Nikola Tesla Could've Been the First Billionaire... But He Died Broke

Explore Nikola Tesla's rivalry with Thomas Edison, his groundbreaking inventions, and the tragic circumstances of his later life.

5 minutes · No politics · Just things worth knowing

Transcript

It's Friday, July tenth. One hundred and seventy years ago today, Nikola Tesla was born in a small village in what is now Croatia. Most people know his name because of the car company, which Elon Musk named after him. Fewer people know why the name was chosen, and almost nobody knows the full story of what happened to the man himself. Tesla invented the system that delivers electricity to every building you've ever been in. He held over 300 patents. He could visualize entire machines in his mind, fully functioning, before he ever touched a piece of metal. And he died alone in Room 3327 of the New Yorker Hotel in January 1943, broke, feeding pigeons from his window, his rent paid by the Westinghouse Corporation out of what was essentially corporate guilt. The car company that carries his name is worth over a trillion dollars. The man it's named after couldn't pay for his hotel room. How that happened involves a rivalry with Thomas Edison, a public smear campaign involving electrocuted animals, and a decision Tesla made about a contract that would have made him the wealthiest person on the planet. Tesla arrived in New York in 1884 at the age of 28 with a letter of recommendation to Thomas Edison, who was already the most famous inventor in America. Edison had built an empire on direct current, or DC, which was the standard at the time. DC worked by pushing electrical current in one steady direction at a constant voltage. It powered Edison's incandescent light bulbs, his motors, and the growing network of power stations he was building across Manhattan. The system worked, but it had a fundamental flaw: DC couldn't travel more than a mile or two from the power station without losing most of its energy. To electrify a city, you needed a power plant on nearly every block.

Edison hired Tesla to work at his machine works in Manhattan, and by most accounts, Tesla impressed him immediately. The details of what happened next are disputed, but the version Tesla told for the rest of his life goes like this: Edison challenged him to redesign the company's DC generators, saying he'd pay $50,000 for the improvements. Tesla worked for months, delivered the redesigned generators, and asked for his payment. Edison told him he'd been joking. "Tesla, you don't understand our American humor," he reportedly said.

Tesla quit. He spent the next period of his life digging ditches for $2 a day because nobody would fund his ideas. Eventually he found investors, set up a laboratory in Manhattan, and began developing the technology he'd been thinking about since he was a student in Hungary: alternating current. AC worked differently from DC. Instead of flowing in one direction, the current alternated back and forth, which allowed it to be "stepped up" to very high voltages using transformers, transmitted over long distances with minimal energy loss, and then "stepped down" to safe levels at the destination. Where DC needed a power plant every few blocks, AC could transmit electricity hundreds of miles from a single generating station. By 1888, Tesla had been awarded seven patents for his AC motor and power system, and he licensed them to George Westinghouse, Edison's biggest rival. Edison knew AC was technically superior. He also knew that if AC won, his entire business, his patents, his power stations, his distribution network, all of it would become obsolete. So instead of adapting, he launched a public campaign to convince Americans that alternating current was lethally dangerous.

Edison's associates paid local boys to round up stray dogs and cats from the streets. They held public demonstrations where the animals were strapped to metal plates and electrocuted using Westinghouse's AC equipment. They killed dogs, calves, horses, and in 1903, an elephant named Topsy at Coney Island, filming the execution and distributing the footage. Edison's team coined the term "Westinghoused" as a synonym for death by electrocution. When New York State was looking for a more humane alternative to hanging for its death penalty prisoners, Edison, who had previously opposed capital punishment, lobbied for the electric chair, specifically designed to run on AC power. His reasoning was straightforward: if alternating current became the current of execution, the public would never accept it in their homes. The first electric chair execution in 1890 was botched. The condemned man, William Kemmler, took eight minutes to die while witnesses smelled burning flesh. Edison cited the horror as evidence of AC's danger rather than the chair's poor design.

The propaganda was vicious, but the technology was undeniable. In 1893, Westinghouse and Tesla won the contract to electrify the World's Fair in Chicago, beating Edison's bid. When the Fair opened, a quarter million light bulbs powered by Tesla's AC system lit up the night in what visitors described as the most spectacular thing they had ever seen. Three years later, Tesla and Westinghouse built the hydroelectric generators at Niagara Falls and transmitted power 26 miles to Buffalo, New York, something DC couldn't have done. By 1896, even Edison's own company, now called General Electric, had quietly applied for a license to use Westinghouse's AC patents. The war was over. AC had won. And then Tesla made the decision that defined the rest of his life.

When Westinghouse had originally purchased Tesla's patents, the deal included a royalty clause: Tesla would receive $2.50 for every horsepower of AC electricity generated using his technology. As AC became the standard for the entire country and eventually the world, that clause would have generated more money than any patent agreement in history. Conservative estimates suggest Tesla's royalties would have made him the first billionaire, with wealth rivaling the Rockefellers and the Carnegies.

But the War of the Currents had financially drained Westinghouse. The legal battles with Edison, the infrastructure buildout, and the aggressive pricing required to win contracts had pushed the company to the edge of bankruptcy. Westinghouse called Tesla into a meeting and told him that if the company had to continue paying those royalties, it would go under. The AC patents would be sold to hostile creditors. Everything they had built together would be dismantled.

Tesla didn't negotiate. He didn't ask for stock options or a reduced rate or a delayed payment schedule. He tore up the contract. He walked away from what would have been the largest patent royalty in the history of technology because he believed the technology mattered more than the money, and because Westinghouse had believed in him when nobody else would.

Tesla spent the rest of his life inventing. He developed early versions of radio technology, remote control, X-ray imaging, and a rotating magnetic field that remains fundamental to electrical engineering. He envisioned wireless energy transmission, a concept that engineers are still working on today. But without the Westinghouse royalties, he had no steady income. He moved from hotel to hotel in New York, running up debts he couldn't pay, pitching ideas that were decades ahead of their time to investors who couldn't see what he saw. When he died on January 7, 1943, a maid at the New Yorker Hotel found him in Room 3327. He was 86 years old. His only companions in his final years had been the pigeons he fed from his window. His estate was worth almost nothing. So if this comes up in conversation, here's how to think about it. Nikola Tesla was born 170 years ago today. He invented the alternating current system that powers virtually every building on Earth. He worked for Thomas Edison, delivered improvements to Edison's generators, and was told the promised payment was a joke. He quit, developed AC on his own, and licensed it to Westinghouse. Edison launched a smear campaign involving publicly electrocuted animals and the invention of the electric chair, all to convince the public that AC was deadly. Tesla's system won anyway, powering the 1893 World's Fair and the Niagara Falls hydroelectric plant. When Westinghouse nearly went bankrupt from the cost of the war with Edison, Tesla tore up a royalty contract that would have made him the wealthiest person alive. He died in a hotel room in 1943 with almost nothing. The car company named after him is worth over a trillion dollars. The system he built powers the world. And the man who fought him with propaganda and electrocuted elephants is the one most people remember as America's greatest inventor.

Stay informed, stay curious, and we'll see you Monday.

Prefer your podcast app?

Or wherever else you get your podcasts.

☕ Get today's briefing in your inbox

5 minutes every morning. Interesting things happening in the world — not politics. Unsubscribe any time.

Want streak tracking and saved preferences?