Tesla was pushed down at every turn. Because he wanted Free energy for all. Imagine no meters for all of your life.
The
guest speaker, astrophysicist Adam Trombly, seemed to have
choreographed his talk to lead to the moment. First he warmed up his
audience by praising their hero. He reminded them that Nikola Tesla was
the turn-of-the-century genius who fathered alternating
current technologies, radar, fluorescent tubes, and bladeless turbines.
Tesla also presented the first viable arguments for robots, rockets,
and particle beams.
If
society had followed up on the inventions Nikola Tesla envisioned at
the turn of the century as he rode in a carriage near what is now this
hotel, said Trombly,
“we
wouldn’t have a fossil-fuel economy today. And J. P. Morgan,
Rockefeller and a number of others wouldn’t have amassed extraordinary
fortunes on the basis of that fossil fuel economy.”
Trombly added that if Tesla’s vision had prevailed, we would be dipping into a clean and abundant energy, like taking water from the well of space.
After all, the theoretical basis for vacuum energy is now part of the physics literature:
. .
. Not just in the literature of the fringe; it’s been in Physical
Review since 1975, Review of Modern Physics since 1962, and in European
physics literature since the early 50s. Harold Puthoff in his May 1987
article in Physical Review D pointed out that in order for the hydrogen
atom in its ground state not to collapse, it had to be absorbing energy
from the vacuum.
The
astrophysicist saw this scientific work as further vindication of
Tesla. Trombly said that in the nineteenth century Tesla prophesied that
people would someday hook their machinery up to “the very wheelworks of
nature”—the energy of vacuum space.
Trombly noted that electrons themselves must spontaneously appear out of the background field of energy, or,
“we would have to invoke a rather Neanderthal concept that everything had its start in a certain moment.”
The speaker paused as if to let the audience catch his sarcasm, then added,
“because we have embraced this [Big Bang] cosmology for the last couple of decades, we have some real problems.”
In
contrast, Trombly said, a more advanced cosmology sees everything as a
modification of an energy-rich background field. Our physical bodies are
relatively insignificant modifications of that field. The field itself
has a potential energy equivalence, in grams, of 10-to-the-94th power
grams per cubic centimeter. The human body, in comparison, has a gram
equivalent of only about one gram per cubic centimeter.
That means that the background energy is 10 (wish 94 zeros after the ten) times more energy-rich than
our physical bodies.
our physical bodies.
It’s a lot of energy, Trombly said. Why not invent a pocket size device
which could tap a kilowatt of this space energy? It could “just kind of
scrape the surface, ever so slightly” of the 10-to-the-94th-power grams
per cubic centimeter supply of energy.
“That’s
what Nikola Tesla was scheduled to tell Franklin Delano Roosevelt in
1943. In 1943 he proposed to FDR that perhaps we should look carefully
at the fact that we can get all the energy we need from any space we
happen to be in.
“He didn’t show up for the meeting; he was found dead in his apartment— ‘natural causes.’”
The
speaker added quietly that despite the official statement on the cause
of death, then is some suspicion that Tesla’s paranoia about what he ate
was more premonition than paranoia. Trombly then related an incident
which fueled this suspicion. He had given a speech at the University of
Toronto, Canada, for the 1981 conference on Non-Conventional Energy.
Afterward,
an older gentleman with a heavy New York accent came up to Trombly and
said he had been a detective at the time Nikola Tesla was found dead,
and had been involved in the investigation. The old man had produced
vintage credentials to show Trombly that he had indeed been a detective.
The man appeared to be old enough to have been an adult in 1943.
In a soft voice Trombly said that the old man had said that,
“for national security reasons no one was to know that the coroner’s report showed that Tesla was poisoned.”
A
shocked silence descended on the Colorado Springs meeting room when the
Tesla Society heard this, coming from a physicist who would not lightly
risk his reputation by relating such a story. The silence lifted as the
audience honored Trombly with applause at the end of his speech.
To understand why Tesla’s story—the life of a dead inventor—can so grip the emotions of yet another generation of technophiles, we need to look at some highlights.
Tesla
was a witty, elegantly-dressed loner, at the height of his fame in the
late 1800s when the world knew he had invented the whole system of
alternating current (AC) electrical generation and distribution which
lit up the cities. But that was barely the beginning of his
productivity.
Born
in 1856 in the rural village of Smiljan in what became Yugoslavia,
Nikola Tesla in his boyhood went from the highs of mystical communion
with nature to the lows of suffering with cholera and the loss of his
older brother. His father was a minister who wrote poetry and his mother
a storyteller with a photographic memory. She was also an inventor of
domestic laborsaving devices.
Nikola
showed his true direction from an early age; at the age of five he
invented a unique bladeless waterwheel and placed the little model in a
creek. The child also built a motor powered by sixteen live June bugs.
His father was not impressed. He insisted that Nikola would follow
family tradition and be a clergyman, so he began his son’s education at a
young age with rigorous mental exercises.
When
he was of legal age, Nikola managed to get his father’s permission to
study engineering instead of the ministry. After he completed his
studies at the Austrian Polytechnic School in Graz and then in 1880 at
the University of Prague, he worked for a European telephone company and
upgraded their technology.
Meanwhile,
a more difficult challenge which he had shouldered in his college days
was always with him; he was determined to improve the electrical motor
and dynamo. Dynamos naturally make alternating cur-rent, the type of
electric flow which continually changes directions. Tesla intuitively
felt that it should be possible to run a motor on AC electricity and
eliminate the inefficient sparking of brushes from a commutator.
His
theory went against textbook knowledge in those early days of
electrification, when direct current (DC) was considered the only type
of current that would run motors.
Despite
ridicule from his engineering professor, Tesla maintained that there
had to be a better way. He worked so intensely on this and other
engineering problems that his health broke down. While Tesla
recuperated, a friend who was a master mechanic and an athlete took him
for long walks through Budapest. In February of 1882 one day while they
walked in a park, Tesla was inspired by the setting sun. To his
amazement, that is when he made a breakthrough to answering the
technical challenge of making a workable AC electrical system to turn a
motor.
He was reciting lines from the German poet Goethe’s Faust:
The
glow retreats, done is the break of toil; It yonder hastes, new fields
of life exploring. Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil, Upon its
track to follow, follow soaring!
Tesla
was stopped in his tracks by a vivid vision. It was as if a 3-D
holographic picture of a rotating magnetic field was in motion in front
of his eyes and he could reach out and put his hands into it. He saw how
the field—a magnetic whirlwind—was produced by alternating currents out
of step with each other. He saw separate coils of wire, arranged as
four segments of a circle.
The
first alternating current would energize a coil creating an
electromagnetic field which attracted the magnet and then faded. The
second overlapping current would feed the next coil and drag the magnet
around further and then fade and so on. He saw it as a process similar
to the sun traveling around and “giving life wherever she goes.”
Speechless,
Tesla waved his arms in excitement. His buddy tried to lead him to a
nearby bench, but Tesla grabbed a stick to draw a diagram in the dust.
“See my motor here! Watch me reverse it,” Tesla blurted out.
His
friend was afraid that Tesla had lost his mind. Tesla was indeed in
another world at that moment. As he watched his vision move, he saw the
electrical principle that later made the twentieth century operate.
His
rotating magnetic field would not only mean a better motor, it would
revolutionize the electrical industry. He mapped out refinements of the
idea with several or even five overlapping currents at a time—the basis
of a polyphase transmission system. But first he had to convince someone
to finance the development of these world-changing inventions. A
stepping-stone to that goal was a job in Paris later that year, where he
attracted the attention of the Continental Edison Company by his
successes as a troubleshooter who fixed their dynamos. Another step was
to demonstrate the first induction motor for the mayor of Strasburg.
The
mayor had invited wealthy potential investors to the demonstration, but
they failed to comprehend Tesla’s vision of a future for the brushless
motor.
Surely
it would be welcomed in America, Tesla thought. At twenty-eight years
of age he was ready to make his move to the land of opportunity, where
he expected that his great discovery would be quickly developed for
humanity’s use. Before Tesla left Paris, one of his bosses at
Continental Edison handed him a letter introducing him to the famous
inventor Thomas Alva Edison.
“I know two great men and you are one of them; the other is this young man,” the letter read.
When
Tesla stepped off the ship in New York on June 6, 1884, he only had
four pennies in his pocket, because he had been robbed on the way to the
ship. But he did not at all resemble the stereotypical impoverished
immigrant; he wore a bowler hat and stylish coat, and his posture was
aristocratic. He still had the letter of introduction to Thomas Edison.
Edison,
then age thirty-seven, had already proven his ability as a businessman
as well as inventor. He was a hero to Tesla at first. The polite
European admired Edison’s accomplishments—discoveries made by
trial-and-error and with only grade-school level of formal education.
Tesla ignored his rough manners. But Edison on the other hand repudiated
Tesla’s theory on how to work with AC electricity; Edison used DC in
his electric lamps and had invested all his efforts in DC technologies.
Tesla
was put to work repairing and improving Edison’s DC dynamos and motors
on board a ship. He also won Edison’s grudging respect by working
eighteen-hour days in Edison’s Manhattan workshop, seven days a week,
and by conquering difficult technical problems.
One
day Tesla described how he could improve the efficiency of Edison’s
dynamo, and Edison reportedly replied, “There’s fifty thousand dollars
in it for you if you can do it.” The European immigrant worked
tirelessly—thirty-two hours in one stretch. After months of work, the
new machines were tested and found to measure up, and Edison prepared to
profit from his improved dynamo.
When Tesla went to the boss and asked for the promised $50,000 bonus, however, Edison would not pay.
“Tesla,” he said, “you don’t understand our American humor.”
Nikola
Tesla had a well-developed sense of humor, but when someone reneged on a
verbal deal he was not amused. He walked out, and into a job on a crew
digging ditches with pick and shovel.
Two
years later Tesla’s luck changed; he had the opportunity to develop his
“polyphase system” of AC and patented the AC motor, generator and
transformer. By 1891, Tesla had forty patents on his AC induction motor
and polyphase system.
An
industrialist and inventor of the railroad air brake, George
Westinghouse of Pittsburgh, helped Tesla to change history.
Westinghouse, a stocky, adventurous man with a walrus mustache, shared
Tesla’s vision of a power system that could harness hydroelectric
resources such as Niagara Falls and could send high-voltage electricity
on wires over vast distances. He bought all of Tesla’s patents on the
polyphase AC system, and signed a contract to pay Tesla a million
dollars cash, plus royalties of $2.50 per horsepower produced by the
system.
Tesla thought he would never have to worry about money again; he could invent to his heart’s content.
One
of the first challenges that Westinghouse and Tesla faced together was
what was called the War of the Currents—the AC/DC battle. It was a time
when America’s power grid had not yet been built but DC proponents were
nevertheless becoming an entrenched interest group stubbornly lighting
the use of alternating current (AC) for generating, sending and using
electricity. Thomas Edison led the opposition. His own inventions used
direct current (DC).
However,
DC does not travel well. To give people electrical lights, heat and
other uses of the current, a power plant had to be built for every
square mile served. At the end of a mile of DC power line, light bulbs
barely glowed. Skyscrapers and their elevators would have been
impossible to build if Edison’s views had won.
Tesla
knew that AC was the better system for electrical distribution; it
could easily travel for hundreds of miles down very slender wires at
high pressures (high voltage) and then transformers could reduce the
voltage for household use.
In
the War of the Currents, most of the casualties were animals. During
the time that Edison gave speeches defending the merits of DC over AC,
the neighborhood around his New Jersey laboratory was mysteriously
losing dogs and cats. Throughout 1887 Edison or his staff grabbed
animals off the street by day, and at night invited reporters and other
guests to watch what happened when an unsuspecting dog was pushed onto a
tin sheet and electrocuted with high voltages—using the
Tesla/Westinghouse AC current, of course. Edison referred to
electrocuting as “Westinghousing.”
Carrying
on this strategy of linking AC with electrocution and death, the Edison
camp distributed scare pamphlets warning that Westinghouse wanted to
put this deadly AC current into every American home. However, Edison
omitted the fact that the current would first be reduced in voltage.
Through this disinformation campaign, Edison was determined to sway the
public toward his DC technology, inefficient as it was.
To
answer accusations against the safety of AC, Tesla in turn developed
showmanship; he proved that he could conduct AC through his own body
without ill effects. He stood on a platform in white tie and tails and
cork-bottomed shoes. Bolts of electricity crackled and snapped, and he
allowed several hundred thousand volts to dance over his body and light
the bulbs in his hands.
However,
although the voltage (pressure) of the electricity was high, he reduced
the amperage (quantity) and used high frequencies. That type of
electrical current crawls over a body and therefore doesn’t reach vital
organs. As an argument against Edison it was cheating, because domestic
AC switches back and forth on a conductor 60 times a second, not
thousands of times as in high frequencies.
Edison,
however, played dirtier. He persuaded state prison authorities to kill a
death-row prisoner with AC current instead of executing him by hanging.
It was a further attempt to popularize the phrase “to Westinghouse” as a
replacement for “to electrocute.” Prison officials miscalculated the
amount of current needed to kill the condemned man, and newspaper
reporters witnessed a messy smoky execution.
Despite
Edison’s efforts, Tesla and Westinghouse won the Battle of the
Currents. In 1892 Westinghouse built an AC system for lighting the 1893
world fair in Chicago.
A
big hydroelectric project was the second major victory for AC
supporters; in 1895 Tesla’s first generating unit was put into operation
at Niagara Falls. Eventually, Tesla’s distribution system delivered
immense amounts of electrical power across the continent. Since
Westinghouse had signed a contract giving Tesla $2.50 per horsepower,
Tesla could have died as a multibillionaire.
“Morganization”
intervened, however, with cut-throat practices directed against George
Westinghouse. Business competitors in the real-life game of Monopoly
tried to squeeze him out of the power picture and gave him an ultimatum:
“get rid of your contract with Tesla or you’re finished.”
When
Westinghouse laid his cards in front of Tesla and admitted to being in
financial trouble, Tesla demonstrated his priorities. He remembered that
Westinghouse
had believed in him and had invested in the new AC patents when others
had not had such courage. Therefore, so that Westinghouse would survive
financially and the technology would be developed, Tesla took a cash
settlement and walked away from the millions of future dollars assigned
to him by the per-horsepower deal. He tore up the lucrative contract in
order to help a friend.
Meanwhile,
the power monopolists were poised to grab as much money as possible.
When Tesla’s inventions made it possible to send electrical power from
huge waterfalls across the states, tycoons prepared to make fortunes in
utility companies. These captains of industry wanted the
60-cycle-per-second AC power system to continue to grow and cover the
earth with power poles, transformers and wires.
Transmission
towers would march up and down mountainsides and across deserts. Power
companies would dam rivers for hydro power and make the people pay for
every watt sent over the companies’ copper wires. The power magnates did
not want the inventor to uproot this growing forest of money trees.
J.
Pierpont Morgan pulled the strings that formed the huge company General
Electric, for example, and had already bought up copper mines knowing
that transmission wires would eventually crisscross every industrialized
continent.
But
Tesla was a discoverer, not a business shark. His new plan was wireless
transmission of energy—free energy for anyone who sticks a tuned
receiver into the ground while Tesla’s tuned transmitter was resonating
frequencies!
The
financiers on Wall Street didn’t catch the drift of Tesla’s “wireless”
talk right away. The plan was so futuristic that it was literally over
every-one’s head. But he was giving enough clues for anyone who had been
ready to catch his vision. In the same year that the lighting of the
World’s Fair dazzled society, he talked about “earth resonance” at a
lecture to the prestigious Franklin Institute.
Earth
resonance was part of his vision for wireless power. The secret is
sending out the correct frequency—speed of vibration—with electrical
pulses. Just as a piano string will vibrate when another instrument at a
distance hits the same note as its tuned frequency, wireless receivers
would resonate with the transmitter frequencies. The power would be
tuned in just like you tune in a radio station. Some Tesla researchers
also believe that he could have resonated the cavity between the
ionosphere and the ground.
Just
like the cavity within a violin, this spherical Schumann cavity has its
own resonant frequency. Disregarding the danger of making his own
previous inventions obsolete, in the next few years he thought up the
processes necessary for futuristic wireless transmission.
While
the business community assumed he was talking about wireless
communications signals only, he had a far Suppressed Inventions and
Other Discoveries grander plan—sending power wirelessly in order that
anyone at any place on the planet could plug into freely-available
electricity. Before his financiers figured out where Tesla’s research
was leading, it was briefly funded by men such as Colonel John Jacob
Astor as well as Morgan.
The
same year that Tesla’s generator turned on the power from Niagara
Falls, he suffered a major setback. One night in March of 1895 his
laboratory burned down, with all files and apparatus destroyed. When he
returned from a meeting, he discovered the smoking mess of twisted metal
that had fallen through two floors to the foundations of the building.
Afterward he wandered through the streets in a daze for hours.
The
loss of his papers meant that he could not document what he had been
working on. For example, later that year the discovery of X-rays by
German physicist Wilhelm Conrad Roentgen was made public.
Tesla’s papers could have proven that he had been the first to take pictures by X-ray.
Next
Tesla concentrated on patenting his methods for sending power and
messages wirelessly. In 1889 to 1890, Tesla moved his operations to the
high country of Colorado Springs, Colorado, to test his new ideas and
develop the art of tuned radio frequency. He built a high-voltage
laboratory on a hillside cow pasture. Inside his lab was the world’s
largest Tesla coil, and the building was topped by a flagpole-like
structure. While experimenting on a massive scale, toward his new goal
of sending electromagnetic vibrations throughout Earth, he predicted
that Tesla coils could also be pocket-size message receiving devices.
Tesla’s
God of Lightning experiments in Colorado Springs were truly dramatic.
Thunder reverberated for at least 15 miles when he fired up the
electrical discharges. His massive 52-foot diameter Tesla coils
discharged more than 12 million volts at a burst, and threw electric
sparks of more than a hundred feet in length from the copper ball on top
of his pole.
The
townspeople sometimes thought his laboratory was on fire. The ground
under their feet was so highly charged that spectators at a distance
from the laboratory would see tiny sparks between their heels and the
sandy soil when they walked, according to biographer Margaret Cheney.
Half a mile away, horses would get a shock from their metal horseshoes
and would bolt in panic.
The
inventor did start a fire one day, when his “magnifying transmitter”
experiment accidentally burned out the power plant for the town of
Colorado Springs. The town went dark and the overloaded dynamo was in
flames. It took Tesla’s team of technicians a week to repair the town’s
generator.
Satisfied
that he knew enough to carry out his magnificent vision of a world
telegraphy system and wireless power, Tesla returned to New York. He
hired an architect to design a building with a 154 foot high wooden
tower, to be used as a huge transmitter. The tower was topped with a
doughnut-shaped copper electrode.
As
the design changed, the structure evolved to the shape of a giant
mushroom sprouting above the low hills of Long Island. Tesla named the
project Wardenclyffe, envisioning a station to send out power as well as
to broadcast communication channels of all radio wavelengths. The tower
was nearly finished in 1902, along with the square brick building, 100
feet on each side, built below it for a power-house and laboratory.
Tesla predicted that when people experience wireless transmission of electrical power affecting their everyday lives,
“humanity will be like an ant heap stirred up with a stick.”
The
excitement that he anticipated never had a chance to develop, however.
Work on the structure halted in 1906 after J. Pierpont Morgan stopped
funding it.
Some
historians believe that Morgan had been sincerely interested in
wireless broadcasting. Others argue that Morgan’s motivation for briefly
funding Tesla’s tower was to gain control over Tesla. As long as Tesla
was an uncontrolled loner, a wild card in the industrial world, his
inventions could threaten Morgan’s investments in the electrical
industry. If wireless transmission of power worked, of course, the value
of power utilities and copper mines would plummet. Morgan’s companies
such as General Electric could have toppled.
While
Tesla’s fortunes went downhill starting in 1906, Morgan would not reply
to Tesla’s letters, and other financiers on Wall Street also turned
their backs on Tesla for the remainder of his life. In a letter begging
an associate for financial help, Tesla mentioned one of the tactics used
to discredit him.
“My enemies have been so successful in representing me as a poet and a visionary . ..”
One
of Tesla’s biographers is Dr. Marc Seifer, a psychology professor who
researched a psycho-biography of Tesla for his doctoral thesis. Seifer
believes that Tesla sowed the seeds of his own financial ruin by not
making clear to J. P. Morgan, Sr. his intention to broadcast power from
Wardenclyffe as well as to send communications.
However,
Seifer also thinks that Morgan could have transcended his own
limitations and given Tesla the money to complete at least the radio
portion of the tower “and the world would have evolved in a totally
different way.”
Instead,
from that time onward Tesla was unable to build the technologies which
he believed would help humanity. Seifer mentions the influential men
whom Morgan paid a visit when they were ready to close a deal with
Tesla. “Morgan purposefully scuttled any future ways Tesla could raise
money.”
He
was deeply in debt, having plowed all his resources into his
experiments and Wardenclyffe. Having a strong taste for the elegant
life, he had run up an outrageous tab in his more than twenty years of
living at the Waldorf-Astoria hotel. The hotel took the deed for
Wardenclyffe in lieu of payment. Seifer feels that one reason for Tesla
handing over the property to the owner of the Waldorf-Astoria is that he
thought he could eventually resurrect the project.
His
plan was to develop an invention that would be a big money-maker, and
his hopes were pinned onto his bladeless turbine/pump. Tesla expected
the bladeless turbine to replace the gasoline engine in auto-mobiles,
ocean liners and airplanes and then he would use the subsequent wealth
to complete his project for world-wide wireless power.
Seifer
concludes that one of Tesla’s motivations for another invention, a beam
weapon which was also called a death ray, was to convince his
government that the Wardenclyffe tower should be saved for military use.
By attaching a beam weapon to it, he could have claimed that the tower
was a strategic property for shooting down incoming aircraft or
submarines during World War I.
His
efforts were further scattered during this time by a lawsuit against
Guglielmo Marconi, the Italian who had hung around his laboratory before
the fire of March 13, 1885. In 1901 Marconi sent a signal across the
Atlantic which in the eyes of the public secured Marconi’s claim to be
the inventor of radio.
When Tesla had heard the news of the transatlantic wireless signal, he reportedly said,
“Marconi is a good fellow. Let him continue. He’s using seventeen of my patents.”
By
the time Tesla tried to collect the hundreds of thousands of dollars
owed him so he could rescue Wardenclyffe, most of his patents had
elapsed. He did resurrect his main radio patent in 1914, Seifer said.
Tesla did not win his suit against Marconi, not because of the legal
strength of his case but because World War I interfered.
The
assistant attorney general of the time, Franklin Roosevelt, and
President Woodrow Wilson pushed for a law saying there could be no
patent disputes during the war. Seifer added that by the time the war
was over it was much more difficult for Tesla to sue. (Eight months
after his death, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that Tesla’s radio-related
patents preceded Marconi’s. Even after the court’s decision, school
history books continue to credit Marconi for in venting radio.)
Tesla was squeezed out of the picture by the force of corporate interests.
“David
Sarnoff was Marconi’s front man, and Sarnoff created RCA and NBC and
purposely kept Tesla’s patents out of the loop,” Seifer said. “So when
people like Hammond and Marconi were getting $500,000 at a clip for
their wireless patents, Tesla got nothing.”
The
picture of corporate ruthlessness is reinforced by the experience of
the late Philo T. Farnsworth, an inventor of television. In Philo’s
biography, Elma G. Farnsworth told about Sarnoff’s treatment of her
husband, and about the early 1930s when RCA dominated the radio industry
to the point where no one could make broadcasting or receiving
equipment with-out paying patent royalties to RCA.
“RCA’s
policy regarding patents, licenses, and royalties was very simple: the
company was formed to collect patent royalties. It never paid them.”
Elma
Farnsworth added that corporations have always been ambivalent toward
inventors and patents. “Although they regard patents as a huge bulwark
when protecting their own monopolies, they see the patent system as a
great nuisance when it upholds the rights of an individual.” She gives
the example of two pioneers of radio who battled RCA for their rights
unsuccessfully. Dr. Lee DeForest died bankrupt and Major Howard
Armstrong put on his coat, hat and gloves and walked out the high window
of his New York Apartment.
Tesla
never threatened suicide, but he did admit to despairing. Before he
could make much progress with the bladeless turbine, his dream of saving
the Wardenclyffe structure began to crumble. For one thing, the new
owner saw no value in the project and did not post guards on the
property. Since the businessman believed that Tesla was just a vain
dreamer, he did not try to protect the contents of the laboratory and it
was vandalized and stripped.
The
Wardenclyffe tower was dynamited in 1917, but not by the government as
some legends would have it. Instead it was torn down to be sold as scrap
metal. After this dramatic turning point in Tesla’s career, he began to
disappear from public view.
Perhaps
partly to run away from the sight of the ruined Wardenclyffe structure,
the inventor traveled to Chicago. That city held memories of earlier,
more triumphant, times such as the World’s Fair of 1893 which showcased
his AC technologies. Now he spent time with biographer Hugo Gernsback as
well as worked on technical problems with the round disks in his
bladeless turbine. In his day the available steel was not strong enough
far anything moving at such a high speed.
(Again,
he was ahead of his time and in the 1990s engineers are beginning to
catch up and even improve on his designs. The Tesla Engine Builders’
Association is a cooperative network of researchers doing just what
their name says. This is perhaps the most practical Tesla invention at
this time, and could be extensively replacing fossil fuel or nuclear
power generation.)
From
Chicago he moved again, living alternately in Milwaukee and New York
for a few years. During this time he sold a speedometer which he
invented to a watch company. It was installed in the luxury cars of the
day and provided him some income. Among other inventions which earlier
had fleetingly provided income was a fountain which he designed in 1915.
He figured out how to power a decorative fountain to get aesthetically-pleasing effects with little water.
Was
Tesla also a would-be defense contractor? Tesla had a liaison in
Germany before World War I and in 1916 to 1917 they planned to put the
bladeless turbine in tanks and other war vehicles. This was the reason
that J. P. Morgan, Jr. doled out more than $20,000 to Tesla to develop
the turbine, Seifer notes.
In
a recent book, Dr. Seifer chronicles Tesla’s “lost years,” from 1915
onward, when the inventor tried unsuccessfully to raise money for
resurrecting his wireless project. Seifer encountered correspondence and
articles linking Tesla to such shadowy figures as a Nazi propagandist
and a German munitions manufacturer from whom the desperate inventor was
trying to get funding by selling his death ray concepts. Those attempts
ended when war was declared between their two countries.
About Tesla’s links to warlords during the 1930s, Seifer says,
“There’s a whole secret side here that needs to be explored further. I did the best I could.”
Unknown
to most Teslaphiles, the inventor was not always based in New York
during those hidden years. For example, around the year 1925 to 1926 he
was in Philadelphia working on the turbine design, and in 1931 he was in
Massachusetts working with the head of U.S. Steel in an attempt to put
his turbines in the steel mills.
Seifer says a 300 page book was written about Tesla’s turbine, but it has not surfaced since the inventor’s death.
Tesla
kept a much lower profile regarding another invention. The story—
seemingly impossible to document, generations later—is that when he was
around sixty-five, Tesla or his helpers pulled the gasoline engine out
of a new Pierce-Arrow and stuck in an 80 horsepower alternating current
electric motor. But no batteries! Instead, he bought a dozen vacuum
tubes, wires and resistors.
Soon
he had the parts arranged in a box which sat beside him in the front
seat of the car. One account says the mysterious box was two feet long, a
foot wide and six inches high, with two rods sticking out of it. From
the driver’s side, Tesla reached over and pushed the rods in, and the
car took off at up to 80 miles per hour. He is reported to have
test-driven the loaned Pierce-Arrow for a week. If this story is true,
the secret of his power source died with him.
There
are clues that indicate he could well have driven a car on “free
energy.” For example, Tesla wrote to his friend Robert Johnson, editor
of Century magazine, that he had invented an electrical generator that
didn’t need an outside source of power. In the early 1930s, Tesla
announced that he had, more than twenty-five years earlier, harnessed
cosmic rays and made them operate a moving device.
Trying
to discover what he had been talking about, today’s researchers comb
through his patents, such as “Apparatus for the Utilization of Radiant
Energy,” U.S. Patent No. 658,957, 1901. The research indicates Tesla was
working on his “free energy” generator before he hammered out a major
article for Robert Johnson’s June 1900 issue of Century, in which he
describes sending power wirelessly.
He
writes that a device for getting energy directly from the sun would not
be very profitable and there-fore would not be the best solution.
Researchers such as scientist Oliver Nichelson of Utah read this to mean
that Tesla had learned that a “free energy” device would never be
allowed to reach the market, but a system in which someone could still
profit by selling power delivered wirelessly had more of a chance of
being allowed by the financial tycoons.
Today’s
creative-edge physicists may be vindicating Tesla’s so-called free
energy invention with their theories about the possibility of tapping
incredibly abundant—estimated to be the energy equivalent of
10-to-the-94th-power grams per cubic centimeter —supply of energy from
the vacuum of space that Adam Trombly spoke about.
According
to his biographers, Tesla died in genteel poverty in a hotel room in
1943 at age eighty-seven. His memory was honored in a funeral service at
St. John’s cathedral, attended by more than two thousand people
including the elite of the day.
Although
Tesla had become a United States citizen in 1899 and valued his
citizenship highly for the next fifty-nine years, he was strangely
treat-ed like a recent immigrant at the end of his life. After his death
the public was told that his papers had been shipped back to
Yugoslavia, and that authorities in Washington had sent in the Custodian
of Alien Property to deal with his belongings. U.S. government agents
reportedly had first crack at his safe and other papers. Later a Tesla
museum was built in Zagreb, Yugoslavia, to house whatever Tesla
memorabilia survived the events after his death.
When
biographer Margaret Cheney looked into the military’s possession of
Tesla papers taken from the Office of Alien Properties, the trail led to
Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio. The response from
Wright-Patterson AFB under the Freedom of Information Act in 1980 was
that “The organization (Equipment Laboratory) that performed the
evaluation of Tesla’s papers was deactivated several years ago. After
conducting an extensive search of lists of records retired by that
organization, in which we found no mention of Tesla’s papers, we
concluded that the documents were destroyed at the time the laboratory
was deactivated.”
Believe
that or not, the fact remains that a great discoverer was left out of
our history books but is known among researchers of alternative
technology. Does the military own Tesla technology information which
could be used for cleaning up the planet instead of for destructive
purposes? Did those industrialists who have monopolies on coal and oil
also try to control Tesla’s legacy?
Consider his claim of inventing an electrical generator that would not consume any fuel.
“In
many generations pass, our machinery will be driven by a power
obtainable at any point in the universe,” Tesla said. “…Throughout space
there is energy.”
If
that energy had been harnessed, those who profit by the myth of
scarcity would not have been able to drum up support for their oil wars.
Whether
he died of natural causes or was deliberately given arsenic, the story
of Nikola Tesla is clouded by the actions of those who lacked his
dedication to improving the lot of humanity.
The
man softly crying as he sat beside me at the Tesla symposium may have
been a finely-tuned receiver for the prevailing mood in the room. His
fist clenched when Adam Trombly said,
“Thomas Edison was promoted and promoted, but Nikola Tesla was a genius who was orders of magnitude greater.”
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