Nor would the corporate name Thomas A. Edison, Inc., survive. In 1956, Charles Edison arranged for a merger with the larger McGraw Electric Company, based in Chicago. Just as in the nineteenth century Edison Electric had had to share the marquee, becoming Edison General Electric before “Edison” was dropped completely, this time the newly merged entity was renamed McGraw-Edison. The company sold fuses, home appliances, test instruments, and equipment for generating plants. Once again the value of the Edison name on the tag sank without the presence of the inventor himself to remind customers of his omniscient oversight. In 1985, McGraw-Edison was absorbed into Cooper Industries, an industrial conglomerate based in Houston.
Without an eponymous company selling new versions of Edison’s inventions, his fame would be subject to the normal wear and tear from the passage of time. It is not a little surprising how durable it has proven to be. One measure is a poll of Chinese who were asked in 1998 to list the best-known Americans: Ahead of Mark Twain, number four, and Albert Einstein, number three, and even ahead of Michael Jordan, number two, was Thomas Alva Edison.
In the history of modern invention, Edison fortuitously lived at just the right time, close enough to the present to be associated with the origins of the modern entertainment business and also the basic electrical infrastructure needed for just about everything, yet not too late to be able to get away with claiming sole authorship of the inventions produced in close collaboration with a large but publicly invisible technical staff. Today, the proliferation of technical wonders and the anonymity of the worker bees in corporate labs who produced them prevent the emergence of any single individual engineer who could rival Edison. Shunpei Yamazaki, currently affiliated with Japan’s Semiconductor Energy Laboratory, has a long way to go before his name is recognized as readily in America as Edison’s, but Yamazaki now has more than 1,560 patents issued in the United States. We rely upon the microprocessor, the personal computer, the cell phone, and the iPod without even a faint idea of who should be credited for bringing the accoutrements of modern life into existence. Edison, however, made sure that no one would be confused about whom to credit for the inventions that came out of his lab.
Edison’s fame acquired an indestructible shine because he worked in technical areas that the public sensed were going to shape that historical moment. This was not the case in the earliest portion of his inventing career, when he was known only among telegraph-equipment specialists. But once he chanced upon the phonograph and, overnight, the press anointed him the Wizard of Menlo Park, he occupied a space different from everywhere else: He, and anyone working for him, were perceived as standing at the very outer edge of the present, where it abuts the future. When a young John Lawson sought a position at Edison’s lab and wrote in 1879 that he was “willing to do anything, dirty work—become anything, almost a slave, only give me a chance,” he spoke with a fervency familiar to applicants knocking today on the door of the hot tech company du jour. In the age of the computer, different companies at different times—for example, Apple in the early 1980s, Microsoft in the early 1990s, Google in the first decade of the twenty-first century—inherited the temporary aura that once hovered over Edison’s Menlo Park laboratory, attracting young talents who applied in impossibly large numbers, all seeking a role in the creation of the zeitgeist (and, like John Ott, at the same time open to a chance to become wealthy). The lucky ones got inside (Lawson got a position and worked on electric light).
Menlo Park became the iconic site for American ingenuity, but it was a highly burnished image that floated free of the actual place. Edison did not stay in the actual Menlo Park for very long—only four years after the phonograph was invented in 1877, he moved to New York City to be close to the work on the electric light system and would never return. When he built the new, far larger laboratory complex in Orange, New Jersey, he still was seen by the public as a permanent resident of the imaginary Menlo Park, the place where the invention factory seemed capable of mastering anything. It was an image that popular culture did not want to relinquish because it perfectly embodied the nation’s idealized image of itself.
Edison’s work was not merely his principal preoccupation; it was the organizing leitmotif of his entire waking existence. He also made it a defining characteristic of his public image. He made sure the press understood that no one worked longer hours than he did, no one needed less sleep than he did, no one was more passionately devoted to invention than he was. He was a prickly person who was used to getting his own way, insufferably opinionated and a carrier of the hateful prejudices of his day. Still, the reader who sees that Edison could neither enjoy his celebrity nor shed it may be inclined to view Edison more sympathetically. No different from most mortals, Edison was a creature of habit, and he stuck to the routines that seemed to have served him so well as a young inventor. After the phonograph and electric light, his inventive efforts across five decades produced one claim to a major success, movies—a claim contested by others—as well as minor hits in other fields and some major misses. For all his accomplishments, Edison failed to invent a way to free himself from unrealistic expectations produced by his own past.
For more than half a century, Edison enjoyed and endured fame. His two wives and six children would also have to contend with the complications that inevitably come when an individual is no longer able to keep private life separate from public, no longer able to keep strangers from presuming intimate ties. Edison did not spare much time to reflect aloud upon how celebrity had shaped the course of his life for good or for ill. He gave no indication whether over time he lost the ability to distinguish the exaggerated public image of the Wizard from the one that he saw in the mirror. One exception, when Edison actually referred at least indirectly to his own celebrity, occurred late in his life. One of his employees recalled walking past him one day as the inventor stepped briskly between buildings at the lab. He cheerfully greeted his employer: “Morning, Mr. Edison.” Edison gave him a glance, raised his finger to show a major pronouncement would follow, and said, “The world’s greatest inventor, world’s greatest damn fool,” then hurried on.
NOTES
The following abbreviations are used in the notes:
ENHS Edison National Historic Site, West Orange, New Jersey
HFM & GVRC Henry Ford Museum and Greenfield Village Research Center, Dearborn, Michigan. All box references are for the Edison Papers, Accession #1630.
NYDG
New York Daily Graphic
NYH
New York Herald
NYS
New York Sun
NYT
New York Times
NYW
New York World
PTAE
The Papers of Thomas Alva Edison (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989–)
Vol. 1: Reese V. Jenkins, Leonard S. Reich, Paul B. Israel, Toby Appel, Andrew J. Butrica, Robert A. Rosenberg, Keith A. Nier, Melodie Andrews, and Thomas E. Jeffrey, eds., The Making of an Inventor, February 1847–June 1873
Vol. 2: Robert A. Rosenberg, Paul B. Israel, Keith A. Nier, and Melodie Andrews, eds., From Workshop to Laboratory, June 1873–March 1876
Vol. 3: Robert A. Rosenberg, Paul B. Israel, Keith A. Nier, and Martha J. King, eds., Menlo Park: The Early Years, April 1876–December 1877
Vol. 4: Paul B. Israel, Keith A. Nier, and Louis Carlat, eds., The Wizard of Menlo Park, 1876
Vol. 5: Paul B. Israel, Louis Carlat, David Hochfelder, and Keith A. Nier, eds., Research to Development at Menlo Park, January 1879–March 1881
TAE
Thomas Alva Edison
PTAED
The Papers of Thomas Alva Edison (digital edition). The home page for the Digital Edition is http://edison.rutgers.edu. Individual documents may be retrieved using the form at http://edison.rutgers. edu/singldoc.htm.
TAEPM
Thomas A. Edison Papers: A Selective Microfilm Edition
The following works are cited by short title in more than one
chapter:
Conot, Streak of Luck: Robert Conot, A Streak of Luck (New York: Seaview Books, 1979).
Dyer and Martin, Edison: Frank L. Dyer and Thomas C. Martin, with William Meadowcroft, Edison: His Life and Inventions (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1910, rev. ed. 1929).
Friedel and Israel, Edison’s Electric Light: Robert Friedel and Paul Israel, Edison’s Electric Light: Biography of an Invention (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1986).
Israel, Edison: Paul Israel, Edison: A Life of Invention (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1998).
Jehl, Reminiscences: Francis Jehl, Reminiscences of Menlo Park (Dearborn, Mich.: Edison Institute, 1939). 3v.
Josephson, Edison: Matthew Josephson, Edison: A Biography (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1959).
Nerney, Edison: Mary Childs Nerney, Thomas A. Edison: A Modern Olympian (New York: Harrison Smith and Robert Haas, 1934).
Tate, Edison’s Open Door: Alfred O. Tate, Edison’s Open Door (New York: E. F. Dutton, 1938).
INTRODUCTION
stood five foot nine: “The Phonograph, Etc.,” Daily Evening Traveler, 23 May 1878, PTAED, SM029106a.
first celebrities in American history: Richard Schickel, Intimate Strangers: The Culture of Celebrity (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1985). Schickel assumes that the phenomenon of celebrity did not begin until the early twentieth century. He excludes Edison from his survey.
Other nineteenth-century figures: Leo Braudy points out that “after the Civil War, no president until Theodore Roosevelt could compete in name and face recognition with men such as Barnum, Mark Twain, and Thomas A. Edison.” Leo Braudy, The Frenzy of Renown: Fame and Its History (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), 498.
an envelope mailed: Wilson Drug Company to TAE, 12 April 1911, ENHS. It was mailed on a bet—the envelope lacked a letter inside—and reached Edison nineteen days later.
inspiring essayists to expect: “Phonograph,” Brooklyn Eagle, 26 February 1878, PTAED, MBSB10385X.
one humorist suggested: “Edisonia,” NYDG, 9 May 1878, PTAED, MBSB10590X.
the two previous generations: PTAE, 1:3–6, 19n2; Josephson, Edison, 1–3.
loss of hearing: Edison attributed his hearing loss to an incident when he was working on the Grand Trunk Railroad. In his telling, many years later, he said he been standing below the door of a freight car with arms full with newspapers, unable to get himself up and in, when a conductor who was standing inside lifted him up—by his ears—to help him board. Edison said, “I felt something snap inside my head, and my deafness started from that time and has ever since progressed.” Dyer and Martin, Edison, 37.
he persuaded his mother: TAE reminiscence, “Book No. 1,” 11 September 1908, PTAE, 1:629. Unlike the carefully polished tales told of his childhood in hagiographies, the fragments of oral history that were transcribed in 1908 contain enough rough edges to possess verisimilitude.
Edison expanded into newspaper publishing: PTAE, 1:25–26. TAE reminiscence, “Book No. 1,” PTAE, 1:629. The British traveler was Robert Stephenson, a civil engineer, who, with his father, George Stephenson, were one of the most famous pair of engineers in Victorian England. I could not confirm that the Times ever mentioned Edison’s newspaper as Edison believed it had. The incident occurred years before Edison maintained scrapbooks of clippings, and I was unable to find any story resembling this in Palmer’s Index to the Times.
When a bottle of phosphorus: PTAE, 1:8; Dyer and Martin, Edison, 37.
Edison fell into the good graces: TAE reminiscence, “Book No. 1,” PTAE, 1:631. When MacKenzie got back in touch with Edison many years later, in 1877, he mentioned that his son Jimmy was now almost as tall as his father and had been working as assistant lineman on the railroad. James MacKenzie to TAE, 18 September 1877, PTAED, D7719ZBX. In his reply, Edison recalled that “Jimmy was only 2½ feet high when I used to plague him,” and signed his note with atypical warmth as “Your old friend.” TAE to James MacKenzie, 21 September 1877, PTAED, LB001291. MacKenzie became one of Edison’s Menlo Park employees.
role was anything but heroic: TAE reminiscence, “Book No. 1,” PTAE, 1:631. For a discussion of the claim that Edison’s inattention in this incident resulted in the loss of lives, a claim for which there is no documentary evidence, see PTAE, 1:671–672.
renewed acquaintance: Ezra Gilliland was one friend whom Edison made when the two worked together in Adrian, Michigan. The two later roomed together, along with two actors, in Cincinnati. Gilliland helped Edison keep his skills sharp by sending plays over the wire; presumably, these sessions explain the recurring phrase in Edison’s laboratory notebooks from the opening of Richard III: “Now is the winter of our discontent…” PTAE, 1:16, 1:22n45. The two men’s careers led in different directions for a number of years, but Gilliland would later become a key business associate and very close personal friend of Edison’s.
In a rare surviving letter: TAE [to family], Spring 1866 [conjectured], PTAE, 1:28.
great prowess: PTAE, 1:671. In Edison’s own phrase, he was “a complete failure” as a sender.
He had diligently investigated: TAE reminiscence, “Book No. 1,” PTAE, 1:637.
In Cincinnati in 1867: TAE reminiscence, “Book No. 1,” PTAE, 1:637. Edison put batteries to another use when he found his apartment overrun with cockroaches. He pasted two strips of tinfoil across their path, attached wires to the strips and to a battery, and when the insect stepped across both strips, “there was a flash of light and the cockroach went into gas.” TAE reminiscence, “Book No. 1,” PTAE, 1:637–638.
When he landed in Boston: “The Napoleon of Science,” NYS, 10 March 1878, PTAED, SB031032b.
in exchange for half-interest: The documentary record for Edison and his backers in 1868 is not complete, but the papers that are available suggest that the sums that Edison received were not large. One example: In July 1868, he signed a contract with E. Baker Welch, signing over a half-interest in the fire-alarm telegraph for $20. TAE and E. Baker Welch, 28 July 1868. National Archives. PTAED, W100CAC. Earlier that month, Edison had signed a contract that gave Baker a half-interest in a double transmitter for a down payment of only $5.50. Receipt for E. Baker Welch, 11 July 1868, PTAE, 1:70–71. When the full contract for this project was signed by the two men the next year, Edison referred to unspecified “various sums of money” that Baker had advanced to him, but the figure paid that day was still a modest $40. TAE, patent assignment to E. Baker Welch, 7 April 1869, PTAED, D6901A.
Three individuals: PTAE, 1:52.
When Edison and his investor angel: George Parsons Lathrop, “Talks with Edison,” Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, February 1890, 431–432.
A fellow boarder: W. E. Sharren to TAE, 31 July 1878, PTAED, D7802ZUB.
could collect contributions: PTAE, 1:52; “The undersigned promise…,” notebook entry, 1 December 1868, PTAED, D6801A.
once got in trouble: TAE reminiscence, “Book No. 1,” PTAE, 1:638.
He claimed that the deafness: Thomas A. Edison as told to Edward Marshall, “My Deafness Helped You to Hear the Phonograph,” Hearst International/Cosmopolitan, April 1925.
better suited: Ibid.
One occasion: Tate, Edison’s Open Door, 164.
CHAPTER 1. ALMOST FAMOUS
On the eve of founding: TAE to Samuel and Nancy Edison, 30 October 1870, PTAE, 1:212. Edison offered to send money so his father could purchase “a good peice [sic] of property very cheap” that his father had mentioned in a prior letter.
meeting the weekly payroll: TAE to George Harrington, 22 July 1871 [conjectured], PTAED, D7103L. How pinched Edison really was is hard to say. Two days later, he sent his father $300 for an investment in a Port Huron liquor store that his father was interested in. TAE to Samuel Edison, 24 July 1871, HFM & GVRC, PTAE, 1:308–309.
his hair turned white: TAE to Frank Hanaford, 17 September 1869, PTAED, D6901H; TAE to Frank Hanaford, 26 January 1870 [conjectured], PTAED, D7001C.
When he and partner William Unger: E
dison and Unger Summary Account, 1 January 1872, PTAED, D7212C.
When R. G. Dun & Company: R. G. Dun & Co. Credit Report, July 1872, Baker Library, Harvard, PTAE, 1:472.
offered subscribers a private telegraph line: News Reporting Telegraph Company, “An American Idea,” advertising circular, October 1871 [conjectured], PTAED, SB178B1.
daughter of a lawyer: PTAE, 1:385n5.
Among the young women: J. B. McClure, Edison and His Inventions (Chicago: Rhodes & McClure, 1879), 67.
a strikingly similar account: “Thomas A. Edison: Inventor of Electric Light and Phonograph,” Christian Herald & Signs of Our Times, 25 July 1888, PTAED, SC88058A. Here is the alternative account:
She was seated, working; he was standing behind her quietly. “Mr. Edison,” she said, swinging around suddenly, “I can always tell when you are behind me or near me.”
“How do you account for that?”
“I don’t know, I am sure,” she answered, “but I seem to feel when you are near me.”
“Miss Stillwell,” said Edison, “I’ve been thinking considerable of you of late, and if you are willing to have me, I’d like to marry you.”
“You astonish me,” she protested, “I—I never—.”
“I know you never thought I would be your wooer,” interrupted Mr. Edison, “but think over my proposal, Miss Stillwell, and talk it over with your mother.”
It is possible that the Christian Herald account is derived wholly from McClure’s, and does not provide independent corroboration. But it does have a few details that are not found in the version published earlier.
The Wizard of Menlo Park Page 33
