Dangerous Betrayal

by Bill Blowers

  There were also those who had shown him hatred, jealousy, and downright dishonesty. They would not be forgotten either. He would single them out for retaliation, for revenge for the pain they had caused. A part of Viktor Gracac stored away the memory of his pain and hurt so he could summon it when needed to see justice done, the kind of justice that was delicious to think of, to contemplate and savor. From somewhere within, his dark side had moved closer to the surface, a protective shield he welcomed.

  During the first few weeks after his departure from Salonia, Viko had vivid dreams reliving those terrible days. He welcomed sunlight because the terror of his dreams held no power during the day. As the weeks faded into months, the nightmares lost their intensity and finally disappeared. He became deeply involved in the work of Nikola Tesla, becoming his right-hand man in the process.

  Tesla was struggling at the time. He had no lack of good ideas, but he was constantly in financial trouble. Time and again, one great invention after another was taken from him, at times through his own lack of business acumen, and at other times by attorneys and a court system that seemed to favor everyone but him.

  He lost all ownership rights of the AC polyphase system he created and brought to commercial success through Westinghouse Corporation. Guglielmo Marconi, who was making a financial success out of wireless communication, copied Tesla’s radio patents. To twist the knife in Tesla’s heart, it was popularly heralded as the Marconi wireless.

  His most recent undertaking demonstrated an ability to light lamps that were long tubes without wires (the forerunner of modern fluorescent lamps), the first of his attempts to convince others that electrical power could be distributed without wires, but no one was listening.

  Tesla suspected there was a leak within his operation; someone, most likely Edison, had a paid informant who was conveying all pertinent technical data to him, and in turn Edison was passing it on to Marconi, or stealing it for himself. However it was occurring, it poisoned Tesla’s attempts to raise funds.

  Into his troubled world stepped Viko, a trustworthy blood relative. He was the person with whom Tesla could share his most valuable ideas and techniques. Viko did the legwork and gave him unconditional loyalty. Nikola Tesla had made a very good decision, not just as a family member, but also as a technical giant in need of help, as he struggled against the forces that seemed intent on preventing his success and the realization of his dreams.

  Each day Tesla and Viko would take a carriage from the Waldorf-Astoria at 350 Fifth Avenue to Tesla’s lab in lower Manhattan at 31 South Fifth Avenue, a practice that Tesla had followed every day for years. It did not take Viko long to conclude that such sumptuous accommodations as the Waldorf made little practical sense. Tesla was forever late meeting his rent, the Waldorf restaurant was ridiculously expensive, and furthermore, it was thirty-two blocks away from the lab, requiring an expensive carriage ride each way. Viko preferred the simplicity and warmth of an apartment or a house.

  One night while dining at the Johnsons’, Tesla’s banker and close friends, Viko brought up the subject of the hotel. Viko had done some looking around the neighborhood near the laboratory and found a very nice apartment two blocks away on East Twelfth Street, for just fifteen dollars per month, and it included all utilities plus a doorman. He informed the Johnsons of this in advance, and that evening over dinner the three of them convinced Tesla that the move would be in his best interests. Most likely, Katherine Johnson’s offer to assist them in setting up housekeeping took away any final objections.

  As they gathered up their belongings and prepared to move out of the Waldorf, Viko reflected over the past five months to the day he took his first steps on American soil.

  That first night in New York, they had gone directly to the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. As they dined in the hotel’s famous restaurant, Viko was wide-eyed as one after another famous guest came over to shake hands with Tesla, to welcome him home and ask what great new invention was around the corner—and a few actually asked for his autograph! He knew that his uncle was famous, but people treated him like a celebrity. He half expected someone to bend down and kiss his uncle’s ring. And of course each person, after greeting Nikola, turned to the handsome young man across from him and asked the obvious question, “Is this your son?”

  Nikola was quick to point out that, no, this was Viktor Gracac, his late sister’s son who had come to New York to live and work with him.

  Viko was surprised, as he had been many times over the past few weeks, to see how little Tesla ate. He hardly ate enough to maintain his gaunt frame, choosing small portions of the blandest food on the menu as if the action of digesting excessive food would overburden his fertile mind. His choices in menu items were puzzling, especially considering that the delicacies on the Waldorf menu were the best in the city. This was just one of many oddities and idiosyncrasies of Nikola Tesla that would puzzle Viko as time went on.

  They fell into a natural working arrangement; Tesla was the idea man, the one who dreamed big dreams, whose avid mind took leaps beyond the bounds of ordinary mortals. And Viko became the responsible one, sorting through the constant outflow of Tesla’s creativity. Nikola enjoyed being the one whose name was in the papers, speaking at events where his demonstrations of high-voltage electricity were better than any circus show. The unnoticed man in the background was Viko, quietly and effectively being the man behind the man, the one keeping the wheels turning and the operation in full swing as Tesla ranged far and wide, in spirit and his travels.

  Tesla introduced Viko to George Westinghouse, taking him along when he visited the Westinghouse manufacturing facilities in New Jersey. Westinghouse was building the generators, motors, transformers, and distribution systems that were the core of Tesla’s polyphase AC electrical power. It became commonplace for Viko to make the trip alone to assist the engineers and mechanics when problems arose with the newer and larger generators and motors that were constantly being developed. The older engineers at Westinghouse were initially skeptical about the twenty-one-year-old wonder boy, but they quickly developed respect for his talent and ingenuity. More than once, he studied a problem they were having and with uncanny accuracy recommended a change that solved the problem quickly and economically.

  In no small measure, Viko’s quiet, understated personality had much to do with his success. In addition to his brilliance, he was without pretense or guile. Unlike Tesla, who often came across as aloof and insular, Viko was friendly, respectful, always referring to older men as Mister or Sir. When he found errors in others’ work, he presented his solutions without ever referring to “mistakes” or blame on the part of others, but simply as suggestions, perhaps another approach. He brought others into the implementation of repairs and redesigns, ensuring that credit went to everyone. Viko had a natural ability to draw out the very finest in others, and they came to see him as a leader they wished to follow, an unusual ability for a young man working with men twice his age.

  Unfortunately, Viko became aware of another side of Nikola Tesla. Tesla had little appreciation for the value of his work. Viko saw value, wealth, and sources of income at Westinghouse, at the generators at Niagara Falls, in Tesla’s ingenious induction motors that were rapidly becoming the workhorses of industry. However, Tesla constantly struggled because of a lack of funds. Tesla had assigned most of his patents, especially the lucrative ones, to the likes of J.P. Morgan and George Westinghouse, usually in return for an empty promise or, worse, as compensation for work that Tesla failed to complete on unrelated tasks.

  The seriousness of this came home to Viko while having lunch with Thomas Allen, George Westinghouse’s electrical foreman. He asked Viko why Tesla never presented a bill to Westinghouse for the services they were providing, such as the help that Viko was offering to Westinghouse. Viko had no answer; that part of the business was foreign to him except for the bits and pieces of conversations he picked up around the office.

  Viko never thought to ask about such a thing as p
ayment arrangements. He had supposed there was an agreement, a fee for such work, but beyond that he had never inquired about it.

  One evening, when they had a rare night off and were dining at the Johnsons’ home in Manhattan, Viko asked Nikola why he was not billing for his consulting and assistance time. Viko was actually a little reluctant to bring it up, fearing Nikola would tell him that his time wasn’t worth much—but the answer he got made him drop his fork.

  “It is beneath me, and it should be beneath you, to charge for simply helping others to solve their problems,” his uncle Nikola said. “I do not lower myself—I have too much self-respect to put myself in the same category as the likes of Edison, whose ego and buffoonery puts him on the front pages and results in his ridiculous charges. Why, I understand that he charges as much as twenty-five dollars an hour for his time. Our work, Viko, is for the good of humanity, and it is a gift. Just think of all the good we are doing, the burdens we are lifting from the common man, the free time we are giving to everyone to pursue music, art, family. That is enough compensation for the truly gifted.”

  Viko just stared at him.

  This was not new ground for Robert Johnson, who was at his wits’ end trying to get Tesla to understand the financial side of business. Nikola Tesla was a man hounded daily by suppliers demanding overdue payments, a man who gave away inventions worth fortunes to raise a few measly dollars, whose mind was brilliant beyond measure, but whose financial wherewithal was so lacking as to be laughable.

  For the first time since they had worked and lived together, Viko got angry.

  “My God, Uncle Nik, if Edison is worth twenty-five, you are easily worth fifty dollars per hour. How can you be so naïve? Are you stupid?”

  Stupid blurted out in the emotion of the moment. Tesla had only been called stupid once before—by Edison when he refused to pay Tesla the fifty thousand dollars he had promised him for fixing a dynamo.

  If the Johnsons’ dining room was quiet before, now it was like a mausoleum. It was as if Tesla suddenly turned to stone. His features hardened and his eyes bored into Viko with a look that chilled Viko to the core. Time stood still. Tesla was practically catatonic, no sound or movement save a shaking in his hands. He pushed his chair back and as if in a trance removed his napkin from his lap, neatly folded it and placed it next to his plate, and got up, turning to leave.

  Viko was petrified. He had never seen his uncle like this. What had he done? His eyes darted back and forth between Robert and Katherine.

  “I, I, I’m sorry, Uncle Nik, I didn’t mean it, I’m so sorry.”

  Tesla continued toward the door.

  This behavior was not new to Robert and Katherine. They had both seen him become trancelike in the past, usually when something of a critical nature was said to him. It triggered something deep within. Katherine looked pleadingly at Robert, her eyes begging him to do something. Robert got up, crossed the room, and put his hand on Tesla’s shoulder. Tesla stopped and turned, looking in Robert’s direction, but his eyes seemed not to see.

  “Nik, please stop; come sit back down. It was an innocent remark! My God, Viko wasn’t trying to hurt you. Now come be sensible and sit back down with us.”

  Tesla seemed to understand but he continued to stand and look straight ahead, like someone who had just awakened from a dream. Katherine walked up to him, stood on his other side, and held his hand in hers.

  They led him back to the table. Robert helped him with his chair and Katherine offered him his wineglass. Tesla took a sip, savored it for a moment, looked over at Viko, and smiled.

  “What wonderful friends I have. I don’t know what I would do without all of you.”

  The dinner continued as if nothing had happened.

  The next morning, Viko traveled downtown and went to the American Citizens Bank where Robert Johnson greeted him and invited him into his office. “I imagine you’re here to talk about last night?”

  Viko nodded.

  “Katherine and I have seen this happen before. The first time we saw this was about four years ago. He invited us to his workshop to demonstrate his new lamps and had also invited his good friend Samuel Clemens for the evening.

  “Nikola was holding one of his lamps. It glowed with the most unusual blue color, and there were no wires at all connected to it. It was amazing! He began to describe his ideas about wireless power distribution, and it was obvious to us poor mortals that it worked! He suddenly stopped talking and moving. He just stood there, his eyes like those of a blind man. Samuel shrugged his shoulders in our direction and frowned, as if to say what’s this?

  “At first we thought the electricity was flowing through his body and somehow affected his speech or his muscles. We took him by his shoulders and gently guided him to a divan in the corner. Katherine brought him a glass of water. He was cold and clammy. Samuel was about to run off to find a doctor when Nikola coughed, looked around at all of us, and smiled. He got up, went to his desk, and wrote and drew electrical drawings with such speed that the pen was a blur. He looked up and said, ‘Just a thought I had, wanted to get it down while it was fresh.’ And then the evening continued as if nothing had happened.”

  Viko didn’t realize it, but this was exactly the behavior he himself had exhibited in the past when at the university.

  During his next trip to the Westinghouse plant in New Jersey, Thomas Allen again questioned Viko regarding the invoices. Tesla was broke as usual and Viko decided that a small fib would not be out of order. “I was going to bring that up today. We will be submitting a statement for a small payment.”

  “Small? No indeed, I have been authorized to give you a check for all the work that the two of you have done for us.”

  He handed Viko a check, signed by George Westinghouse, for $42,863—a fortune in 1902. Viko held it in his hand and just stared, first at the check, then at Allen. Viko was not quite sure what to do or say, but he was not about to give it back.

  Sheepishly he said, “George is most generous. I’m sure that my uncle will be pleased.”

  As Viko headed back to the city that night, he was full of anxiety. In one hand, literally, he had the answer to all the financial problems his uncle was having, but on the other hand, he held the memory of his uncle’s admonition that he would not lower himself to accept money like this. And that exacerbated his fear that Tesla would have another of his strange attacks. He decided that before he did anything else he would talk with Robert Johnson.

  They met two days later at the bank offices.

  “Viko, what brings you here today?”

  “This is why I am here.”

  He handed Robert the envelope containing the check. Robert put on his reading glasses to make sure his eyes were not playing tricks on him and then let out a long slow whistle. He sat back. “Care to explain this to me?”

  Viko recounted the events of the past few weeks, and of Westinghouse insisting he take the money to Tesla. He feared that telling Tesla would provoke another reaction.

  “He needs this money, but I don’t know what to do with it. I came to you because you would know how to talk to my uncle. I don’t want a repeat of the other night.”

  “I agree with you, Viko. It is baffling to me how someone with your uncle’s intelligence and grasp of the scientific world can be so impractical regarding money. His work is worth a fortune. I think he sees it somewhat like being paid in the same manner that an attorney is paid, and he has quite a degree of contempt for the legal profession, which he views as nothing more than a bunch of vultures. Let me think about this overnight. You were right in coming to me. If it is acceptable to you, I will keep this check in the bank vault for safekeeping.”

  The next day, sitting at a quiet table in a nearby restaurant, Viko and Robert had just ordered lunch and were sipping their beer. “Well, what do you propose we do?” asked Viko.

  “I have an idea regarding the money. But first I must warn you that what I am about to suggest is not quite in keeping with pro
per accounting practices, but I consider this to be an extraordinary situation, one calling for an extraordinary solution. I propose that you, Viko, become the de facto head of accounting of the Tesla Electric Company. You and I are the only ones who will know about this.

  “I further propose that we set up a trust account into which we will deposit the check, and when we feel it is appropriate I will see to it that funds from the account are transferred into the Tesla account. I am going to convince him to let you handle the finances. I am not quite sure how, but Katherine is close to him and I can use her influence to convince him that it is a good idea. What do you think?”

  Viko asked several clarifying questions. He worried about Tesla going to Westinghouse and angrily confronting him over his paying money directly to Viko. He was unsure of what to do.

  Robert asked him a single question. “Do you think that your uncle deserves this money?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then let’s move ahead and worry about problems with your uncle, if and when they occur. The check is made out to the Tesla Electric Company. It must be endorsed before we can deposit it. At present, and until we put you in charge of finances, there is only one signature that we can accept, Nikola Tesla. I am going to ask you to do something that I have never done myself, and I have never asked anyone to do before. I have seen your handwriting. It is indistinguishable from your uncle’s. Will you sign the check, using your uncle’s name?”

  The question troubled Viko—does the end justify the means? Is a solution to the consistent, acute financial crisis worth a potentially illegal act, regardless of its potential positive effect?