The Last Days of Night(10)

Paul’s client reminded him of no one so much as Edison. The two men were perversely alike. Each was so confident of his own genius as to be disdainful of the other’s.

Westinghouse’s ego was no smaller than his enemy’s. Paul’s first task, he realized, would not be to negotiate with Edison. It would be to negotiate with his own client.

“I know, sir,” said Paul. “But what does it gain you to be the best if doing so drives you into bankruptcy? You run a business. It is one of the largest in this nation. And this business is presently facing a great variety of possible futures. You have options. It is my professional duty to see that you’re aware of them.”

Westinghouse’s charcoal coat had been hung by the door. Without looking at Paul, he went to it and removed a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket. Gingerly, as if it were an object far more delicate than one of his machines, he carried it back and handed it over.

“Six months ago,” said Westinghouse, “I wrote to Edison. This was before you came on board. I suggested to him just such a ‘compromise.’ I harbor no romantic dream of playing David to his Goliath. I know the odds against us. Everyone loves an underdog, but that doesn’t mean he’s a sound investment. So I wrote, and I attempted conciliation. This was his response.”

Paul looked down at the letter. It was from Thomas Edison himself, and it consisted of one word: “Never.”

“So, kid,” said Westinghouse after Paul had spent a few moments taking this all in. “You’re supposed to be some kind of legal virtuoso. Prove it.”





I have not failed. I’ve just found ten thousand ways that don’t work.

—THOMAS EDISON



WHO INVENTED THE light bulb?

This was the topic at hand. Technically, the litigation was between the Edison Electric Light Company and the Mount Morris Electric Light Company, but everyone knew that these were subsidiaries and legal proxies for their parent companies. Even the attorneys litigating this $1 billion case called it simply Edison v. Westinghouse. The issue before them: U.S. Letters Patent No. 223,898, granted to Thomas Edison on January 27, 1880, which described the invention of an “incandescent electric lamp.” Quickly nicknamed the Light Bulb Patent by the press, it was without question the most valuable patent ever granted in the history of the United States. And George Westinghouse was accused of infringing on it.

Yet, as Paul pointed out to his client, even a problem so simply put might yet admit to many layers of unraveling. In fact, the question hinged on one’s precise definition of the terms involved—“who,” “invented,” “the,” and, most importantly, “light bulb.”

The first electric lamps had actually been invented almost a century before, Paul had learned when he’d first begun to research the case. Sir Humphry Davy had publicly demonstrated early “arc lights” in 1809. By attaching a battery to two charcoal sticks, he’d caused a U-shaped thread of electricity to “arc” across the gap between the sticks. The explosion of light was blindingly bright; perfect for lighting dark outdoor areas, if it could be tamed into safety and reliability.

And over the following decades, tamed it was. Michael Faraday created the first hand-cranked electrical generators in the 1830s by moving magnets through fields of coiled wire. The improbably named Belgian inventor Zénobe-Théophile Gramme improved upon Faraday’s generators and then created the first electrical motor—by simply building the generator’s inverse—in the 1870s. By 1878, the American Charles Brush was selling massive outdoor arc-lighting systems to cities and towns all around the nation. Across the globe, a Russian named Paul Jablochkoff was selling what he called electrical “candles.” Much smaller than Davy’s original arc lights, but constructed on the same principle, these “candles” were almost suitable for indoor use…

…Almost. None of these early iterations were fit for the home—no wife in America would sanction the installation of a lamp that was confusing to use, expensive to repair, and more likely than not to set the drapes on fire. Plus, there was the quality of the light itself. It was horrific. Ugly. Displeasing to the human eye at close quarters. The electricity that arced between the sticks remained too elemental. The heat seared too violently. Gas lamps remained far safer and far more beautiful.

That’s when Thomas Edison, already the most celebrated inventor in the world for his work on the telegraph and the telephone, entered the scene. On September 16, 1878, Edison took to the pages of The New York Sun to proclaim that he had solved the problem of creating a reliable, safe, and, most importantly, pleasing indoor illumination. He had invented an “incandescent electric lamp.” He told the adoring press that he would have all of lower Manhattan wired for indoor electrical light within months.

The day that Edison announced this discovery, the stocks of all the major gas companies in the United States and Britain plunged more than 20 percent. The scientific community was less impressed: Academics responded from their university perches first with skepticism and then with outright derision. It was impossible, they claimed. There was no way to steady an even current through a filament to create a gentle and constant glow. Electricity was unruly. It was not like kerosene or shale oil, natural elements created by God and crafted by man for his purposes. Electricity was a force. Taming electrical current would be like bending gravity to man’s will. Like traveling through time. There were some things in this world with which not even science could mess about. Edison’s “soft glow” violated all the accepted laws of physics.