Time Change Book One: The Jump

by Alex Myers

“I actually have another offer you might find to your liking….”

  “And that would be?”

  “I’m in the process of building a research complex in Norfolk, Virginia. I’ll provide everything,—the money, the supplies—and you can concentrate on what you do best: invent. There are already some homes on the property and there’s a place for you and your family; we can even put in a school for the children.”

  “This complex you’re talking about, is it set up as a rubber plant? What else are you doing out there, other than the inflatable tire?”

  “A little bit of everything. That’s totally up to you—that is, if we can discuss it before you begin.”

  “It sounds too good to be true,” Charles’ wife Clarissa said, stepping up and putting her arms around her husband. “It’s exactly what you said you dreamed of.”

  “Do you know a man named Conrad Poppenhusen?” Goodyear asked.

  “I’ve never heard the name before,” Jack said.

  “We met and reached a deal in ‘54 whereby Poppenhusen would have sole rights for several years to the use of my Vulcanization process. Poppenhusen’s Enterprise Rubber Works soon started swallowing up smaller companies to become the American Hard Rubber Company. When he started searching for a larger manufacturing base, he came upon a place called College Point, a small community on the East River near Flushing. There waterfront land could be bought cheap and College Point became known as the ‘rubber capital of the Northeast.’”

  “I’ve seen his facility, I think,” Jack said. “The big house that looks like a castle out on College Point?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Are you still partners with him?” Jack asked.

  “We were never partners. He purchased the rights and that was it. Oh, he offered, but I refused. I took the money and did more research. Much of it fruitless, I’m sorry to say. But I often regretted not taking him up on his offer. If I had, I’d probably be living in a mansion in Queens instead of here.” Charles swept his hand around the decaying building.

  “All of our money has gone into research—and lawsuits,” his wife said.

  “Right by his house is a huge factory. That’s why I wondered if you knew him. He seems like the man to manufacture the tires for the bicycles. I hope I didn’t just talk myself out of a job.”

  “Do you still have a relationship with him?”

  “Oh sure, Conrad is a good man. He still helps me out when funds run low.”

  From the looks of it, Jack couldn’t believe that Charles’s funds could get any lower.

  “Conrad has done many revolutionary things out there,” Charles continued. “He’s introduced new cost-cutting techniques. Needing ever more workers, he recruits immigrants when they step off the ships at the piers. He’s a cradle-to-grave employer; he’s organized a mutual benefit association to assure workers’ sick benefits and even death benefits—unheard of practices. The company employs more than fifteen hundred workers.”

  “The more I hear, the more I like him. I don’t want to waste your talents being a shop foreman. I’d rather have you inventing. This facility you’re describing sounds a lot like the one I’m building,” Jack said.

  “He built homes for his workers, drained the marshes, paved roads, brought clean running water into the community, and constructed a cobblestone causeway and a railroad. He pays teachers’ salaries and operating costs for an educational cultural center, where workers and their children study English, learn a trade, and are introduced to art, music, theater, literature, and history. And moreover, it’s open to all races and creeds.”

  “And did you say he built a railroad? I need tracks put in.”

  “Conrad’s the man to do it.”

  “I have a feeling I’ll be doing quite a bit of business with Conrad Popinhouse?—“

  “Poppenhusen.”

  “Poppenhusen,” Jack repeated.

  Charles and his wife smiled.

  “And this,” Jack said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of bills, “is your first week’s salary.” Jack gave him all the money he had with him that day. He was happy that he’d bought a round-trip ticket for the ferry. Jack hoped the $58 would help the man and his family put some food on the table. He spent another hour telling Goodyear that he was free to move into his new home at any time and hoped that he could start working in a couple of weeks.

  “There’s just one thing I need to ask you before you leave,” Charles said. “Did Joseph Henry send you here?”

  “No, I came on my own,“ Jack said.

  Goodyear looked puzzled and rubbed his chin. Finally he said, “I just thought you were working on this project with Professor Henry.”

  “Who is this Henry you’re talking about?”

  Again, Goodyear looked puzzled. “He’s the President of the Smithsonian. He discovered electromagnetism, invented the telegraph before Morse. The only reason I assumed you were working with him is because he’s doing the same thing you are— recruiting inventors.”

  “I apologize for my ignorance,” Jack said. “First Poppenhusen and now Joseph Henry—these are two great leads. You can bet I’ll be meeting with both of them shortly.”

  CHAPTER 37

  October 1856

  Joseph Henry

  Professor Joseph Henry was in New York raising money for the Smithsonian. John Wegman, Andrew Sanger’s lawyer and now Jack’s lawyer too, , was able to arrange a meeting the day after Henry’s fundraiser.

  Jack learned from Wegman that, at the Smithsonian, Professor Henry interviewed young scientists and recommended them for jobs and oftentimes would narrow their fields of pursuits. If the area the young scientist wanted to pursue was a dead-end road—already explored or proven to be useless or a sham—he would gently guide him into another related area. By extensive correspondence, he kept track of who was engaged in what research; he put investigators in touch with each other. And for a select few, Henry doled out monies for grants, either directly from the Smithsonian or from the National Academy of Science, which he also founded.

  Henry was cautious, skeptical, and extremely laid-back. He saw many pretend men of science in his day and the out-and-out frauds and sincere fanatics outnumbered the real scientists four to one. Henry devoted a great deal of his time trying to discern what was real and had potential and what was frivolous. Joseph Henry was not the father of American science—he was more the kind, wise, strict, and encouraging maiden aunt.

  He and Jack met for lunch at the lavish St. Nicholas Hotel. Jack knew the place because he often visited there to frequent the city’s most fashionable barber, Phalon, who rented one of the shops on the ground floor. It had been said, “The American who visits New York, and does not go to Phalon’s Hair-Cutting Salon is in infinite danger…of departing this life without having had the slightest idea of what it is to be shaved.” Jack knew that it was an extravagance, but the costly shave was the most like the shave he used to give himself with a seventy-nine cent Bic razor.

  “Thank you, Professor Henry, for seeing me on such short notice.”

  “Not a problem, Mr. Riggs. Barrister Wegman is an excellent patent attorney and a benefactor of the Sciences and the Smithsonian. I’ve recommended him to people several times. I just wish I had used him a time or two myself. I’ve been following some of your work and, through an associate of mine, I’ve heard of your ideas for a water turbine and for using this dynamo for the generation of electricity—particularly fascinating. I’d like to see more.”

  “Thank you very much,” Jack said almost blushing. “It’s more than an idea, though. We have four turbines generating electricity this very moment. The tidal flow fills four large retention ponds at my complex in Norfolk. I use these as step ponds to get an uninterrupted flow of electricity. I’m running arc lights in fifteen buildings and using the power to run machinery in my plant. Let me show you some drawings; I’d love to get your input.”

  “That’s very flattering. I’m not sure what I could a
dd, but I’d be most curious to look. Somehow I don’t think that’s the reason you asked for this meeting today.”

  “You’re right, Professor. I’m in the process of expanding my research facility. I’m looking for the brightest and the best minds in a number of fields.”

  “I’m aware of your work. Several scientists have approached me, asking my opinion on going to work for you.”

  “And what have you told them?”

  “I tell them everything I can tell so far. You and your operation seem above board and your capitalization prospect is greatly enhanced by your connection with the Sanger Brothers.”

  “I appreciate that. Here’s my offer to you: For your ongoing advice and guidance, I would like to make periodic donations to the Smithsonian. I’m not sure if you’re aware of my standing offer—in my company the inventor keeps the patent with just the agreement to let me make, market, and distribute the item for ten years. Out of this I split the net profits—sixty percent for my company and forty percent for the individual. I will donate five percent from my half of the profits to the Smithsonian. We can have Attorney Wegman draw up the papers.”

  “And what if I’m not able to actually make contributions to your cause, Mr. Riggs? I cannot guarantee that I will send you anyone you would be interested in.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The Smithsonian and the National Academy of Science are honorable causes. I won’t go as far as asking for an endorsement from either institution, but I’d like to make public the fact that I am contributing. I see us both benefiting from this arrangement—for the stamp of legitimacy it lends to me and the example it makes to other companies about the importance of contributing to the sciences. I found a quote of yours: ‘Science should ameliorate man’s condition.’ That’s all I’m trying to do too, Professor.”

  “I sent a man to you—Jeremiah Jefferson. He was working on petroleum distillation?”

  “I talked to him this morning.”

  “How is he coming along with his fractional distillation?”

  “Professor, we have several working engines running on it already.”

  Henry looked for sincerity in Jack’s eyes and after a while said, “Have Wegman send over the papers.”

  “I’d love to show you the research facility. We’re building a little coal plant to generate electricity; we have built a refrigeration unit; and soon we’ll have built a talking telegraph.”

  “Is this some kind of joke? A talking telegraph?”

  “I call it the telephone. It works quite well. I’m being utterly sincere.”

  “When can we go?” Henry asked excitedly.

  “I’m sailing back next Tuesday—oh, you should see my boat, too. It’s pretty amazing.”

  CHAPTER 38

  October 1856

  Conrad Poppenhusen

  “Heilige Scheisse!” The man was embarrassed by his own outburst, but he couldn’t contain his excitement. “Mr. Riggs, why wouldn’t I just take this process and use it myself?”

  “Number one, I’ve heard you’re not that kind of man. Number two, I’ve got more where that came from. Number three, I’m going to be one of your best customers. Oh, and number four, I had my attorney, John Wegman, file a patent on the process two weeks ago.”

  “Wegman?”

  “I know, it pays to work with the best.”

  Jack and Charles Goodyear met with Conrad Poppenhusen and the meeting went better than Jack had planned. Poppenhusen said they could start production almost immediately on the inflatable tires as well as start making a rubber overlay to retrofit wagon wheels. Conrad Poppenhusen was as wonderful and as gracious as Goodyear had said he would be.

  Conrad was an astute-looking, middle-aged man. He spoke with a heavy German accent and was constantly surrounded by his three young sons. He gave Jack a tour of the College Point complex, which incorporated the neighborhoods of Flammersburg and Strattonport in the farming village then known as Queens. Jack took notes to use on his own facility in Virginia.

  Jack set up his invention factory on both sides of Broad Creek. He’d purchased the remaining land in the area, and now he and Murphy owned the entire inlet. The construction was done on Jack’s property, with the exception of the original warehouse of Murphy’s that they enlarged as they did his dock.

  Using Thomas Edison’s ideas about finding specialists in a given field and with Joseph Henry’s help, he was able to sign on some of the most talented inventors, scientists, and machinists in the country. It was half-research, half-manufacturing and growing bigger by the hour.

  A stroke of genius was hiring Elisha K. Root away from Samuel Colt. When Jack originally met with the gun manufacturers, Root was there accompanying Colt. Jack remembered that not only was Root the father of mass production, but that he ran the Colt factory with precision and excellence. Hiring Root away almost soured the deal with Colt, but Jack gave him a bigger percentage of the profits and all was forgiven.

  Elisha Root was an excellent Commander-in-Chief for the entire facility. William Stuttgart oversaw the manufacturing side and Murphy and Kaz helped wrangle the researchers. Bob Cooper hired two professional draftsmen and now spent nearly all his time hiring construction crews and acquiring building materials that way he had free rein over the entire complex. Cooper’s ability to roam unencumbered made his job as corporate spy that much easier.

  The sprawling grounds of the two hundred-acre complex was three miles east of Norfolk. The main building, the original warehouse, resembled an aircraft hanger. The building was nearly three hundred feet long, seventy-five feet wide, and forty feet high. Jack wanted the building to remain open so there would and could be a ready exchange of ideas. Just because one person’s specialty was in electricity didn’t mean that he couldn’t lend ideas to a new microscope.

  “This is a right impressive complex you’ve built,” Samuel Clemens said, puffing on a huge cigar. “I’m not sure exactly what your financial situation is, but this looks like a money pit if I’ve ever seen one.”

  “You’re right. It’s costing an arm and a leg and part of another arm, but we bring in quite a bit, too. Did you get moved into your place?”

  “I moved in last Thursday. I thought they made a mistake when they assigned me to a private cabin versus the bunkhouse with the other workers. It’s as nice as any place I’ve ever put my hat.”

  “Sam, just so you know, I’ve made enough from the bicycle and firearms to pay for this place twice. I’m glad you like your accommodations. I hope you find them conducive to writing.”

  “That’s all I’ve been doing lately, Jack. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in two weeks. I have probably a hundred and fifty pages of Connecticut Yankee done, although I must admit, it seems to be writing itself. I’m thankful you didn’t tell me anything about it. It’s much more pleasant to look at my life through my own eyes and think about how I would feel in the sixth century. The story isn’t a satire particularly; it’s more a contrast. It merely exhibits, under the bright lights, the daily life of a man out of time—this time and that time—and brings them into this immediate juxtaposition, emphasizing the salient aspects of both. You are handling things better than my protagonist.”

  “I wonder if the story will turn out the same as I remember it, or if I’ve already ‘infected’ you. They stepped around a copse of oaks and surveyed the half-finished expansive building. “This is going to be the medical building. I’d like to start work on a gym, ah, gymnasium—a building specifically for sports. It would have to have a basketball and racquetball court.”

  “I’m sure one day you’ll explain what all that means. It sounds like it all has to do with exercise. I myself have never taken any exercise, except sleeping and resting, and I never intend to take any. Exercise is loathsome. And it cannot benefit you when you are tired; and I am always tired.”

  “No exercise, huh? What do you call all that bike riding you do?”

  “That is travel, not exercise.” They walked toward the housing
units. “I must say, though, the style of architecture is different from any I’ve ever seen,” Sam said.

  “There will be an architect around the turn of the 20th century—an artist really—named Frank Lloyd Wright. He’ll become famous for blending a building with the surrounding habitat.”

  “Is that why you’ve kept so many trees? Anyone else would have cleared the land first thing.”

  “Exactly. I think this style of architecture is timeless. Structures Wright built showed us new ways to build our homes and see the world around them. He created some of the most monumental, and some of the most intimate spaces in America. He designed everything: banks and resorts, office buildings, even an art museum.”

  “You are definitely an innovator.”

  “That’s just it, Sam. I’m not, I just happen to remember a few very commonplace things from an era where these things are everywhere. Wright was the genius, I’m just an imitator.” They walked through the construction site to the main work building.

  “We are mere creatures of circumstance,” Clemens said. “Circumstance is the master—we are his slaves. We cannot do as we desire. We have to be humbly obedient and do as Circumstances command. Command—that is the word; Circumstance never requests, he always commands. Then we do the thing and think we have planned it. When our circumstances change, we have to change with them, we cannot help it. Jack, I think you have done this better, considering what Circumstance has provided, better than anyone in the history of man.”

  Jack thought about it. He picked up a clod of dirt and tossed it at a tree. “But not one single thing I’ve done is original—all mine. I feel like a fraud sometimes.”

  “It’s an astonishing thing that after all these ages the world goes on thinking the human brain-machinery can originate a thought. It can’t. It has never done it. In all cases, little and big, the thought is born of a suggestion; and in all cases the suggestion comes to the brain from the outside…. In all my life, I have never originated an idea, and neither has anybody else. The real genius behind a thought—in your case, an invention—is not in the conception, but the implementation. You have taken these suggestions from your time and turned them into this,” he said, sweeping his hand around the complex.