The Boy’s Life of Edison: Chapters 25 & 26
EDISON HIMSELF
Let us turn from what Edison has done to what Edison is. It is worth while to know “the man behind the guns.” Who and what is the personal Edison?
Certainly there must be tremendous force in a personality which has been one of the most potent factors in bringing into existence new industries now capitalized at tens of billions of dollars, earning annually sums running into billions, and giving employment to an army of more than two million people.
It must not be thought that there is any intention to give entire credit to Edison for the present magnificent proportions of these industries. The labors of many other inventors and the confidence of capitalists and investors have added greatly to their growth. But Edison is the father of some of these arts and industries, and as to some of the others it was the magic of his touch that helped make them practicable.
How then does Edison differ from most other men? Is it that he combines with a vigorous body a mind capable of clear and logical thinking, and an imagination of unusual activity? No, for there are others of equal bodily and mental vigor who have not accomplished a tithe of his achievements.
We must answer then, first, that his whole life is concentrated upon his work. When he conceives a broad idea of a new invention he gives no thought to the limitations of time, or man, or effort. Having his body and mind in complete subjection through iron nerves, he settles down to experiment with ceaseless, tireless, unwavering patience, never swerving to the right or left nor losing sight of his purpose. Years may come and go, but nothing short of success is accepted.
A good example of this can be found in the development of the nickel pocket for the storage battery, an element the size of a short lead-pencil. More than five years were spent in experiments costing upward of a million dollars to perfect it. Day after day was spent on this investigation, tens of thousands of tubes and an endless variety of chemicals were made, but at the end of five years Edison was as much interested in these small tubes as when the work was first begun.
So far as work is concerned, all times are alike to Edison, whether it be day or night. He carries no watch, and, indeed, has but little use for watches or clocks except as they may be useful in connection with an experiment in which time is a factor. The one idea in mind is to go on with the work incessantly, always pushing steadily onward toward the purpose in view, with a relentless disregard of effort or the passage of time.
THOMAS ALVA EDISON—1911
A second and very marked characteristic of Edison’s personality is an intense and courageous hopefulness and self-confidence, into which no thought of failure can enter. The doubts and fears of others have absolutely no weight with him. Discouragements and disappointments find no abiding place in his mind. Indeed, he has the happy faculty of beginning the day as open-minded as a child, yesterday’s discouragements and disappointment discarded, or, at any rate, remembered only as useful knowledge gained and serving to point out the fact that he had been temporarily following the wrong road.
Difficulties seem to have a fascination for him. To advance along smooth paths, meeting no obstacles or hardships, has no charm for Edison. To wrestle with difficulties, to meet obstructions, to attempt the impossible—these are the things that appear to give him a high form of intellectual pleasure. He meets them with the keen delight of a strong man battling with the waves and opposing them in sheer enjoyment.
Another marked characteristic of Edison is the fact that his happiness is not bound up in the making of money. While he appreciates a good balance at his banker’s, the keenness of his pleasure is in overcoming difficulties rather than the mere piling up of a bank account. Had his nature been otherwise, it is doubtful if his life would have been filled with the great achievements that it has been our pleasure to record.
In a life filled with tremendous purpose and brilliant achievement there must be expected more or less of troubles and loss. Edison’s life has been no exception, but, with the true philosophy that might be expected of such a nature, he remarked recently: “Spilled milk doesn’t interest me. I have spilled lots of it, and, while I have always felt it for a few days, it is quickly forgotten, and I turn again to the future.”
Edison to-day has a fine physique, and, being free from serious ailments, enjoys a vigorous old age. His hair has whitened, but it is still abundant, and though he uses glasses for reading, his gray-blue eyes are as keen and bright and deeply lustrous as ever, with the direct, searching look in them that they have ever worn.
Edison in his ‘eighties still has a fine physique, weighs over one hundred and sixty-five pounds, and has varied little as to weight in the last forty years. He is very abstemious, hardly ever touching alcohol and caring little for meat. In fact, the chief article of his diet is warm milk, which he finds satisfactory for his need.
He believes that people eat too much, and governs himself accordingly. His meals are simple, small in quantity, and take but little of his time at table. If he finds himself varying in weight he will eat a little more or a little less in order to keep his weight constant.
As to clothes, Edison is simplicity itself. Indeed, it is one of the subjects in which he takes no interest. He says: “I get a suit that fits me, then I compel the tailors to use that as a jig, or pattern, or blueprint, to make others by. For many years a suit was used as a measurement; once or twice they took fresh measurements, but these didn’t fit, and they had to go back. I eat to keep my weight constant, hence I never need changed measurements.”
This will explain why a certain tailor had made Edison’s clothes for twenty years and had never seen him.
In 1873 Mr. Edison was married to Miss Mary Stilwell, who died in 1884, leaving three children—Thomas Alva, William Leslie, and Marion Estelle.
Mr. Edison was married again in 1886 to Miss Mina Miller, daughter of Mr. Lewis Miller, a distinguished pioneer inventor and manufacturer in the field of agricultural machinery, and equally entitled to fame as the father of the “Chautauqua idea,” and the founder with Bishop Vincent of the original Chautauqua, which now has so many replicas all over the country. By this marriage there are three children—Charles, Madeline, and Theodore.
For over twenty years Edison’s happy and perfect domestic life has been spent at Glenmont, a beautiful property in Llewellyn Park, on the Orange Mountain, New Jersey. Here, amid the comforts of a beautifully appointed home, in which may be seen the many decorations and medals awarded to him, together with the numerous souvenirs sent to him by foreign potentates and others, Edison spends the hours that he is away from the laboratory. They are far from being idle hours, for it is here that he may pursue his reading free from interruption.
His hours of sleep are few, not more than six in the twenty-four, and not as much as that when working nights at the laboratory. In a recent conversation a friend expressed surprise that he could stand the constant strain, to which Edison replied that he stood it easily, because he was interested in everything. He further said: “I don’t live with the past; I am living for to-day and to-morrow. I am interested in every department of science, art, and manufacture. I read all the time on astronomy, chemistry, biology, physics, music, metaphysics, mechanics, and other branches—political economy, electricity, and, in fact, all things that are making for progress in the world. I get all the proceedings of the scientific societies, the principal scientific and trade journals, and read them. I also read some theatrical and sporting papers and a lot of similar publications, for I like to know what is going on. In this way I keep up to date, and live in a great, moving world of my own, and, what’s more, I enjoy every minute of it.”
In conversation Edison is direct, courteous, ready to discuss a topic with anybody worth talking to, and, in spite of his deafness, an excellent listener. No one ever goes away from him in doubt as to what he thinks or means, but, with characteristic modesty, he is ever shy and diffident to a degree if the talk turns on himself rather than on his work.
He is a normal, fun-loving, typical American, ever ready to listen to a new story, with a smile all the while, and a hearty, boyish laugh at the end. He has a keen sense of humor, which manifests itself in witty repartee and in various ways.
In his association with his staff of experimenters the “old man,” as he is affectionately called, is considerate and patient, although always insisting on absolute accuracy and exactness in carrying out his ideas. He makes liberal allowance for errors arising through human weakness of one kind or another, but a stupid mistake or an inexcusable oversight on the part of an assistant will call forth a storm of contemptuous expression that is calculated to make the offender feel cheap. The incident, however, is quickly a thing of the past, as a general rule.
If there is anything in heredity, Edison has many years of vigor and activity yet before him. What the future may have in store in the way of further achievement cannot be foreshadowed, for he is still a mighty thinker and a prodigy of industry and hard work.
XXVI
EDISON’S NEW PHONOGRAPH
As related in a preceding chapter of this work, the first commercial phonograph was of the wax cylinder type. Celluloid afterwards superceded wax as a material for the cylinder record, because of its indestructibility. Edison’s work on the disc phonograph and record, invented by him in 1878, is related in the following pages.
From the time of his conception of the phonograph in 1877 to the present day Edison has had a deep conviction that people want good music in their homes. That this is not a conviction founded upon commercialism may be appreciated on reading his own words: “Of all the various forms of entertainment in the home, I know of nothing that compares with music. It is safe and sane, appeals to all finer emotions, and tends to bind family influences with a wholesomeness that links old and young together. If you will consider for a moment how universally the old ‘heart songs’ are loved in the homes, you will realize what a deep hold music has in the affections of the people. It is a safety-valve in the home.”
Throughout the years that followed the advent of the earlier type of phonograph with the cylindrical wax records Edison never lost sight of his determination to make it a more perfect instrument, for, of all the children of his brain, the phonograph seems to be the one he loves most. He is the most severe critic of his own work and is never content with less than the best obtainable.
Thus it came about that, some thirteen years ago, having reached the apex of his dissatisfaction with what he thought were the shortcomings of the phonograph and records of that time, he began work on a long-cherished plan of refining the machine and the records so that he could reproduce music, vocal and instrumental, with all its original beauty of tone and sweetness—in fact, a true “re-creation.” As the world knows, he has succeeded.
With his characteristic vigor and earnestness Edison plunged into this campaign, fully realizing the immense difficulties of the task he had undertaken. In order to accomplish the desired end he must, in the first place, devise entirely new types of recorder and reproducer which would have essentially different characteristics from any then in existence. In addition to this, an entirely new material must be found and adapted for the surface of the records, a material pliable, indestructible, and, above all, so exceedingly smooth that there should be no rasping, scratching sounds to mar the beauty of the music.
In planning this campaign Edison had decided to return to the disc type of machine and record, which he had invented away back in 1878, and which he now took up again, as it would afford him the greatest scope for his latest efforts.
While simultaneously carrying on a formidable line of experiments to produce the desired material for the records he labored patiently through the days and away into the nights for many months in evolving the new recorder and reproducer, pausing only to snatch a few hours of sleep, which sometimes would be taken at home and at other times on a bench or cot in the laboratory. After some thousands of experiments, extending over a period of more than ten months and conducted with the never-wearying patience so characteristic of him, he perfected his recorder and the diamond-point reproducer which gave him the results for which he strove so many years. This was on the eve of his departure for Europe in August, 1911.
When Edison thinks he has perfected any device his next step is to find out its weakness by trying his best to destroy it. Illustrative of this there may be quoted two instances of severe tests in connection with his alkaline storage battery. After completing it he rigged up a device by means of which a set of batteries were subjected to a series of 1,700,000 severe bumps in the effort to destroy them. When this failed, they were mounted on a heavy electric car, which was propelled with terrific force a number of times against a heavy stone wall, only to show that they were proof against injury by any such means.
His new phonograph reproducer was not exempted from this policy of attempted destruction, and before leaving for Europe he gave instructions for a grilling test, which was, of course, carried out faithfully, but the diamond point was found to be uninjured after playing records more than four thousand times. With such results he deemed it a safe proposition.
On his return from Europe in October, 1911, Edison resumed his attack on the evolution of the new indestructible disc record with a smooth surface, the main principles of which had been determined upon before his departure. In addition, there arose the problem of manufacturing such records in great quantities. The difficulties that confronted him completely baffle description. The whole battle was carried on with the aid of powerful microscopes, which even at their best would fail to reveal the obscure cause of temporary discomfiture. Differences in material, dirt, dust, temperature, water, chemical action, thumb marks, breath marks, cloth and brush marks, and a host of major and minor incidentals, were patiently and painstakingly investigated with a thoroughness that is almost beyond belief to the layman.
Day and night the work was carried on incessantly. During the height of the investigation, toward the close of this five-year campaign, Edison and a few of his faithful experimenters—facetiously called “The Insomnia Squad”—stayed steadily at the works for a period of over five weeks—eating, drinking, working, and sleeping (occasionally) there. During that time Edison went home only four or five times, and then merely to change his clothing. He and the men slept for short periods in the works or in the library, on benches and tables, resuming their labors immediately on waking up. Edison had arranged for an abundant supply of good substantial food which they themselves cooked, hence the inner man was well cared for. The wives of the men came around at intervals with changes of clothing for their husbands. This intense application to work left no time for shaving, with the result that all hands might well have been taken for a gang of traditional pirates from their unkempt appearance.
They were all happy, however, and, strange to say, all increased in weight, although a contrary result might naturally have been expected. The intense work has never ceased, but there has been no similar protracted siege since, as the main principles were practically settled at that time. The foregoing instance has been merely mentioned to illustrate the fierce vigor with which Edison works when he is seeking to complete one of his inventions. He has been, and still is, prosecuting his labors with the same energy to bring about the utmost perfection that is possible.
He has not confined his work to the refinement of the merely mechanical parts, such as the instrument and the records, but during the last ten years he has devoted an immense amount of time to music itself. Becoming convinced that the public desired really beautiful music, he set himself to a thorough study of the subject, not only of compositions, but also of the human voice, its powers and limitations, and of different effects of various styles of orchestration. He determined to hear for himself music of all kinds, and with this object in view hired a number of sight-reading players and singers to render musical selections by the hour.
“THE INSOMNIA SQUAD”—Copyright by Thomas A. Edison
In the past ten years he has heard upward of twenty-five thousand compositions of a wide range, from grand opera to ragtime. As he hears them he indicates his opinions, which range from “beautiful” to “punk,” according to his idea of availability for the phonograph. An elaborate card system preserves these indications for further application in selecting music for the phonograph.
It might seem dogmatic to have the reproduction of musical compositions depend upon his opinion, but it must be said that he is not entirely committed to such drastic measures if there is a real demand for some musical selection which does not seem to merit his good opinion. His decision as to a composition is not based on a merely personal whim or fad, but upon his opinion of it from the standpoint of an inventor. He has said to the writer more than once: “There is invention in music just as much as in the arts. Composers such as Verdi, Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti were inventors. They did not copy, nor did some of the other great composers. But the rank and file of musicians are not inventors; they have copied the ideas of the others, consciously or unconsciously. If you will sit down for a few hours and have a lot of miscellaneous compositions played you will be convinced of it.”
Edison has had no musical training, as the term is generally understood, and the writer must confess that before hearing the above expression he failed to comprehend the true basis of the inventor’s opinions of the various compositions played or sung for him. On several occasions he therefore arranged (unknown to Edison) to have one or more compositions played or sung again after a lapse of some weeks, to see whether or not there would be any similarity of opinion to that first indicated. In every case Edison’s judgment was practically, and in some cases precisely, the same as before, thus proving that the opinion first given was not merely a whim, but was based upon some definite line of thought in the inventor’s brain.
His excursion into the musical realm has also included the personal hearing of many singers so as to determine their fitness for making phonograph records. This proved to be a wonderfully interesting field of investigation, and he has given a great deal of time to it, listening critically to each voice, good, bad, or indifferent, and patiently writing out his criticism in each case. Not only has he heard a large number of singers who have visited the laboratory for the purpose, but he also had a representative scouring Europe for voices several years ago. This man visited the principal cities and towns of Europe and took phonograph records of the voices of the operatic and other prominent singers in each place and shipped them over to Edison, who listened to each one and recorded his opinion in a series of note-books kept for the purpose. He has in the laboratory at Orange nearly two thousand voice records of this kind. All this is done with the object of securing the really best voices in the world. Probably this is the most unique “voice library” in existence.
He is very deaf, but has a wonderfully acute inner ear, which, being protected by his deafness from the ordinary sounds of life, will catch minute imperfections that are imperceptible to the person of ordinary hearing. In listening to a voice he uses a peculiarly shaped horn which is held close to the ear, and such is the acuteness of his hearing that he at once distinguishes minute changes of register, extra waves, tremolo, non-periodic vibrations, and other minor defects that detract from the true beauty of vocal sounds. In addition, he can immediately recognize the number of overtones and rate of tremolo, which may afterward be verified by a microscopic examination of a record of the same voice.
Edison contends that the phonograph will give the “acid test” of a voice, for it will record nothing more and nothing less than what is in the voice itself, and the record is unchangeable. In his judgment, operatic voices are not necessarily the most perfect ones, for, as he says: “the vocal cords of opera singers are always at the straining-point. They usually sing on roomy stages in large theaters with a large orchestra in front of them, and their voices must go out above all these instruments so as to be heard to the farthest limits of the house. Consequently, they are always doing their utmost and their vocal cords become adapted to heavy work only. People often wonder why their favorite operatic singers do not charm them as much in concert or through the phonograph as they did at the opera, but do not stop to think of the difference between the opera-house and the concert-hall or parlor. I don’t mean to say a word of detraction in regard to operatic singers, for I have a great admiration for their wonderful art and for many of their voices, and a great number of them have now recognized the value of special effort to acquire the distinct art and technique of singing for the phonograph (which is a parlor instrument), and have made some really beautiful records.”
The writer was one day discussing with Edison the temperament of singers generally and the good opinion that each one usually has of his or her own voice irrespective of any artistic use he or she could make of it. He said: “I don’t see what they have to be conceited about. The Almighty has given them a little piece of meat in their throats that differs slightly from the corresponding piece of meat in somebody else’s throat. They can take no credit for that, but if they use their brains to interpret and perfect the use of what has been given them, they have accomplished something. What I want is voices that will stand the test of the phonograph and give permanent pleasure to people, irrespective of stage environment, or the press agent, or pleasing personality.”
This chapter could be extended to a great length in setting forth the results of Edison’s deep study of music which he undertook solely for the purpose of bringing his latest achievement up to the high standard which he set for it so many years ago, but enough has been said to indicate the immense amount of work he has done and the trend of his ideas. That he has been able, amid the round of his multitudinous duties and work, which occupy his time and attention from sixteen to eighteen hours a day, to delve into the subject so profoundly and to evolve ideas that are confessedly awakening the musical world is sufficient to indicate that in spite of his years and herculean labors in the past he has not lost any of the vim or pertinacity that have so distinguished him in days gone by.
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