The Drama of Mr. Tesla

Mr. Nikola Tesla, the "wizard," died the other day, and he left a lot of questions unanswered. His solid accomplishments were astonishing in their scope-more than nine hundred patents, including the transforming coil and the induction motor. But, important as were his accomplishments, he deserves attention as a dreamer. He had! always been absorbed by glimpses into the world of tomorrow, a world in which power would be transmitted by radio, in which science could make the desert blossom by what would amount to the touching of a button. There was no limit to the range of his imagination. He even envisioned airplanes, fighters and bombers and all, without engines. We cannot know, but it may be that a long time from now, when patterns. are changed, the critics will take a view of history that will bracket Tesla with Da Vinci. Or with our own Mr. Franklin. Or with Dr. Loeb, who came close to the secret of life. One thing is sure: This world, as we run il today, did not appreciate his peculiar greatness.

Mr. Tesla was eighty-five years old when he died. He died alone. He was an eccentric, whatever that means, A nonconformist, possibly. At any rate, he would leave his experiments and go for a time to feed the silly and inconsequential pigeons in Herald Square. He delighted in talking nonsense - or was it? Granting that he was a difficult man to deal with and that sometimes his predictions would affront the ordinary human's intelligence, here, still, was an extraordinary man-a genias he must have been. He was seeking a glimpse into that confused and misty frontier which divides the known and the unknown. Known and unknown? Perhaps it is eternally unknown. But we do know that Tesla, the ostensibly foolish old gentleman, at times was trying with a superb intelligence to find the answers. His guesses were right so often that he would be frightening, Probably we shall appreciate him better a few million years from now.