In 1865 Hyatt was successful in creating a compound that consisted of a wood fibre core covered with a shellac and ivory dust. It is unclear whether he won the contest or was awarded any of the prize money from Phelan & Collender. On 10 October 1865, John Hyatt was granted his first solo patent for ‘Billiard-balls’ that detailed his new method for creation (Patent 50,359). He would soon form the Hyatt Billiard Ball Company with his friend Peter Kinnear. Hyatt needed to keep experimenting and developing new incarnations of his product because, while it was a step in the right direction, it still lacked the density and characteristics of ivory in many ways. It’s a good thing he still needed his day job, because it was one fateful day working in the print shop that Hyatt would discover the lead he needed to change history.
It was a spilled bottle of collodion that sparked Hyatt’s imagination. He went to clean up the spill, no doubt with annoyance that he would have a sticky mess on his hands, since collodion was a syrupy mixture that was used for coating photography in those days. Printers would use the substance, marketed then as ‘new-skin’ to coat their hands for protection while they were working. Instead of a mess he was encountered by a small amount of dried material that seemed to resemble the thickness and consistency of ivory. Collodion was, after all, primarily made of an alcohol and nitrocellulose mixture. Hyatt had exactly what he was looking for; he just needed a way to produce it effectively as a fully developed material. The experimentation began full-time, with Hyatt working with both liquid and solid collodion.
Years later, when Hyatt finally combined collodion with camphor and applied a heat to it, he discovered a mouldable, semi-synthetic thermoplastic. The Hyatt brothers wasted no time in looking after their interests and quickly filed for a patent. Patent 91,341 was granted on 15 June 1869 for an ‘Improved Method Of Making Solid Collodion’. The patent explanation read:
Our invention consists of a new and improved method of manufacturing solid collodion and its compounds; its essential feature being the employment of a very small quantity of ether or other appropriate solvent, and dissolving pyroxyline therewith, under a heavy pressure, so that a comparatively hard and solid product is obtained, with great economy of solvents and saving of time.
The brothers learned, with a consultation from a chemist, that they had to be very careful to not apply too much heat to their compound, because it was highly flammable. They were also advised that dental-plate blanks and dentures might be a good marketplace for their invention. Rubber had long been used to make dentures, but the costs of rubber were rapidly increasing and that fact that their collodion concoction was clear in its original state made it perfect for adding dyes and pigments to that could match the various colours needed. There were further alterations needed to their method and, on 12 July 1870, Patent 105,338 for the ‘Improvement in Treating and Molding Pyroxyline’ was granted; this final version of the Hyatt brothers’ plastic was dubbed ‘Celluloid’ by Isaiah. The brothers then established the Albany Dental Plate Company and the Celluloid dental blanks were born.
Throughout the 1870s the various applications for Celluloid began to become clear to the Hyatt brothers. They continued to improve on their manufacturing techniques and found that the clear plastic could be used to imitate a number of popular high-end materials, from amber and ivory, to coral and jet. The brothers began to manufacture a variety of products and Celluloid would come to be used for everything from vanity items to piano keys, cuffs and even glasses frames. Celluloid was a revolutionary product, but it wasn’t without distinct disadvantages. The reality was that Celluloid was highly flammable and subject to premature decomposition. The plastic staple was eventually replaced by a new and exciting material dubbed Bakelite.
Early Life of Leo Baekeland
It was shortly after the turn of the twentieth century and a new product was about to be introduced to the marketplace by Belgian-American Leo Henricus Arthur Baekeland. Leo Baekeland was a chemist, born on 14 November 1863, in Ghent, Belgium. He was the son of humble parents; his mother was a housemaid and his father, a shoe mender. Baekeland was able to utilise his voracious mind and intellect to elevate himself from his meagre beginnings in Ghent. He attended the Ghent Municipal Technical School, where he graduated with honours. This achievement provided him with a scholarship to the University of Ghent in 1880, where he studied chemistry and earned a PhD by the age of 21. In 1887 Baekeland produced and patented his first invention: a process for developing photographic plates in water. He also met his future wife, Celine Swarts, while working as the associate professor of chemistry at Ghent; the couple married on 8 August 1889 and would go on to have three children: George, Nina and Jenny.
On their honeymoon, Leo and Celine took a trip to America. It wasn’t just a leisure trip for the scholarly duo however; they also took the opportunity to visit a number of universities. It was a trip to Columbia University in New York City that would change Leo’s fate – and the face of the plastics industry forever. It was there that he was recruited by Richard Anthony of E. & H. T. Anthony & Co., a photography company, and Professor Charles F. Chandler. Impressed with Leo’s résumé to date, Anthony promptly offered him a job and tempted him and his new bride to move to America, an opportunity that they weren’t about to pass up. Baekeland worked for E. & H. T. Anthony & Co. for two years, before he ventured off on his own as an independent consulting chemist. This move did not prove to be a gainful one for Baekeland and he soon turned his focus back to his inventions. Leo would go on to invent a good many items, registering over 100 patents in his lifetime. It was his boyhood interest in photography that would lead to one of his more famous inventions, and it was during this time that he produced one of his most famous products: Velox.
Due to the shaky economic climate at the end of the nineteenth century, it was difficult for an inventor to simply create a product and sell it by themselves. Baekeland was in need of financial backers. In 1891 he went into partnership with Leonard Jacob to form the Nepera Chemical Company based in the Nepera Park area of Yonkers in New York State. They began producing Velox paper by 1893 and made a significant dent in the marketplace, a dent that eventually began to affect Eastman Kodak. George Eastman brokered a deal to purchase the company, and the patent to their Velox product, in 1899. The reports of the sum differ, but it was somewhere between seven hundred and fifty thousand and a million dollars. It is said that Baekeland himself earned two hundred and fifteen thousand dollars from the sale, an amount that would come to nearly six million dollars today. It was the money that he earned from the sale of Velox to Eastman Kodak that Baekeland would use toward creating his most lasting invention: Bakelite.
The Invention and Innovation of Bakelite
I was trying to make something really hard, but then I thought I should make something really soft instead, that could be molded into different shapes. That was how I came up with the first plastic. I called it Bakelite.
— Leo Baekeland
The road to Bakelite was paved with a few failures. The development of synthetic materials was a new venture for Baekeland, but he was unable to focus on the photography field any longer, due to a twenty-year long non-compete clause that he signed as a part of the deal with Eastman. In 1900, Leo returned to Germany to brush-up on his electrochemistry. Initially, it wasn’t the intent of Baekeland to create a fully synthetic plastic; in fact he was originally looking to find a useful replacement for the commonly used material called shellac. Shellac was a resin produced from the excretion of the lac beetle, used for everything from jewellery and flooring to dentures and other moulded goods. Baekeland was successful in creating a substitute called Novolak. Leo wasn’t pleased with the commercial success of the product at the time, although it is still used today, under the name Novolac, to produce everything from billiard balls to circuit boards. Novolak may not have been a success all on its own, but it would serve as the gateway, and the basis, for Bakelite.
Unsatisfied with his shellac substitute, Baekland kept experime
nting with combining phenol with formaldehyde, hoping to develop a hard plastic that was mouldable. He would eventually come upon the correct process for polyoxybenzylmethylenglycolanhydride, the chemical name of Bakelite. Bakelite was often created by adding a filler, such as wood or asbestos, to the resin. The phenolic resin was such a fantastic development, not only because it was mouldable, but it was also non-flammable, unlike Celluloid. Leo applied for a patent on 13 July 1907 under the title: ‘Method of making insoluble products of phenol and formaldehyde.’ He also applied for patent protection around the world, in countries like Canada, Denmark, Japan, Mexico, Russia, Spain, and Hungary, to name a few. Leo Baekeland made a formal presentation at the American Chemical Society on 8 February 1909. The patent for Bakelite was finalised and officially issued on 7 December 1909, with Patent 942,699. The age of plastics had begun. In fact, the term ‘plastics’ was actually coined by Baekland.
In 1910, Leo Baekeland was working out of his own laboratory to produce his miracle plastic and selling enough product to justify a serious investment and expansion. He would create the General Bakelite Company, so that he could market and manufacture his product on a larger scale both in America and internationally. The then burgeoning automobile industry was one of the first major players to utilise Bakelite commercially. The resin would be used for items such as electrical and automobile insulators, because it had a fantastic resistance to heat and was itself a great electrical insulator. Bakelite would soon be used to produce everything from telephones to radios. Bakelite, and similar synthetic products, would find a lot more use during the First World War, when there wasn’t time or resources to chase after the typical, naturally occurring resources.
Bakelite was marketed as ‘The Material of a Thousand Uses’. The plastic was first available in clear, black, grey, blue, yellow, green, red and brown. It would be used in products ranging from kitchen utensil handles, pens, billiard balls, tobacco pipe stems, buttons, jewellery, poker chips, lamps, and even one of the original versions of the Viewmaster toy! Bakelite was extremely prevalent all over homes in both America and England. The idea of Bakelite inspired not only products, but art as well. Coco Chanel, who has her own chapter elsewhere in this book, often utilised Bakelite in her very popular jewellery throughout the 1920s. Bakelite would even be featured on the cover of the first issue of Plastics Magazine in October of 1925.
The marketing campaign for Bakelite touted the product as ‘Helping The Family Keep Well’, and pushed the various medical applications for the product. The advert highlighted the fact that Bakelite could be found in everything from hearing aids, oralights and dental restoration. The ads also implored the manufacturing industry to be open to the possibility of Bakelite: ‘All major industries are making profitable use of one or more Bakelite materials, either through using them in the product itself, in production machinery, or in maintenance.’
Baekeland had managed to create a product that revolutionised the marketplace, but his patent would only last for so long – the patent for Bakelite expired in 1927. That left the market open for other companies to swoop in and start developing their own versions of the plastic. The most famous of these was the American Catalin Corporation, which produced Bakelite-style plastic in a wider-range of colours, offering upwards of fifteen brighter colours to the public. This flooded the marketplace with a plethora of products similar to, and often mistaken for, the actual brand name Bakelite. The opening of the market didn’t hurt Baekeland’s business, though. In fact, in 1929, General Bakelite Company got its largest ever order from Siemens telephone for phenolic moulding powder, used for the casing of telephones.
Baekeland sold his company in 1939 and retired to spend his remaining days sailing on his yacht and enjoying the later years of his life. Leo Baekeland would go on to be renowned in his field and made the cover of the prestigious Time Magazine on 20 May 20 1940, wherein he was labelled as the ‘Father of Plastics’. Leo Baekeland passed away on 23 February 1944, at the age of 80. The National Inventors Hall of Fame recognised Baekeland in 1978, and the Rail of Fame for United States Business Leadership would also award him posthumous honours in 1983.
The Baekeland Family
Leo Baekeland forged an amazing legacy for his family, but it was that family who would end up casting a shadow on the Bakelite legacy forever. A sad reality is that, while Leo may have worked hard for his money, inherited wealth can often end up being as much of a curse as it is a blessing. The Baekeland family fortune created a life of luxury for the next few generations, providing every comfort and advantage that wealth could buy.
Leo and Celine had had three children, but only two would survive to adulthood, George and Nina. Their daughter Jenny died at the age of 5, stricken with influenza. It was George Washington Baekeland, or rather his son and grandson, who would sully the family name forever. George and his wife Cornelia Fitch Middlebrook had two children: Cornelia Fitch ‘Dickie’ Baekland and Brooks Baekland. Now, by the time the grandchildren of Leo Baekeland arrived in the family, their wealth and prestige had been well established. Those that knew Brooks would describe him as arrogant and cocky, as many socialites who are born into money tend to be. Brooks fancied himself a writer, although he neglected to write much of anything at all.
Brooks’s sister Cornelia introduced him to Barbara Daly, the woman he would subsequently marry. Barbara was an aspiring actress who didn’t really act, just as Brooks was a writer who didn’t really write. Barbara was undeniably a stunning beauty with ravishing red hair. She did model for a time, with her pictures gracing the pages of magazines like Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar. The two indulged together in the never-ending sloth and decadence of a wealthy lifestyle. They would rub elbows and party with the finest in celebrity, aristocracy and the privileged all over the world. Barbara soon found herself pregnant and the couple’s son, Antony, was born in August of 1946. The couple set up a more permanent home in the Upper East Side of New York City.
It is said, through gossip and various second-hand accounts, that Barbara Baekeland was infamous for her mood swings and erratic behaviour. She and Brooks entertained their scores of famous and wealthy friends in New York, including the likes of Greta Garbo and Tennessee Williams. Barbara is said to have been a heavy drinker, an ailment that didn’t serve to help her already often severe depression. The marriage between her and Brooks was far from conventional as there are many accounts of regular extra-marital affairs on both sides. The overall atmosphere of hedonism and extravagance may have shielded Barbara, and ultimately her son Antony, from any outside recognition of harmful mental illness. In fact, many could easily write off Barbara’s often rude and over-the-top behaviour as that of the spoiled bourgeoisie. It became increasingly clear, however, that there was more going on in the Baekeland bloodline than simple misbehaviour.
Over the course of their marriage, Brooks continued his affairs and would often raise the subject of divorce with Barbara, to which she would respond with threats or suicide attempts. The extreme tactics always worked on Brooks and he would remain in the ‘marriage’. The family, along with Antony, began to move around in 1954, living in Italy, Paris and London. Barbara and Brooks shipped Antony off to boarding school when he was a young boy, not an uncommon practice for the well-to-do. Antony had a difficult time focusing in school and began to get kicked out for his poor grades; eventually he would simply leave the schools on his own and head home to his mother. Antony would end up spending a lot of time away at various boarding schools and it was during this time that the Baekelands would discover that their son was homosexual, a fact that didn’t sit well with either Brooks or Barbara. The couple finally divorced in 1968, leaving Barbara alone to her own devices.
Barbara and Antony’s relationship became seriously clingy and dark. Barbara was obsessed with her son’s sexuality and it is said that she made many efforts to try and ‘cure’ her son of his homosexuality. Claims that she hired female prostitutes to take him to bed aren’t difficult to find, bu
t it is the next step that brings a truly disturbing turn to the story. Barbara was so determined to control Antony’s sexuality that she allegedly engaged in an incestuous relationship with him.
There was a lot of trouble brewing for the Baekeland family, even aside from the complexities of the alleged incest. Antony was clearly mentally ill and was prone to violent outbursts. It is said that Antony would often fight with his mother and that knives were involved, but nothing serious came of it…until it did. There were some early indicators that Barbara’s family may have had a history of mental illness. Although undiagnosed, we know that her mother, Nina Daly, suffered from a mental breakdown before Barbara was born and her father, Frank Daly, killed himself in 1936, when Barbara was 10 years old. Antony was in serious need of psychiatric attention, but his father refused to pay for the treatment, referring to the mental health field as ‘professionally amoral’.
The violence between Antony and his mother first became a serious issue one afternoon in London in July of 1972. A violent scene unfolded that involved Antony dragging his mother by her hair and attempting to throw her into oncoming traffic. Fortunately for Barbara, her friend Susan Guinness witnessed the attack and intervened to assist her. Barbara refused to press formal charges against Antony, despite the desire of the police at the time to arrest him for attempted murder.
Antony was admitted to the Priory psychiatric hospital after the attack, but the stay was short lived. Antony had finally seen a psychiatrist for a time after the stay, despite his father’s feelings on the subject. Brooks was very far removed from the lives of his ex-wife and son by this point, focusing instead on his own gallivanting. It was Antony’s psychiatrist who provided Barbara with a prophetic warning on 30 October 1972. Apparently, this doctor told her bluntly that Antony was likely to kill her. It was a warning that she would fatally ignore.
A Secret History of Brands Page 17
