History That Doesn't Suck - 96: The War of the Currents: (Thomas Alva Edison v. Nikola Tesla & George Westinghouse)

Episode Date: August 30, 2021

“Tesla, you don’t understand our American humor.” This is the story of opinionated inventors with very different views on electric lighting; a story of invention, genius, conniving, and even electrocutions. This is the War of the Currents. Thomas Alva Edison believes in direct current. He’s convinced it’s safer. Freshly arrived from Europe, Nikola Tesla thinks alternating current has the potential to unleash indoor domestic lighting on a whole new level and can be made just as safe. The men differ, and when Nikola teams up with George Westinghouse, Alva finds his position as king of the Electric Hill threatened. But as Nikola and George will soon see: the Wizard of Menlo Park won’t take this threat lying down ... ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The French Revolution set Europe ablaze. It was an age of enlightenment and progress, but also of tyranny and oppression. It was an age of glory and an age of tragedy. One man stood above it all. This was the Age of Napoleon. I'm Everett Rummage, host of the Age of Napoleon podcast. Join me as I examine the life and times of one of the most fascinating and enigmatic characters in modern history.

Look for The Age of Napoleon wherever you find your podcasts. What did it take to survive an ancient siege? Why was the cult of Dionysus behind so many slave revolts in ancient Rome? What's the tragic history and mythology behind Japan's most haunted ancient forest? We're Jen and Jenny from Ancient History Fangirl. Join us to explore ancient history and mythology from a fun, sometimes tipsy, perspective. Find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom,

my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this work, receive ad-free episodes, bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership, or click the link in the episode notes. Advisory. This episode includes the electrical torture and death of a dog, and later, the first ever execution of a person in the electric chair. Listener discretion is advised. It's Wednesday evening, May 20th, 1891.

We're in a lecture hall at Columbia College in New York City, and right this minute, some of the finest minds in the United States are walking down the hall's aisles and filing into their seats. They're here tonight because the relatively new yet already prestigious American Institute of Electrical Engineers is hosting a promising lecture featuring one of the nation's most esteemed minds in the field. It's the famous inventor and champion of alternating current, Nikola Tesla. A professor offers a brief introduction of Nikola to the standing room only crowd. This done, the tall, thin, dark-haired, mustachioed speaker

in a swallowtail coat takes his place on stage. He stands behind a wooden desk. Various bulbs, tubes, and gadgets lie on it. Additionally, two zinc sheets suspended from the ceiling and roughly 15 feet apart hang on either side of the electrical genius. It's a curious setup. Surely, though, Mikola will explain what this is all about.

The Eastern European with excellent, though accented, English now addresses the crowd in his disarmingly high-pitched voice. There is no subject more captivating, more worthy of study than nature. To understand this great mechanism, to discover which forces are active, and the laws which govern them, is the highest aim of the intellect of man. Nature has stored up in the universe infinite energy. Huh. Infinite energy in the universe.

Indeed, Nicholas stands by this statement and goes on to explain his desire to tap into this infinite energy. But, the immigrant continues, he will not wax philosophical tonight. Rather, he will contend himself with explaining and demonstrating one of the most important issues facing the world at present. Namely, the production of a practical and efficient source of light. Going into professor mode, the ingenious Serb scratches out formulas on the chalkboard, arguing that high-frequency alternating current is the way forward.

That's a claim that his former employer, Thomas Alva Edison, would certainly reject. Yet Nikola argues alternating current could send electricity hundreds of miles. But as intellectual as the audience in this packed lecture hall might be, why just tell them about the virtues of alternating current when you can show them?

Nikola flips a switch on his wooden desk. He's just engaged a motor and high-frequency alternator, and as he does so, an arc and sparks jump between two poles. Incredible! But that's nothing. The lanky inventor is just getting started. With the lecture hall's lights dimmed, Nikola now picks up two gas-filled tubes, that is, Geissler tubes.

Holding one in each hand as he stands between the two large hanging zinc sheets, they start to glow. Americans a century from now might look at these and think, lightsabers. between the two large hanging zinc sheets. They start to glow. Americans a century from now might look at these and think, lightsabers. Well, these 19th century Americans aren't far off from that. One reporter here tonight will later describe the scene, quote, like a luminous sword

held in the hands of an archangel, close quote. Others are just lost as to how Nikola is doing it. The Electrical Review will write, quote, here Mr. Tesla seemed to act the part of a veritable magician. Close quote. But as serious a scientist as Nikola is, he still seems to understand showmanship and has saved his best presentation for last.

He'll prove the safety of his beloved alternating current. Nikola Tesla will now send 250,000 volts of electricity through his own body. With a brass ball in each hand, Nikola touches one of the oscillating transformer's terminals. He then extends his hand toward the other terminal of the coil. The crowd is astounded as what appears to be lightning courses through him. Well, that's the thing. Despite appearances, it isn't really going through him. It's traveling along the surface of his body. Nikola is completely unharmed. The lecture, or demonstration, if not show, has lasted three hours. Yet most present hardly notice the time fly. The electrical world describes it as

one of the most brilliant and fascinating lectures it has ever been our fortune to attend. But as Nikola Tesla's demonstration won any converts to the alternate current system in which he and his friend George Westinghouse placed their trust, how many continue to cling to Thomas Alva Edison's beloved direct current? This is but one more day in the ongoing contest to illuminate the world,

a contest known as the War of the Currents. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. Today, we bear witness to an epic AC-DC battle. No, I'm not talking about the rock band, although I hope this episode leaves you a bit thunderstruck. I'm talking about the battle, or war war rather, that breaks out as Nikola Tesla and George Westinghouse push lighting systems using alternating current, or AC, in direct opposition to Thomas Alva Edison's preference for direct current, or DC. This is the Gilded Age tale of innovation, invention, and intrigue, filled with businessmen, tycoons, and even death. We'll begin by getting some background on the man we just met, Nikola Tesla. We'll follow the recent immigrant as he meets his boss and hero, Alva Edison, only to have a falling out. From

there, we'll see how the interests of George Westinghouse and Nikola align and how the Westinghouse brand of alternating current lighting systems mounts a serious challenge to the direct current-loving Edison brand's dominance. We'll follow this escalating conflict through accidental and intentional deaths, slander, and corporate warfare until we find a winner of sorts at the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition held in Chicago, Illinois. Much to do as always. So, let's head back a few years and meet Nikola as he arrives starry-eyed at New York's port. Here we go. Rewind.

It's a beautiful, almost cloudless Friday, June 6th, 1884, and a steamship called the City of Richmond is just arriving at New York's port. With the pedestal of the future Statue of Liberty under construction nearby, the ship's many European passengers descend its gangplank. Among them is a 6'3", gangly gentleman who doesn't even weigh 140 pounds. His dark suit complements his jet black, wavy hair and deep-set gray eyes. At 27 years old, this multilingual electrical engineer is as full of ideas and ambition as his pockets are empty. The sum of his physical possessions right now

are a bundle of clothes, his own writings, and the four cents in his pocket. Yeah, you guessed it. This is the young inventor and electrical genius cents in his pocket. Yeah, you guessed it. This is the young inventor and electrical genius, Nikola Tesla. Like his fellow new arrivals, our ever-serious immigrant makes his way to a circular red brick building. A sign hangs overhead, reading, Emigrant Landing Depot and Office, Castle Garden. Filled with nerves, Nikola walks through the port with its chorus of different European languages as thousands of immigrants are coming here for their shot at the American dream.

Nikola is no different. Soon enough, the lanky figure from Eastern Europe is standing before a U.S. customs officer. The official performs his duty and asks Nikola where he's from. The immigrant answers by naming the small village in the Austro-Hungarian Empire's military province of Lika where he was born, Smiljan. Now, Nikola is a gifted linguist. He speaks French, German, Italian, various Slavic dialects, and yes, even English.

But alas, his accent is rather thick. So, the customs officer doesn't write down this Croatian village in the Balkans. Instead, he pens the first European anything he can think of that starts with an S and ends with an N. Sweden. Whoops. And with that, Nikola is on his way. He steps out of Castle Garden and gets his first taste of the United States, or at least of New York City. The smell of the sea quickly turns to that of industrial soot and equine excrement. The hustle and bustle of Gilded Age New York is almost surreal, with a near-constant, frenetic pace of all sorts of commerce swirling around him.

He most certainly bumps into people more concerned with their business than those around them. Nikola might hail from a small village, but as a man bucking the family tradition of choosing a career in the clergy or the military, this isn't his first time setting foot in a foreign-to-him big city. His studies included time in Prague, he worked at a telephone company in Budapest, and more recently, he's been in, or at least near, the City of Lights itself, Paris, working as a junior engineer at the Société Industrielle of the newly established Compagnie Continentale Edison. Yep, that Edison.

Thomas Alva Edison, or Alva as his close friends and family know him, has been plenty busy since opening his Pearl Street station in September 1882, as we heard in the last episode. The Wizard of Menlo Park isn't content to sell his incandescent light bulbs and lighting system just in the U.S. He's going after the European market as well. To that end, Alva sent his English right-hand man, Charles Batchelor, aka Batch, across the Atlantic to run things from the Paris area. And wouldn't you know it, Nicolas soon found himself in Batch's employ. During this time, the lanky engineer rose early

each morning to swim in Paris' Seine River, then walked to his job over in Iver-sur-Seine. But don't let those glamorous mornings make you think the Eastern European wasn't hard at work. Nicolas so impressed Batch that the bearded Englishman often sent him around Europe to fix dynamos, that is, generators, that had gone awry. It was after Nicolas completed one of these difficult fixes in presently German controlled Strasbourg that his Parisian supervisors concluded he might be better off under the hand of the true electrical master, Alva Edison. Hence, Nicolas has made the journey here to NYC determined to meet the man, or Wizard

of Menlo Park, rather, behind the curtain. Nicolas even hopes to share a few ideas of his own. The day after arriving in the United States, Nikola makes his way to 65 Fifth Avenue in New York City. He walks up the steps of the four-story brownstone building Hussain proudly proclaims, the Edison Electric Light Company. Once inside, Nikola looks around, taking in the luxurious furnishings of the Edison Electric headquarters. The whole of the first floor is outfitted with the finest chandeliers

and electric lamps they have to offer. It's a decor very much intended to impress wealthy visitors and encourage them to buy. Well played, Alva. Well played. The upper floors offer temporary lodging for Edison employees, as well as a school of sorts, like a company university, where newer hires can pick up the basics of electricity. Anyhow, enough on the building. It's time for one of Nikola's greatest dreams to come true. Meeting the wizard of Menlo Park himself, Thomas Alva Edison.

The immigrant engineer makes his way toward Alva's office. He finds the hero seated at his desk. What a contrast these two men make. Here stands Nikola Tesla, a lanky, dark-haired man of culture, sophistication, formal education. A man who loves and recites poetry in various languages and, despite having hardly a scent to his name, dresses in the kind of suit one would expect to see here among the wealthy New Yorkers of Fifth Avenue. Opposite of him sits T. Alva Edison, a stocky, light-haired man of practicality. Little formal education.

A man who, despite having gained fame and fortune, isn't one for fancy suits or putting on airs and delights in the simplest, unrefined things, like a cheap cigar or plug of tobacco. Except for their love of all things electric and inventive genius, they could hardly be more different. Help you, mister? The ever-blunt American inventor asks.

Nikola now produces a letter of introduction. Sources conflict on whether it's written by Charles Batchelor, who is also back in New York by this point, or by Tivadar Pushkas. Either way, it's a letter from a trusted employee whom Alva knows personally. The old man opens the letter and reads, I know two great men and you are one of them. The other is this young man. Ha! That's some recommendation. What can I do for you?

There are variations on how historians and biographers will later recount the conversation from here. At some point, it seems Nikola's European sense of social hierarchy comes out as he describes shining his shoes as beneath him. Ever the joker, Alva responds, You will shine your shoes, and you will like it. By the way, in recounting this, Nikola will later say he does begin shining his shoes, and he does like it. More crucially though, some accounts say that this thin Serb launches into his history working for Alva's European office, then starts sharing his ideas on improving the

use of alternating current. Is this the first time Nikola and Alva find themselves on opposite ends of the direct versus alternating current debate? It could be, and according to this version, Alva cuts off the young inventor right then and there. Hold up. Spare me that nonsense. It's dangerous. We're set up for direct current in America. People like it, and it's all I'll ever fool with. But maybe I could give you a job.

Can you fix a ship's lighting plant? Ah, now we come to an undisputed part of their conversation, a steamship called the Organ. This record-setting ship has two failed Edison dynamos on it, and it's making Alpha look bad. Perhaps this Eastern European with such a laudatory letter of introduction can fix it. Nikola is all too happy to take the job.

Following this conversation, he heads straight to the ship docked on the East River, not too far from the Roebling family's newly completed Brooklyn Bridge, and tackles the issue. It takes working late into the dark hours of the next morning, but the industrious engineer finds the shorted-out circuits and fixes them on the spot. The passenger ship's incandescents are glowing before sunrise. Nikola walks back to the Edison Electric Light Company on Fifth Avenue.

Arriving at five in the morning, he bumps into Alva and other top company men, including Charles Batchelor. Do any of these guys ever sleep? Anyhow, Alva, who, again, likes to kid around, greets Nicolau with a reference to his late job working for Batch in Paris. Ah, here is our Parisian, running around at night.

Nicolas then explains he is just returning from the SS organ, and he's fixed it. Alva stares at this thin foreigner in complete silence. He then turns to his English companion and says softly, Bachelor, this is a damn good man. But soon enough, this good man and Alva will come into direct conflict in what will come to be known

as the War of the Currents. So we got a small taste of how Alva and Nikola each feel about the two different currents in their initial sit-down. But what are these currents exactly? Let's sort that out before

we get into the details of this war to come. On the one hand, we have direct current, often abbreviated as DC. In this case, the electrons in the electric current flow stably in one direction, much like water in a stream going down a gentle hill. And as Alva made abundantly clear to Nikola, if we trust that version of their first chat, that is, he likes direct current. That's what the jumbo dynamos at his Pearl Street station produced to power buildings up to half a mile away. But that's rather limiting. I mean, this would require having an electrical power plant every mile. Perhaps that makes sense in a densely populated place like New York City, but what about elsewhere? Can you really sell people on having

so many power stations, or installing a dynamo, that is, an electric generator, at every far-flung building or farmhouse across the country? This is where alternating current comes in. Unlike direct current, alternating current, which is abbreviated as AC, doesn't send the electrons in a single direction. Instead, think of the electrons as wiggling very rapidly back and forth, hence alternating. This too produces electrical current, but since the electrons aren't really traveling, AC sends power out more efficiently. To return to the flowing water analogy, if DC is the flowing stream, AC is more like your high

pressure water system. Caveat, remember, it's just the electric charge flowing with AC. The electrons wiggle, but don't travel. Anyhow, my point is that just as water pressure systems let us enjoy flowing water far from streams and rivers, a system based on alternating current means we can crank up the pressure, which in this case we call voltage, and send electricity much, much farther. Now, Alva isn't a fan. He says using AC's high voltage rather than DC's low voltage is far too dangerous. Could be. Arc light companies, which we heard about in the last episode, use AC to light public areas, and this has led to some bad outcomes. Maybe AC should only be used for lights high above the streets and not anywhere near a house. But DC is just so inefficient, and sales

are suffering. By the end of 1884, so just months after Nikola arrived in New York, only 18 Edison Central stations with their limited range of delivery are running in the United States. Even less are operating in Europe. And while single factories in the super-rich have bought up almost 400 individual systems, that's not going to make ends meet in the long run either. Alva's capital and cash flow are starting to dry up. Worse still for Alva, competition is increasing. The Thompson Houston Electric Company, formed in 1882, is selling lighting systems for street and public areas, as well as incandescent systems for lighting homes and businesses. Same goes for the Brush Electric Company

and the United States Electric Light Company. Alva's system remains superior, but how long can he bank on that? He's going to need some smart, hard-working helpers to perfect a more workable system of delivery if he's going to keep his edge. Nikolai devotes himself to solving problems at Edison Machine Works in Manhattan.

He comes into work every morning at 10.30 a.m. and doesn't leave until 5. Oh, I mean 5 a.m. the next day. Even Alva Edison, the patron saint of not sleeping and working hard, is impressed. Nikola will later recall his hero, the Wizard of Menlo Park, saying to him, I have had many hard-working assistants, but you take the cake. Now, Alva wants nothing to do with Nikola's highly developed ideas about alternating current,

even though the Serb has an idea for an ingenious AC motor and believes he can deliver it safely. Doesn't matter. Perhaps that's really how Alva feels. Perhaps it's just pride in not wanting disruption, but the not-so-old old man calls it a waste of time and deadly. Alva is, however, interested when Nikola tells him that he can improve the efficiency and design of current dynamos. According to the gangly engineer, Alva responds, There's $50,000 in it for you if you can do it. Damn. Currently making $18 a week, this would be life-changing cash for Nikola.

For several months, he works hard at developing 24 new types of dynamos that will give the Edison brand what it needs to defeat the other electric companies. Now, we can't confirm what happens next. Sources heavily conflict, but according to Nikola, he reports to Alva that he's completed the task and would like his $50,000 bonus. Alva stares at the thin Eastern European. This damn good man, as he once put it. Finally, Alva speaks. Tesla, you don't understand our American humor.

Alva does like to kid around. Was it really a joke? Something the American thought to be obvious sarcasm and the recent immigrant took seriously? It is hard to believe the increasingly struggling Edison companies would offer that kind of cash. But it's also equally hard to fathom a miscommunication of such magnitude. Was this a cruel practical joke?

Whatever the reality of who said what and the intentions of both parties, Nicolai is flabbergasted, hurt, angry. Feeling cheated by his beloved boss, he quits, writing one last line in the Edison notebooks. Goodbye to the Edison machine works. With hopes of gaining the reputation and coin needed to make his theory for a new type of commercially viable AC Dynamo a reality,

Nikola finds investors to start the Tesla Electric Light and Manufacturing Company. But it doesn't last long. The Serb's scientific prowess is not matched with business savvy. His partners soon swindled Nikola out of his own company, leaving him as poor as he was the day he arrived in New York. For over a year, Nikola struggles through terrible heartache and bitter tears, digging ditches and performing other odd jobs to scrape by. But the mind is a terrible thing to waste, especially as others are putting together

AC power systems. The Serb eventually meets with Western Union engineer Alfred S. Brown and explains his improvements on the AC Dynamo. Alfred agrees to introduce him to someone who can finance the operation. On April 5, 1887, Nikola signs a contract with prominent lawyer and investor Charles Peck, who agrees to finance the work on improving the AC motor. Nikola Tesla, Charles Peck, and Alfred Brown are going to form the Tesla Electric Company. Now Nikola might give his old boss Alva Edison a run for his money. Frankly, so may others willing

to experiment with alternating current. Indeed, the war of the electric currents has begun. Want to learn how you can make smarter decisions with your money? Well, I've got the podcast for you. I'm Sean Piles, and I host NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast. On our show, we help listeners like you make the most of your finances. I sit down with NerdWallet's team of nerds, personal finance experts in credit cards, banking, investing, and more. We answer your real-world money questions and break down the latest personal finance news. Thank you. in your everyday life. You'll learn about strategies to help you build your wealth, invest wisely, shop for financial products,

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for your life. Listen to NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. T-Rex have such tiny arms? And why do so many more kids need glasses now than they used to? Spoiler alert, it isn't screen time. Our team of scientists digs into the research and breaks it down into a short, entertaining explanation, jam-packed with science facts and terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen. Now before we get too deep into the war of the electric currents, we have another figure to bring into the tale. Pittsburgh's George Westinghouse.

Six foot tall, bearded and burly, George Westinghouse is a man of the railroads. Back in 1869, just as he turned 22 years old and the Transcontinental Railroad was completed, this young Union war vet came up with a system that enabled trains to brake safer and faster. This was the airbrake, and George Westinghouse quickly founded his aptly named Westinghouse Airbrake Company to manufacture the transformative tech.

It made him a fortune. And like any good inventor slashslash-entrepreneur of the Gilded Age, he's used the money from his first venture to fund the next. Over the following decade and a half, the ever-affable George bought up patents related to railroads and electronics as he continued investing and innovating. Now as we enter the mid-1880s, about the same time our new Serbian friend Nikola Tesla is putting down roots in America, George begins working with William Stanley.

Tall, skinny, and sporting a mustache, William bears a striking resemblance to Nikola. Far more noteworthy, though, is the fact that, like the former Edison employee from Europe, this then-American-born engineer is interested in using alternating current for electric lighting, and in 1885, he makes a serious breakthrough. He gives America the transformer. No, I'm not talking about Optimus Prime and his fellow Autobots.

Williams' transformer can convert, or rather transform, hence the name, alternating current from high voltage to a low voltage. Remember my example of a pressurized water system? Well, just as the water coming into your house is stepped down from a higher to lower pressure for domestic use, this transformer can step down the voltage on AC. In short, Williams' transformer means electricity can be generated, sent long distances at a high voltage, then stepped down to a lower voltage.

William might not be the first to think through transformers. He stands on the shoulders of Michael Faraday and many others. But his genius has just made alternating current commercially viable for domestic use in the United States. And George sees that. In 1886, George forms the Westinghouse Electric and Manufacturing Company and starts using Williams transformers to market an AC lighting system

rivaling that of Thomas Edison's DC system. How does T. Alva Edison feel about this? Oh, he's pissed. When he first heard that George was getting into the electric game, he was quoted as saying, tell him to stick to air brakes. See, the other electric companies,

with their different DC systems or their inconvenient incandescent bulbs, have certainly been a thorn in Alva's side. Their lawsuits have been a nuisance for nearly a decade. But this? A railroad tycoon offering an entirely new and seemingly better lighting system? This might shake the foundations of Alva's entire business. Even his other rivals, like the Thompson-Houston Company,

are selling their lighting systems with Westinghouse generators. In their first year alone, Westinghouse Electric sells 68 AC lighting systems. For a frame of reference, in the over half a decade that Alva Edison's been in the game, his companies only sold 121 power stations. Alva's starting to sweat. In February of 1888, he publishes a pamphlet entitled A Warning from the Edison Electric Light Company.

The Edison warning reads, quote, it is a matter of fact that any system employing high pressure like AC power jeopardizes life, close quote. The first shot of the War of the Currents has been fired, and the first casualty isn't far off. It's just after midnight, Sunday, April 15th, 1888, near 7 East Broadway in New York. An immigrant teenager named either Moses or Meyer Stryfer has just gotten off a downtown train after a long day of selling jewelry in Harlem, just as he always does to help support his large Jewish Romanian family. As he walks home in the dark of night, he sees a telegraph pole with wires owned by the local fire department. Hmm, it seems one of the wires wrapped around the pole's base is loose.

According to a later police report, the curious boy picks it up. He starts to play with it. Of course, he knows little, if anything, about electricity, but undoubtedly he has no idea that New York does not require electric companies to bury their wires as other cities do. So as the teenager examines this modern marvel, he's further unaware that the United States Illuminating Company has a poorly insulated wire running alternating current above his head, right next to the other end of the wire in his hand. Well, that is, he's unaware until the two wires touch.

In less than a second, high voltage alternate current rips through the teenager's body. He flies back in pain. A patrolman and neighbors rush to help, but it's no use. Within five minutes, the boy is dead. Again, if there had been better insulation on the wires, or if they were buried underground, this tragedy most definitely could have been avoided. But since the United States Illuminating Company

used alternating current, AC itself becomes the culprit here. Much to Alva Edison's delight and George Westinghouse's dismay, the New York Press starts publishing diatribes against AC power and the threat it poses. Nor does it help the cause of AC that over the next two months, a couple more line workers die while fixing alternating current wiring. It appears that Alva and his DC crew have won the battle, but a heavy hitter is about to join the war, his former employee, Nikola Tesla. While the public and press are talking about their fears of death by wire,

the Serbian immigrant has just perfected an AC polyphase induction motor. What on earth is that? Without getting into too many technical terms, this motor allows for a completely integrated alternate current system. Nikola's motor can generate even higher voltage than its predecessors, running three or more alternating currents simultaneously. It can then use the transformer tech brought to Westinghouse Electric by William Stanley to get those strong currents to an even farther distance. Nikola's breakthrough here could be a huge score for AC.

But as the voltage goes up, so does the public's worry about the motor. The Serb can't just tell everyone it's safe. He's going to have to show them. On May 15th, 1888, just days after another line worker dies working on an electric wire, Nikola makes his first presentation before the American Institute of Electrical Engineers at Columbia College. His paper, A New System for Alternating Current Motors and Transformers, astounds his listeners. If Nikola truly has perfected AC motors and transformers, then the benefit of AC might outweigh the potential risks

that the public is so afraid of. At least, George Westinghouse thinks so. Before a week has passed, one of George's employees goes to meet with Nikola and his associates at the Liberty Street Laboratory, where the Serb surprises him with a newly patented motor. Holy crap. That means George has to land a deal with Nikola, or his AC hopes and dreams could come crashing down. And he knows it. The rotund businessman articulates this amid ongoing

negotiations on July 5th, writing to one of his lawyers, quote, if the Tesla patents are broad enough to control the alternating current motor business, then the Westinghouse Electric Company cannot afford to have others control the patents. Close quote. Promising $200,000 for the patents to the Tesla Electric Company and further royalties to Nikola himself,

George gets his deal. Westinghouse Electric will now use Tesla Motors. Nikola himself goes to work for Westinghouse as a consultant. And he couldn't be happier. The Serbian engineer will later write of George that he was the only man on this globe who could take my alternating current system and win the battle against prejudice and money power. Indeed, the brilliant immigrant is no longer alone.

We now get to witness the battle between the Wizard of Menlo Park's direct current and the damn good man's alternating current, Edison v. Tesla. Rest assured though, Alva isn't going into this fight alone. See, just as Team AC is working on an improved motor for Westinghouse, Team DC is attacking alternating current in the press. Meanwhile, the obscure electrical engineer Harold Brown surges to prominence with his June 5th article in the New York Post entitled, Death in the Wires. He writes, quote, several companies who have more regard for the almighty dollar than for the safety of the He goes on to say that if alternating current is not outlawed, to quote again, Damn.

Strong words, Harold. a constant danger from sudden death. Close quote. Damn. Strong words, Harold. To be clear, he's not just going for a smear campaign. He's actually trying to make alternating current systems illegal. But he's not done yet. Only days later, Harold continues to stir the pot by repeating his harshest critiques before the newly established New York Board of Electrical Control. He causes quite the uproar, but the board doesn't do anything.

Instead, it reaches out to the new king of alternating current, George Westinghouse, to get his thoughts. George doesn't respond immediately. Rather, he writes to Alva Edison, who's just set up a new research laboratory in West Orange, New Jersey. George thinks this AC versus DC business is getting out of hand, so he invites Alva to come see

the Pittsburgh headquarters of Westinghouse Electric, check out his place, and between the two of them, they'll snuff out this upstart current war. But hopes for a ceasefire disappear on June 12th with Alva's response. My laboratory work consumes the whole of my time. Thanks for your kind invitation. Okay, Alva, so it's like that. Fine. You want warp? George can handle that. The husky inventor will keep that in mind while

responding to the New York Board of Electrical Control. When the board convenes the following month, they bring with them George's letter. In it, the father of airbrakes says he is astounded by the, quote, method of attack which has been more unmanly, discreditable, and untruthful than any competition which has ever come to my knowledge. Close quote.

He cites the fact that there are nearly 100 Westinghouse AC central stations, either from his own company or leased to other AC companies, without any electrical harm or death. But then he ups the ante. George notes that there hasn't been, quote, a single case of fire of any description from the use of our system. Of the 125 central stations of the leading direct current company,

that is Edison, there are numerous cases of fire, in three of which the station itself was entirely destroyed. Close quote. Oof. Shots fired, shots returned. The July edition of the Electrical Journal proclaims,

the battle of the currents is being waged this week in New York. And after the strong showing from George Westinghouse and his crew defending alternating current, it seems Team AC wins this round. But the war is far from over. It's July 30th, 1888. The mustachioed author of the Death in the Wires editorial, Harold P. Brown, is about to start a lecture at the School of Mines at Columbia College. He stands before an assembly of electricians, journalists, and members of the New York Board of Electrical Control.

With him on the stage as his assistant is Arthur Kennelly, the chief electrician at Edison Electrical. See, after taking a strong anti-AC stance, Harold got an invite from Alva to come out to the Edison Research Lab in New Jersey to conduct experiments proving DC's supremacy. And today, they're going to present one such experiment for this Columbia College crowd. Harold addresses the audience. Gentlemen, I have only been drawn into this controversy by my own sense of right. When I read of the death dealing electrical wires and saw the owners of the wires took no blame on themselves,

I simply sought to ensure a reasonable protection of life. The danger to life posed by alternating current will not be lessened until those companies are forced. As Harold says this, he stands by a table, on top of which is a wooden cage with copper wire running in and out of the top. Harold and Arthur lift up a 76-pound Labrador and put it in the cage while they muzzle the animal. Harold announces, I will first apply to the dog 300 volts of direct current.

Harold does so, then increases power as the dog continues to yell in pain. At 700 volts, the dog gets free from its muzzle and begins to writhe until the current reaches a thousand volts. Harold cuts the current as the horrified audience looks on at this brutal experiment. He then states morbidly, You will have less trouble when we try the alternating current. As these gentlemen say, we shall make him feel better.

He then applies 330 volts of alternating current, killing the poor dog instantly. The point to this ghastly demonstration? Direct current may hurt, but alternating current kills. The AC proponents in the audience are furious. They claim that it's unfair to suggest AC solely killed the dog when it had just been subjected to torture at Harold's hands. Harold starts to bring another dog out, claiming he can show the AC will kill the dog regardless of its DC treatment. However, before he and Edison's electrician can get the animal on the table, an agent from the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals stops them. A debate then follows in the room between the AC and DC crowds,

with the Board of Electrical Control stating that Harold's tests are inconclusive. Before stepping down from the stage, Harold manages one final warning against alternating current. Oh, I have enough dogs to satisfy the most skeptical. The only places where an alternating current ought to be used are the dog pound, the slaughterhouse, and the state prison. Here's an understatement. Things aren't looking good for AC at this point. And for the next two years, it will only get worse. This is particularly true in the summer of 1889, as Nikola Tesla decides to part ways with Westinghouse Electric. He's been here for a year or so, but his polyphase AC induction motor, that improved AC system, is still in the works because Westinghouse's lighting systems won't work with the Tesla motor unless they get retrofitted.

So Nikola entrusts the improvements on his AC induction motor to his assistant and makes a trip back to Europe, just to broaden his horizons. Don't worry Tesla fans, he'll be back. But for now, this isn't good news for George Westinghouse. Meanwhile, George just finds himself in hotter and hotter water as he buys and consolidates more of the other AC companies to mount a strong attack against Alva Edison in DC. The electric wire panic of 1889, which begins with the death of a handful of linemen working on wires, leads many Americans to fear AC and blame the Westinghouse brand. Oh, and remember how Harold Brown warned that alternating current ought to be used in state prisons? Well, with backing from the Edison brand,

he's making good on that threat. It's early August 6th, 1890, in New York State's Auburn Prison. Today, we will witness the execution of William Kemmler, a murderer who brutally butchered his common law wife over a year earlier. Convicted of murder and sentenced to death, William is to be the first ever to die in the electric chair. Okay, a little more background. The powers that be in New York State have concluded that death

by electrocution could be more humane than hanging, and in a rather cold and calculating way, Alva Edison and his crew couldn't be more pleased. If such executions use alternating current, that would be damning to George Westinghouse's interests. So, to that end, the Edison Electrical Company gave its blessing to Harold Brown as he made a backdoor deal to buy a Westinghouse generator to power the electric chair for William's execution.

Team Edison is even trying to make it catchy to call death by the electric chair being Westinghoused. Good God. Meanwhile, George Westinghouse hopes to avoid the bad press by funding William Kemmler's appeal process through the New York Supreme Court. Unfortunately for him, that august body does not agree that death by electrocution meets the definition of the U.S. Constitution's Eighth Amendment, which prohibits cruel and unusual punishment. Thus, today's execution moves forward. It's now about 6.30 a.m. Prison warden Charles Durston escorts William Kemmler into a chamber full of invited observers facing a single wooden chair. Dressed in a suit and with his hair freshly cut for the application of electrodes,

William addresses those present. Gentlemen, I wish you all good luck. I believe I am going to a good place and I'm ready to go. As Charles cuts a part of William's shirt to better place an electrode, the prisoner calmly adds, Now, take your time and do it right, warden. There is no rush. I don't want to take any chances on this thing, you know.

The warden places the leather bands across the condemned's forehead and chin as he answers, All right, William. Warden, just make that a little tighter. We want everything all right, you know. With the final of the 11 straps in place and William almost oddly at peace, the warden steps toward the door,

then gives the signal, saying, Goodbye, William. William's body jolts and strains against the restraints. After 17 seconds, at 6.43 a.m., the prison physician calls out, He is dead! But as the physician and warden approach the prisoner, they realize something horrible. Soon the whole room sees it. Calls echo through the room. Great God!

He is alive! Turn on the current! For God's sake, kill him and have it over! One man faints. Another flees the room. Meanwhile, the warden and physician keep their cool as they spring into action to end this unthinkable affair. Electricity again courses

through William. All are aghast as they watch the condemned's body surge. Mouth foam and blood flow down his face like beads of sweat, the result of ruptured blood vessels. No one can say for sure when they turn the electricity back on. All they know is it's 6.51 when it switched back off. Almost all present are sick to their stomachs at the sight and stench. Hours later, when the autopsy is performed, they learn the electricity essentially roasted William to death. All of the major players in the current war

consider it grotesque. Alva Edison calls it unpleasant and says that the only reason it failed was the placement of the electrodes. George says that it was a brutal affair, but that it vindicates the proponents of AC, proving that, even at a high voltage, AC is not as deadly as it's been portrayed. In a way, he's right. William Kemmler's botched execution is going to be a turning point for AC,

allowing the Westinghouse team to finally push back against the never-ending attacks. But even if they can outsmart direct current businesses and secure more lucrative contracts, it's going to take a lot of effort to restore alternating currents' reputation as a safe and reliable source of power. But not to worry.

We know just the C Serb for the job. It's the fall of 1890, and George Westinghouse has just arrived at the fourth floor of a building located at 33 to 35 South Fifth Avenue, New York City. This is the laboratory of his good friend, Nikola Tesla. Coming back from Europe, Nikola has been working on a wireless light designed to make even Alva Edison's incandescent bulb obsolete. But that's not why George is here today. He's just hoping to save his company.

See, the tide of the current war turned with the botched electrical chair execution, but Westinghouse Electric now has a financial crisis on its hands. The London-based Barring Bank has made some bad investments of such a magnitude that it caused a panic, aptly called the Barring Crisis of 1890. Now George Westinghouse is feeling it as his bankers tighten their grip on his business. As such, he's hoping Nikola might be willing to release him from the royalties owed for the arc lighting system the Serb long ago developed,

a system Alva Edison passed up. George fears that if Nikola doesn't let him out of the contract, all their boats will figuratively sink, right along with the future of alternating current. The businessman with the walrus mustache cuts right to the chase. Your decision determines the fate of the Westinghouse company. Suppose I should refuse to give up my contract. What would you do then? In that event, you would have to deal with the bankers, for I would no longer have any power

in the situation. And if I give up the contract, you will save your company and retain control so that you can proceed with your plans and give my AC polyphase system to the world? I believe your system is the greatest discovery in the field of electricity. It was my efforts to give it to the world that brought on the present difficulty. But I intend to continue, no matter what happens, to proceed with my original plans to put the country on an alternating current basis. Mr. Westinghouse, you have been my friend. You believed in me when others had no faith.

You were brave enough to go ahead and pay me. You supported me even when other engineers lacked vision to see the big things ahead that you and I saw. You have stood beside me as a friend. The benefits that will come to civilization from my AC system means more to me than the money involved. Mr. Vestinghouse, you will save your company so that you can develop my inventions. Here is your contract and here is my contract.

I will tear both of them to pieces and you will no longer have any troubles for my royalties. Is that sufficient? Wow. Willingly, the high-pitched immigrant engineer who came to the United States with little more than four cents in his pocket has sacrificed one of the most lucrative business opportunities he ever had. Nikola will later estimate the royalties could have been worth

millions, but it was never about the money for him. Nikola, ever the idealist, just wants to bring power to the whole world. Money be damned. It's just a few months after this that Nikola takes those wireless lights he's been working on public. Yes, this is the story we heard in this episode's open. Speaking before the American Institute of Electrical Engineers at Columbia College for a second time, Nikola shows his veritable lightsabers on May 20th, 1891. But before he leaves, he is sure to show, as I trust you recall, just how safe alternating current is. 250,000 volts through the CERB later, the AC-DC debate is practically settled among these electrical engineers. They all recognize Nikola's supremacy here. Harper's Weekly declares that, quote, at one bound, Nikola Tesla placed himself abreast of such men as Edison,

Brush, Thompson, and Graham Bell, the greatest electricians of the age, close quote. Despite the DC propaganda to the contrary, alternating current can be used safely and delivers across a power system better than direct current. So as the war winds down, what remains of Team DC? Following the failure of the electric chair experiment, Harold Brown has faded from the discourse, leaving Alva Edison as the only public face of direct current. But determined as Alva is, he can see that the current is turning against him. Last summer, when William Kemmler was fried in the electric chair, Alva raked in the cash with his company's reorganization as Edison General Electric.

The Wizard of Menlo Park made over a million dollars. But as the market hit a downturn in 1890 and 1891, the leadership at Edison General Electric proposed a merger with one of their AC rivals, Westinghouse or Thompson Houston. Now, given all you've heard about the battle between Alva and George, Westinghouse is clearly out. Nor does Alva like the Thompson Houston idea. He's accused them of stealing his patents plenty of times in the past. But in the spring of 1892, Alva's friend and financier, J. Pierpont Morgan, orchestrates the deal to merge the two into one big alternating current company, General Electric.

Now, what does Alva, the man who perfected the incandescent bulb, think of the deal? Although he pockets $5 million in the process, he's not a fan. Alva hates seeing his last name, Edison, drop from the company's name. Nor does he love being out of the driver's seat. Alva's secretary, Alfred Tate, will later recall being the bearer of this bad news to the Wizard of Menlo Park. I never before had seen him change color. His complexion naturally was a clear, healthy paleness, but following my announcement, it turned as white as his collar. Balboa keeps a stiff upper lip talking to the press about this merger.

Here's his public statement. I cannot waste my time on electric lighting matters, for they are old. I ceased to worry about those things 10 years ago, and I have a lot more new material on which to work. Electric lights are too old for me. And with that, the war of the electric currents is wrapping up. The only two real electric companies left,

General Electric and Westinghouse, are both employing alternating current systems as they work to light the world. Surely, though, much of the American public still harbors reservations about alternating current after the last few years of smear campaigns. But not to worry. Alternating current is going to win them and the entire world over in a very big way. It's Thursday, June 1st, 1893. A soft rain is falling here in Chicago, Illinois, at the World Columbian Exposition. And if this sounds familiar, well, that's because you're recalling our visit to the Expo in episode 89,

when we witnessed Frederick Jackson Turner declare the frontier closed and Frederick Douglass decry the hypocrisy of segregation. But in addition to that which we have already covered, the Columbian Exposition is a marvel of electricity. Indeed, one of the expo's guidebooks reads, quote, the Columbian Exposition is a magnificent triumph in the age of electricity, close quote.

Starting with President Grover Cleveland flipping a switch on opening day that illuminated nearly 100,000 lights. Thousands of spectators have since been amazed by the incandescent bulbs electrifying the fairgrounds. And these aren't Edison lights. George Westinghouse secured the bid to light the White City. Yes, George beat out General Electric, and in so doing, he cemented his alternating current system as safe and powerful. But we aren't just here to walk the usual fairgrounds this rainy day. We're here to witness the opening of the Expo's electric building.

Rain-soaked visitors approach the massive, pale, neoclassical electric building. Before its large arch opening stands an enormous statue of Benjamin Franklin. With famous kite and key in hand, the founding father is a reminder of the famous chitin key in hand, the founding father is a reminder of the humble beginnings of electrical knowledge in the United States and the world as a whole. Stepping inside the building, visitors are wowed by the 30,000 incandescent and arc lights that give the entire hall a magnificent glow.

In the center stands General Electric's display, an 80-foot column atop a Greek pavilion showered in hundreds of Edison bulbs. At the very top is a giant Edison bulb. It lights up as the variously colored bulbs strung all over the column below begin to light at alternating times. One newspaper reports that electricity danced all about its circumference as the colored lights flicked along the column. The crowd begins to chant, Edison! Edison! It's incredible.

The experiment that took a young Alva hundreds of tries to get right now stands before the world with hundreds of working Edison lights. Under the General Electric banner behind the column is a cavalcade of Edison inventions, including an arena with 2,500 different Edison bulbs. But the company lighting most of this exposition certainly doesn't miss its chance for a display. On the north side of the exhibit, just down from the General Electric banner, is an electrified gazebo. The words above it read, Westinghouse Electric and Manufacturing

Company, Tesla Polyphase System. Here, visitors can see the Tesla motor that is revolutionizing the industry. Yes, Nikola's old assistant was able to make it viable for George's AC lighting, and now, the Serbian engineer's invention will truly light the world. Visitors can also see Nikola's wireless lights. Yep, it's the system that he demonstrated at Columbia College two years earlier. And though not today, Nikola himself will later put on a presentation at the expo, displaying his latest developments in steam engines and oscillators. And of course, he proves the safety of alternating current by allowing it to flow through him, well, along his skin anyway,

just as he once did at Columbia College. With no harm done to him and a fantastic glow surrounding his person, the audience roars with applause. It's hard to overstate the impact Thomas Alva Edison and Nikola Tesla have had on the world. While others were working on and thinking about the incandescent bulb, it was Alva who made it work in our homes. He and the boys at Menlo Park not only figured out working bulb, as others did, they developed it on a whole new level with their central power stations. Meanwhile, Nikola did the same for alternating current. Just as Alva stood on the shoulders of predecessors and

competitors, it was the idealist Serbian immigrant who invented the motor that changed the game. So next time you turn on a light in your house, even if it's an LED rather than an incandescent. Pause and think for a minute of how Thomas Alva Edison made that viable for your home. Pause and think about how the alternating current champion Nikola Tesla enabled the power station supplying your electricity to be built so far away you don't have to see or hear it operate. And I don't mean to take away from the many others who contributed to our modern, electric 21st century, but truly,

our world would not be what it is without these two. And despite the at times nastiness of the War of the Currents, let me be clear, the men involved were cordial through much of their lives. At one point,

the New York Times even says of Nikola and Alva that, quote, personally, they are warm friends, close quote. Now, that might be a stretch, but there's definitely a sense of admiration and respect between these two. When Nicola's lab burns down in 1895, Alva offers him a place at the Edison Lab, and Nikola returns the favor after a fire at Alva's place nearly 20 years later. Beyond the money and mayhem, these two inventors dedicated to lighting America respected each other. And so, the war of the electric currents is over. The electric age has truly begun. But as gilded- Age America continues on its path of accelerated growth and change,

electricity isn't the only aspect of the nation's economy that's being radically altered. It's about time for us to meet some of the men setting America's new gold standard. Or should I say standard oil? Next time, we enter the world of Gilded Age America's tycoons, also known as the Robber Barons. whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Thank you. M.R. Kyle Decker, Lawrence Neubauer, Linda Cunningham, Mark Ellis, Matthew Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jan, Nick Seconder, Nick Caffrell, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Paul Goringer, Randy Guffrey, Reese Humphreys-Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, Samuel Lagasa, Sharon Theisen, Sean Baines, Steve Williams, Creepy Girl, Tisha Black, and Zach Jackson.