in all electric roads of to-day, we are
confronted with the problem as to what proportion of
their colossal investment and earnings should be
ascribed to him.

Difficulties are multiplied when we pause for a
moment to think of Edison's influence on collateral
branches of business. In the public mind he is
credited with the invention of the incandescent electric
light, the phonograph, and other widely known
devices; but how few realize his actual influence on
other trades that are not generally thought of in connection
with these things. For instance, let us note
what a prominent engine builder, the late Gardiner
C. Sims, has said: "Watt, Corliss, and Porter brought
forward steam-engines to a high state of proficiency,
yet it remained for Mr. Edison to force better proportions,
workmanship, designs, use of metals, regulation,
the solving of the complex problems of high
speed and endurance, and the successful development
of the shaft governor. Mr. Edison is pre-
eminent in the realm of engineering."

The phenomenal growth of the copper industry was
due to a rapid and ever-increasing demand, owing to
the exploitation of the telephone, electric light, electric
motor, and electric railway industries. Without
these there might never have been the romance of
"Coppers" and the rise and fall of countless fortunes.
And although one cannot estimate in definite figures
the extent of Edison's influence in the enormous increase
of copper production, it is to be remembered
that his basic inventions constitute a most important
factor in the demand for the metal. Besides, one
must also give him the credit, as already noted, for
having recognized the necessity for a pure quality of
copper for electric conductors, and for his persistence
in having compelled the manufacturers of that period
to introduce new and additional methods of refinement
so as to bring about that result, which is now
a sine qua non.

Still considering his influence on other staples and
collateral trades, let us enumerate briefly and in a
general manner some of the more important and additional
ones that have been not merely stimulated,
but in many cases the business and sales have been
directly increased and new arts established through
the inventions of this one man--namely, iron, steel,
brass, zinc, nickel, platinum ($5 per ounce in 1878,
now $26 an ounce), rubber, oils, wax, bitumen, various
chemical compounds, belting, boilers, injectors, structural
steel, iron tubing, glass, silk, cotton, porcelain,
fine woods, slate, marble, electrical measuring instruments,
miscellaneous machinery, coal, wire, paper,
building materials, sapphires, and many others.

The question before us is, To what extent has
Edison added to the wealth of the world by his
inventions and his energy and perseverance? It will
be noted from the foregoing that no categorical answer
can be offered to such a question, but sufficient material
can be gathered from a statistical review of the
commercial arts directly influenced to afford an
approximate idea of the increase in national wealth that
has been affected by or has come into being through
the practical application of his ideas.

First of all, as to inventions capable of fairly definite
estimate, let us mention the incandescent electric
light and systems of distribution of electric light,
heat, and power, which may justly be considered as
the crowning inventions of Edison's life. Until October
21, 1879, there was nothing in existence resembling
our modern incandescent lamp. On that date,
as we have seen in a previous chapter, Edison's labors
culminated in his invention of a practical incandescent
electric lamp embodying absolutely all the essentials
of the lamp of to-day, thus opening to the
world the doors of a new art and industry. To-day
there are in the United States more than 41,000,000
of these lamps, connected to existing central-station
circuits in active operation.

Such circuits necessarily imply the existence of
central stations with their equipment. Until the
beginning of 1882 there were only a few arc-lighting
stations in existence for the limited distribution of
current. At the present time there are over 6000
central stations in this country for the distribution
of electric current for light, heat, and power, with
capital obligations amounting to not less than
$1,000,000,000. Besides the above-named 41,000,000
incandescent lamps connected to their mains, there are
about 500,000 arc lamps and 150,000 motors, using
750,000 horse-power, besides countless fan motors
and electric heating and cooking appliances.

When it is stated that the gross earnings of these
central stations approximate the sum of $225,000,000
yearly, the significant import of these statistics of
an art that came so largely from Edison's laboratory
about thirty years ago will undoubtedly be apparent.

But the above are not by any means all the facts
relating to incandescent electric lighting in the United
States, for in addition to central stations there are
upward of 100,000 isolated or private plants in mills,
factories, steamships, hotels, theatres, etc., owned by
the persons or concerns who operate them. These
plants represent an approximate investment of
$500,000,000, and the connection of not less than
25,000,000 incandescent lamps or their equivalent.

Then there are the factories where these incandescent
lamps are made, about forty in number, repre-
sensing a total investment that may be approximated
at $25,000,000. It is true that many of these factories
are operated by other than the interests which
came into control of the Edison patents (General
Electric Company), but the 150,000,000 incandescent
electric lamps now annually made are broadly covered
in principle by Edison's fundamental ideas and
patents.

It will be noted that these figures are all in round
numbers, but they are believed to be well within the
mark, being primarily founded upon the special reports
of the Census Bureau issued in 1902 and 1907,
with the natural increase from that time computed
by experts who are in position to obtain the facts.
It would be manifestly impossible to give exact figures
of such a gigantic and swiftly moving industry,
whose totals increase from week to week.

The reader will naturally be disposed to ask whether
it is intended to claim that Edison has brought about
all this magnificent growth of the electric-lighting
art. The answer to this is decidedly in the negative,
for the fact is that he laid some of the foundation
and erected a building thereon, and in the natural
progressive order of things other inventors of more
or less fame have laid substructures or added a wing
here and a story there until the resultant great structure
has attained such proportions as to evoke the
admiration of the beholder; but the old foundation
and the fundamental building still remain to support
other parts. In other words, Edison created the
incandescent electric lamp, and invented certain
broad and fundamental systems of distribution of
current, with all the essential devices of detail necessary
for successful operation. These formed a foundation.
He also spent great sums of money and devoted
several years of patient labor in the early
practical exploitation of the dynamo and central
station and isolated plants, often under, adverse and
depressing circumstances, with a dogged determination
that outlived an opposition steadily threatening
defeat. These efforts resulted in the firm commercial
establishment of modern electric lighting. It is true
that many important inventions of others have a
distinguished place in the art as it is exploited today,
but the fact remains that the broad essentials,
such as the incandescent lamp, systems of distribution,
and some important details, are not only universally
used, but are as necessary to-day for successful
commercial practice as they were when Edison
invented them many years ago.

The electric railway next claims our consideration,
but we are immediately confronted by a difficulty
which seems insurmountable when we attempt to
formulate any definite estimate of the value and
influence of Edison's pioneer work and inventions.
There is one incontrovertible fact--namely, that he
was the first man to devise, construct, and operate
from a central station a practicable, life-size electric
railroad, which was capable of transporting and did
transport passengers and freight at variable speeds
over varying grades, and under complete control
of the operator. These are the essential elements
in all electric railroading of the present day; but
while Edison's original broad ideas are embodied
in present practice, the perfection of the modern electric
railway is greatly due to the labors and inventions
of a large number of other well-known inventors.
There was no reason why Edison could not have continued
the commercial development of the electric
railway after he had helped to show its practicability
in 1880, 1881, and 1882, just as he had completed his
lighting system, had it not been that his financial
allies of the period lacked faith in the possibilities of
electric railroads, and therefore declined to furnish
the money necessary for the purpose of carrying on
the work.

With these facts in mind, we shall ask the reader
to assign to Edison a due proportion of credit for his
pioneer and basic work in relation to the prodigious
development of electric railroading that has since
taken place. The statistics of 1908 for American
street and elevated railways show that within twenty-
five years the electric-railway industry has grown to
embrace 38,812 miles of track on streets and for
elevated railways, operated under the ownership of
1238 separate companies, whose total capitalization
amounted to the enormous sum of $4,123,834,598. In
the equipments owned by such companies there are
included 68,636 electric cars and 17,568 trailers and
others, making a total of 86,204 of such vehicles.
These cars and equipments earned over $425,000,000
in 1907, in giving the public transportation, at a cost,
including transfers, of a little over three cents per
passenger, for whom a fifteen-mile ride would be
possible. It is the cheapest transportation in the
world.

Some mention should also be made of the great
electrical works of the country, in which the dynamos,
motors, and other varied paraphernalia are made for
electric lighting, electric railway, and other purposes.
The largest of these works is undoubtedly that of the
General Electric Company at Schenectady, New York,
a continuation and enormous enlargement of the
shops which Edison established there in 1886. This
plant at the present time embraces over 275 acres,
of which sixty acres are covered by fifty large and
over one hundred small buildings; besides which the
company also owns other large plants elsewhere,
representing a total investment approximating the sum
of $34,850,000 up to 1908. The productions of the
General Electric Company alone average annual sales
of nearly $75,000,000, but they do not comprise
the total of the country's manufactures in these
lines.

Turning our attention now to the telephone, we
again meet a condition that calls for thoughtful
consideration before we can properly appreciate how
much the growth of this industry owes to Edison's
inventive genius. In another place there has already
been told the story of the telephone, from which we
have seen that to Alexander Graham Bell is due the
broad idea of transmission of speech by means of an
electrical circuit; also that he invented appropriate
instruments and devices through which he accomplished
this result, although not to that extent which
gave promise of any great commercial practicability
for the telephone as it then existed. While the art
was in this inefficient condition, Edison went to work
on the subject, and in due time, as we have already
learned, invented and brought out the carbon transmitter,
which is universally acknowledged to have
been the needed device that gave to the telephone
the element of commercial practicability, and has
since led to its phenomenally rapid adoption and
world-wide use. It matters not that others were
working in the same direction, Edison was legally
adjudicated to have been the first to succeed in point
of time, and his inventions were put into actual use,
and may be found in principle in every one of the
7,000,000 telephones which are estimated to be employed
in the country at the present day. Basing
the statements upon facts shown by the Census reports
of 1902 and 1907, and adding thereto the growth
of the industry since that time, we find on a conservative
estimate that at this writing the investment has
been not less than $800,000,000 in now existing telephone
systems, while no fewer than 10,500,000,000
talks went over the lines during the year 1908. These
figures relate only to telephone systems, and do not
include any details regarding the great manufacturing
establishments engaged in the construction of
telephone apparatus, of which there is a production
amounting to at least $15,000,000 per annum.

Leaving the telephone, let us now turn our attention
to the telegraph, and endeavor to show as best we can
some idea of the measure to which it has been affected
by Edison's inventions. Although, as we have seen
in a previous part of this book, his earliest fame arose
from his great practical work in telegraphic inventions
and improvements, there is no way in which any
definite computation can be made of the value of his
contributions in the art except, perhaps, in the case
of his quadruplex, through which alone it is estimated
that there has been saved from $15,000,000 to $20,000,000
in the cost of line construction in this country.
If this were the only thing that he had ever accomplished,
it would entitle him to consideration as an
inventor of note. The quadruplex, however, has
other material advantages, but how far they and the
natural growth of the business have contributed to
the investment and earnings of the telegraph companies,
is beyond practicable computation.

It would, perhaps, be interesting to speculate upon
what might have been the growth of the telegraph
and the resultant benefit to the community had
Edison's automatic telegraph inventions been allowed
to take their legitimate place in the art, but we shall
not allow ourselves to indulge in flights of fancy, as
the value of this chapter rests not upon conjecture,
but only upon actual fact. Nor shall we attempt
to offer any statistics regarding Edison's numerous
inventions relating to telegraphs and kindred devices,
such as stock tickers, relays, magnets, rheotomes,
repeaters, printing telegraphs, messenger calls, etc.,
on which he was so busily occupied as an inventor
and manufacturer during the ten years that
began with January, 1869. The principles of many
of these devices are still used in the arts, but have
become so incorporated in other devices as to be
inseparable, and cannot now be dealt with
separately. To show what they mean, however, it
might be noted that New York City alone has 3000
stock "tickers," consuming 50,000 miles of record
tape every year.

Turning now to other important arts and industries
which have been created by Edison's inventions, and
in which he is at this time taking an active personal
interest, let us visit Orange, New Jersey. When his
present laboratory was nearing completion in 1887, he
wrote to Mr. J. Hood Wright, a partner in the firm of
Drexel, Morgan & Co.: "My ambition is to build up a
great industrial works in the Orange Valley, starting
in a small way and gradually working up."

In this plant, which represents an investment
approximating the sum of $4,000,000, are grouped a
number of industrial enterprises of which Edison is
either the sole or controlling owner and the guiding
spirit. These enterprises are the National Phonograph
Company, the Edison Business Phonograph
Company, the Edison Phonograph Works, the Edison
Manufacturing Company, the Edison Storage Battery
Company, and the Bates Manufacturing Company.
The importance of these industries will be apparent
when it is stated that at this plant the maximum
pay-roll shows the employment of over 4200
persons, with annual earnings in salaries and wages
of more than $2,750,000.

In considering the phonograph in its commercial
aspect, and endeavoring to arrive at some idea of the
world's estimate of the value of this invention, we
feel the ground more firm under our feet, for Edison
has in later years controlled its manufacture and sale.
It will be remembered that the phonograph lay dormant,
commercially speaking, for about ten years
after it came into being, and then later invention reduced
it to a device capable of more popular utility.
A few years of rather unsatisfactory commercial
experience brought about a reorganization, through
which Edison resumed possession of the business. It
has since been continued under his general direction
and ownership, and he has made a great many additional
inventions tending to improve the machine
in all its parts.

The uses made of the phonograph up to this time
have been of four kinds, generally speaking--first,
and principally, for amusement; second, for instruction
in languages; third, for business, in the dictation
of correspondence; and fourth, for sentimental reasons
in preserving the voices of friends. No separate
figures are available to show the extent of its
employment in the second and fourth classes, as they
are probably included in machines coming under the
first subdivision. Under this head we find that there
have been upward of 1,310,000 phonographs sold
during the last twenty years, with and for which there
have been made and sold no fewer than 97,845,000
records of a musical or other character. Phonographic
records are now being manufactured at
Orange at the rate of 75,000 a day, the annual sale
of phonographs and records being approximately
$7,000,000, including business phonographs. This
does not include blank records, of which large numbers
have also been supplied to the public.

The adoption of the business phonograph has not
been characterized by the unanimity that obtained
in the case of the one used merely for amusement, as
its use involves some changes in methods that business
men are slow to adopt until they realize the resulting
convenience and economy. Although it is
only a few years since the business phonograph has
begun to make some headway, it is not difficult to
appreciate that Edison's prediction in 1878 as to the
value of such an appliance is being realized, when
we find that up to this time the sales run up to 12,695
in number. At the present time the annual sales of
the business phonographs and supplies, cylinders, etc.,
are not less than $350,000.

We must not forget that the basic patent of Edison
on the phonograph has long since expired, thus throwing
open to the world the wonderful art of reproducing
human speech and other sounds. The world was
not slow to take advantage of the fact, hence there
are in the field numerous other concerns in the same
business. It is conservatively estimated by those
who know the trade and are in position to form
an opinion, that the figures above given represent
only about one-half of the entire business of the
country in phonographs, records, cylinders, and
supplies.

Taking next his inventions that pertain to a more
recently established but rapidly expanding branch
of business that provides for the amusement of the
public, popularly known as "motion pictures," we
also find a general recognition of value created. Referring
the reader to a previous chapter for a discussion
of Edison's standing as a pioneer inventor in
this art, let us glance at the commercial proportions
of this young but lusty business, whose ramifications
extend to all but the most remote and primitive hamlets
of our country.

The manufacture of the projecting machines and
accessories, together with the reproduction of films,
is carried on at the Orange Valley plant, and from the
inception of the motion-picture business to the present
time there have been made upward of 16,000
projecting machines and many million feet of films
carrying small photographs of moving objects. Although
the motion-picture business, as a commercial
enterprise, is still in its youth, it is of sufficient
moment to call for the annual production of thousands
of machines and many million feet of films in Edison's
shops, having a sale value of not less than $750,000.
To produce the originals from which these Edison
films are made, there have been established two
"studios," the largest of which is in the Bronx, New
York City.

In this, as well as in the phonograph business, there
are many other manufacturers in the field. Indeed,
the annual product of the Edison Manufacturing
Company in this line is only a fractional part of the
total that is absorbed by the 8000 or more motion-
picture theatres and exhibitions that are in operation
in the United States at the present time,
and which represent an investment of some $45,000,000.
Licensees under Edison patents in this
country alone produce upward of 60,000,000 feet of
films annually, containing more than a billion and
a half separate photographs. To what extent the
motion-picture business may grow in the not remote
future it is impossible to conjecture, for it has taken
a place in the front rank of rapidly increasing enterprises.

The manufacture and sale of the Edison-Lalande
primary battery, conducted by the Edison Manufacturing
Company at the Orange Valley plant, is a
business of no mean importance. Beginning about
twenty years ago with a battery that, without polarizing,
would furnish large currents specially adapted
for gas-engine ignition and other important purposes,
the business has steadily grown in magnitude until
the present output amounts to about 125,000 cells
annually; the total number of cells put into the
hands of the public up to date being approximately
1,500,000. It will be readily conceded that to most
men this alone would be an enterprise of a lifetime,
and sufficient in itself to satisfy a moderate ambition.
But, although it has yielded a considerable profit to
Edison and gives employment to many people, it is
only one of the many smaller enterprises that owe
an existence to his inventive ability and commercial
activity.

So it also is in regard to the mimeograph, whose
forerunner, the electric pen, was born of Edison's
brain in 1877. He had been long impressed by the
desirability of the rapid production of copies of written
documents, and, as we have seen by a previous
chapter, he invented the electric pen for this purpose,
only to improve upon it later with a more desirable
device which he called the mimeograph, that is in
use, in various forms, at this time. Although the
electric pen had a large sale and use in its time, the
statistics relating to it are not available. The mimeo-
graph, however, is, and has been for many years, a
standard office appliance, and is entitled to consideration,
as the total number put into use up to this
time is approximately 180,000, valued at $3,500,000,
while the annual output is in the neighborhood of
9000 machines, sold for about $150,000, besides the
vast quantity of special paper and supplies which its
use entails in the production of the many millions of
facsimile letters and documents. The extent of production
and sale of supplies for the mimeograph may
be appreciated when it is stated that they bring
annually an equivalent of three times the amount
realized from sales of machines. The manufacture
and sale of the mimeograph does not come within the
enterprises conducted under Edison's personal direction,
as he sold out the whole thing some years ago
to Mr. A. B. Dick, of Chicago.

In making a somewhat radical change of subject,
from duplicating machines to cement, we find ourselves
in a field in which Edison has made a most
decided impression. The reader has already learned
that his entry into this field was, in a manner,
accidental, although logically in line with pronounced
convictions of many years' standing, and following up
the fund of knowledge gained in the magnetic ore-milling
business. From being a new-comer in the cement
business, his corporation in five years has grown to be
the fifth largest producer in the United States, with
a still increasing capacity. From the inception of
this business there has been a steady and rapid
development, resulting in the production of a grand
total of over 7,300,000 barrels of cement up to the
present date, having a value of about $6,000,000,
exclusive of package. At the time of this writing,
the rate of production is over 8000 barrels of cement
per day, or, say, 2,500,000 barrels per year, having an
approximate selling value of a little less than $2,000,000,
with prospects of increasing in the near future
to a daily output of 10,000 barrels. This enterprise
is carried on by a corporation called the Edison
Portland Cement Company, in which he is very largely
interested, and of which he is the active head and
guiding spirit.