Lightning Man_ The Accursed Life of Samuel F. B. Morse - Kenneth Silverman [142]
A month later, the crucial New York–to–Washington lightning line was functioning. The potential nucleus of a continental network, it was capable of leaving off dispatches at Baltimore, Wilmington, and Philadelphia. With the problem of crossing the Hudson still unsolved, messages arriving in New Jersey had to be steamboated across the river to Manhattan Island. Still, the press treated the event as extraordinary. The Washington Union reproduced at length the telegraphic interchange among Vail, Morse, and two unnamed operators—a nearly simultaneous four-way conversation across 260 miles:
Washington.—Baltimore, are you in contact with Philadelphia? Baltimore.—Ay, ay, sir; wait a minute. (After a pause.) Go ahead. You can now talk with Philadelphia. Wash.—How do you do, Philadelphia? Phila.—Pretty well. Is that you, Washington?
Wash.—Ay, ay; are you connected with New York?
Phila.—Yes.
Wash.—Put me in connection with New York.
Phila.—Ay, ay; wait a minute. (After a pause.) Go ahead. Now for it.
Wash.—New York, how are you? …
New York.—Ay, ay. Washington, write dots. (Washington begins to write dots.) That’s it; O.K. Now I have got you.
The newspaper assured its readers that the seemingly imaginary event it recorded had actually occurred—such a scene as “has never had its parallel on this earth.” News of the marvel reached England as well, for once impressing the British press, at least faintly: “The Americans appear to be going rather ahead of us in this branch of enterprise.”
On June 27, F. O. J. Smith opened his Boston–New York line, heralding instant communication between major American cities along some 450 miles of the Atlantic coast. Put up crudely and hastily, however, the line went out of commission more than half the time during its first months of operation. Sagging wires got in the way of passing trains, causing at least one death, and a single storm left 170 breaks. Alfred Vail had warned Smith that constructing the line would be more difficult than he supposed, advice Smith had laughed off as “quackery.” Morse recalled Smith’s arrogance with satisfaction: “A little less boasting a little less self complacency … would not have been of any harm.” On the other hand, given Smith’s full-time scheming, it occurred to him that Smith may have deliberately bungled the construction, hoping to buy up stock in the line at fallen prices: “A more perfect specimen of satanic possession, I do not believe exists.”
The first week in September, Morse officiated as New York became electrically linked to another major city. By turning a screw he opened the pioneer 507-mile line to Buffalo, constructed by the New York, Albany & Buffalo company. Operators at intermediate stations in Troy, Albany, Utica, Syracuse, Auburn, and Rochester all saluted him over the magic wires:
Buffalo sends compliments to Prof. Morse … and presents Lake Erie to Old Ocean.
Rochester Office sends compliments to Prof. Morse … and presents Erie Canal to Croton Aqueduct
Auburn presents State Prison to the Tombs.
Syracuse sends compliments to Prof. Morse and asks how are the Yorkers.
“Is not this the feature of the age?” asked one amazed newspaper; “The visitant to Lake Erie holding confidential converse with his friend in New York!”
The publicity and acclaim brought Morse a new round of ambitious proposals. Telegraph lines for Mexico, Cuba, and Chile … a system for the new state of Texas … intracity telegraphs for New York’s firehouses, police stations, and watchtowers. The enthusiasm did not move Congress, however. The legislators still showed no interest in nationalizing the telegraph, ending Morse’s hope that the government might purchase his patent. From now on, Kendall told him, “private enterprize must carry out what it has begun.” Leaping in, Kendall sold patent rights to a New York restaurant owner for organizing the Washington & New Orleans Telegraph Company. This group planned to carry the New York–Washington line south through Richmond,