The Time Change Trilogy-Complete Collection

by Alex Myers

  In the advertisements he offered free money for research at a well-equipped facility, a monthly apportionment, and room and board. He also stated that the inventors were to keep the patent rights to anything they created or discovered, with Jack setting up manufacturing, advertising, and distribution for a term of ten years. One of his brightest prospects was a young man named Jeremiah Jefferson from Albany who had already made serious inroads in the field of petroleum distillation.

  Half the time, Jack was spending his nights in a room in the Astor Hotel and his days in an office in the Sanger Building. The other half, which he considered the better half, was at the complex he was building in Norfolk. The researchers moved into buildings as soon as they were constructed.

  He found an article in the Times concerning a copyright infringement case involving one Charles Goodyear. The article stated that Goodyear lived on Staten Island.

  It was the day before Thanksgiving and Jack had no desire to be stuck in an office. He decided against taking his own boat. He took a coach to the Staten Island and New York Steam Ferry Company at the Whitehall Slip, later to become the Whitehall terminal in Southern Manhattan near Battery Park. He paid his five cents and boarded the steamship Hunchback which would later be acquired by the U.S. Navy. It was a rather elegantly-furnished single-ender sidewheeler. He stood at the second-level rail and saw Castle Williams on Governor’s Island and then, off to his west, Ellis Island. Liberty Island, then known as Bedloe’s Island, had the Fort Wood’s star-shaped base for the Statue of Liberty, but the lady herself was eerily absent.

  The Hunchback passed the white stone tower of the Robbins Reef Lighthouse, built on a reef situated near the entrance to Kill van Kull, a three-mile-long waterway linking Upper New York Bay to Newark Bay, home of the busiest port in the eastern United States. The boat docked at West New Brighton after a stop in Snug Harbor and the New Brighton wharves. After asking several merchants for directions, he finally ran across someone who knew Goodyear and the Great India Rubber Company and was told that Goodyear lived in a section of town known as Factoryville.

  He found Charles and his family destitute, living in an abandoned rubber factory. Charles and his small son were putting away their equipment from a morning of fishing in the Kill van Kull tidal straight. One look at the dilapidated factory that the Goodyears were calling home and Jack knew that the fishing trip was more for food than sport. Jack wondered what the family was going to do for dinner that night.

  Goodyear offered Jack a seat at a rickety table in a corner of the abandoned building that made do as their kitchen. There was one couch with a solitary spring sprouting among the cushions. Several buckets had been placed around the large room to catch drips from the roof. Charles Goodyear, slight of build, short, frail and sickly-looking, seemed an unlikely candidate for the father of the modern rubber industry and the man the blimp was named for.

  “Mr. Goodyear,” Jack began.

  “Please call me Charles.”

  “Thank you, and please call me Jack. I suppose you could say I’m an inventor too.“

  “I’ve seen that bicycle you’ve built,” Goodyear said excitedly. “It’s quite a marvel. I’ve also seen your advertisements in the newspaper.”

  “That’s the reason I’m here to see you today. I’m having most of the bicycles made in a machine shop in Queens that I recently purchased and expanded, and I’d like you to be in charge of making the rubber tires for the bikes. Instead of solid tires, I want the tires to be inflatable for a smoother ride. I’ve got the process figured out and even have working prototypes.”

  Charles Goodyear’s face lit with excitement.

  “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 hop
ed 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 add, 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.