Jack Kelly writer
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WIRED
(Dutchess Magazine, January 2004)
On a chilly March night in 1886 an engineer in Great
Barrington, Massachusetts, fired up a 25-horsepower
steam engine and sent 500 volts of electricity down a
network of wires strung from the town’s stately elms. A
store in the middle of the village burst into brilliance, “as
light as noon-day.” The Saturday-night crowd was
dazzled. “Townspeople, though very skeptical as to the
danger to be encountered when going near the lights,
rejoiced.”
They had good reason to celebrate – they had witnessed
the dawn of a new era. In all the millennia of human
existence, artificial light had always come from fire –
candles, oil lamps, flaming coal gas. Now suddenly there
was an alternative -- the bright, silent, steady light of
electric bulbs.
This past summer we in the Northeast got a brief taste of
life without electric power. The cause of the blackout left
even the experts scratching their heads. All we laypersons
could learn was that the system that delivers our power is
pretty darn complicated.
If the outage didn’t get you thinking about how a turbine
spinning at Niagara Falls can provide power for your
Christmas lights in Millbrook, Jill Jonnes’ fascinating new
book Empires of Light (Random House $27.95) will. The
introduction of electricity into the world was not just a
technical achievement, it also entailed a tooth-and-claw
struggle over how the wondrous new power should be
distributed.
The electricity that pulsed through the lines in Great
Barrington was the debut of the system that eventually won
out: the alternating current advocated by the Pittsburgh
inventor and businessman George Westinghouse.
Alternating current had the tremendous advantage that
engineers could generate it at high voltage, transmitted it
efficiently, then step it down to a usable level with
transformers. Direct current could only be sent about half
a mile from its source. Limited when supplying cities, it was
totally inadequate for powering an entire country. What
direct current had going for it was its safety and the fact
that it was backed by Thomas Edison, the revered pioneer
in the field. Edison held the patent on the light bulb, the
one essential component of any system.
Jonnes paints vivid portraits of these two inventive
virtuosos and details the struggle that would shape the
delivery of power far into the future. Edison had gotten a
head start and was providing private power systems for
wealthy home owners as early as 1882. Wilderstein, the
Suckeley mansion in Rhinecliff, was one of the first houses
in the Hudson Valley to be so equipped. The banker J.P.
Morgan had his New York townhouse wired with an Edison
system, but the neighbors complained of the noise given
off by the engine that ran the generator.
Westinghouse countered the wizard of Menlo Park by
hiring the Serbian inventor Nikola Tesla. Tesla’s brilliance
was matched his eccentricities. He disliked shaking hands
because of a germ phobia. He had an aversion to women’
s earrings; the sight of a peach sent him into a fever. He
counted his steps as he walked around New York and
loved to recite Serbian poetry from memory.
Tesla had a much deeper understanding of electricity than
Edison, whose experiments involved endless trial and error
unguided by theory. “Everything is so new that each step
is in the dark,” Edison said in 1880. Yet it was Edison who
managed to produce the practical bulb that set the
industry rolling.
The excitement of uncovering an entirely new form of
power spurred both men to feverish activity. Tesla rarely
slept more than two hours a night. Edison made do with a
cat nap on a laboratory bench. He often skipped meals,
living on a diet of apple pie as he pursued his experiments.
With fortunes at stake, the “War of the Currents” became a
hard-fought battle. Westinghouse won the contract to light
the spectacular Chicago world’s fair in 1893, but he had to
come up with a new light bulb to avoid infringing on Edison’
s patent. Meanwhile, Edison beat the drum about the
dangers of alternating current. He even supported the use
of electricity as a method of executing criminals in order to
underline the lethal nature of AC.
All to no avail. Westinghouse’s system allowed electricity
to be transmitted long distances with much less loss of
power. He established the huge generating plant at
Niagara Falls, which began supplying juice in 1896.
Alternating current won the day.
To add insult to injury, financiers led by Morgan forced
Edison out of his own company, which dropped his name
and became simply General Electric. Earlier, Edison had
tired of dealing with workers’ demands for relief from a ten-
hour day. He had moved his factory from New York to
remote Schenectady, thereby avoiding “strikes and
communists.” Embittered by the treatment he received
from the money men, he abandoned electrical work
altogether.
The 1890s had its share of robber barons, but the giants
of electricity were not among them. “I want none of the rich
man’s toys,” Edison declared. “What I want is a perfect
workshop.” Westinghouse scornfully rejected profitable
deals that would have cheated his shareholders.
Edison continued his inventing, accumulating 1,093
patents before he died in 1931, still the most by any
American. Westinghouse “showed that an honest and
honorable entrepreneur could triumph.” His wish to
“contribute something to the welfare and happiness of my
fellow men,” was amply fulfilled as his system of electricity
spread to ever corner of the nation.
It was Tesla who plumbed most deeply the mysteries of the
new energy. “Electricity was in its infancy,” Jonnes says,
“and Tesla was destined to be its greatest explorer,
unveiling for the world the inner workings of a universe
pulsing with invisible energy.” The eccentric whose
imagination had made the electric miracle possible died
alone and broke in 1943. He “remains a brilliant but
enigmatic figure,” Jonnes says, “a scientist, inventor,
dreamer, and visionary.”
# # #
(Dutchess Magazine, January 2004)
On a chilly March night in 1886 an engineer in Great
Barrington, Massachusetts, fired up a 25-horsepower
steam engine and sent 500 volts of electricity down a
network of wires strung from the town’s stately elms. A
store in the middle of the village burst into brilliance, “as
light as noon-day.” The Saturday-night crowd was
dazzled. “Townspeople, though very skeptical as to the
danger to be encountered when going near the lights,
rejoiced.”
They had good reason to celebrate – they had witnessed
the dawn of a new era. In all the millennia of human
existence, artificial light had always come from fire –
candles, oil lamps, flaming coal gas. Now suddenly there
was an alternative -- the bright, silent, steady light of
electric bulbs.
This past summer we in the Northeast got a brief taste of
life without electric power. The cause of the blackout left
even the experts scratching their heads. All we laypersons
could learn was that the system that delivers our power is
pretty darn complicated.
If the outage didn’t get you thinking about how a turbine
spinning at Niagara Falls can provide power for your
Christmas lights in Millbrook, Jill Jonnes’ fascinating new
book Empires of Light (Random House $27.95) will. The
introduction of electricity into the world was not just a
technical achievement, it also entailed a tooth-and-claw
struggle over how the wondrous new power should be
distributed.
The electricity that pulsed through the lines in Great
Barrington was the debut of the system that eventually won
out: the alternating current advocated by the Pittsburgh
inventor and businessman George Westinghouse.
Alternating current had the tremendous advantage that
engineers could generate it at high voltage, transmitted it
efficiently, then step it down to a usable level with
transformers. Direct current could only be sent about half
a mile from its source. Limited when supplying cities, it was
totally inadequate for powering an entire country. What
direct current had going for it was its safety and the fact
that it was backed by Thomas Edison, the revered pioneer
in the field. Edison held the patent on the light bulb, the
one essential component of any system.
Jonnes paints vivid portraits of these two inventive
virtuosos and details the struggle that would shape the
delivery of power far into the future. Edison had gotten a
head start and was providing private power systems for
wealthy home owners as early as 1882. Wilderstein, the
Suckeley mansion in Rhinecliff, was one of the first houses
in the Hudson Valley to be so equipped. The banker J.P.
Morgan had his New York townhouse wired with an Edison
system, but the neighbors complained of the noise given
off by the engine that ran the generator.
Westinghouse countered the wizard of Menlo Park by
hiring the Serbian inventor Nikola Tesla. Tesla’s brilliance
was matched his eccentricities. He disliked shaking hands
because of a germ phobia. He had an aversion to women’
s earrings; the sight of a peach sent him into a fever. He
counted his steps as he walked around New York and
loved to recite Serbian poetry from memory.
Tesla had a much deeper understanding of electricity than
Edison, whose experiments involved endless trial and error
unguided by theory. “Everything is so new that each step
is in the dark,” Edison said in 1880. Yet it was Edison who
managed to produce the practical bulb that set the
industry rolling.
The excitement of uncovering an entirely new form of
power spurred both men to feverish activity. Tesla rarely
slept more than two hours a night. Edison made do with a
cat nap on a laboratory bench. He often skipped meals,
living on a diet of apple pie as he pursued his experiments.
With fortunes at stake, the “War of the Currents” became a
hard-fought battle. Westinghouse won the contract to light
the spectacular Chicago world’s fair in 1893, but he had to
come up with a new light bulb to avoid infringing on Edison’
s patent. Meanwhile, Edison beat the drum about the
dangers of alternating current. He even supported the use
of electricity as a method of executing criminals in order to
underline the lethal nature of AC.
All to no avail. Westinghouse’s system allowed electricity
to be transmitted long distances with much less loss of
power. He established the huge generating plant at
Niagara Falls, which began supplying juice in 1896.
Alternating current won the day.
To add insult to injury, financiers led by Morgan forced
Edison out of his own company, which dropped his name
and became simply General Electric. Earlier, Edison had
tired of dealing with workers’ demands for relief from a ten-
hour day. He had moved his factory from New York to
remote Schenectady, thereby avoiding “strikes and
communists.” Embittered by the treatment he received
from the money men, he abandoned electrical work
altogether.
The 1890s had its share of robber barons, but the giants
of electricity were not among them. “I want none of the rich
man’s toys,” Edison declared. “What I want is a perfect
workshop.” Westinghouse scornfully rejected profitable
deals that would have cheated his shareholders.
Edison continued his inventing, accumulating 1,093
patents before he died in 1931, still the most by any
American. Westinghouse “showed that an honest and
honorable entrepreneur could triumph.” His wish to
“contribute something to the welfare and happiness of my
fellow men,” was amply fulfilled as his system of electricity
spread to ever corner of the nation.
It was Tesla who plumbed most deeply the mysteries of the
new energy. “Electricity was in its infancy,” Jonnes says,
“and Tesla was destined to be its greatest explorer,
unveiling for the world the inner workings of a universe
pulsing with invisible energy.” The eccentric whose
imagination had made the electric miracle possible died
alone and broke in 1943. He “remains a brilliant but
enigmatic figure,” Jonnes says, “a scientist, inventor,
dreamer, and visionary.”
# # #