The Last Days of Night(66)

Edison leaned back in his chair before he loosed his final words.

“You’re welcome.”





Sometimes we stare so long at a door that is closing that we see too late the one that is open.

—ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL



IT CAME AS little surprise when, two months later, a New York federal court ruled against the Westinghouse Electric Company in the central light-bulb suit. Paul had been prepared for this defeat since Edison’s deposition. The argument Edison had made to Paul was repeated by Lowrey in court. It was undeniably effective.

Thomas Edison had not patented the perfect light bulb, agreed the judge. He’d patented the field of light bulbs. That he’d later improved on his design, and that Westinghouse had potentially improved on it even further, was beside the point. Westinghouse’s bulbs infringed on Edison’s patent, even if Edison’s exact patent was for a device that didn’t work as intended. Paul’s strategy had been to narrow the scope of Edison’s patent to a nonexistent, nonfunctioning device; in response, Edison had succeeded in broadening the scope of his patent to include practically anything that lit up.

In court, Hughes had done almost all the arguing for the Westinghouse side. Carter had supplied the gaps. Paul had barely gotten a word on the record. He wanted to attribute the loss to his partners’ stodgy techniques. But he knew in his heart that it wasn’t their fault. Edison’s genius extended not only to science, but apparently to litigation as well.

Spring had sprinkled Manhattan with bunchberry, violet, and rose mallow as Paul and his partners drearily descended the steps of the lower Manhattan courthouse. They would appeal. Paul had already begun to prepare the paperwork. The New York court would not be the end of Edison v. Westinghouse. The federal court of appeals would be next. And if that failed…there were higher courts still, and Paul could only hope to fall from ever-taller heights.

To further blacken Paul’s mood, the light-bulb suit was not even the only battle he lost that month. Paul also found himself on the wrong side of the New York State Legislature in Albany. The electrical chair was approved for use by the people’s elected representatives. Now Paul would have to take this battle to the courts as well, arguing that this state law was invalid on constitutional grounds. Electrocution, Paul would argue, constituted the very definition of “cruel and unusual punishment” forbidden by the Constitution.

He would have to make this argument quickly, because soon enough some New Yorker was bound to be sentenced to death by Westinghouse’s alternating current.

Paul’s failures did not end there. He was soon summoned to the Huntingtons’ sitting room.

He could hear Tesla pacing the floor above them. He had barely visited the house since his mortifying conversation with Fannie. His work had given him ample excuses, so his evening visits had grown infrequent and brief. Surely Fannie had told Agnes about their attorney’s unfortunate offer. He could not bear to be alone with Agnes, for fear that she might bring it up. His best hope was for his infatuation to be forgotten by all involved. No doubt outings with Mr. Henry Jayne would be enough to occupy Agnes’s attention.

Sitting across from Paul in her typical finery, Agnes wore the same uncracked Mona Lisa look that she wore whenever her mother was present. At one point Paul had imagined he understood some of what lay behind that smile. Now he was certain that he did not.

“Since my daughter’s interview,” said Fannie, “which you so helpfully arranged, we’ve heard no more from that vile Mr. Foster. You have, we believe, succeeded. We are quite grateful.” Paul looked to Agnes for reaction. He found none.

“Thank you,” he replied. “It has been my pleasure, I assure you.”

“I’m sure you’ll understand, then, when I suggest that your friend upstairs should therefore take his leave of this house.”

Paul had expected this from Fannie eventually. But now? “Mr. Tesla has nowhere else to go,” he said. “If I could depend on your hospitality just a little longer…”

“We cannot have him here any longer. I trust you to understand.”

Agnes turned away. This was not her plan, he could tell that much. Nor was it her wish. But she wasn’t prepared to go against her mother.

Fannie went on. “The thrust of the matter is that we’re having some people for dinner in four days’ time. Thursday evening. The Jayne family.” Paul thought he saw the hint of a smile as she spoke. “We haven’t been able to receive guests since Mr. Tesla took up residence here. I’d ask you to see to it that he’s departed by then. I wish it could be helped.”

If the parents of Henry La Barre Jayne were visiting the Huntingtons’ considerably more humble home for dinner, then they were vetting Agnes. Agnes must have done quite well in the courtship thus far. And so the real subject of their visit would be Fannie. She was the one up for judgment. A potential marriage into a family of fortune and stature could not be allowed to be jeopardized by the presence of Nikola Tesla.

“I understand” was all that Paul could say in response.

“We are very sorry about this,” said Agnes. This was the first she’d spoken since Paul had arrived. “I’m so very sorry.”

“I will see that my friend is removed from your hospitality by Thursday,” said Paul. He rose to his feet, buttoning his black jacket in what he hoped appeared to be a gesture of professionalism. “Your patience has been appreciated. And I hope that I might continue to represent you.”