THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP IS MOTHBALLED
In 1836, the dream for the new patent office was that it not only be fireproof, but that it serve as a Museum of the Arts. What eventually transpired went beyond Dr. Thornton’s dreams when he proposed replacing Blodgett’s hotel with a new patent office to showcase all of its models. The patent office turned into not only a place to examine patent applications but into the National Gallery. In addition to the nation’s inventions, it housed many of America’s treasures. Along the way it served as a hospital for Union soldiers, then as the dance floor for the Inaugural Ball at Lincoln’s second inauguration.
Now housing the National Portrait Gallery, the building has three stories, with four halls that surround a marble-tiled inner courtyard, affording visitors a floor-to-ceiling view. Each end terminates in a large portico, one being a replica of the Pantheon in Rome. In the 1870s, the Model Room occupied the entire third floor.
The models were displayed in cases, stacked two high, to provide enough space to show off around 200,00 models. Each case was made of white pine, with glass walls and sides so that the models could be viewed from any angle. For extra-curious onlookers, the cases could be opened, under supervision, so that the models could he handled.
The museum held so many models that a guide book was published to guide visitors through the maze of exhibits. Upon entering the National Gallery, patrons were treated to Ben Franklin’s printing press, famous U.S. treaties, and the personal effects of George Washington, including tents and blankets from his Revolutionary War camps. Also not to be missed was Andrew Jackson’s coat worn during the Battle of New Orleans, the hat worn by Abraham Lincoln during his assassination, and the original Declaration of Independence.
But most came to see the models, now part of America’s heritage, treasures like Abraham Lincoln’s riverboat model. Most were ordinary ideas: musical instruments, medical devices, all kids of eyeglasses and corsets, industrial machinery, engines, sewing machines, and railcars. The savvy tourist quickly learned that a visit to the patent office museum required the services of an experienced guide to lead them through the folding hoopskirt models, railroad cars and other contraptions. Over the decades, millions perused the cases of models.
Even with the immense popularity of the models, hints that their days were numbered began as early as the 1850s when then-commissioner of the patent office, Commissioner Ewbank, began promoting the publishing of patent specifications and drawings, arguing that written documents were easier to disseminate beyond the walls of the patent office, and that they eliminated the need to build an invention that had already been invented. The cry was to modernize the patent office, and paper drawings were the way to start. This was coupled with the reality that with the rapidly accelerated pace of patent filings, the patent office would soon be unable to hold them all. The Secretary of the Interior, which oversaw the patent office, in 1852 urged Congress to approve publication of patent specifications and drawings “in much the larger number of cases, [so that] the necessity for preserving and displaying the models would be obviated.” A year later, drawings and abstracts of issued patents were published in the Annual Report.
The demise of the patent model came one step closer in 1870, when a new Patent Act granted the Commissioner the responsibility for requiring models, in essence making them optional based on the discretion of the Commissioner. The next year, when the Commissioner was authorized to print full copies of newly issued patents, the models were nearly obsolete.
Then disaster struck.
When the previous patent office burned in 1836, the politicians vowed to build a magnificent building that could never burn. The problem was that they didn’t follow through with their original plans. While the original wings were built with iron and brick, the west or Ninth Street wing used wood trusses and pine sheathing covered by a thin sheet of copper. To make matters worse, the 12,000 rejected models that were stored in the west wing were made primarily of wood—a perfect collection of kindling.
On Monday, September 24, 1877, fire broke out in the west wing, billowing clouds of smoke through the skylights. The rejected models were ablaze, with the fire quickly spreading. Firefighters were called, but those first on the scene were unable to deliver water to the 80-foot roof because the water pressure permitted only a 60-foot stream of water from the hydrants. Other fire teams from Alexandria and Baltimore were summoned to assist.
Risking their lives, employees scurried about, saving what documents they could. Grabbing anything of value, workers hauled their bundles through the hallways and to the lower floors. Perhaps the only thing that saved the building was a brisk south breeze that kept the fire from spreading to the south hall. This allowed the firemen to gain the upper hand, and eventually the fire was doused without destroying the bulk of the building.
The volunteers managed to save 777 folios of drawings containing 211,243 original drawings. That was the good news. Nearly all of the 114,000 models in the west and north halls were destroyed or significantly damaged. Around 40,000 patents were destroyed or damaged.
Then came the tedious task of attempting to restore the models. Congress appropriated $76,000 for the task. This required examiners to sort through the rubble, piling the salvageable models into specific classes. Using patent drawings, the examiners identified the inventions, then tagged them with labels indicating the inventor, patent number, and name of the invention. Cleaners took off the soot and rust using sulfuric acid, then neutralized the acid in a lime water bath. Often, dismantling was required, and machinists were employed to produce spare parts or repair what they could, often bending back metal parts that had been disfigured from the heat. Using their best efforts, the restoration crew managed to save only 27,000 of the models.
The devastating fire signaled the end for the models. Commissioner General Ellis Spear wrote as follows with regard to the models:
They were useful to the public for the purpose of examination by persons desiring to be advised as to the novelty of inventions made by themselves or their clients. Duplicates were sometimes ordered to be used as evidence in court, and they were frequently referred to in applications for reissue. [But] they form no part of the patent when issued. The law makes it essential to the validity of a patent that the specification and drawing thereof shall disclose fully the invention to those skilled in the art to which it pertains. [Therefore,] examinations can be made without models … and with greater certainty of fullness and accuracy from the drawings….
under certain circumstances, it will be better to dispense with the models in applications for patents.… It will be necessary only that provision be made for requiring models in cases where the capability of the machine to operate is called into question, or where the Examiner is in doubt as to the sufficiency of the drawings, or where models may be necessary for ready illustration on appeal, or interference cases.… Now that the models which remain cover half the ground, it seems an opportune time to change the system.
That was the official statement. Off the record, he declared: “We will have no more models. Drawings will do—and the smaller the better.”
Thus, in 1880 the patent office discontinued the model requirement except for perpetual motion contraptions and flying machines, which were thought to be an impossibility. Not surprisingly, the model requirement for flying machines was discontinued after the Wright Brothers’ airplane invention.
Many reasons were put forward to justify the decision to do away with the models. Models cluttered offices, hallways and even the display rooms. Examiners used them for paperweights, or to scare away the cats at night. While space was the obvious issue, there were others. For one, the patent office was woefully behind in its duties and Congress refused to appropriate more funds. Money used to house the models could be used elsewhere.
The order to dismantle the model collection was equally the result of pressure from large businesses who felt that filing patent models was too cumbersome and onerous. Modern efficiency was what the patent office needed.
So down came the order to get rid of the thousands of models that had been viewed by millions.
The problem faced by the patent office was what to do with them. Since the inception of the model requirement, an estimated 246,094 patents had issued, and 200,000 of those were accompanied by models. Because the Old Curiosity Shop was one of the most popular tourist attractions in the nation’s capital, patent office officials knew they couldn’t just toss them in the dumpster. Or could they?
At first, patent office workers in 1893 bundled up 155,00 of the models into 2,700 crates, where over the decades they bounced around, from barns to basements, until being dumped in an old livery stable. There they sat until 1925, when the government, having already paid more than $200,00 to store them, refused to allocate any more funds. At that point, Congress allocated a final $10,000 to form a committee of three “do away” with them by any means. Fortunately, the Smithsonian took 2,500 of them—at least the ones they believed to have the most historical value. It was no surprise that the Smithsonian wanted Elias Howe’s sewing machine, as well as sewing machines invented by Allen B. Wilson in 1850 and 1852, and James Gibbs in 1857, mostly because they told the story of Howe and the patent wars that ensued between dozens of sewing machine companies.
Other prize models grabbed by the Smithsonian included the two gasoline engines invented by G.B. Brayton in 1872 and N.A. Otto in 1877, which eventually found their way into the automobile and the airplane. Both were also used as evidence in the bitter patent war between George B. Selden and Henry Ford. The courts eventually held that Selden’s patent covered an automobile with a Brayton type engine, whereas Ford’s cars used an Otto engine.
A large portion of the models were sold at auction to Sir Henry Wellcome, who had plans to create a patent model museum. That all ended with the crash of 1929. Since then, they have passed hands dozens of times, with some ending up in museums, others on eBay.
The committee did take efforts to return some models to the inventors or their families and to award them to cities and museums. The rest that weren’t worthy of being purchased at auction were simply tossed, and with them went an important part of America’s history.
In 1890, only 535 models were submitted while 26,000 patents issued. Many patent office veterans regretted the decision to no longer require models. Then-Commissioner Mitchell said that it was a public calamity that the model requirement had been suspended, merely for lack of space to store and exhibit them.
Eliminating models meant inventors were no longer required to build their inventions. This change led to the proliferation of modern-day “paper patents”—ideas never built but for which patents have been granted. Not only do these clog the patent office with dubious applications, but when they issue they are responsible for much of today’s spurious patent litigation.
A flood of problems began almost simultaneously with the discarding of the rule. If the model requirement had been kept in place for only a few more years, the history of the automobile and the telephone would be vastly different.