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In the Navy: Learning the Trade and Touring the World

In the previous two installments on inventor Benjamin Miessner, we explored his process for inventing, and the life-long feud that his inventing brought upon him. Before Miessner could invent anything, however, he needed to learn the tools of the trade. Towards this end, Miessner joined the United States Navy (hereafter referred to as the Navy), to take advantage of its free schooling and valuable experience opportunities, while saving up to attend engineering school at Purdue University. Photographs, letters home, and logs in the Benjamin F. Miessner papers provide a glimpse into the life of a wireless operator in the Navy during the early 20th century, and Miessner’s journey towards becoming an accomplished inventor. They also provide a fascinating glimpse into the experiences of an American traveling around Europe just prior to the outbreak of the 1st World War.

Miessner discusses the importance of completing his education with the Navy, May 27, 1908

In 1908, Miessner left smalltown Indiana for the big city. Arriving at the Navy Electrical School in Brooklyn, New York in May, he began the 21-week program to become a wireless operator. For Miessner, joining the military wasn’t about patriotism, though he didn’t lack an appreciation for his country, but rather for the skills that this education could afford him. In a letter home to his father, Miessner discussed being able to avoid paying the discharge fee of $100 by simply not taking the examination at the end of his 21 weeks of school, should he “[get] tired of the service.” He was quick to dismiss the idea, however, stating he wanted “to get a thorough knowledge of the trade and not quit before I’m half through.”

No further correspondence with his family from 1908 survives in the collection, but several clippings from the Navy and Army Register provide a little more insight into the type of education Miessner received at the electrical school, including both images of the classroom as well as hands-on training. Miessner himself appears in the first classroom scene.

Miessner practicing wireless telegraphy at the Navy Electrical School, as seen in the Navy and Army Register, circa December 12, 1908

Come 1909, Miessner had completed his education and begun work as a wireless radio operator. By this time, he was stationed at the Navy Wireless Station in Washington, D.C., where he helped the Navy test new wireless apparatuses submitted by outside contractors for evaluation. This work allowed Miessner to network with big names in the industry, including Dr. Fritz Lowenstein, whom he would later work for. Two such individuals who figure in Miessner’s letters are Dr. Louis Austin, Inspector of Wireless Telegraphy for the Navy, and George Clark, Sub-Inspector. George Clark in particular is mentioned by Miessner as a mentor of sorts, who showed him how to conduct their tests. In his letter of November 9th, Miessner tells of learning “how to measure heights with transit,” and having measured the height of their aerial at 182 feet.

Miessner at the Wireless Telegraph Station in Washington, D.C., August 1909

Miessner’s main duty during this time, however, was listening for and sending wireless telegraphs, as several photographs and negatives attest. In a letter to his older brother, Albert, Miessner discusses testing how far the signal from their wireless set could reach. Daily messages were exchanged with Key West, Florida, located some 1,000 miles south of Miessner’s D.C. location. San Juan, Cuba, located 1,345 miles south of his position, reportedly received his signal as well, but their return signal was not caught by Miessner. The cold, November weather and clearer morning conditions had aided in their endeavors, according to Miessner.

Scratch paper containing news received over wireless telegraph, circa 1910

Working the wireless set also gave Miessner chances to brush up against “royalty.” In his November 1909 letter to Albert, Miessner mentions that the Mayflower was docked just outside his wireless station, and would be leaving that evening for Norfolk. Among its passengers would be President William Taft and First Lady Helen “Nellie” Taft, as well as Andrew Carnegie and his wife, whom Miessner expected to “get a good squint at” as they boarded the ship. Another mention of royalty comes in the form of Miessner’s scratch paper, circa 1910, which is the only example in the collection of the types of messages received by Miessner in his work. It consists of international news, including the announcement of the marriage of Prince Victor Boneparte of France to the Belgian Princess Clementine in Moncalieri, Italy.

1910 makes up the bulk of the Navy-related correspondence sent home, while also providing more insight into his activities outside of the Navy. By this time Miessner was stationed aboard the U.S.S. South Carolina, as part of the Atlantic Fleet, where he would remain until leaving the military in 1911. In November 1910, the Atlantic Fleet set sail for a tour of Europe, with the South Carolina making stops at Cherbourg in France and Portland in England. In his letters home, Miessner provides details on the fleet, including its size and the ships that made it up, the formation they traveled in, and the route they took. He also provides a detailed glimpse into the experience of traveling across the Atlantic by boat – waves twenty to thirty feet high, crashing onto the deck; utensils flying about while trying to eat; and sailor jostling into each other and trying to avoid meeting the floor face first. “Lots of fun,” Miessner noted to his father.

Miessner also discusses receiving wireless signals from land while out in the ocean, containing the day’s news – likely making mention of the scratch paper found in the same folder as the letter. According to Miessner, the cat-whisker detector he created was primarily responsible for the South Carolina being able to receive the signals. This type of detector, developed several years earlier for use on land, was not suitable for use on battleships, owing to the vibration of the ship’s engine and shock of gunfire making contact from the detector unreliable. Miessner’s detector used a spring-loaded contact, thus making it more reliable, to the point that it was later made standard equipment on all Navy installations. Photographs taken by Miessner show off his detector, as well as how it was hooked up to the South Carolina’s receiver.

Miessner’s cat-whisker detector, 1910

Miessner’s detector as it was attached to the U.S.S. South Carolina’s receiver, 1910

After his initial letter, Miessner’s focus turns toward his explorations of Portland and Cherbourg, as well as short trips made to London and Paris during shore leave. Miessner offers an American’s perception of 1910 England and France, describing their transportation system, infrastructure, hotel accommodations, and culinary arts. He also provides cost comparisons for purchases in francs, pounds, and dollars, giving insight to the price of goods in that time, and the exchange rate for multiple currencies. In a more interesting story, Miessner tells of an incident involving a fellow sailor getting hit by a car in the streets of Paris, and gives details on the ensuing legal suit and settlement.

When contrasting the past with the present, Miessner also shows how similar the interests of a tourist from 1910 were to one in 2024. Spots he visited included the Eiffel Tower, Tomb of Napoleon, British Museum, Westminster Abbey, Winsor Castle, and Buckingham Palace. While his Paris trip followed his own itinerary, in London he made use of the services of a tourist agency, which provided the same types of guided tour that are still around today.

Miessner confesses to his father that his trip to Europe, while enjoyable, might not be the best for the welfare of his inventions, December 25, 1910

While Miessner enjoyed traveling around Europe and wished they “were going around the world,” his letters home also provide a reminder that his job in the Navy was never a priority for him over his dream of being an inventor. “I’m afraid this going away will not be the best thing for the welfare of my inventions,” Miessner wrote to his father from Weymouth, England. He also joked about “collecting testimonials” from all of the wireless operators who made use of his detector.

Miessner recounts to his father the loss of a torpedo, April 21, 1911

1911 opens with the Atlantic Fleet leaving Europe for Cuba, but this trip only gets a passing mention by Miessner in some 1910 letters home: “we stay [in England] three weeks, then for about three months of target practice drills, and tactical maneuvers at Guantanamo, Cuba.”[1]  By April, Miessner had returned Stateside, with the South Carolina traveling up and down the New England coast, and performing speed and firing trials. In one humorous letter, Miessner tells of them losing a torpedo while training with it. The sailors spent the day diving and searching for it, only for it to show up the next morning floating some 300 yards from the ship. An attempt was made to recover it, but 75 mile per hour gales accompanied by snow and rain made the conditions at sea too rough, and the torpedo had vanished once again by the time weather conditions improved. Roughly $7,000 ($224,854 adjusted for inflation) down the toilet, by Miessner’s estimation.

The same April 1911 letter again stressed Miessner’s concern for his inventing business. He expected to be in New York a week after writing, and was planning to meet with “the Wireless Company” to discuss selling his detector. At the time he felt the financial success of his invention seemed slim, although his book “On the Early History of Radio Guidance” reveals that he ultimately succeeded in selling the patent to John Firth of the Wireless Specialty Company for $200 (about $6,500 adjusted for inflation).

The last item in Miessner’s papers related to his first tour with the Navy comes in the form of a two-page log. It briefly recaps the Atlantic Fleet’s second tour of Europe, May-July 1911, including stops in Denmark, Sweden, Russia, and Germany. No details of Miessner’s escapades in those countries are included, noting only that the visits had been “of great interest and enjoyment,” but that he was glad to be back in the U.S. A brief mention of life in the Navy is included, as the warmer weather in Cape Cod Bay compared to the Baltic Sea had allowed the sailors to switch from their blue uniforms to the “much cooler white uniforms.”

Miessner was honorably discharged from the Navy on July 27, 1911 in Provincetown, Massachusetts. After a brief stint working for John Hays Hammond, Jr. and Dr. Fritz Lowenstein, 1911-1912, Miessner achieved his goal of studying electrical engineering at Purdue University. Following his departure from Purdue, Miessner returned for a second tour in the Navy, 1916-1918, as Expert Radio Aid for Aviation. This time around, Miessner had already acquired both the education and practical experience he needed to be an inventor, so his involvement here was strictly professional in nature. His primary contribution during this period was the development of radio for communication on aircraft, including devices to mitigate the noise interference encountered, which at this time was not available in the U.S. as it was in Europe, where World War 1 was already raging. Photographs, correspondence, and notebooks in Miessner’s papers document his second tour in great detail.

Miessner’s Airfone, circa 1917

Navy pilots testing the Miessner Airfone, circa 1917

The Benjamin F. Miessner papers are available for research in the Purdue University Archives and Special Collections reading room.

MSP 2, Benjamin F. Miessner papers, Purdue University Archives and Special Collections, Purdue University Libraries.

[1] According to the Naval History and Heritage Command, the South Carolina returned to Norfolk for repairs in January 1911, not making it to Cuba until January 1912. This may explain why Cuba does not feature again in Miessner’s letters after its first mention. (https://www.history.navy.mil/research/histories/ship-histories/danfs/s/south-carolina-iv.html#).

Inventor Wars: The Feud of Benjamin Miessner and John Hays Hammond, Jr.

In the last installment on the Benjamin F. Miessner papers, we explored the life cycle of an invention, from conception to testing, patenting, and sale. We also touched on the legal troubles that an inventor could find themselves embroiled in, both as the prosecutor and the defendant in infringement suits. The legal suits discussed last time were professional in nature and not highly publicized, as was the case with most of Miessner’s court cases. This was not always true, however, as Miessner also had a deeply personal feud with a fellow inventor, John Hays Hammond, Jr., which led to repeated legal action and public debate.

Miessner (right) with John Hay Hammond, Jr. in June 1912

From 1911-1912, Miessner was in the employ of John Hays Hammond, Jr., with whom he worked on the development of wireless radio-controlled torpedoes for submarines – a study Miessner referred to as “radiodynamics.” Although the two men got along well at the start, they parted on bitter terms, with Miessner accusing Hammond of denying him credit for his inventions, which Hammond had been patenting in his own name, as well as reneging on a promise to finance Miessner’s college education.

While attending Purdue University after leaving Hammond’s employ, 1913-1916, Miessner was involved in a series of legal and personal battles with Hammond. In 1913, Hammond sought to obtain a written promise from Miessner that he would not patent or disclose any of the ideas he had developed while working for Hammond; a request which Miessner refused. Going a step further, Miessner gave several lectures on devices he developed with Hammond throughout 1913, and published an article in the Purdue Engineering Review on Hammond’s radio-controlled torpedoes in 1915.

Letter from Flexner on blocking the sale of Hammond’s torpedo patents

During this same period (1913-1916), Hammond sought to sell the patents he made from his and Miessner’s work to the United States (U.S.) Government, which Miessner among others sought to block legally. Miessner, tied up with schoolwork and lacking financial means, utilized Simon Flexner, the uncle of one of his fraternity brothers and head of the Rockefeller Foundation for Medical Research, to hamper Hammond’s efforts. This was ultimately futile for Miessner, as Hammond had immured his patents in the archives of the Patent Office, where they were immune to interference proceedings.

From about 1914 to 1919, Hammond attempted on multiple occasions to acquire Miessner’s notebooks from his time working under Hammond; either for use in his negotiations with the U.S. government, and/or to prevent Miessner from using them against him. After some cordial requests, Hammond became increasingly frustrated with Miessner’s lack of cooperation, threatening legal action if Miessner did not comply. Miessner, for his part, ignored or outright refused all of Hammond’s requests, holding his notebooks close to his chest.

Miessner’s laboratory notebooks from his employment under Hammond

In 1915, Miessner attempted to publish a book, “Radiodynamics, the wireless control of torpedoes and other mechanisms,” detailing among other things his work with Hammond on radio-controlled torpedoes. Although Hammond initially gave permission to describe work Miessner completed for him, he later interfered with the book, threatening both the publishers and Miessner with legal action should they make his private work public. After being permitted to review a draft for the book, Hammond let up on his efforts to prevent publication, but again threatened legal action if any of his more recent work were to make its way into the book. This interference delayed publication until 1916.

Letter to Brigadier General E.M. Weaver regarding Hammond’s interference in the publication of “Radiodynamics”

After several rounds of threatened legal action, Miessner and Hammond first came to actual legal blows, albeit indirectly, throughout the mid-1920s, when the Radio Corporation of American (RCA) sued the George Walker Company for patent infringement. Although various patents were used by RCA in the suit to support their claims, two of them belonged to Hammond Jr., who was a director of RCA at the time. This decision brought Miessner into the case, leading him to testify in 1927 on behalf of the George Walker Company, where he asserted that he was the true inventor of the claims in Hammond’s patents, and Hammond had appropriated his work. By August 1927, RCA had dropped the Hammond patents from the suit, and the case as a whole was dropped in June 1929. Although Hammond never took part personally in the case, he did have two men, Edward H. Loftin and E.S. Purington, offer affidavits disputing Miessner’s testimonies in the George Walker case and an earlier case between RCA and Splitdorf. Interestingly, these affidavits weren’t made until 1938, 11 years after Miessner’s 1927 testimonies in the above cases. Even more interesting, Loftin had been Miessner’s patent lawyer from 1925-1930, and had represented Miessner in both cases!

In 1939, Miessner and Hammond Jr. were again entangled in a legal dispute, when Hammond brought charges against several electronic piano companies utilizing Miessner’s patents, for infringing upon his own patents. Unlike the previous instance, a suit was not levied against the companies, with many of the companies choosing instead to enter formal discussions with the lawyers for both inventors. Miessner’s papers do not provide insight into how this case ultimately ended, although it indicates that several of the companies chose to license Hammond’s patents in addition to Miessner’s, in order to avoid a potentially more costly legal suit. Other companies seemed more inclined to believe that Hammond patents weren’t relevant to their products, although it’s unclear if they ultimately yielded to Hammond’s demands.

Letter from Lee de Forest on Hammond’s article and Miessner’s rebuttal

The final dispute between Miessner and Hammond took place between 1957 and 1964. It was initiated when Hammond, along with the previously mentioned E.S. Purington, published an article in the September 1957 Proceedings of the IRE (Institute for Radio Engineers), in which they patted themselves on the back for their “pioneering” role in the development of modern radio-electronic technology. This upset a number of inventors, who were quick to respond. Lloyd Espenschied, a member of IRE’s History Committee and friend of Miessner’s, wrote a lengthy critique of the paper’s claims in December of 1957, to be published in the IRE’s proceedings in July 1959. This led to a series of back-and-forth articles between the duo of Hammond and Purington and Espenschied, continuing until 1962. Lee de Forest, a prominent inventor in the same field as Miessner and Hammond, chose not to write a formal response, but in a letter to Miessner described the Hammond-Purington article as “evidently grotesque and arrogantly conceited,” and hoped “Hammond’s grotesque designs and claims be torn to tatters by the letters of Espenschied and yourself.”

Miessner’s original 110-page rebuttal to Hammond’s IRE article

For his part, Miessner wrote a 110-page rebuttal to the Hammond-Purington article in January 1958, but found that its length prevented the IRE from accepting it for their proceedings. After some discussions with members of the IRE, including Lloyd Espenschied and fellow IRE History Committee member Haraden Pratt, Miessner chose to drop the subject, as he did not wish to edit the manuscript down to a length befitting the IRE’s proceedings. The matter then lay dormant until 1962, when the IRE awarded Hammond its Medal of Honor, reigniting Miessner’s indignation. In response, Miessner once again dug up his 1958 rebuttal and tried to have the IRE (during this time merged with the American Institute of Electrical Engineers to form the Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, IEEE) publish it. Espenschied and Pratt both maintained their stances on its ineligibility for the proceedings, but suggested it might suit a book format.

Miessner’s book “On the Early History of Radio Guidance,” published in 1964

Towards this end, Miessner partnered with Dr. Charles Süsskind of the University of California, Berkley, who recommended Miessner to a publisher, and agreed to work as his editor. The pair worked together throughout 1963, with Süsskind rearranging Miessner’s 1958 manuscript to be chronological and trimming the fat from it, while Miessner provided references and additional information to clarify certain points and place emphasis on the aspects of his original manuscript that he felt were most important. The resulting book, “On the Early History of Radio Guidance,” was published in 1964, with complimentary copies sent to all 1,112 U.S. members of the IEEE, at Miessner’s expense. It received a minor rebuttal from Hammond, in the form of a 1964 reprinting of “The History of the Intermediate Frequency,” consisting primarily of Loftin and Purington’s 1938 affidavits against Miessner.

This marked the end of the pair’s long-running rivalry, as Hammond passed away on February 12, 1965, before any further debate between the two men could commence. It was Miessner’s desire that a historian would one day review the record and set straight, once and for all, who was responsible for the developments of the radio and electronics fields. To date, it is believed that this work has not yet been undertaken. Perhaps someone amongst you, dear readers, might be able to give this rivalry the conclusion Miessner desired?

Miessner may never have met Hammond, nor gained the skills to become an inventor, had he not decided to join the United States Navy right out of high school. It was through the Navy that he gained his first formal education in electricity, and brushed shoulders with engineers and inventors who would have a great impact on Miessner and his trajectory in life. Tune in next week for the final installment in this three-part spotlight on the Benjamin F. Miessner papers, where we will explore Miessner’s formative years in the Navy.

The Benjamin F. Miessner papers are available for research in the Purdue University Archives and Special Collections reading room.

MSP 2, Benjamin F. Miessner papers, Purdue University Archives and Special Collections, Purdue University Libraries.

Inventing – From Idea to Patent and Beyond

What does it take to be an inventor? What kind of work goes into patenting something, how do you gain recognition for your work, and what kinds of challenges could impede progress? Answers to questions like these and more lie buried between the pages of the Benjamin F. Miessner papers.

Introducing Miessner

Named after one of America’s most successful inventors, Benjamin Franklin Miessner was a radio engineer and inventor from Huntingburg, Indiana. Growing up, he watched his father and two uncles bring electricity to Huntingburg, through the founding of the Huntingburg Electric Light Company. With this formative upbringing, Miessner became enamored with electricity, and chose to pursue a career in it. Upon finishing high school, Miessner enrolled in the United States (U.S.) Navy, where he studied to be a wireless radio operator at the United States Navy Electrical School in Brooklyn, New York.

Miessner demonstrating his “electric dog” at Purdue University, circa 1914

After three years in the Navy and two years working with Dr. Fritz Lowenstein and fellow inventor John Hays Hammond, Jr., Miessner continued his studies at Purdue University (1913-1916), where he pursued an electrical engineering degree. By the time he enrolled at Purdue, Miessner had already been credited with inventing a “cat whisker” detector for crystal radios, and had helped develop radio-controlled torpedoes and an “electric dog” device which could be powered and moved using light.

After leaving Purdue, Miessner returned to the U.S. Navy and served as an Expert Radio Aid for Aviation for two years, where he helped develop the first radio communications equipment for aircraft in the U.S. Leaving the Navy in 1918, Miessner spent the next 41 years working as an inventor and radio engineer for various companies, including 32 years as president of his own company, Miessner Inventions, Inc. During this time, Miessner pioneered developments in Alternating Current (A.C.) radios, directional microphones for aircraft and submarines, electronic musical instruments, phonography, and radio dynamics.

Miessner’s notebooks include sketches and descriptions for his concepts, as well as the results of experiments he conducted.

Inventing Process

The inventing process is recorded throughout the Miessner papers. Early in his career, through the suggestion of his part-time employer Fritz Lowenstein, Miessner began documenting his work in laboratory notebooks. These notebooks, which Miessner continued to use throughout his life, contain everything from initial ideas and early design sketches, to the specifications for and results of experiments that he conducted. They provide a detailed glimpse into the work that went into testing and refining Miessner’s concepts, and give a timeline for how long the process could take. Miessner’s notebooks also served a very important function of providing evidence to protect his patents from infringement suits.

Letter from Miessner’s patent lawyers regarding a preliminary search of patents

One of the most informative types of primary source documents for conducting historical research is correspondence. It provides invaluable glimpses into the thoughts of the individuals who write them, and is sometimes the only source for events that they were involved in. Miessner’s papers are no exception, with a large bulk of the collection dedicated to his business correspondence. These include discussions with fellow engineers and inventors, in which Miessner and his recipients suggest to each other new avenues to explore, discuss whether an idea has already been developed by someone else, and debate whether the science behind their theories is sound. A more formal version of this process documented in the collection, and one necessary for patenting inventions, involved patent searches. With a patent search, lawyers specialized in patent law work with would-be inventors to find existing patents and relevant literature on the subject being worked on. This entailed the lawyers consulting with the inventor on the technical details of their idea, then scouring libraries and reaching out to patenting offices across the world, gathering as many patents and as much literature related to the subject as possible. Once all the relevant material had been gathered, the inventor and their lawyers would compare their patent ideas against it, determining whether they were likely to succeed in the patenting process, if revisions were necessary, or if the idea had to be scrapped entirely.

Although most of Miessner’s patents come from the U.S., he also filed patents in other countries, including Canada and France

After completing a thorough patent search and any necessary revisions, Miessner and his patent lawyers could begin a patent application. Here, Miessner’s patent ideas were submitted to a patent office for review and approval; usually in the United States, but also in some foreign countries, including Canada and France. This could be a long and drawn out process, and one that didn’t guarantee success, as Miessner’s papers demonstrate. Miessner’s U.S. application No. 255,383, for example, was first submitted to the Patent Office on November 8, 1951. It was reviewed by the Commissioner of Patents, who sent back a list of claims in the application that he felt were unclear, not novel, or unsupported. Miessner and his patent lawyers filed amendments to his application in response, to clarify or overturn the claims and put the application back on track for approval. This back-and-forth continued until late 1957, when a final rejection was given for Miessner’s application. Miessner and his lawyers appealed the decision in 1958, as a last ditch effort, putting the claims before a Board of Appeals. In this case, the Board confirmed the examiner’s decision in December 1958, killing the application.

Selling Patents

Miessner’s 1945 Patent License Agreement with the Rudolph Wurlitzer Company

For patents that have been awarded for an invention, the next problem facing any inventor is how to make money from them. When Miessner was an engineer working for companies, his salary served as a reward for inventing things that benefited the company. As a solo inventor, Miessner had to convince companies that his patents were beneficial to them and worth investing in. Like a telemarketer, Miessner solicited every company he could think of with examples of his patents and how they could make or save the company money. Many times, a company would decline these offers, either because they weren’t interested in the venture, or because they felt the patents weren’t novel enough to replace those they already owned. Sometimes, however, a company would express interest in one of Miessner’s patents. From here, the company and its lawyers would work with Miessner and his lawyers to reach an agreement that both sides were satisfied with. For Miessner, this often took the form of a licensing agreement. This license allowed a company to use Miessner’s patents in one or more of their products. In return, the company paid Miessner royalties based on how well the product sold, usually in the form of a percentage of the company’s profit. Companies with which Miessner had licensing agreements included the Zenith Radio Corporation, Splitdorf Radio Corporation, Everett Piano Company, and The Rudolph Wurlitzer Company. By 1930, Miessner estimated that he had earned roughly $200,000 in royalties from his radio-manufacturer licensees – approximately $3.7 million adjusted for inflation.

Check for $6000 from RCA, 1936

Another option for Miessner was to sell his patents to a company outright. This method could yield a greater monetary settlement in the short term, but didn’t provide long-term financial stability for the inventor. Furthermore, selling a patent took away the inventor’s rights to their inventions, taking from them the ability to control how their patents are used. As a result, Miessner often chose to license his patents over sell them, but he did still sell his patents on occasion. One example was in 1930, when he sold the Radio Corporation of America (RCA) approximately 50 patents for a total of $750,000 ($14.1 million in 2024). Miessner sold another 14 patents and a single patent application to RCA in 1936 for a more modest $6,000; approximately $135,772 in 2024.

Legal Troubles

While there lay great potential for Miessner to make money with his patents, he also ran the risk of losing money. Even after a thorough review of the existing patent landscape, and passing the Patent Office’s inspection, there was always a chance that two patents would have overlapping claims. There was also the possibility that a company would produce a product that utilized patent techniques or parts without acquiring the rights to the patent, whether intentionally or by accident. As a result, an inventor and the companies that had stakes in their patents had to remain vigilant for possible legal suits. This reality also encouraged inventors to keep detailed records of their inventing process, including when they first conceived their invention, how they created it, as well as which individuals and companies they disclosed their inventions to and when, in order to support their claims in legal suits.

One of Miessner’s scrapbooks, dedicated to infringements on his inventions

As an independent inventor financially dependent on companies acquiring and using his patents, Miessner kept an active eye out for any products he felt infringed on his patents. He maintained a detailed scrapbook of advertisements and articles that might have infringed on his work, as well as files organized by company, which he used to pursue the companies and individuals involved. Rather than start with legal action, which could be lengthy and very costly, Miessner often chose diplomacy. He would reach out to a company by letter, lay out the areas where he felt his patents had been infringed, then offered to sell a licensing agreement to them. In some cases, the company would accept the offer, and Miessner could both avoid a lengthy legal battle, and acquire another licensing agreement. At other times, the company would refute Miessner’s claims, and legal action became necessary.

Royalties paid by Story and Clark Piano Company after Miessner’s successful legal suit

Such was the case in 1940, when Story and Clark Piano Company, despite having licensing agreements with Miessner Inventions, Inc., produced and sold an electronic piano in conjunction with the Radio Corporation of America instead. They denied any use of Miessner’s patents in the piano, and thus refused to pay Miessner royalties, forcing Miessner to take the issue to court. Luckily for Miessner, this case proved to be relatively short, with Story and Clark folding in March 1941 and paying him royalties for all pianos sold up until that point. They would pay Miessner one more time, for royalties on pianos produced up until June 30, 1941, before terminating their agreement with Miessner.[1] In total, Miessner received $8,192.95 (approximately $181,918.69 adjusted for inflation) in royalties from Story and Clark for 1939-1941. The suit cost Miessner $435.04 (approximately $8,681.55) in legal fees to his lawyers, and another $351.15 (approximately $7,007.46) to the judge presiding the case.

Of course, Miessner was not immune from facing such infringement charges himself. In the mid-1950s, Miessner faced an interference suit from Frank H. Slaymaker and Willard F. Meeker, who claimed that a patent application made by Miessner in August 1955 infringed upon a patent awarded to them in September 1954. The case was settled in 1958, when the courts ruled that Slaymaker and Meeker’s patents had priority over Miessner’s.

Most of Miessner’s legal troubles with individuals and companies were one or two-off affairs. This was not always the case, however, as Miessner also had a long-running feud with former employer John Hay Hammond, Jr., which spanned several decades and led to repeated debates and legal disputes. Tune in next week for the next installment in this three-part spotlight on the Benjamin F. Miessner papers, where we will explore Miessner’s feud in greater detail.

The Benjamin F. Miessner papers are available for research in the Purdue University Archives and Special Collections reading room.

MSP 2, Benjamin F. Miessner papers, Purdue University Archives and Special Collections, Purdue University Libraries.

[1] After their royalty payment, they would have to pay Miessner again for the number of pianos in production on July 1, 1941, as part of the licensing agreement’s stipulation for terminating the contract.

Kassandra Agee Chandler Broke Barriers as Purdue’s first African American Homecoming Queen

Kassandra “Katie” Agee Chandler was born to a blue-collar family from Gary, Indiana. She originally aspired to attend an out of state college following high school graduation. This plan was disrupted when she was contacted by Dr. Cornell Bell of Purdue University. Bell discovered Kassandra Agee during her senior year of high school and persisted in efforts to recruit her for the Business Opportunity Program (BOP) at Purdue, despite Kassandra’s initial desire to live out of state.

Business Opportunity Program pamphlets

Through the BOP, Dr. Bell brought bright and promising students to enroll in the Krannert Business School. The initiative was started after Bell observed that Krannert and other business schools were historically lacking in diversity, which contributed to an overall lack of diversity in the profession of business.

Business Opportunity Program group photo

After entering the program, students like Agee received mentorship, tutoring, and a sense of family and belonging at Purdue. Kassandra entered the program in the fall of 1977 and graduated in 1981 with a Bachelor of Science degree in Accounting from Purdue.

Kassandra Agee Chandler at Homecoming

As a sophomore in the fall of 1978, Agee was elected Purdue’s Homecoming Queen, the first and, to date, only African American Homecoming Queen in Purdue’s history. As a representative of Meredith Residence Halls, she competed against 23 other competitors to win her title.

Newspaper clippings

When reflecting later upon the nomination and campaign experience, Kassandra remembered being told, “They’ll never let you win this.” But she drew upon the strength of her faith, family, friends, and dorm-mates, as well as her own tenacity.

She worked tirelessly on her campaign, going door-to-door, speaking with groups across campus, and hanging campaign posters.

Homecoming campaign materials

She remembered, “I didn’t let it get to me. I never let anyone talk me down…. In the end, I was able to make my family and sisterhood proud…I felt like Cinderella…it was all a collective effort of sisterhood, of campus-hood, of brotherhood.”

Congratulations notes

After winning, Agee received local and national press, as well as campus and community wide support. Along with the many press releases, newspaper clippings, and congratulatory notes, she was invited to appear in the Rose Bowl Parade alongside the Homecoming Queens from the other Big 10 Universities. As she later said, “I’m a blue collar daughter but I was queen on the campus of Purdue. In sharing my story of what is possible during the most improbable and seemingly impossible time, I hope [to] inspire.”

Rose Bowl materials

In addition to her role as Homecoming Queen and a leader for African American students on campus, Agee was also active in extracurricular activities. She was a member of Alpha Lambda Delta freshman honor society, Purdue Pals, and the Black Voices of Inspiration Choir. Agee was also a president and founding member of Purdue’s Society of Minority Managers. She served as a social counselor for the Business Opportunity Program and was a member of the Mortar Board senior honors society.

Mortar Board

Her involvement in student activities reflected her leadership role on campus, as well as her excellent academic record.

After graduating from the Krannert School of Management, Agee held positions at the Texas A&M Transportation Institute, Exxon, Dow Chemical and Procter & Gamble.

Agee Chandler speaking at podium

In the years since her graduation, she has frequently returned to campus to give presentations on topics ranging from her work in the business world to her experiences as homecoming queen. After years of professional experience working for industry leaders in both the public and private sector, she founded Systematic Design Consultants, where she is the principal consultant. The company is an information technology consulting firm located in Texas.

Cornell Bell letter

Agee is also a founding member of the Business Opportunity Program Alumni Network, which seeks to further the legacy of Dr. Cornell Bell and ensure the continued success of the BOP. The Network engages in fundraising, advising, and seeks to provide a support network for BOP alumni by keeping them connected while providing opportunities that will ensure their continued success in the professional business world.

Kassandra Agee Chandler returns to her alma mater this year to serve as grand marshal of the Boilermaker Night Train Homecoming Parade on September 21. This homecoming is particularly special, as Purdue officially launches the start of its sesquicentennial celebrations from fall 2018 through fall 2019.

The Black Cultural Center is offering a display of historical photographs and related items on Kassandra Agee Chandler, on the 2nd floor near the library, through the end of October. We hope you will join us in celebrating Kassandra’s rich life and legacy — at Purdue, and beyond.

Sources:

MSA 363, Kassandra Agee Chandler papers, Purdue University Archives and Special Collections, Purdue University Libraries, West Lafayette, Indiana

Chandler, Kassandra Agee. “My Pieces of History: A Queen’s Journey to Archival Peace (and Release).” 6 February, 2018, Krannert Auditorium, West Lafayette, Indiana.

Written by Virginia Pleasant. All images from the Kassandra Agee Chandler papers.

Space Exploration For All: The Eugene A. Cernan Papers

The Barron Hilton Flight and Space Exploration Archives within Purdue Archives and Special Collections contains collections from many distinguished astronauts. Neil Armstrong, David Leestma, Jerry Ross, and Janice Voss have all left their mark on Purdue and humankind. Yet the Eugene A. Cernan papers cast a long shadow of their own. Comprised of 74 boxes organized into 11 series, the collection houses materials which span Cernan’s entire life, from his birth certificate to a letter written to his fellow Boilermakers just last year. It’s enough to keep anyone busy. I would know—I helped to organize it for almost a year.

What exactly is in all those boxes? Some items are simply cool to behold, like the mapbook of the lunar surface[1] and one of Cernan’s spacesuit gloves, worn during Apollo 17 and still covered in grey-like moon dust.  If you’re looking for the kinds of technical minutia that will help you build your own lunar module, you might be disappointed. Sure, there are reports for several Apollo missions, as well as a transcript of Cernan’s log from Gemini 9.  The real value of Cernan’s collection is how it brings NASA’s iconic programs back to Earth. It brings space exploration closer to us, without all that expensive rocket fuel, by provoking questions about who an astronaut like Eugene Cernan really was.

Gene Cernan, front row and center, was a member of Purdue Fijis while a student at Purdue

Gene Cernan, front row and center, was a member of Purdue Fijis while a student at Purdue

Astronauts were not born in their spacesuits, so how did they grow to fit one so nicely? Cernan played sports throughout his youth and engaged actively in the communities at Proviso East High School in Maywood, Illinois and at Purdue University. Between athletics, the Naval ROTC, joining the Purdue chapter of Phi Gamma Delta, and editing two yearbooks, Cernan must have hardly had a moment to himself throughout his education. He even majored in Electrical Engineering, whose students today only have time to sleep while their code compiles. Cernan later got a Masters in Aerospace Engineering from the US Naval Postgraduate School while also serving in the Navy. Cernan’s ascent, it seems, started long before he climbed aboard a rocket, or even joined NASA. It took drive and effort and recognition, but also choice. I’m no scientist, but launching into space appears to involve momentum.

Cernan was a pilot in the United State Navy before joining NASA

Cernan was a pilot in the United State Navy before joining NASA

Eugene Cernan is human, but when did he become superhuman? Newspaper records abound in the collection and honed in on every last detail of Cernan, his family, his colleagues in spacesuits, and the missions he participated in. As much as it mattered to the nation what exactly his missions would accomplish, it mattered how Cernan trained and what he ate for breakfast. It mattered how his wife, Barbara Cernan, felt about her husband’s chances. It mattered whether his daughter, Tracy Cernan, was worried or excited about her father’s mission. It definitely mattered when Cernan broadcast expletives to the entire nation because ‘Snoopy,’ the lunar module, rolled unexpectedly above the moon during Apollo 10. And it mattered not only that Cernan and his colleagues landed safely after each mission, but also how they subsequently engaged with the nation through interviews and tours. The Space Race was won beyond Earth’s atmosphere by a relative few, but it’s impossible to imagine everyday Americans as mere spectators. NASA’s space exploration programs were cultural as well as scientific or political endeavors, and culture only takes on meaning when it is shared among people.

What (conceptual) space in terrestrial American society do astronauts play? Astronauts were and are icons, and the Cernan collection shows it. Telegram after telegram, letter after letter from celebrities, politicians, and business leaders. No fewer than seven sitting presidents corresponded with Cernan to varying degrees. Photos join the correspondence and show Cernan meeting some of those presidents, playing in charity golf tournaments with Bob Hope and Jimmy Demaret, showing NASA facilities to Barbara Eden, taking part in international tours, carrying the Olympic torch, and waving with Neil Armstrong at Ross-Ade’s fifty yard line at a Purdue football game. Astronauts have long been seen as a representation of the best of humanity.  They helped the nation better understand its own potential. The Eugene Cernan papers shows this process was personal, not ethereal.

Earth rise. NASA image, from the Eugene Cernan papers

Earth rise. NASA image, from the Eugene Cernan papers

How do astronauts make meaning of their experiences? A central piece of the Cernan papers records the research and writing process of Cernan’s autobiography, The Last Man on the Moon. Cernan didn’t write the book based on memory alone, but rather reconstructed and reflected upon his experiences using hundreds of personal records which Purdue now houses. For feedback, he called upon the vast array of friends and acquaintances gathered over a lifetime of accomplishment. Their support was later joined by scores of fan letters. In crafting his reflections, Cernan grounded his individual experiences firmly in the broader machinations of society, situating himself as a person who became an astronaut who became a celebrity.

Smarter researchers than me will find the answers to these questions flowing incorporeally through the many pages and artifacts of Cernan’s collection. Which brings us to the heart of the matter: not what the collection offers, but why it exists at all.

During a visit to Purdue’s main campus last year, Cernan observed what’s become of his papers when the Cernan and Armstrong collections were opened for research.[2] I imagine (and I stress the word ‘imagine’ here) that when just about everyone else in the room is clamoring to speak to you, it’s difficult form a cogent thought let alone have a moment of genuine reflection. But the revered Purdue alumnus did reflect, and he had a lot to say. One thing in particular stuck with me: the Cernan papers are here within Purdue Archives and Special Collections to be viewed. This collection could have ended up in the Smithsonian. But it didn’t. Instead Cernan’s papers made their final touch down about a thousand feet from Harry’s Chocolate Shop.

Chicago Tribune editorial 'Astronauts are only human'. From the Eugene A. Cernan papers

Chicago Tribune editorial ‘Astronauts are only human’. From the Eugene A. Cernan papers

Captain Cernan donated to people: to thinkers, to doers, to Boilermakers. Everything from the dusty glove to his boyhood scrapbook is here to help us better understand Cernan’s life and by extension humanity’s first (and last—er, most recent) steps on the moon. If this collection makes anything clear, it’s that those steps were a shared experience on individual and deeply touching levels.

You’ll see it in the fan mail from a young woman pursuing a career in space exploration.

In Cernan’s letter to his mother, written before he knew whether he’d make it back to Earth.

In the newspaper photo showing a young Tracy Cernan pretending to radio her spacewalking father.

In Cernan’s scribbled personal notes, organizing his thoughts before drafting The Last Man on the Moon.

“In the Apollo 17 crew’s dinner menu right after splashdown. “Mare Imbrium Papaya,” for the record, sounds delicious.”

And in the photographed eyes of a young man applying for the NROTC in 1952, not yet aware of the adventures ahead of him.

The Eugene A. Cernan papers promise no more or less than any archival collection: to provide a slice of insight into the shared experiences that shape human lives. But it’s the promise that’s special—the promise of personal enlightenment through the embrace of our collective past. Eugene Cernan has opened the record of his past with this notion in mind, and it’s closer than you might think.

Editor’s Note: Essayist Brian Alberts is a graduate student within the Purdue University Department of History. He served as a graduate research assistant within Archives and Special Collections and was part of the team that processed the Eugene A. Cernan papers.

Reflections on Boiler Pride…

Editor’s Note: Writer Mary Sego is an archival assistant and processing specialist within Archives and Special Collections.

As a Purdue alum and thirty-one year Purdue employee, I always reflect upon Purdue as a new semester begins. I remember back as this Hoosier farm girl took her first steps onto a large campus with hopes and dreams waiting to be fulfilled. I followed in the footsteps of 4 older siblings, and 1 younger followed me. This meant 48 move-in trips for my parents and 16 continuous years of having at least one student on campus, sometimes two or three. I am now seeing the hopes and dreams being realized for the next generation, as now two younger relatives have chosen Purdue for their college educations.

Working in the Virginia Kelly Karnes Archives and Special Collections Research Center has been an incredible opportunity. I have had the honor and pleasure to have processed 123 collections, including the Neil A. Armstrong papers, along with nearly 700 faculty and alumni folders. I have seen alumni, researchers, faculty and staff, along with the general public come into the Archives, and beam with pride and fascination. I have gone through boxes of unprocessed collections packed by donors that love their alma mater, and only want the best for the generations of Boilermakers that follow in their footsteps. Many feel it is their obligation to give back to the University and their fellow Boilermakers, because they feel Purdue gave so much to them.

Mark Brown on STS-28, August 1989

Mark Brown on STS-28, August 1989

 

 

Many of the alumni astronauts have given their collections to Purdue, in hopes that those that follow can learn from the many, many treasures found in their collections.  Indeed, several have taken Purdue memorabilia into space with them, and shared their Purdue pride among the stars. They are truly loyal and dedicated alumni!

 

Orville Redenbacher, 1928 grad in his Purdue Band uniform

Orville Redenbacher, 1928 grad in his Purdue Band uniform

 

Other faculty, staff and alumni have also given their papers and collections to Purdue. The names Amelia Earhart, George Ade, John T. McCutcheon, Frank and Lillian Gilbreth, and Orville Redenbacher are known to the world. Former Purdue presidents, and many other faculty, staff and alums also have their papers in Archives and Special Collections. Their contributions, and therefore their collections, are treated with equal care and respect as any other.

 

 

Ralph S. Johnson, circa 1935

Ralph S. Johnson, circa 1935

 

Some of the alumni and faculty may not be as well known, but are important none the less.  One such person is Ralph S. Johnson who worked his way through Purdue as a Memorial Union food service worker.  He graduated from Purdue in 1930 with a Bachelor of Science degree in Aeronautical and Mechanical Engineering and went on to become the chief pilot for United Airlines in 1935. During the early years of WWII, he was responsible for developing and testing a myriad of programs aimed toward air safety. He was awarded a Purdue honorary Doctorate of Engineering in 2008.

Also found in the Purdue Archives are the papers of Charles A. Ellis, educator, structural engineer, and mathematician who joined the Purdue faculty in 1934. Ellis was an expert in bridge design, co-designing the Montreal Harbor Bridge and almost single-handedly designing the structure of the famed Golden Gate Bridge.

Pamphlet from the Purdue University School of Medicine collection

Pamphlet from the Purdue University School of Medicine collection

Few realize that the founder of Arnett Clinic in Lafayette, Dr. Arett C. Arnett, graduated from the Purdue University Medical School. In May, 1906, one hundred and twenty-two students received their diplomas from Purdue University and successfully passed the examination of the State Board of Medical Registration.

In the spring of 1907, Purdue graduated sixty-eight men and four women. In that class was Arett C. Arnett who helped establish a Lafayette clinic in 1922, later known as Arnett Clinic. One can find memorabilia from this class in the Purdue University School of Medicine collection.

Another collection, the John Y. D. Tse papers, comprise a compilation of ten poems and memoirs written by Tse as reflections upon forty years as a management professor, founder of the Krannert Graduate School of Business, entrepreneur, and benefactor to Purdue University. Within the volume are also photographs, reprints of letters written to Dr. Tse by colleagues, an address written by Tse for the 25th anniversary of the Krannert School of Management, and reprints of newspaper clippings and articles about and by Dr. Tse

Many wonderful scrapbooks have been donated to the Purdue Archives, all containing numerous personal items and anecdotes.  One example is the Simeon V. B. Miller scrapbook (1900-1906), which contains memorabilia from Simeon Van Buren Miller’s college career at Purdue University. Involved in the train wreck of 1903, Miller compiled numerous newspaper clippings from the wreck. Simeon Miller followed in the footsteps of his father and two brothers as a member of Phi Delta Theta, and therefore his scrapbook contains a concentration of ephemera from the fraternity.  He was president of the Class of 1905 during his sophomore year, and so the scrapbook also contains items from his tenure as class president. Other miscellaneous items, such as fee statements, dance cards, items from the athletic association and athletic events, score cards and fee statements, newspaper clippings on the tank scrap, and numerous other programs are also included. One can certainly learn a great deal about a person and Purdue from a single scrapbook!

This is just a small sampling of the items that can be found in the Virginia Kelly Karnes Archive and Special Collections. We are here to help you and welcome a visit! You can learn more about Purdue and those that have walked the campus. Feel free to just stop by and say hello!

Our wish for you this semester is to reach for the stars, explore and enjoy your time at Purdue! We hope one day you will consider donating your papers to the Purdue Archives, and helping your fellow Boilermakers for generations to come!

Clipping from the Jerry L. Ross papers

Clipping from the Jerry L. Ross papers