Lincoln in Paris – Wiegers Calendar October

Ah, Paris in the spring, er, fall. October takes me back to Paris on the David Wiegers 2020 calendar. Given lack of travel in the time of COVID, this is as close to Europe as I have gotten this year. Last year I went only to Costa Rica and Cuba (my “C” year), so it’s been a while since I’ve seen the old country.

I don’t recall offhand how many times I’ve been to Paris. My first trip was the tail end of a London/Paris week back in 2002. Those photos are stuck somewhere in storage as I was still clinging to 35-mm film at the time. I went back a few years later for a few days to get away from the grind. In 2008 I moved to Brussels, Belgium to begin my three-year stint working from my previous company’s European office. That’s where the fuzziness comes in. Soon after arrival I took the ultraspeed train from Brussels to Paris and spent the day at a consortium meeting for a client, and occasional work would take be back. I also had friends and family visit me in Brussels, and usually that meant hopping the train to Paris because, well, everyone wants to visit Paris. I became quite adept at the “highlights tour,” both in the city itself and the Louvre. I’ve also been to Paris once or twice (or thrice?) since I returned to the states and even after quitting my job at that company. It’s been a while since I’ve been so finding this month’s calendar featured photo was a treat.

Wiegers calendar Paris

This particular statue is unique in that it is the work of two men. In 2009, the American embassy commissioned a statue, which was dedicated at the University of Chicago Center in Paris, located a bit upstream on the Seine River from the traditional tourist areas. The structure of the statue itself was created by Henri Marquet. It shows a standing Lincoln with one arm to his side and the other stretched above his head. But all but the head of this structure is covered by the mosaics of Vincent Charra. Interestingly, the original statue structure included an homage to new U.S. President Barack Obama’s “Yes we can” campaign slogan. This was covered up by the mosaics, but the visible pattern does include “Captain O’ My Captain,” Walt Whitman’s poem about Abraham Lincoln following his assassination.

As with other statues in this calendar, I wasn’t aware of this one until after my last visit to the City of Lights. I’m eager to go again.

COVID is keeping me traveling solely by memory and photographs this year, but hope reigns that next year I’ll be back on the road and the air and the sea.

[N.B. The next post will get back to answering rebuttals to my “Rational Case for Removing Confederate Monuments” post.]

David J. Kent is an avid traveler, scientist, and Abraham Lincoln historian. He is the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved AmericaTesla: The Wizard of Electricity and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World as well as two specialty e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

 

Tesla and Edison: From Paris to America

tesla vs edisonIn 1882, Nikola Tesla’s time in Budapest was coming to an end. His close relationship with the Puskas brothers led him to Charles Batchelor, who was Thomas Edison’s man in Paris. Batchelor was an Englishman and mechanic supreme, having learned his trade in the textile mills of Manchester. But Batchelor was more than just a good technician; he was a natural salesman and organizer. Nearly single-handedly he had overseen the spread of Edison’s direct current system across Europe, mostly as isolated power plants for individual factories, hotels, shipyards, and railroad stations. This highlighted the big problem with direct current—it was limited to low voltages and could not be transmitted more than a short distance. Direct current power plants had to be installed every mile or so to light up a city, a logistical problem that meant despite his sales skills Batchelor was only able to install three central power stations, one each in the cities of Milan, Rotterdam, and St. Petersburg.

Tesla knew he had the answer to this problem—the alternating current induction motor. But newly arrived in Paris and taking a job as a junior engineer at Société Industrielle, part of the Compagnie Continental Edison, Tesla was hardly yet in a position to change the world. While he pitched his alternating current system to Batchelor and others in Paris, Edison’s people simply did not want to listen. After all, Edison had invested himself completely in making and selling direct current throughout Europe, the United States, and the world. No, Edison thought, Tesla’s alternating current system simply would not do.

Tesla’s time at Continental Edison was initially spent as a kind of traveling repairman sent to fix some of the tougher problems with the direct current system. Moving about mainly in France and Germany, he would “cure the ills” and return to Paris. This experience led him to propose improvements to the dynamos, which he implemented. “My success was complete,” Tesla would write, “and the delighted directors accorded me the privilege of developing automatic regulators which were much desired.” Having quickly built a reputation as someone who could save the day, not to mention his proficiency in the German language, Tesla was the obvious choice to send to Strasbourg, Alsace (part of Germany at the time, now Strasbourg, France). A catastrophic event had occurred during the opening ceremony of the new lighting plant at the railroad station, and help was needed fast.

The Strasbourg rail station, originally built in 1846, had just been remodeled in the current year of 1883. Dignitaries, including the aging Emperor William I of Germany, were gathered to watch the newly installed direct current electric lighting system showcase the station. The flip of the switch turned out to be more dramatic than expected, however, and a large part of a wall collapsed by a huge explosion, nearly taking William with it. Following this major malfunction and a series of other quality-control issues—lightbulbs were burning out as fast as they could be replaced—the talented Tesla was dispatched to see what he could do to repair the damage, both to the direct current system and the sensitivities of the Alsace people.

Upon arrival he realized that this was not merely a case of crossed wires; there were fundamental flaws in the direct current system design. Batchelor had been warning Edison that generators coming to Europe from America were defective—“fires from faulty armatures and poor insulation were becoming all too common.” According to Tesla, the wiring was defective and the explosion that took down the wall resulted from a massive short circuit. Tesla took on the task of correcting the problem and spent nearly a year redesigning the generators and reinstalling the lighting system. His work was a stunning success.

With the Strasbourg rail station now fully lit and accepted by the Alsace government, Tesla “returned to Paris with pleasing anticipations.” Administrators at Edison’s European works had promised Tesla “a liberal compensation” should he succeed in fixing the Strasbourg problem, “as well as fair consideration of the improvements [Tesla] had made in their dynamos.” He, perhaps naively, hoped to “realize a substantial sum.” That sum was never to be realized.

The Edison men passed around non-decisions until Tesla finally recognized that his promised compensation was more rhetorical than realistic. While hugely disillusioned by how he had been treated, Tesla was simultaneously being pressed by Charles Batchelor to move to America, ostensibly to redesign and improve on the Edison dynamos and motors. Seeing an opportunity to present his alternating current designs directly to the great Thomas Edison himself, Tesla put aside his disappointment and agreed to make the cross-Atlantic voyage to the “land of the golden promise.”

Though its actual existence is disputed, O’Neill states that Batchelor penned a letter of introduction to Thomas Edison in which he stated simply: “I know two great men and you are one of them; the other is this young man.”

Tesla was off to America. But things were not to go exactly as planned.

In 1884 Edison had installed a complete direct current system on the S.S. Oregon, one of the most modern ships of the time. On the Oregon Edison would first put new employee Nikola Tesla to the test. Both of the twin dynamos had failed, so the ship was sitting in port with no way to run. Edison had sent several men to try to fix it, but with no luck. He was desperate, so when Tesla walked into his office Edison sent him straight to the docks. Tesla was eager to please Edison, so he packed up the necessary tools and arrived on board that evening. “The dynamos were in bad condition,” Tesla later wrote, “with several short circuits and breaks.” Seizing the initiative, Tesla put the ship’s crew to work helping him, and by daybreak he had “succeeded in putting them in good shape.” Another major success.

This incident raised Tesla’s stock in Edison’s eyes and henceforth Tesla “had full freedom in directing the work.” The work was interesting and Tesla was happy. Always the hard worker, for nearly a year Tesla regularly worked from 10:30 a.m. to five o’clock the next morning, seven days a week. Edison was duly impressed, saying, “I have had many hard-working assistants but you take the cake.” Tesla occasionally dined with Edison and other key leaders in Edison’s various companies. Sometimes they would shoot billiards, where Tesla “would impress the fellows with his bank shots and vision of the future.”

Seeing opportunities to improve Edison’s dynamos, Tesla outlined a plan, stressing the output and cost efficiency of his intended changes. Edison, perhaps in a temporarily charitable moment, promised Tesla $50,000 if he could accomplish the task. Tesla immediately set to work and over the next year he designed twenty-four different types of dynamos, “eliminating the long-core field magnets then in use and substituting the more efficient short cores” as well as introducing some automatic controls. The financial benefits to the Edison operations were enormous, but when Tesla demanded payment, Edison’s response was to laugh and say, “You are still a Parisian. When you become a full-fledged American, you will appreciate an American joke.”

Tesla, feeling “a painful shock” at what he felt was being cheated once again by Edison, immediately resigned. Tesla would set out on his own, and in the end, have the last laugh on Edison.

[Adapted from my two books, Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World, both available at Barnes and Noble stores nationwide.]

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

The Sorrow and Science of Notre Dame de Paris

The artist in ParisYesterday the world watched in horror as the famous Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris blazed into the night. I’ve been to Paris a half a dozen times and on all but one trip (an in/out day train commute from Brussels), I made my pilgrimage to Our Lady, Notre Dame.

One of the marvels of Notre Dame and similar (but never equal) Gothic architecture are the ribbed vaulted ceilings and exterior flying buttresses. These counterbalance the weight of the roof, thus allowing greater height and more space for windows, most prominently the huge rose window, to bring light and color to the interior in the days before electric lamps. Since most of the parishioners at the time were illiterate, copious statuary and towering stained glass windows illustrated biblical stories for the masses.

As the fire burned we all wondered what could be saved. Early signs are that the main towers, walls, and buttresses survived and that the cathedral can be rebuilt, albeit without its centuries-old oak framing. It was that oak framing, as one report put it, “a forest of wooden latticework,” that fueled the fire. Let’s take a closer look.

Most of the framing that held the roof were old-growth trees cut down between 1160 and 1170 – a total of over 13,000 trees – each probably already several hundred years old when cut. For those who have seen Notre Dame, the roof covers a huge expanse, well over 300 feet long and nearly 50 feet wide at its widest, with a sharp pitch to give a peak over 30 feet high from the roof’s base. All this starting more than 100 feet from the cathedral floor. This expansive oak framing was necessary to hold up the heavy lead roof, which weighs in at over 210 tons.

I heard yesterday that as part of the current restoration work (which may have caused the fire) they may have removed several of the large statues from the roof of the cathedral. Thus by a quirk of fate, they are saved. It seems most of the exterior wall gargoyles survived the conflagration. Inside, some of the motive candles lit by current day parishioners and tourists were still gently burning as the wooden framework was being destroyed above.

It will be a while before the final assessment is complete, but early indications are that Notre Dame will be rebuilt with some degree of fealty to the original, although it is impossible to resurrect the centuries-old framework that was lost.

More photos of the interior oak framework can be found on the Notre Dame website. Click around for details on the other features of the cathedral. The text is in French (even on the “English” page) but the photos are worth a look even if you can’t read the language.

Ironically, as I write this I might have been in Paris. I had anticipated renting an apartment for the month of April in the “City of Lights,” but I wasn’t ready to begin researching the book I have in mind so put it off until next year. Although it will take many years to restore the church to any semblance of its former glory, I’ll be back to Paris again soon. As the mourning for Notre Dame so clearly demonstrates, Paris is a city of the world. If you haven’t been there, go. And while you’re there, pay homage to Our Lady, Notre-Dame.

[Photo Credits: Top by David J. Kent, 2008; Interiors from Notre Dame website]

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

A Closer Look at the Eiffel Tower

While I enjoyed an all-too-short stay in Paris this past weekend, this was the view from the street outside my hotel.

So I decided to get a closer look…

A nearly full moon was being cooperative…to a point.

The next night the same moon was posing with the Big Ben (and the clock tower that everyone assumes is Big Ben). I’ll have that photo and much more after I sort through photos.

If This is Friday, It Must be Paris

I’m out science traveling two of my most frequently visited cities. Next stop:

Eiffel Tower, Paris

Hopefully this visit will be drier and sunnier than when this photo was taken. I’ll have more from the road as internet connections allow.

David J. Kent has been a scientist for thirty-five years, is an avid science traveler, and an independent Abraham Lincoln historian. He is the author of Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (now in its 5th printing) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate. His book on Thomas Edison is due in Barnes and Noble stores in spring 2016.

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Science Traveling the Great Capitals of the World

I’ve been lucky enough in recent years to travel to three dozen countries on four continents. Over the next several weeks I’ll be science traveling in a handful of the great capitals of the world.

I got started on this trek a week or so ago in New York City. Technically it isn’t a capital, but if you asked any non-American (and perhaps most Americans) to name our greatest city they most likely would name New York. On this occasion I spent some touristy time at the Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, the 9/11 Memorial, and the aircraft carrier Intrepid (which also has the Space Shuttle Enterprise).

Statue of Liberty

But NYC is the beginning of my fall travels. Next up is a weekend in Paris, the capital of France:

The artist in Paris

Followed by a week in London, the capital of the UK:

London from the Eye

To be followed immediately by Salt Lake City (the capital of Utah) for the SETAC meeting, where I’ll pick up an award. And then on to Gettysburg to attend a conference and commemorate Abraham Lincoln’s famous address.

Gettysburg Tweet

Which reminds me that I skipped an event. On October 20th I’ll be the featured speaker for the Lincoln Group of DC. My topic is “Lincoln and Technology,” which allows me to blend my two favorite topics. Sign up now on the Lincoln Group web page.

I’ll have more from the road as connections allow, and many stories after my return(s).

David J. Kent has been a scientist for thirty-five years, is an avid science traveler, and an independent Abraham Lincoln historian. He is the author of Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (now in its 5th printing) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate. His book on Thomas Edison is due in Barnes and Noble stores in spring 2016.

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A Little Bit of Mini-Europe

For three years I lived and worked in the European Union capital of Brussels, Belgium. While there I traveled as much as my workload and finances would allow. But I can say that one day I saw all of Europe. Yes, in one day.

Technically it wasn’t all of Europe; it was more of a highlights tour. But in the shadow of the Atomium (that big bunch of silver balls that makes up this website’s background photo), there lies a small park called mini-Europe. Mini as in miniature landmarks representative of the major vistas and capitals of the continent (and the UK too). Here is what it looks like from high up in the Atomium.

Mini-Europe in Brussels

Since this is Brussels, they of course have the Grand Place…the big square that sits in the center of the city.  You can see the detail that went into these models.  Check out the gothic style city hall, decorated with 294 statues from the 19th century, which dominates one side of the square.  This particular display shows the carpet of flowers that graces the Grand Place only one weekend every two years. A grand site to see. (And as an added bonus, the famous manneken pis is just a short walk away).

Grand Place Brussels

Heading north gets you to the Castle of Olavinlinna, built in 1475 in Finland.  It used to form part of the frontier defenses against Russia.

Castle of Olavinlinna Finland

Some countries have only one or two landmarks (Luxembourg’s contribution is a single highway bridge).  France is well represented with several landmarks from around the country.  Here is the church of Sacre Coeur, which sits high atop Montmartre Hill in the northern part of Paris.  On a clear day you can see 50 km away.

Sacre Coeur Paris

Moving over to Italy, I’m sure everyone will recognize Pisa.  The Piazza del Duomo is pretty much the attraction in this northern coastal city.  The campanile (leaning tower) is 55 meters in height and has never been straight since its construction.  Behind it is a Romanesque Cathedral built to celebrate the victory of the Pisan fleet over Palermo. The model is made entirely of small marble blocks and weighs 800 kg. Consider that the next time you complain about doing a mere 1000-piece puzzle.

Leaning Tower of Pisa

Last stop on today’s tour is Athens, Greece.  Situated on the highest point in the city is the Acropolis, which was built in the 5th century B.C. as a national sanctuary for the worship of the twelve Greek gods.

Acropolis Athens

I’ve been lucky enough to have visited all of the landmarks above, with the notable exception of the Olavinlinna Castle (though on more than one occasion I was in Finland’s capital, Helsinki). There are many more mini-landmarks in mini-Europe, so I’ll be coming back here periodically. In fact, I’ll be showing photos of the model along with my own photos taken during visits to the real places. I have to admit, after seeing the models it’s is very cool to see the leaning tower, the Acropolis, Sacre Coeur and more up close and personal.

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, now available. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (both Fall River Press). He has also written two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

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Nikola Tesla Saves Thomas Edison in Paris

Nikola TeslaPrior to moving to the United States Nikola Tesla worked for Thomas Edison’s electric company in Paris.

Tesla’s initial time at Continental Edison was spent as a kind of traveling repairman sent to fix some of the tougher problems with the direct current system.  Moving about mainly in France and Germany he would “cure the ills” and return to Paris.  This experience led him to propose improvements to the dynamos, which he implemented. “My success was complete,” Tesla would write, “and the delighted directors accorded me the privilege of developing automatic regulators which were much desired.” Having quickly built a reputation as someone who could save the day, not to mention his proficiency in the German language, Tesla was the obvious choice to send to Strassburg, Alsace (part of Germany at the time, now Strasbourg, France). A catastrophic event had occurred during the opening ceremony of the new lighting plant at the railroad station, and help was needed fast.

The Strasbourg rail station, originally built in 1846, had just been remodeled in the current year of 1883.  Dignitaries, including the aging Emperor William I of Germany, were gathered to watch the newly installed direct current electric lighting system showcase the station.  The flip of the switch turned out to be more dramatic than expected, however, and a large part of a wall was collapsed by a huge explosion, nearly taking William with it. Following this major malfunction and a series of other quality control issues – light bulbs were burning out as fast as they could be replaced – the talented Tesla was dispatched to see what he could do to repair the damage, both to the direct current system and the sensitivities of the Alsace people.

Tesla took on the task of correcting the problem and spent nearly a year redesigning the generators and reinstalling the lighting system. Then, with the Strasbourg rail station now fully lit and accepted by the Alsace government, Tesla “returned to Paris with pleasing anticipations.”

The reality turned out to be not so pleasing.

 

David J. Kent has been a scientist for over thirty years, is an avid science traveler, and an independent Abraham Lincoln historian. He is the author of Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity and the e-book Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time. He is currently writing a book on Thomas Edison.

Follow me by subscribing by email on the home page.  And feel free to “Like” my Facebook author’s page and connect on LinkedIn.  Share with your friends using the buttons below.

The Artist at Midnight in Paris – It’s Oscar Night at the Academy Awards

Funny how two of the movies that are in the running for the Best Picture at the Academy Awards – “The Oscars” – are throw backs to times long since gone.  The Artist is a silent film shot entirely in black-and-white as it explores George Valentin’s angst at the arrival of the “talkies.” Midnight in Paris is a modern day film, but is it? Suddenly we’re in 1920s Paris. Or are we? Is that Cole Porter? Hemingway? Carla Bruni? Wait – Carla Bruni?

Tonight’s Oscar gala reminded me of a photograph of mine. A photo of the artist in Paris. Perhaps an artist to be remembered some time in the future, but an artist nonetheless.

The girl seemed to be about 10 or 12 years old.  She diligently worked, unperturbed by the tourists who stopped to photograph her openly – and perhaps critique her work privately. As the overcast sky threatened to send us all running for shelter, she began to flesh out Notre Dame de Paris while its imposing Gothic presence entranced all comers.

After five trips to Paris I feel as if I can play tour guide to its major attractions, and yet also feel that I’ve only begun to sense its culture.  Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, the funicular railway ascending the hill to the magnificent Basilique du Sacré-Cœur (Sacred Heart), the Arc de Triomphe, and tour boats on the Seine – all are familiar to me.  What is missing is the aura of the time when the wonderful artists of the past livened the streets and studios of Montmartre – Dali, Modigliani, Picasso, van Gogh, Camille Pissarro.  Ah, the life they led.

Getting back to the Oscars, just tonight I watched Midnight in Paris, the modern day movie by Woody Allen that takes us back in time and regales us with the music of Cole Porter.  In a way it felt like Forrest Gump for the artistically acquainted.  I’m rooting for it to win Best Picture and will update this post after the announcements are made.  The money seems to be on The Artist taking home the big prize though, at least according to all those folks who claim to know these things.

Either way, I’ll always have the artist in Paris, even if it wasn’t really midnight at the time.