: Lewis Latimer

Beth and Tesla came downstairs on the guest elevator. Beth said a cheerful good-bye to the doorman. Then she and the scientist left the Hotel Marguery just past noon. They walked along Park Avenue to the law offices of Hammer and Schwarz.

Small trees lined the sidewalk. They were ablaze with fall colors. A few red leaves floated like little kites in the wind.

Red streetcars glided along tracks in the street. Yellow taxis and large black cars wove in and out of traffic. Newspaper boys darted along the sidewalks in knickers and caps. Men wearing dark suits and hats hurried to appointments.

A few women also walked along Park Avenue. Beth thought their dresses were pretty with their bows and fringe. She knew the young ladies were called flappers. Their hats were small and fit tightly on their heads.

Tesla often stopped walking to feed pigeons. Or sometimes he ducked inside a stone doorway and hid. He would stand there with his face against the door for a moment. Then he would look over his shoulder and begin walking again.

“Why are you dodging into the doorways?” Beth asked when he ducked into a doorway again. “What are you hiding from?”

“I don’t like to look at a woman wearing pearls,” Tesla said. “I have to hide my eyes till she passes by.”

Beth’s mouth dropped open. Pearls were in fashion in the 1920s. Many women wore several long strands around their necks.

“And I especially don’t like pearl earrings,” he said. He tipped his hat in Beth’s direction. “I’m glad you don’t wear jewelry.”

Then Tesla started walking down the sidewalk again. The heels of his shiny black shoes softly thudded on the pavement.

Suddenly there was a flapping of wings. The same white pigeon as before landed on Tesla’s shoulder. He walked on as if that weren’t unusual.

Beth had to hurry to keep up.

Tesla stopped in front of a door in a tall gray office building. The bird flew off his shoulder. It perched on a nearby bush.

Beth liked the small stained-glass panel at the top of the door. A brass plaque below the window read Hammer and Schwarz, Patent Attorneys.

The scientist grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. A bell above the door jingled. Then Tesla closed and opened the door twice more.

Tesla went inside. Beth followed.

The office was cozy. The carpet had a rose design. There was an umbrella holder with two black umbrellas. A weird-looking rack stood in the corner behind the door. A coat hung from it.

A long wood counter blocked them from going farther inside. On the counter was a little brass bell. The handle was carved in the shape of a bulldog’s head.

Tesla picked up the bell and rang it three times.

An old African-American man appeared from somewhere in the back of the office. His skin was the color of light caramel. The hair at his temples was completely gray. He wore round, wire-rimmed glasses.

“Why, it’s my old friend Nikola Tesla!” the man said. “Good day!” He reached over the counter. He offered his hand to Tesla.

“Hello, Lewis,” Tesla said. “Excuse me. I cannot shake your hand.”

Beth winked at Latimer. “He burned his hands in a lab accident not long ago,” she said. “He doesn’t need to see a doctor.”

Tesla said, “Exactly.”

Latimer winked back at Beth. She had a feeling he understood Mr. Tesla’s dislike of touching people.

Latimer changed the subject. He said, “I see you have a new companion.”

“This is a new friend, Beth,” Tesla said.

The man beamed a smile. “I’m Lewis Latimer,” he said. “Nikola and I had the honor of working for Mr. Edison. And we both worked on improving and installing streetlights.”

“But I lost the patents on that, too,” Tesla said. “Edison didn’t want to invest in my idea. I had to turn the patents over to another company. And they also chose not to put money behind my idea.”

“It’s a tough business being an inventor,” Latimer said. He held out his hand to Beth and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Beth took the offered hand and shook it.

“I’m here to make sure no one is using my patents without permission,” Tesla said. “The two important ones are 787,412 and 685,957. They’re for converting cosmic radiation into electric current and basic energy transfer.”

“Of course,” Latimer said. “I researched those patents just this week for three gentlemen. One was Mr. Edison.” He moved some papers around on the counter. “Here they are,” he said. He pushed the stack of papers toward Tesla.

“You said Edison was interested in my radiation power source?” Tesla cried. “I don’t want him looking into this. At least not until I can show him it works. And it does! I’ve got a working model!”

Beth knew Tesla was referring to the Imagination Station. But she also knew it was Mr. Whittaker’s invention. She said, “Mr. Whittaker made it work. Don’t forget him.”

Latimer said, “I haven’t seen Mr. Whittaker for years. What happened to that pleasant inventor?”

Beth was surprised. How many people in 1923 knew Whit? But she really couldn’t explain where he was. So she said, “Oh, he gets around. I see him here and there.”

“Tell him I said hello,” Latimer said.

Beth nodded.

Tesla looked through the papers. Then he turned pale as sour cream. He asked Latimer, “Do you think Edison would steal my ideas? I don’t have the money to fight him in court. He would win.”

Latimer raised his hands, palms out. It seemed like a gesture to keep Tesla calm.

“Edison did not see the details of your design,” Latimer said. “He was making sure his new patent didn’t copy your ideas. We’re paid to protect your ideas, not help others steal them.”

“Ha!” Tesla said. “I’ve never been protected by the lawyers or the courts.”

“You’re referring to the Marconi incident?” Latimer asked.

“Yes,” Tesla said. “That scoundrel won a Nobel Prize for my patent on wireless radio.”

Beth was shocked. “Really?” she said. She looked at Latimer for an explanation.

Latimer sighed and said, “Mr. Marconi was working on radio in England. At the same time, Mr. Tesla was working on it in America. But Mr. Tesla’s lab burned down. He lost his research.”

Beth looked at Mr. Tesla. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes seemed dull. He suddenly looked tired and hopeless.

Latimer added, “Mr. Tesla did have the first patents. But Mr. Marconi had money to continue researching. Mr. Marconi was the first to present wireless radio to the world. And then Mr. Edison and others invested in Mr. Marconi’s company.”

Beth thought, Another reason Mr. Tesla might not like Mr. Edison. Then she said, “What happened next?”

Tesla said, “The courts gave Mr. Marconi rights to the radio patents in 1904. Several years later he won the Nobel Prize. The world doesn’t know that I, Nikola Tesla, invented radio.”

Beth wanted to put a hand on the inventor’s arm. But instead she said, “I’m sorry.”

Tesla placed his hand on the counter. Beth could see it was shaking with emotion.

“I don’t want another patent stolen,” Tesla said. “Who else wanted to see my radiation converter plans?”

“Henry Ford is looking to make an affordable electric car,” Latimer said. “He wants to eliminate the need for charging stations. He and I discussed many alternative sources of power.”

“Do you like Mr. Ford?” Beth asked Tesla. “Why don’t you work—”

Beth stopped talking when she saw the expression on Tesla’s face. It had turned into a fierce scowl.

“Ford is Edison’s best friend!” Tesla said. “Those two work only with each other. They would never include me in their inventions.”

Beth shrank back. Again she said she was sorry. The list of people Tesla had disagreements with was getting longer. Beth silently listed them: Mr. Edison, Mr. Whittaker, Mr. Morgan, Mr. Marconi, and now Mr. Ford.

Latimer coughed politely. Beth thought he wanted to change the subject.

Latimer pulled out a large black book. He opened it flat on the desk.

Beth could see the book had two columns. The first was filled with names. The second was filled with numbers.

“Let me see who the third gentleman was,” Latimer said. He dragged a finger down the names column.

“Ah yes,” Latimer said. “Here we go . . . The last name starts with M. But the handwriting is a bit messy. I can’t read it properly.” He reached behind the counter and pulled out a magnifying glass.

Tesla looked defeated. “Tell me, was it M for Marconi? I need to know.”

Latimer said, “No, Marconi’s first name starts with a G.” He held up the magnifying glass and studied the page. “The first initial here is clearly an E. The last name is Mel—

“Meltsner!” Beth shouted. “Eugene Meltsner was here!”

“Yes, I remember that white-haired gentleman now,” Latimer said. “A very curious older fellow. He was engaging and definitely rich. He asked me all about Nikola’s inventions. Especially about the transmitter and harnessing energy from the atmosphere.”

Latimer turned to Tesla and smiled. “Perhaps you should meet him. He might lend you money to build a new invention.”

Suddenly Tesla’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Beth. “Isn’t this Eugene Meltsner your friend in Arkansas?”

“Yes, but . . . I don’t understand,” Beth said. She leaned across the counter to look Latimer in the eye. She asked, “Did you say he had white hair and was old?”

Latimer nodded. “Older than I am. And I turn seventy-five tomorrow.”

“The Eugene I know is a young man,” Beth said. “He has red hair.”

Tesla slammed his palm on the counter again. “I knew it!” he shouted. “This Eugene fellow was wearing a disguise. He’s a spy for John Whittaker.”

Beth silently added Eugene Meltsner to Tesla’s list of enemies. Who will be next? she wondered.

Tesla turned toward Beth. He pointed a long, thin finger at her. “And you’re a spy too!”