In 1901, Nikola Tesla began work on a global system of giant towers meant to relay through the air not only news, stock reports and even pictures but also, unbeknown to investors such as J. Pierpont Morgan, free electricity for one and all.
It was the inventor’s biggest project, and his most audacious.
The first tower rose on rural Long Island and, by 1903, stood more than 18 stories tall. One midsummer night, it emitted a dull rumble and proceeded to hurl bolts of electricity into the sky. The blinding flashes, the New York Sun reported, “seemed to shoot off into the darkness on some mysterious errand.”
But the system failed for want of money, and at least partly for scientific viability. Tesla never finished his prototype tower and was forced to abandon its adjoining laboratory.
Today, a fight is looming over the ghostly remains of that site, called Wardenclyffe — what Tesla authorities call the only surviving workplace of the eccentric genius who dreamed countless big dreams while pioneering wireless communication and alternating current. The disagreement began recently after the property went up for sale in Shoreham, New York.
A science group on Long Island wants to turn the 6.5-hectare site into a Tesla museum and education center, and hopes to get the land donated to that end. But the owner, the Agfa Corp, says it must sell the property to raise money in hard economic times. The company’s real estate broker says the land, listed at US$1.6 million, can “be delivered fully cleared and level,” a statement that has thrown the preservationists into action.
The ruins of Wardenclyffe include the tower’s foundation and the large brick laboratory, designed by Tesla’s friend Stanford White, the celebrated architect.
“It’s hugely important to protect this site,” said Marc Seifer, author of Wizard, a Tesla biography. “He’s an icon. He stands for what humans are supposed to do — honor nature while using high technology to harness its powers.”
Recently, New York state echoed that judgment. The commissioner of historic preservation wrote Seifer on behalf of Governor David Paterson to back Wardenclyffe’s preservation and listing in the National Register of Historic Places.
On Long Island, Tesla enthusiasts vow to obtain the land one way or another, saying that saving a symbol of Tesla’s accomplishments would help restore the visionary to his rightful place as an architect of the modern age.
“A lot of his work was way ahead of his time,” said Jane Alcorn, president of the Tesla Science Center, a private group in Shoreham that is seeking to acquire Wardenclyffe.
Ljubo Vujovic, president of the Tesla Memorial Society of New York, said destroying the old laboratory “would be a terrible thing for the US and the world. It’s a piece of history.”
Tesla, who lived from 1856 to 1943, made bitter enemies who dismissed some of his claims as exaggerated, helping tarnish his reputation in his lifetime. He was part recluse, part showman. He issued publicity photos (actually double exposures) showing him reading quietly in his laboratory amid deadly flashes.
Today, Tesla’s work tends to be poorly known among scientists, though some call him an intuitive genius far ahead of his peers.
Tesla seized on the colossal project at the age of 44 while living in New York City. An impeccably dressed bon vivant of Serbian birth, he was widely celebrated for his inventions of motors and power distribution systems that used the form of electricity known as alternating current, which beat out direct current (and Thomas Edison) to electrify the world.
His patents made him a rich man, at least for a while. He lived at the Waldorf-Astoria and loved to hobnob with the famous at Delmonico’s and the Players Club.
Around 1900, as Tesla planned what would become Wardenclyffe, inventors around the world were racing for what was considered the next big thing — wireless communication. His own plan was to turn alternating current into electromagnetic waves that flashed from antennas to distant receivers. This is essentially what radio transmission is. The scale of his vision was gargantuan, however, eclipsing that of any rival.
Investors, given Tesla’s electrical achievements, paid heed. The biggest was J. Pierpont Morgan, a top financier. He sank US$150,000 (today more than US$3 million) into Tesla’s global wireless venture.
Work on the prototype tower began in mid-1901 on the North Shore of Long Island at a site Tesla named after a patron and the nearby cliffs.
“The proposed plant at Wardenclyffe,” the New York Times reported, “will be the first of a number that the electrician proposes to establish in this and other countries.”
The shock wave hit Dec. 12, 1901. That day, Marconi succeeded in sending radio signals across the Atlantic, crushing Tesla’s hopes for pioneering glory.
Still, Wardenclyffe grew, with guards under strict orders to keep visitors away. The wooden tower rose 57m over a wide shaft that descended 37m to deeply anchor the antenna. Villagers told the Times that the ground beneath the tower was “honeycombed with subterranean passages.”
The nearby laboratory of red brick, with arched windows and a tall chimney, held tools, generators, a machine shop, electrical transformers, glass-blowing equipment, a library and an office.
But Morgan was disenchanted. He refused Tesla’s request for more money.
Desperate, the inventor pulled out what he considered his ace. The towers would transmit not only information around the globe, he wrote the financier in July 1903, but also electric power.
“I should not feel disposed,” Morgan replied coolly, “to make any further advances.”
Margaret Cheney, a Tesla biographer, observed that Tesla had seriously misjudged his wealthy patron, a man deeply committed to the profit motive. “The prospect of beaming electricity to penniless Zulus or Pygmies,” she wrote, must have left the financier less than enthusiastic.
It was then that Tesla, reeling, fired up the tower for the first and last time. He eventually sold Wardenclyffe to satisfy US$20,000 (today about US$400,000) in bills at the Waldorf. In 1917, the new owners had the giant tower blown up and sold for scrap.
Today, Tesla’s exact plan for the site remains a mystery even as scientists agree on the impracticality of his overall vision: The tower could have succeeded in broadcasting information, but not power.
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