SOME PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS

Three rotors used with the early induction motor shown below

When I was a boy of seven or eight I read a novel untitled "Abafi"—The Son of Aba—a Servian translation from the Hungarian of Josika, a writer of renown. The lessons it teaches are much like those of "Ben Hur," and in this respect it might be viewed as anticipatory of the work of Wallace. The possibilities of will-power and self-control appealed tremendously to my vivid imagination, and I began to discipline myself. Had I a sweet cake or a juicy apple which I was dying to eat I would give it to another boy and go through the tortures of Tantalus, pained but satisfied. Had I some difficult task before me which was exhausting I would attack it again and again until it was done. So I practiced day by day from morning till night. At first it called for a vigorous mental effort directed against disposition and desire, but as years went by the conflict lessened and finally my will and wish became identical. They are so to-day, and in this lies the secret of whatever success I have achieved. These experiences are as intimately linked with my discovery of the rotating magnetic field as if they formed an essential part of it; but for them I would never have invented the induction motor.

In the first year of my studies at the Joanneum I rose regularly at three o'clock in the morning and worked till eleven at night; no Sundays or holidays excepted. My success was unusual and excited the interest of the professors. Among these was Dr. All—, who lectured on differential equations and other branches of higher mathematics and whose addresses were unforgettable intellectual treats, and Prof. Poeschl, who held the chair of Physics, theoretical and experimental. These men I always remember with a sense of gratitude. Prof Poeschl was peculiar; it was said of him that he wore the same coat for twenty years. But what he lacked in personal magnetism he made up in the perfection of his exposition. I never saw him miss a word or gesture, and his demonstrations and experiments always went off with clocklike precision. Some time in the winter of 1878 a new apparatus was installed in the lecture room. It was a dynamo with a laminated permanent magnet and a Gramme armature. Prof. Poeschi had wound some wire around the field to show the principle of self-excitation, and provided a battery for running the machine as a motor. As he was illustrating this latter feature there was lively sparking at the commutator and brushes, and I ventured to remark that these devices might be eliminated. He said that it was quite impossible and likened my proposal to a perpetual motion scheme, which amused my fellow students and embarrassed me greatly. For a time I hesitated, impressed by his authority, but my conviction grew stronger and I decided to work out the solution. At that time my resolve meant more to me than the most solemn vow.

One of the earliest of induction motors. Although it weighed only a little over 20 pounds, it developed 1/4 horse-power at a speed of 1,800 revolutions, a performance considered remarkable at the time.

I undertook the task with all the fire and boundless confidence of youth. To my mind it was simply a test of will-power. I knew nothing of the technical difficulties. All my remaining term in Gratz was passed in intense but fruitless effort, and I almost convinced myself that the problem was unsolvable. Indeed, I thought, was it possible to transform the steady pull of gravitation into a whirling force! The answer was an emphatic no. And was this not also true of magnetic attraction? The two propositions appeared very much the same.

In 1880 I went to Prague, Bohemia, carrying out my father's wish to complete my school education at a university. The atmosphere of that old and interesting city was favorable to invention. Hungry artists were plentiful and intelligent company could be found everywhere. Here I made the first distinct step in advance, by detaching the commutators from the machines and placing them on distant arbors. Every day I imagined arrangements on this plan without result, but feeling that I was nearing the solution. In the following year there was a sudden change in my views of life. I realized that my parents were making too great sacrifices for me and resolved to relieve them of the burden. The American telephone wave had reached the European continent, and the system was to be installed in Budapest. It appeared an ideal opportunity, and I took the train for that city. By an irony of fate my first employment was as a draughtsman. I hated drawing; it was for me the very worst of annoyances. Fortunately it was not long before I secured the position I sought, that of chief electrician to the telephone company. My duties brought me in contact with a number of young men in whom I became interested. One of these was Mr. Szigety, who was a remarkable specimen of humanity. A big head with an awful lump on one side and a sallow complexion made him distinctly ugly, but from the neck own his body might have served for a statue of Apollo. His strength was phenomenal. At that time I had exhausted myself through hard work and incessant thinking. He impressed me with the necessity of systematic physical development, and I accepted his offer to train me in athletics. We exercised every day and I gained rapidly in strength. My mind also seemed to grow more vigorous and as my thoughts turned to the subject which absorbed me I was surprised at my confidence of success. On one occasion, ever present in my recollection, we were enjoying ourselves in the Varos-liget or City Park. I was reciting poetry, of which I was passionately fond. At that age I knew entire books by heart and could read them from memory word by word. One of these was Faust. It was late in the afternoon, the sun was setting, and I was reminded of the passage:

"Sie r—ckt und weich, der Tag ist —berlebt,
Dort eilt sie bin und f—rdert neues Leben,
Oh, das kein Fl—gel mich vom Boden hebt
Ihr nach und immer nach zu streben!

Ach, zu des Geistes Fl—geln wird so leicht
Kein k—rperlicher Fl—gel sich gesellen!"

    "The glow retreats, done is the day of toil
It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring;
Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil
Upon its track to follow, follow soaring!

    "Alas!  the wings that lift the mind no aid
Of wings to lift the body can bequeath me."

As I spoke the last words, plunged in thought and marveling at the power of the poet, the idea came like a lightning flash. In an instant I saw it all, and I drew with a stick on the sand the diagrams which were illustrated in my fundamental patents of May, 1888, and which Szigety understood perfectly.

It is extremely difficult for me to put this experience before the reader in its true light and significance for it is so altogether extraordinary. When an idea presents itself it is, as a rule, crude and imperfect. Birth, growth and development are phases normal and natural. It was different with my invention. In the very moment I became conscious of it. I saw it fully developed and perfected. Then again, a theory, however plausible, must usually be confirmed by experiment. Not so the one I had formulated. It was being daily demonstrated every dynamo and motor was absolute proof of its soundness. The effect on me was indescribable. My imaginings were equivalent to realities. I had carried out what I had undertaken and pictured myself achieving wealth and fame. But more than all this was to me the revelation that I was an inventor. This was the one thing I wanted to be. Archimedes was my ideal. I admired the works of artists, but to my mind, they were only shadows and semblances. The inventor, I thought, gives to the world creations which are palpable, which live and work.

The telephone installation was now completed and in the spring of 1882 an offer was made me to go to Paris, which I accepted eagerly. Here I met a number of Americans whom I befriended and to whom I talked of my invention, and one of them, Mr. D. Cunningham, proposed to form a company for exploitation. This might have been done had not my duties called me to Strasburg, Alsace. It was in this city that I constructed my first motor. I had brought some material from Paris, and a disk of iron with bearings was made for me in a mechanical shop close to the railroad station in which I was installing the light and power plant. It was a crude apparatus, but afforded me the supreme satisfaction of seeing for the first time, rotation affected by alternating currents without commutator. I repeated the experiment with my assistant twice in the summer of 1883. My intercourse with Americans had directed my attention to the practical introduction and I endeavored to secure capital, but was unsuccessful in this attempt and returned to Paris early in 1884. Here, too, I made several ineffectual efforts, and finally resolved to go to America, where I arrived in the summer of 1884. By a previous understanding I entered the Edison Machine Works, where I undertook the design of dynamos and motors. For nine months my regular hours were from 10:30 A. M. till 5 A. M. the next day. All this time I was getting more and more anxious about the invention and was making up my mind to place it before Edison. I still remember an odd incident in this connection. One day in the latter part of 1884 Mr. Bachelor, the manager of the works, took me to Coney Island, where we met Edison in company with his former wife. The moment that I was waiting for was propitious, I was just about to speak when a horrible looking tramp took hold of Edison and drew him away, preventing me from carrying out my intention. Early in 1885 people approached me with a proposition to develope an arc light system and to form a company under my name. I signed the contract, and a year and a half later I was free and in a position to devote myself to the practical development of my discovery. I found financial support, and in April, 1887, a company was organized for the purpose, and what has followed since is well known.