by Marc Seifer
One of Tesla’s more unusual exhibits, which was similar to his egg of Columbus, was another ring which displayed not only the principles of the rotating magnetic field but also his theory of planetary motion.
In this experiment one large and several small brass balls were usually employed. When the field was energized all the balls would be set spinning, the large ones remaining in the center while the small ones revolved around it, like moons about a planet, gradually receding until they reached the outer guard and raced along the same.
But the demonstration which most impres[sed] the audiences was the simultaneous operation of numerous balls, pivoted discs and other devices placed in all sorts of positions and at considerable distances from the rotating field. When the currents were turned on and the whole animated with motion, it presented an unforgettable spectacle. Mr. Tesla had many vacuum bulbs in which small light metal discs were pivotally arranged on jewels and these would spin anywhere in the hall when the iron ring was energized.31
Tesla returned to New York exhausted but exhilarated.
13
THE FILIPOVS (1894)
Mr. Tesla has been held a visionary, deceived by the flash of casual shooting stars; but the growing conviction of his professional brethren is that because he saw farther he saw first the low lights flickering on tangible new continents of science. The perceptive and imaginative qualities of the mind are not often equally marked in the same man of genius.
T. C. MARTIN1
Fame had arrived, and at all levels. In engineering circles Tesla was known as “one of the most remarkable discoverers of the age,”2 to the magazines as (heaven forbid!) “the New Edison,”3 to the newspapers as “Our Foremost Electrician,”4 to the masses as a wondrous wizard from a strange land, and to the financiers as bankable.
Having recognized the virtuoso from the outset, T. C. Martin, as head trumpeter, was now helping choreograph Tesla’s vault into the public arena. Commerford, as he was known to his friends, had generated a propitious relationship to all concerned when he met with Robert Underwood Johnson, associate editor of the Century, to propose a feature article on the thriving electronic savant.
“Take a seat,” Johnson offered as he scanned through toppling stacks of manuscripts scattered about the office to find a chair that could be easily cleared. A brother of a congressman and a poet, Johnson had, in 1889, been honored by the city when he was chosen to contribute an original sonnet for the unveiling of the Washington Square arch which he read before President Harrison and other dignitaries. A temporary structure designed by Standford White commemorating one hundred years since the inauguration of George Washington, this arch predated by a few years the permanent marble Arch also designed by White. Johnson was also knowledgeable about inventors, having visited Edison’s laboratory in the early 1880s as a reporter for Scribner’s Monthly, the precursor of the Century. Tesla, no doubt, had already piqued his interest.
Impressed with the eloquent portrait Martin had painted of Tesla, Johnson invited his colleague over for dinner. “Why not bring the wizard along. Perhaps there is more than one article here for the offing.”
On a first-name basis with such personalities as mayoral candidate Theodore Roosevelt and writer Mark Twain, two frequent visitors to his Union Square office, Johnson and his ebullient wife, Katharine, were the very essence of the phrase “gracious hosts.” Through their dinner parties at their home at 327 Lexington Avenue, a visitor could dine with any number of luminaries, such as sculptor August Saint-Gaudens; actress Eleonora Duse; poet and editor in chief of the Century, Richard Watson Gilder; naturalist John Muir; activist for children’s rights Mary Mapes Dodge; conductor of the Boston Symphony Monsieur Gericke; composer and pianist Ignace Paderewski; thespian Joseph Jefferson; or writer extraordinaire Rudyard Kipling. Johnson had just returned with his wife from their second trip to Europe, where they had, by chance, run into Twain in Venice. The world was a cozy and romantic place for the Johnsons, in part because they found it that way and in part because they molded it that way.5
Martin arrived with a “pallid, drawn and haggard” Tesla at the Johnson home in the middle of the Christmas season. They were greeted by Katharine and Robert Johnson and their two children, Agnes, who was about sixteen, and Owen, who was two or three years younger.
The inventor’s frail condition, which one reporter described as having “reached the limits of human endurance,”6 took the Johnsons, especially Katharine, by surprise. A facile conversationalist, Katharine was a striking woman of Irish descent, poised, with shoulders swept back, her head held erect. Although her hair was now beginning to streak gray, she still exuded an air of youth. It was her eyes in particular that visitors were drawn to. Slightly coquettish, they displayed a daring sense of play beneath a wistful stare.
Triggering a constellation of emotions ranging from maternal instincts to beguilement, Katharine became enthralled, some would say mesmerized, by the Serbian superman who had entered her world; and he had taken to her.
Tesla talked about his European tour, particularly his meeting with Sir William Crookes, and the Johnsons invited him for Christmas.
“You are overworked, Mr. Tesla, and you should take a holiday,” Katharine declared. “Perhaps a good Christmas meal will keep you going through the first months of the new year.”
“I get all the nourishment I require from my laboratory,” Tesla retorted. “I know I am completely worn out, and yet I cannot stop my work. These experiments of mine are so important, so beautiful, so fascinating, that I can hardly tear myself away from them to eat, and when I try to sleep I think about them constantly. I expect I shall go on until I break down altogether. Come, let us go there for our dessert.” A carriage was called, and in short order the Johnsons were lured to the “magician’s den.”7
“Be prepared for a surprise or two,” Tesla said as he, in the words of a reporter who experienced a similar episode, “ushered [them] into a room some twenty five feet square, lighted on one side by two broad windows, partially covered by heavy black curtains. The laboratory was literally filled with curious mechanical appliances of every description…Snakelike cables ran along the walls, ceiling, and floor. In the center was [an electric dynamo which sat upon] a large circular table covered with thick strips of black woolen cloth. Two large brownish globes, eighteen inches in diameter, [were sus]pended from [the] ceiling by cords. Composed of brass, coated [and insulated with] wax, [these globes] served the purpose of spreading the electrostatic field…”
Tesla shut the doors and drew the curtains “until every chink or crevice for the admission of light was concealed and the laboratory bathed in absolutely impenetrable gloom. [As we] awaited developments, exquisitely beautiful luminous signs and devices of mystic origin began to flash about. Sometimes they seemed iridescent, the entire room filled with electric vibrations, [as] tubes [and] bulbs [which we held] became luminous…What impressed [us] most of all, perhaps, was the simple but cheerful fact that [we] remained unscathed, while electrical bombardments were taking place on every side.”8
A few days later, in honor of the celebration of the Serbian Christmas, on January 6, Katharine sent Tesla a bouquet.
“I have to thank Mrs. Johnson for the magnificent flowers,” Tesla wrote Robert. “I have never…received flowers [before], and they produced upon me a curious effect.”9
Tesla would return to the Johnson home on a regular basis, for dinner or after an evening on his own for a late nightcap; and the inventor reciprocated by taking the Johnsons out on the town. They would be attending the gala performance of Dvořák’s New World Symphony.
“Upon receipt of your first note,” Tesla wrote Robert, “I immediately secured the best seats I could for Saturday. Nothing better than the 15th row! Very sorry, we shall have to use telescopes. But I think the better for Mrs. Johnson’s vivid imagination. Dinner at Delmonico’s.”10
Intrigued with Tesla’s fascinating heritage, Robert became interested in Serbian poetry, a
nd so Tesla began to translate for him. They obtained permission from Zmaj Jovanovich to feature some of his poems for inclusion in the Century, and also in a book Johnson entitled Songs of Liberty. Their favorite was undoubtedly the ballad about a warrior from a Montenegrin battle which took place in 1874.
Luka Filipov
One more hero to be part
Of the Servians’ glory!
Lute to lute and heart to heart
Tell the homely story:
Let the Moslem hide for shame,
Trembling like the falcon’s game,
Thinking on the falcon’s name—
Luka Filipov.
The verse goes on to describe a fierce battle, in which Luka captures a pasha and marches him back to the prince. However, on the way, Luka becomes wounded in an ambush, so his soldiers decide to retaliate by killing the arrested Turk.
We’d have fired, but Luka’s hand
Rose in protestation,
While his pistol’s mute command
needed no translation:
For the Turk retraced his track,
Knelt, and took upon his back
(As a peddler lifts his pack)
Luka Filipov!
How we cheered him as he passed
Through the line, a-swinging
Gun and pistol—bleeding fast—
Grim—but loudly singing…
[But] as couriers came to say
That our friends had won the day,
Who should up and faint away?
Luka Filipov!”
One can easily envision Robert’s and Katharine’s eyes aglow as Tesla spontaneously translated Zmai’s ode in their living room one special evening and how Robert worked to hone it for publication. From this moment on, brother Robert would be known as “Dear Luka,” and Katharine would be addressed as “Mrs. Filipov.”
To Katharine, Tesla was more than a man; he was an icon of historical importance, a trophy to display before her lady friends, and even more than this, he was a tangible symbol of intangible longings. In her essence, Katharine was a frustrated artist whose ever-present yearnings pulled her from moments of exaltation to the edge of despair. She must have been a difficult person to live with, but like Tesla, she had the capability to spark that realm that makes life all the more worth living. Selfish, egocentric, and histrionic at times, Katharine also had a dominant streak that not only pulled people to her but manipulated them to her needs. Even the elusive hermit became a fly in her web.
“Dear Mr. Tesla,” she wrote in January 1894, ‘We have had a hospital here since Thursday. Robert and Agnes the invalids. Robert is better but not out, and we want you to come…this evening and brighten us up…As a great favor come…to us immediately.”12
This beckoning to her auxiliary mate became a recurrent theme that replayed itself again and again through the next many years. For instance, in 1896 she wrote, “Dear Mr. Tesla, I shall expect to see you tomorrow evening”;13 in 1897, “Come soon”;14 and in 1898, “Will you come to see me tomorrow evening and will you try to come a little early…I want very much to see you and will be really disappointed if you do not think my request worthy [of] your consideration.”15
But Katharine was not alone in her infatuation; T. C. Martin had discovered him, but Robert would soon become Tesla’s closest confidant. A triad of intimacy quickly transpired as Commerford Martin’s hold on the inventor began to loosen. And just as much as the Johnsons would come to cherish Tesla, he would cherish them. Here was a loving family the isolate could bind to.
Tesla’s health constantly was an issue not only for their own concerns but also, for the good of the species. Martin, whose new article in the Century, would certainly serve to advance his own career as well as Tesla’s, was just as solicitous, and he discussed the precariousness of the situation with Katharine.
“I do not believe…that he will give up work at any very early date,” Martin wrote. “Talking of California with him in a casual way elicited the fact that he had a couple of invitations to lecture there so that I don’t want to jam his head into that lion’s mouth. I believe he is going to take more care of himself and you may have done us all a great deal of service by your timely words. Yet in spite of that,” Martin continued, “I fear he will go on in the delusion that woman is generically a Delilah who would shear him of his locks. If you can manage it, I believe it would be a good scheme to have that Doctor get hold of him…My prescription is a weekly lecture from Mrs. RUJ.”16 This passage, by a Tesla colleague, is a rare glimpse at one of the enduring mysteries about Tesla, namely his supposed celibacy and mysterious sexual inclinations.
By coincidence, only a fortnight later, Heinrich Hertz was dead. He was only thirty-six. Martin wrote to Tesla, “For God’s sake, let it be a warning to you. All Europe mourns for such an untimely taking off.”17
But Tesla would take no heed, and his custom of driving himself to the limit would be a style of living that he would continue for many years. The future of the race and his role in it was clear to him; nothing could stand in his way.
“The time will come,” Tesla told Katharine, “when crossing the ocean by steamer you will be able to have a daily newspaper on board with the important news of the world, and when by means of a pocket instrument and a wire stuck in the ground, you can communicate from any distance with friends at home through an instrument similarly attuned.”18 His gaze and seeming powers of divination took her breath away. Penetrating his inner sanctum only added to her captivation.
At the outset, Tesla’s unparalleled achievements, explosion into international stardom, and promise for the future generated an express desire for all to cash in, to sell his multitudinous array of inventions so that they could ascend together to the next social rung. Their goal was to become millionaires. Tesla’s “cold light” appeared to be the first ticket.
As Martin’s erudite biographical essay had received words of praise even from competitors, Johnson suggested that they plan a second piece, one that featured the lab. Johnson would get some of his more famous friends to come, and photos would be taken. This would be an exclusive, the first ever with the new revolutionary cold light. Johnson writes:
We were frequently invited to witness his experiments, which included…the production of electrical vibrations of an intensity not before achieved. Lightning-like flashes of the length of fifteen feet were an every-day occurrence, and his tubes of electric light were used to make photographs of many of his friends as souvenir of their visits. He was the first person to make use of phosphorescent light for photographic purposes—not a small item of invention in itself. I was one of a group consisting of Mark Twain, Joseph Jefferson, Marion Crawford and others who had the unique experience of being thus photographed.19
Naturally, the Twain pictures would become the centerpiece. S. L. Clemens, as he signed his letters to Tesla, came to the laboratory on March 4, 1894, and again on April 26.20 Twain wrote to postpone the initial meeting for one day, and Tesla and Johnson exchanged notes about it. Curiously, Twain’s private log for this period makes no reference to the occasion. He had dined with Stanford White at his Madison Square Garden tower in January and, the following month, had received a notice that $160,000 in royalties were coming his way because of the Paige typesetting machine which he had backed, but that was all he jotted down, even though Twain had been aware of Tesla from the very first moment that the inventor had gone public with his creation of the AC polyphase system.21 Back in November 1888, Twain had written: “I have just seen the drawings & description of an electrical machine lately patented by a Mr. Tesla, & sold to the Westinghouse Company, which will revolutionize the whole electric business of the world. It is the most valuable patent since the telephone.”22
Twain had run into Tesla on occasion, at the Players’ Club or Delmonico’s, or at the artist Robert Reid’s studio. One night, in Twain’s words, “the world-wide illustrious electrician” had joined the Reid party. Jokes and stories were swapped, and songs wer
e sung, particularly Kipling’s “On the Road to Mandalay.”23 Tesla related the story of how Twain’s books saved his life when he was a boy of twelve struck down with a case of malaria, and this tale served to endear Tesla to Twain to the point of bringing tears to the writer’s eyes.24
Interested in inventions and their exploitation, Twain asked Tesla at the lab if it would be all right if he could sell high-frequency electrotherapy machines to rich widows in Europe upon his next sojourn; the inventor naturally agreed. Tesla, in turn, showed the great writer yet another creation which he claimed would help these widows digest their meals.
This contraption, he explained, “consists of a platform supported on elastic cushions that are made to oscillate by means of compressed air. One day, I stepped on the platform and the vibrations imparted were transmitted to my body…Evidently, these isochronous rapid oscillations stimulated powerfully the peristaltic movements which propel the food-stuffs through the alimentary channels.”
“You mean, it’ll make me regular?” Twain inquired.
“Precisely, and without the use of elixirs, specific remedies or internal applications whatever.”
Without further ado, Twain stepped aboard as Tesla tried to stop his assistants from chuckling. As Twain had been so enthusiastic, Tesla neglected to inform him that peristaltic action is induced almost immediately.
“Suddenly, Twain felt an unspeakable and pressing necessity which had to be promptly satisfied,” Tesla told the Johnsons the next day to their tearful glee, for he had to jump off the platform and find his way swiftly to the lavatory.