The inventor’s vision of a global wireless-transmission tower
proved to be his undoing
Tesla believed his mind to be without equal, and he wasn’t above
chiding his contemporaries, such as Thomas Edison, who once hired
him. “If Edison had a needle to find in a haystack,” Tesla once
wrote, “he would proceed at once with the diligence of the bee to
examine straw after straw until he found the object of his search. I
was a sorry witness of such doing that a little theory and
calculation would have saved him ninety percent of his labor.”
But what his contemporaries may have been lacking in scientific
talent (by Tesla’s estimation), men like Edison and George
Westinghouse clearly possessed the one trait that Tesla did not—a
mind for business. And in the last days of America’s Gilded Age,
Nikola Tesla made a dramatic attempt to change the future of
communications and power transmission around the world. He managed
to convince J.P. Morgan that he was on the verge of a breakthrough,
and the financier gave Tesla more than $150,000 to fund what would
become a gigantic, futuristic and startling tower in the middle of
Long Island, New York. In 1898, as Tesla’s plans to create a
worldwide wireless transmission system became known, Wardenclyffe
Tower would be Tesla’s last chance to claim the recognition and
wealth that had always escaped him.
Nikola Tesla was born in modern-day Croatia in 1856; his father,
Milutin, was a priest of the Serbian Orthodox Church. From an early
age, he demonstrated the obsessiveness that would puzzle and amuse
those around him. He could memorize entire books and store
logarithmic tables in his brain. He picked up languages easily, and
he could work through days and nights on only a few hours sleep.
At the age of 19, he was studying electrical engineering at the
Polytechnic Institute at Graz in Austria, where he quickly
established himself as a star student. He found himself in an
ongoing debate with a professor over perceived design flaws in the
direct-current (DC) motors that were being demonstrated in class.
“In attacking the problem again I almost regretted that the struggle
was soon to end,” Tesla later wrote. “I had so much energy to spare.
When I undertook the task it was not with a resolve such as men
often make. With me it was a sacred vow, a question of life and
death. I knew that I would perish if I failed. Now I felt that the
battle was won. Back in the deep recesses of the brain was the
solution, but I could not yet give it outward expression.”
He would spend the next six years of his life “thinking” about
electromagnetic fields and a hypothetical motor powered by
alternate-current that would and should work. The thoughts obsessed
him, and he was unable to focus on his schoolwork. Professors at the
university warned Tesla’s father that the young scholar’s working
and sleeping habits were killing him. But rather than finish his
studies, Tesla became a gambling addict, lost all his tuition money,
dropped out of school and suffered a nervous breakdown. It would not
be his last.
In 1881, Tesla moved to Budapest, after recovering from his
breakdown, and he was walking through a park with a friend, reciting
poetry, when a vision came to him. There in the park, with a stick,
Tesla drew a crude diagram in the dirt—a motor using the principle
of rotating magnetic fields created by two or more alternating
currents. While AC electrification had been employed before, there
would never be a practical, working motor run on alternating current
until he invented his induction motor several years later.
In June 1884, Tesla sailed for New York City and arrived with four
cents in his pocket and a letter of recommendation from Charles
Batchelor—a former employer—to Thomas Edison, which was purported to
say, “My Dear Edison: I know two great men and you are one of them.
The other is this young man!”
A meeting was arranged, and once Tesla described the engineering
work he was doing, Edison, though skeptical, hired him. According to
Tesla, Edison offered him $50,000 if he could improve upon the DC
generation plants Edison favored. Within a few months, Tesla
informed the American inventor that he had indeed improved upon
Edison’s motors. Edison, Tesla noted, refused to pay up. “When you
become a full-fledged American, you will appreciate an American
joke,” Edison told him.
Tesla promptly quit and took a job digging ditches. But it wasn’t
long before word got out that Tesla’s AC motor was worth investing
in, and the Western Union Company put Tesla to work in a lab not far
from Edison’s office, where he designed AC power systems that are
still used around the world. “The motors I built there,” Tesla said,
“were exactly as I imagined them. I made no attempt to improve the
design, but merely reproduced the pictures as they appeared to my
vision, and the operation was always as I expected.”
Tesla patented his AC motors and power systems, which were said to
be the most valuable inventions since the telephone. Soon, George
Westinghouse, recognizing that Tesla’s designs might be just what he
needed in his efforts to unseat Edison’s DC current, licensed his
patents for $60,000 in stocks and cash and royalties based on how
much electricity Westinghouse could sell. Ultimately, he won the
“War of the Currents,” but at a steep cost in litigation and
competition for both Westinghouse and Edison’s General Electric
Company.
Fearing ruin, Westinghouse begged Tesla for relief from the
royalties Westinghouse agreed to. “Your decision determines the fate
of the Westinghouse Company,” he said. Tesla, grateful to the man
who had never tried to swindle him, tore up the royalty contract,
walking away from millions in royalties that he was already owed and
billions that would have accrued in the future. He would have been
one of the wealthiest men in the world—a titan of the Gilded Age.
His work with electricity reflected just one facet of his fertile
mind. Before the turn of the 20th century, Tesla had invented a
powerful coil that was capable of generating high voltages and
frequencies, leading to new forms of light, such as neon and
fluorescent, as well as X-rays. Tesla also discovered that these
coils, soon to be called “Tesla Coils,” made it possible to send and
receive radio signals. He quickly filed for American patents in
1897, beating the Italian inventor Guglielmo Marconi to the punch.
Tesla continued to work on his ideas for wireless transmissions when
he proposed to J.P. Morgan his idea of a wireless globe. After
Morgan put up the $150,000 to build the giant transmission tower,
Tesla promptly hired the noted architect Stanford White of McKim,
Mead, and White in New York. White, too, was smitten with Tesla’s
idea. After all, Tesla was the highly acclaimed man behind
Westinghouse’s success with alternating current, and when Tesla
talked, he was persuasive.
“As soon as completed, it will be possible for a business man in New
York to dictate instructions, and have them instantly appear in type
at his office in London or elsewhere,” Tesla said at the time. “He
will be able to call up, from his desk, and talk to any telephone
subscriber on the globe, without any change whatever in the existing
equipment. An inexpensive instrument, not bigger than a watch, will
enable its bearer to hear anywhere, on sea or land, music or song,
the speech of a political leader, the address of an eminent man of
science, or the sermon of an eloquent clergyman, delivered in some
other place, however distant. In the same manner any picture,
character, drawing or print can be transferred from one to another
place. Millions of such instruments can be operated from but one
plant of this kind.”
White quickly got to work designing Wardenclyffe Tower in 1901, but
soon after construction began it became apparent that Tesla was
going to run out of money before it was finished. An appeal to
Morgan for more money proved fruitless, and in the meantime
investors were rushing to throw their money behind Marconi. In
December 1901, Marconi successfully sent a signal from England to
Newfoundland. Tesla grumbled that the Italian was using 17 of his
patents, but litigation eventually favored Marconi and the
commercial damage was done. (The U.S. Supreme Court ultimately
upheld Tesla’s claims, clarifying Tesla’s role in the invention of
the radio—but not until 1943, after he died.) Thus the Italian
inventor was credited as the inventor of radio and became rich.
Wardenclyffe Tower became a 186-foot-tall relic (it would be razed
in 1917), and the defeat—Tesla’s worst—led to another of his
breakdowns. ”It is not a dream,” Tesla said, “it is a simple feat of
scientific electrical engineering, only expensive—blind,
faint-hearted, doubting world!”
By 1912, Tesla began to withdraw from that doubting world. He was
clearly showing signs of obsessive-compulsive disorder, and was
potentially a high-functioning autistic. He became obsessed with
cleanliness and fixated on the number three; he began shaking hands
with people and washing his hands—all done in sets of three. He had
to have 18 napkins on his table during meals, and would count his
steps whenever he walked anywhere. He claimed to have an abnormal
sensitivity to sounds, as well as an acute sense of sight, and he
later wrote that he had “a violent aversion against the earrings of
women,” and “the sight of a pearl would almost give me a fit.”
Near the end of his life, Tesla became fixated on pigeons,
especially a specific white female, which he claimed to love almost
as one would love a human being. One night, Tesla claimed the white
pigeon visited him through an open window at his hotel, and he
believed the bird had come to tell him she was dying. He saw “two
powerful beans of light” in the bird’s eyes, he later said. “Yes, it
was a real light, a powerful, dazzling, blinding light, a light more
intense than I had ever produced by the most powerful lamps in my
laboratory.” The pigeon died in his arms, and the inventor claimed
that in that moment, he knew that he had finished his life’s work.