American History Tellers - Edison vs. Tesla | Prometheus’ Fire | 1

Episode Date: May 6, 2026

In the 1870s, the age of artificial light was still in its infancy. Gas lamps cast a dim glow on city streets, and early arc lights were just beginning to appear in a handful of public spaces. But reliable, practical light for homes and businesses remained out of reach for most people. Then, in 1878, America’s most famous inventor, Thomas Edison, witnessed a demonstration of a novel electric generator and had a spark of inspiration. Edison was convinced that he would be the one to harness electricity to illuminate the world. He set his sights on an audacious goal: not just to improve the light bulb, but to build a system capable of lighting an entire city. It was a vision that would demand years of relentless experimentation and push him to the brink of failure. And just as his system flickered to life, a new rival would emerge — one with a radically different vision of electricity.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hello American history teller listeners. I have an exciting announcement. I'm going on tour and coming to a theater near you. This live show is a thrilling evening of history, storytelling, and music with a full band accompanying me as we look back to explore the days that made America. And they aren't the days that you might think. Sure, everyone knows July 4, 1776. We'll be hearing a lot about that date this year. But there are many other days that are maybe even more influential. So come out to see me live. More shows to be announced soon. So for information on tickets and upcoming dates, go to American History Live.com. That's American History Live.com. Come see my Days That Made America tour, live on stage. Go to American History Live.com.

Imagine it's Sunday, September 8th, 1878, and Ensonia, Connecticut. You're the owner of a successful brass and copper foundry, but your real passion is technology. Today, you're excited because you're expecting an esteemed guest, the famous inventor Thomas Edison. It's rare that he takes a break from his busy workshop, but a mutual friend convinced him to visit your foundry to take a look at something you've been tinkering with a new electric lighting system. So as you wait for him to arrive, you nervously check your electrical generator called a dynamo, which feeds electricity through copper wiring to a row of arc lights you've hung on the wall. The foundry door opens, and in walks Edison, wearing a floppy straw hat and loose linen coat.

You hold out your hand to greet him. Oh, it's a real honor to have you here, Mr. Edison. I know you're a busy man. He copps a hand to his year. You've been warned that he has trouble hearing, so you move closer to repeat your welcome, but he waves you away with a distracted smile and walks over to the wall of lights. Well, our friend here has been telling me about your new invention. Let's have a look. Well, of course, as you can see, the lights are all powered by my improved dynamo. I call it the telemacon, and it's quite unique. It boasts eight horsepower, and though there have been similar models produced in Europe, this is the first designed here in America. I exhibited it two years back at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia.

I believe you were there as well with your multiplex telegraph. Indeed. From what I've read, the Europeans are ahead of us in electric lighting, but maybe that will change. Well, I believe it will. The telemacon is more powerful than any other dynamo in the market. Here, let me show you. You switch on the machine, and the row of eight arc lights,

you've strung on the wall begin to flicker, then blaze brightly. Edison's eyes grow wide as he leaps to your side, clearly excited. Well, now that's something, isn't it? Tell me everything. I can see the armature on the dynamo is laminated, but how fast is it going? Edison dashes to the dynamo, then back to the wall to get a closer look at the lights, and follow behind, struggling to keep up with him as he rushes back and forth. Well, we've got the armature going at around 1,000 RPMs. Edison winces as he takes in the glow of the lights.

And these arc lights, they are very bright, too bright. That hissing sound they produce, that won't do. Well, those are standards and all that exist at the moment. Edison takes a small notebook from his pocket and begins scribbling down notes. You notice a sly grin spread across his face. Well, you've got something quite intriguing here, but I'd like to offer you a wager. I believe I can beat you in making a better electric light. Oh, is that so?

Yes, I don't think you're working in. the right direction. And why's that? Well, I can't tell you now, but you'll soon find out, along with the rest of the world. Well, you won't be alone in this race toward electrical illumination, Mr. Edison. I've got a pretty cracking team here, and there are others working on it as well, I know. Yes, of course, but I'm certain I can perfect the system, and when I do, every house and factory in America will be lit up like the stars. Edison's confidence is striking, but so is his charm, and you can't help but smile. Even though he's technically a competitor. He's promising a revolution, and you can't wait to see what comes next.

From audible originals, I'm Lindsay Graham, and this is American History Tellers, our history, your story. On our show, we'll take you to the events, the times and people that shaped America and Americans. Our values, our struggles, and our dreams. We'll put you in the shoes of everyday people as history was being made, and we'll show you how the events of the times affected them, their families, and affects you now. When Thomas Alva Edison visited the workshop of foundry owner William Wallace in 1878, Edison was already world-famous, having made critical improvements to the telegraph and the telephone before astonishing the world with a modern phonograph. But while visiting Wallace's Connecticut

Foundry, Edison found fresh inspiration. He left determined to harness the power of electricity to illuminate the world. Wallace and earlier inventors had made important advances in the field of electrical current, but no one had yet found a way to make electric light safe, cheap, and accessible to ordinary homes and businesses. Edison became convinced that he would be the man to finally make the breakthrough. But Edison was not alone in this pursuit. In 1884, a brilliant Serbian immigrant named Nikola Tesla arrived in New York, and though he was initially a devoted admirer of Edison's, the two men soon became competitors. Tesla championed a fundamentally different approach to delivering electricity, alternating current or AC, which he

believed was far superior to Edison's existing system of direct current or DC, and Tesla's system gained formidable momentum after the powerful industrialist George Westinghouse stepped into bankroll its development. The ensuing battle to dominate electricity would draw in the era's most powerful business tycoons, expose government corruption, and play out on grand public stages from the Chicago World's Fair to the Paris Electrical Exposition. And in the end, the race would define both Edison and Tesla's legacies and shape the course of America's industrial future. This is the first in our three-part series on Edison v. Tesla, Prometheus Fire. Thomas Alva Edison was born on February 11, 1847, in Milan, Ohio, a bustling port town near the banks of Lake Erie. His father, Samuel,

had moved his family down from Canada to make his living as a carpenter and a carpenter and merchant in the area's growing industry. Though My Land was a small town of 1,500 people, it was located along a canal that fed into the Great Lakes and was fast becoming one of the busiest grain trading ports in the nation. Father Samuel brought his son Thomas along to the nearby lumber mills and shipyards, which sparked his interest in building and mechanics. In the meantime, Thomas' mother, Nancy, a former teacher, noticed his sharp intellect and curiosity and took a special interest in his education. Other children thought Thomas could be strange and withdrawn, and after the second grade, Nancy took over his schooling at home, guiding him through books on nature, philosophy,

and science, and instilling in him a lifelong love of reading. Later Edison would declare, My mother was the making of me. She was so true, so sure of me, and I felt that I had someone to live for, someone I must not disappoint. In 1854, the Edison family relocated to Port Huron, Michigan, and within a few years, Thomas had set up his first workshop in the cellar of the family home. There he conducted chemistry experiments, taught himself Morse code, and even wired a signal system to his friend's home one and a half miles away so the two could send messages back and forth. But at age 12, Edison lost most of his hearing, possibly as a result of an accident or scarlet fever.

Throughout the rest of his life, he offered varying explanations for the cause. Nevertheless, he refused to let it hold him back. He had a deep love of music, so he learned to grasp musical instruments like the piano and violin with his hands and teeth so he could feel their vibrations, a method he would use throughout his life. And despite his hearing loss, Edison demonstrated a natural talent for entrepreneurship. By 1859, the railroads were rapidly expanding, and 13-year-old Edison began riding the train to Detroit, selling newspapers and snacks to passengers. When the Civil War broke out two years later, many young men working as telegraph operators were called up to military service.

Edison, who already knew the basics of Morse code, joined a wave of teenage boys who stepped in to staff the busy telegraph posts along the railway. Edison was captivated by the telegraph, a technology that transmitted messages in the form of coded electrical signals across miles of wire. But he soon became frustrated with what he saw as the telegraph's limitations, so using scrap metal and salvaged wiring, he set about trying to design the design. improvements. Meanwhile, with his wages from the telegraph office, he bought stacks of books and read voraciously about the latest advancements in science. In one of these books, he learned of Michael Faraday, a British inventor who had become famous in the 1830s for creating the first electromagnetic generator.

Thrilled to discover such an inspiring figure, Edison told his friend, I am now 21. I may live to be 50. Can I get as much done as he did? I've got so much to do when life is so short. I'm going to hustle. And hustle he did. Edison's restless tinkering drew the attention of investors, and in 1870 at the age of 23, he signed his first significant contract as an inventor with a gold and stock telegraph company in New York.

This company was eager to get a competitive edge in financial trading, so in exchange for Edison making faster and more reliable telegraph and stock ticker devices, the company funded a staff and workshop for Edison in Newark, New Jersey. It was there, on a rainy spring day in 1871, that he met Mary Stillwell, a 16-year-old student whose father worked in a local sawmill. Later, Mary would recall Edison's striking gray-blue eyes, along with his dirty work clothes streaked with machine oil. Edison and Stillwell began a short courtship and were married on Christmas Day, 1871. But his new relationship didn't distract him. At his bustling workshop in Newark, Edison worked at a furious pace, fulfilling his work with

the Gold and Stock Telegraph Company, while overseeing a staff that had grown to more than 50. By the following year, 1872, he had secured 39 successful patents, many of them having to do with recording, printing, and communication. Then in February 1873, Edison and his wife Mary welcomed their first child, a daughter named Marion, but the demands of work left little time for family. Mary often sent Edison's dinners to the workshop, where he frequently stayed late into the night. And in the morning it was common for his assistance to find him napping on a bench or a stack of newspapers in the corner. But the unrelenting pace of work paid off when in 1874 he unveiled a telegraph machine with a radical new feature, the ability to send and receive

multiple messages at once. Until then, the telegraph had been limited to sending just one message at a time along a single wire, but Edison's system opened up new possibilities and a competitive edge for any business that controlled it. The now 27-year-old Edison sold the rights to his improved telegraph system to the Atlantic and Pacific Telegraph Company for $30,000, an enormous sum for the time. By then, his family and staff were outgrowing Newark, so he used the proceeds from the sale to build a new laboratory further north on a scenic hillside set amidst the cornfields and fruit orchards of Menlo Park, New Jersey. For the next several years, Edison worked in his sprawling Menlo Park Laboratory on improvements for existing technologies like the telegraph and telephone.

But Edison's biggest breakthrough came with his invention of the phonograph, a device capable of recording and playing back a human voice using a needle that made indented grooves on a tinfoil cylinder. When he unveiled it to the public, people were stunned. Word spread quickly, and the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institute called Edison the most genius inventor in this century or any other. The press soon dubbed him, the Wizard of Menlo Park.

So at just 30 years old, Edison had become a nationwide celebrity, and soon, a visit to another inventor would set him on a new path of discovery. Until the 19th century, America's most famous electrical inventor was Benjamin Franklin, whose daring experiments with a kite and key had revealed the true nature of lightning. Then in 1831, the British inventor Michael Faraday produced the first electric generator based on his observations of magnetism. Soon, other inventors followed producing batteries with the ability to store energy and power simple lights,

if only for short durations. By the 1870s, rudimentary electric lamps called arc lights had begun replacing the gas lamps used to illuminate the streets in many American and European cities, and they worked by transmitting a high voltage of electricity between two carbon rods that did not touch. The current, or arc, between the points, gave them their name, But arc lights had distinct drawbacks.

Their light was so bright that they had to be installed high above the streets so as not the blind people, and they produced an unsettling hissing sound as they flickered with unsteady electrical current. And went on a visit to fellow inventor William Wallace's workshop in Connecticut in 1878, Edison saw these arc lights and a steam-fueled dynamo system that powered them up close. He was impressed, but like those who walked under them in the streets of Paris and New York, he disliked their intensity and immediately began sketching elaborate designs for an improved lighting system that could replace them. Full of confidence, Edison bragged to the press that he could develop a new model within weeks.

He also made a bold promise to illuminate New York City's bustling financial district with his new and improved system. In response, the press labeled him the next Prometheus, a reference to the Greek titan who stole fire from the gods to give to humankind. and excitement rippled through New York's financial markets, sending shockways through the oil and gas industry who had until then dominated the market for commercial lighting. Edison's bold plan also drew the attention of New York's top financiers, including J.P. Morgan, who quickly joined with other investors and met with Edison. By October 1878, they had set up the Edison Electric Light Company,

and new investment flooded into the Menlo Park Workshop. But back in his lab, Edison quickly realized he had underestimated the task before him. In order to fulfill his promise to illuminate New York City's financial district, he would have to invent an entire electrical system from scratch, new cables, switches, dynamos, and more, with each component requiring its own rounds of experimentation and refinement. But the most immediate and frustrating obstacle was the light fixture itself. Edison needed to design something that could replace the harsh and unwieldy arc line with something suitable for homes and offices, a fixture that could channel electrical current,

safely and steadily without burning out. In order to do that, Edison came up with a design for an airtight glass bulb which would house a special fiber called a filament. When electric current passed through it, the filament would glow producing a soft light. But it would only work if he could find a material that could hold electricity without being damaged by the heat it generated. In his search for the perfect filament, Edison tested thousands of different materials, including platinum, cinnamon bark, and manila hemp,

but none of them worked. Edison grew increasingly frustrated throughout 1878, and in the following year, as he continued to face setbacks, he soon banned the press from Menlo Park, then began avoiding letters and visits from his investors. His previously long hours in the lab turned into days on end. And even with a growing family, Edison barely returned home, leaving his wife Mary to care for their now three young children alone.

For Edison and everyone at Menlo Park, the pressure was mounting. Imagine it's a chilly morning in October 1879. You're one of Thomas Edison's top assistants, and as you trudge up the hill to the Menlo Park Workshop, and feel your shoulders grow tense, the strain of the past few weeks is wearing you down, and you barely got a wink of sleep last night. You glance at a fellow worker who walks wearily beside you.

Hey, you know, I don't know how much more of this I can take. Yeah, it feels like we've been at it forever, and the boss is more tense every day. I've never seen him wound so tough. Well, he's got the investors breathing down his neck, and those damn reporters won't leave him alone. He's counting on us to find a way through this. Well, I don't know. I've been thinking about it. Maybe we're going down the wrong path. Look, I've been with Edison for years. That man is rarely wrong.

All we've got to do is keep testing different materials for the filament. Something has to work without burning out. Well, sure, in theory. But everything we've tried so far is cracked or burned up. On top of that, the bulb still isn't sealed, right? How can you have a lighting system with no light? We'll just keep trying. I mean, the cotton thread we set up last night might be different. It shaped up nice and fine when I was whining it and took to the carbonizing, right?

You try to sound hopeful, but as you approach the broad doors at the workshop, you're bracing yourself for another failure. Your coworker looks resigned already, too. All right, well, where's the test? Well, I left it burning in the work table in the corner, just like all the other. And just then, your eye catches a glow of light. You dash across the workshop followed closely by your friend. Oh, you see that. Your friend rubs his eyes with his hand just inches from where the bulb is suspended, glowing softly.

Is that what I think it is? You bet it is. It's holding the current. It's still lit up. You check your watch and compare it with a stack of notes on the table. That makes 14 and a half hours. The bulb's been going for more than 14 hours. Well, this is it. This is it. I'm going to go get the boss. As your coworker turns to run outside, you stare and wonder at the glowing glass bulb in front of you. Steady, golden light falls across the work table, and it's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen.

Finally, this is the breakthrough you've all been hoping for. In late October 1879, Edison's team finally succeeded in designing a glass light bulb with a filament that remained lit for more than 14 hours straight. The successful design used a carbonized cotton filament, which proved, able to burn slowly and provide a steady, pleasant light. And soon, Edison refined the design further, replacing the carbonized cotton with bamboo, which lasted even longer. After a year of experimentation, Edison was thrilled. Eager to share the good news with the public, he ordered his staff to prepare Menlo Park for a grand display, and on New Year's Eve 1879, 3,000 visitors took the train to Menlo Park. There they were greeted with a magnificent sight. Rose of softly,

glowing bulbs illuminating the countryside and lining the path to Edison's workshop, which blazed with light from within. Among the dazzled crowd that night were many of New York's influential elite and city reporters. But despite the impressive display, critics began to whisper. The oil and gas lobby, who feared that Edison's electric lights would compete with their business, fueled much of this negativity. Even some scientists ridiculed Edison as a showman or hockster, refusing to believe that his light bulb was anything more than a magic. trick. More troubling still were those who doubted the originality of his inventions, pointing to inventors in England who had showcased their own incandescent lighting systems believed to rival

Edisons. To silence these critics, Edison knew he would have to expand his incandescent lights to a scale never seen before. But to do that, he would first have to navigate a more immediate problem, convincing New York's notoriously corrupt officials to buy into his ambitious dream of illumination. I'm Leon Nefok, best known as the the host and co-creator of podcasts, Slow Burn, Fiasco, and Think Twice, Michael Jackson. I'm here to tell you about my show, Final Thoughts, Jerry Springer, whose name is synonymous with outrageous guests, taboo confessions, and vicious on-stage fights. But before the Jerry Springer

show became a symbol of cultural decline, its namesake was a popular Midwestern politician, and a serious-minded idealist with lofty ambitions. Through dozens of intimate and revealing interviews with those who knew Springer best, I examined Springer's lifelong struggle to reconcile his TV persona with his political dreams and aspirations. Named one of the best podcasts of the year by the New Yorker and Rolling Stone,

final thoughts, Jerry Springer is a story about choices, how we make them, how we justify them to ourselves, and how we transcend them or don't. Listen wherever you get your podcasts, or binge the whole series ad-free right now on Audible. Start your Audible subscription in the Audible app. I'm Raza Jaffrey, and in the new season of The Spy Who, we tell the story of Dr. A. Q. Khan, the spy who sold nuclear secrets to Iran. He was the scientist spy who stole nuclear technology

from the Netherlands and used them to give Pakistan a bomb. But he didn't stop there. He became a black market atomic salesman, a fix-it man for rogue states seeking nuclear weapons, including Iran, Libya and North Korea. And that left the CIA and MI6 in a race against time to put him out of business before the world's most wayward regimes get hold of the world's most destructive weapons. Follow the Spy Who now, wherever you listen to podcasts. You can also listen to the full season of the Spy Who sold nuclear sequence to Iran, early and at three on Audible.

On December 20th, 1880, less than a year after Thomas Edison dazzled the public with the display of his new incandescent light bulbs, he hosted another lavish event in Menlo Park, New Jersey. But on this evening, it wasn't the public that was invited. Instead, a small, influential group of men stepped from the train station and made their way to Edison's lab. Hundreds of lights illuminated the grounds of the compound, which now included a large workshop, a brick office and library, a glass blowing house, and a machine shop. Outside, the grounds radiated with an orange glow, while inside the laboratory, more than 30 chandeliers cast warm light over a lavish banquet. Members of Edison's board of directors, including J.P. Morgan, were in attendance. But the most important guest that evening were the New York City officials, including several aldermen who had taken the 24-mile train ride from Manhattan to see Edison's new incandescent lighting for themselves. Edison and J.P. Morgan had planned the event to address a looming obstacle, opposition to their plan to bring electrical lighting to downtown Manhattan. The plan would require extensive digging through some of the densest blocks of the city in order to lay underground cables and install new wiring.

It would be a significant disruption to the city's thriving business district, and all of it would require permits. Officials had also expressed their opposition after the powerful gas industry had stepped up their lobbying against it. So that evening, hoping to persuade city officials to change their minds, Edison assembled his guests before him and demonstrated his newest incandescent light design while describing the numerous benefits of his audacious plan to light up lower Manhattan. He was followed by board members, including Morgan, who attempted to bolster Edison's pitch by towing what they argued were the economic advantages of the new technology.

And at the end of the evening, to Edison and Morgan's delight, the chief alderman who had been initially opposed to the idea announced that he had been persuaded to approve the plan. And other aldermen pledged their support as well, with one saying, If at any time my voice or vote can be used to advocate the beautiful electrical light which I have seen here tonight, you may count on me to use them. Even the Central Park Commissioner expressed excitement for a lighting system that wouldn't burn and damage foliage in the city's parks,

like the noxious gas lamps then in use. So the next morning, New York Papers carried the news that Edison's newest corporation, the Edison Electric Illuminating Company had secured a permit to install its new lighting system across 51 blocks of downtown Manhattan. And after receiving official approval, Edison wasted no time. In February 1881, he left Menlo Park and moved to Manhattan to devote all his time to the project. First, Edison bought two multi-story buildings on Pearl Street in the middle of the Wall Street Financial District to serve as the central power station. He planned to install coal-fired boilers in the basement that would run day and night, generating steam to eventually power several large

dynamos. These dynamos would generate the electricity needed and send it through thick, insulated cables that would be buried beneath the city streets to power outdoor lampposts and through more complex interior wiring, lighting in nearby businesses and homes. At the time, Edison's dynamos were designed to produce direct current, electricity that flowed in a single direction, but grew progressively weaker the farther it traveled from its source. That meant that that the Pearl Street Station would only be able to power buildings within a half-mile radius, but that was more than enough to cover the area of Lower Manhattan, Edison and his investors had in mind. And Edison figured more power stations could be built in other neighborhoods once the Pearl Street Station proved successful.

In the meantime, Edison still needed the hundreds of fixtures that would connect the system, and they would need to be manufactured from scratch, so he set up factories in Manhattan and New Jersey to begin production. While this work continued, Edison set up his headquarters in a four-story brownstone on Fifth Avenue. He wired the entire building with electrical lighting and lit up at night, it became the talk of the town as visitors strolled by to Gock at the glowing mansion. Then in April of 1881, Edison's crews began digging the underground tunnels that would carry the large electrical cables from the Pearl Street Electrical Station. But they quickly encountered their first challenge, how to navigate their construction equipment around the thick tangle of existing. existing electrical wire that hung overhead, part of a primitive system of electrical distribution the city already had in place to power telegraph stations as well as the arc lights that lit up

the streets at night. This network was haphazard and poorly regulated and had no central power station like the one Edison was building. Instead, the lines were all powered by local generators or batteries that were often unreliable and required maintenance. Nevertheless, the city still relied on the arc lights for illumination at night, so until Edison had his new system up and and running, his crews would have to work around the existing wiring. And as these crews continued the slow, back-breaking work of digging tunnels, Edison and his team confronted a growing wave of criticism. There were questions about his claims to originality, especially abroad, where European inventors had demonstrated their own advancements in lighting. Many of Edison's detractors

cited the work of Joseph Swan, an English inventor who had presented his own version of incandescent lighting at Elektra in Newcastle in December 1878, a full year before Edison's display in Menlo Park. Swan's bulbs looked very similar to Edison's, with carbonized filament inside a glass casing, and they burned just as clear, although for a much shorter duration. These bulbs were in fact used in 1881 to light up the famous Savoy Theater in London, impressing crowds and leading a writer from the Royal Institution in England to sharply criticize Edison, saying he was cursed by a total absence of originality. This not only bothered Edison, but rattled his investors who worried that lingering questions

about the novelty of Edison's advancements could threaten new contracts and patents. Already, New York officials were nervous about the risky and expensive project in lower Manhattan, but Edison's backers, who had seen his lighting system up close, remained impressed with the scale of his vision. So they, and Edison, decided to quiet the critics once and for all by establishing the superiority of Edison's design in a very public venue, the first Paris electrical exposition. Set to open in August 1881, this exposition would be the first to gather the newest advancements in the world of electrical innovation. Inventors from France, England, Germany, and the U.S. would all be showcasing their

very best work, and the press and potential customers would all be in attendance. Edison decided that nothing less than a full demonstration of his new electrical system would suffice, but even his investors were startled by the ambition of his plan. he would design completely new electric dynamos, the most powerful the world had ever seen, and fill the exhibit with hundreds of incandescent bulbs. Edison himself would remain in New York to supervise the construction of the dynamos and keep the Pearl Street Station on track, but he sent his trusted assistant Charles Batchelor ahead to Paris to begin assembling the display.

With the exposition approaching, Edison again worked night and day, testing and retesting his dynamos at the Pearl Street Station in New York. They were so powerful that they began to shake the building and the foundation below. Still, Edison tinkered, redesigned, and pushed his workers on. Finally, a month before the exposition, Edison was satisfied. He had his crews disassemble the massive generators and load them on a steamship headed for Paris. And there, at the exposition, Edison's dynamos, four times the size of the largest generator in Europe, drew astonishment. To his assistant Charles Bachelors' delight, the direct crew,

they produced hummed smoothly, pumping continuous electricity to 2,500 light bulbs strung throughout the exhibit. Side rooms displayed Edison's other famous inventions, including the phonograph, and improved telegraph, but crowds were captivated by the sheer scale of his lighting system. Each day, visitors marveled at Edison's pavilion, and even some of his harshest critics felt compelled to stop by. Imagine at September 1881 at the Grand Electrical Exposition in Paris, France. You're a prominent French writer and an expert in the new exciting technology of electricity. For years, you've been a vocal advocate for the superiority of European technology, but for the past few days, you've been surprised to find yourself strolling through Thomas Edison's exhibit

captivated by his massive electric dynamos and hundreds of light bulbs. At first, you couldn't even believe your eyes. And now you've returned for three days straight to study the details of the system. As you walk through the exhibit yet again, you spot a familiar familiar. face. Edison's longtime assistant, Charles Bachelor, a man with a thick, dark beard and an intense gaze. Oh, excuse me, wants you're a bachelor. You managed to get his attention, but as he approaches you, his expression turns cold. Ah, I know you. You're that writer who called Edison a country bumpkin, an opposer. I have no desire to speak to you, sir. You smile sheepishly. Yes, I'm afraid

that was me, but wait, please, if I may, a bachelor just poked your chest with his finger. Didn't you claim that he was misleading the public about his achievements, and insist inventors like Swan and Maxim were far ahead of him? Well, yes, but I can tell you how much I regret that now. Bachelor raises an eyebrow and looks at you skeptically. Regret, huh? Swan and Maxim are brilliant inventors for sure, but their displays can't compare to this. It's most impressive. I barely have the words. These dynamos, so powerful and steady. I've been trying to find a flaw in the design, but I haven't detected a break in the current or a mishap in the philis. elements or the bulbs themselves, I must ask, how do you do it? Bachelor's face finally softens into a

smile. Well, as the boss would say, failure, patience, and a lot of hard work. Well, it's clear you've achieved a complete system of lighting. I have no doubt it's capable of illuminating an entire city. Well, I'm glad to hear it because that's exactly what we intend to do. Back across the Atlantic, yeah. When we do, I look forward to your positive assessment. For now, though, if you'll excuse me, I really must go. Well, of course, and please give my regards and my apologies to Mr. Edison. As Bachelor walked swiftly away, you'll have to marvel once more at the exhibit before you. You vowed to make the long journey across the Atlantic to New York, where it appears the future of electricity is already taking shape. In the fall of 1881 at the Paris Electrical

Exposition, Thomas Edison proved to the world that he had not only perfected the incandescent bulb, but successfully built an entirely new lighting system, one that was more powerful and reliable than any other. And after witnessing this new technology, many former skeptics, including the French illumination expert Teodos du Monselle, who had previously warned against believing Edison's pompous announcements, retracted their criticisms, and praised the inventor's achievements. The judges at the fair went further still,

awarding Edison the exposition's highest honor after tests showed that his 3,000-watt power system was not just powerful, but the most efficient on display. Even the English inventor Joseph Swan, whose system was often cited as equal to Edison's, sent a cable to New York telling Edison, you have received the highest award the jury had to give, I congratulate you.

But back in New York, Edison didn't have much time to enjoy the praise. While working to bring his Pearl Street station online, he was facing a series of new setbacks. More than a dozen of his patent claims had been rejected by the U.S. Patent Office, a blow that threatened his electrical enterprise. Meanwhile, his workers were struggling beneath the streets of Manhattan,

where the slow, punishing work of digging tunnels had fallen badly behind schedule. With winter closing in, conditions were only going to get worse. So despite the accolades he'd won in Paris, Edison's dream of lighting up New York looked dimmer than ever. I'm Leon Nefok, best known as the host and co-creator of podcasts, Slow Burn, Fiasco, and Think Twice Michael Jackson. I'm here to tell you about my show, Final Thoughts, Jerry Springer, whose name is synonymous with outrageous guests, taboo confessions, and vicious on-stage fights. But before the Jerry Springer show became a symbol of cultural decline, its namesake was a popular Midwestern politician and a serious-minded idealist with lofty ambitions.

Through dozens of intimate and revealing interviews with those who knew Springer best, I examine Springer's lifelong struggle to reconcile his TV persona with his political dreams and aspirations. Named one of the best podcasts of the year by The New Yorker and Rolling Stone, final thoughts, Jerry Springer, is a story about choices, how we make them, how we justify them to ourselves, and how we transcend them or don't. Listen wherever you get your podcasts. Or binge the whole series Ad Free Right Now, on Audible. Start your Audible subscription in the Audible app. As the winter of 1881 set in,

New York was battered by harsh winds and bitter coal. Snow covered the streets of lower Manhattan, and freezing temperatures forced Thomas Edison's crews to stop their work digging the underground tunnels that were essential for his new lighting system. As these delays mounted, the public began to criticize the unfinished work. Edison had promised a new, efficient lighting system, but so far all that residents could see were open trenches and pits, where crews appeared to advance in inches if they were working at all. On December 2, 1881, the New York Times ridiculed the lack of progress with a rare attack on Edison, declaring that his crews have laid a considerable quantity of wire, but so far as lighting up the downtown district is concerned, they are as far away

from that as ever. Edison's team tried to reassure the public, while blaming the delay on the harsh weather and stalled deliveries of key equipment and materials like iron and copper. But city officials, who felt they'd taken a big risk by endorsing the plan, pointed out that Edison had promised to have his lights installed by November, a deadline which had passed with little noticeable progress. Unsurprisingly, residents and local businesses were now grumbling, too. And the New York Times followed their earlier negative coverage with a sarcastic headline, the Edison Dark Lanterns,

describing dim streets and disarray. Ultimately, an Edison official was forced to admit that only half of the 14 miles of necessary cable had been installed. All of Edison's earlier promises of quick results began to haunt him, though he remained focused on his work and driving himself harder than ever. Then, on December 27th, news arrived from the U.S. Patent Office that Edison's newest design for a meter that could accurately measure the amount of current flowing along electrical lines had been approved. This was a small device, but critical to making his lighting system a viable commercial business by allowing Edison's company to reliably build customers for their individual usage. So for Edison and his investors, this was a welcome reminder that the project, despite its setbacks, was still very much alive.

With this encouragement, Edison turned his attention back to the streets of Lower Manhattan. In the spring of 1882, as the weather improved, work resumed on the system's electrical lines, and with seven miles still to go, some days Edison hopped down and dug in the trenches himself, emerging from beneath the ground streaked and mud and dirt. But back at the Pearl Street Station, three powerful dynamos had already been installed, and four boilers now filled the basement. But with miles of wiring still to complete and heavy junction boxes yet to be installed along the lines, Edison knew that the finish line was still some way off,

and he needed to do something to demonstrate progress. He had to convince the remaining doubters that success was imminent and his most important investor agreed. Imagine it's September 4, 1882 in Manhattan's Financial District. You're a successful and wealthy financier, but recently one of your biggest investments, a plan to bring electric light to the city, has faced scrutiny for numerous delays and setbacks. You're hoping to change that, so today you've gathered some of your closest associates, as well as a few influential reporters, to witness a demonstration of the technical reporters to witness a demonstration of the technology you've put your money behind, Edison's indoor electric lighting.

Well, gentlemen, thank you for coming, and I want to assure you that this is a monumental moment. I don't need to remind you of the challenges we faced, but at last we're going to see the fruit of our labors. Across your office, the man at the center of the doll, Thomas Edison, paces back and forth. He's wearing a shabby black coat and loose trousers, but you notice he's put on a necktie for the occasion. You nervously check your watch, two minutes until the appointed time. Now, in just a moment, you'll witness an unprecedented achievement. Clean burning, pleasantly bright, indoor electric light.

This will forever change how home life and business is conducted in the city. But before you can go further, a reporter steps forward. Excuse me, if you will, but tell me, sir, what do you say to the men from the gas company who claim you're tearing up the city for no good reason for an unproven technology? Well, that kind of criticism is to be expected from competitors, of course. They're holding on to the past, though, while Mr. Eddard, Edison here is bringing us the future. You catch a glimpse of Edison as he fidgets with his collar

and looks nervously at his own watch. The reporter continues to pepper you with questions. Well, perhaps, but isn't it true that your project was supposed to be completed last year? Certainly, the people in New York deserve to know whether you're any closer to delivering on this grand promise. And that's exactly why we're here today. We've invested half a million dollars in this project, and I've rarely been accused of acting rashly. I'm confident that in just a few moment's time, we will witness the fulfillment of Mr. Edison's claims. You smile confidently, but you can't help, but feel a pang-it-down. You know that the power station is nearly a half-mile away, and a lot could go wrong. But it's too late now. There's nothing left to do but cross your

fingers and hope that this demonstration doesn't leave you looking like a fool. And then, as the clock strikes the hour, Edison raises his hand to a light switch on the wall. All right, gentlemen, prepare to be dazzled. You exchange a last nervous glance with Edison before he throws the switch. Your breath catches in your throat. For a moment, nothing happens. But then you hear the slightest hum

before all at once the lights turn on. Gentlemen, the future. You sigh with relief as you receive handshakes of congratulations from the men around you. And then you look back at Edison who's standing apart from the crowd, staring intently at the lights on the wall, which are glowing with a steady golden hue.

It's a site that you think you could get used to. In September 1882, Thomas Edison successfully completed the first demonstration of the Pearl Street Station electrical system at the offices of J.P. Morgan. A reporter who witnessed the event called the lights soft, mellow, and grateful to the eye. Soon after, 2,000 more lights were connected to the system, creating an illuminated corridor running through the business district.

The system's first customers were some of the most influential officers. in the city, including investment banks, financiers, and prominent newspapers like the New York Times, and all across Lower Manhattan, there was now a new glow of electrical power. A visibly relieved Edison declared, I have delivered all that I have promised, and he had overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles in order to develop a unique lighting system that he envisioned could spread across the nation and even the world. But he would soon face a challenge from another brilliant inventor, one whose new design for electricity would threaten to end Edison's hard-won dominance.

From Audible Originals, this is episode one of our three-part series on Edison versus Tesla for American history tellers. In the next episode, a young Serbian engineer named Nikola Tesla arrives in America with an idea for a revolutionary new motor, one that would harness alternating current and pose the most formidable challenge yet to Edison's electrical empire. Follow American History Tellers on the Audible app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to all episodes of American History Tellers ad-free by joining Audible.

And to find out more about me and my other projects, including my live stage show coming to a theater near you, go to not that Lindsaygram.com. That's not that Lindsaygram.com. If you'd like to learn more, we recommend Edison by Edmund Morris and Empires of Light by Jill Jones. American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsay Graham for Airship. This episode is written by Dorian Marina, senior producers Alita Rosanski and Andy Beckerman, managing producer Desi Blaylock, audio editing by Mohamed Shazzy, music by Thrum, sound design by Molly Bach, executive producer for Audible, Jenny Lauer Beckman, head of creative development at Audible, Kate Navin, head of Audible Originals, North America, Marshall Louis, Chief Content Officer Rachel Giazza. Copyright 2026 by Audible Originals LLC. Sound recording copyright 2026 by Audible Originals LLC.