Antonio Meucci: inventor of the first telephone?

© Mark Ollig

In 1871, Antonio Meucci, an Italian-American inventor, filed a patent caveat with the US Patent Office for his invention called the “telettrofono” (tel-eh-tro-fono), meaning “electrophone” in English.

Meucci used this name to convey the concept of transmitting sound electrically through wires.

Today, we call it a telephone or a phone.

Before 1909, inventors could file an inexpensive patent caveat with the patent office to prevent others from patenting the same or similar idea until the caveat holder filed a full patent later.

For the patent caveat to remain in effect, it was necessary to renew it yearly.

Meucci filed patent caveat renewals in 1872 and 1873, each containing an acknowledgment of improvements.

In December 1874, Antonio Meucci’s patent caveat expired.

“I had no more means to pay [the caveat], and I couldn’t find anybody willing to give me anything, because they did not believe in my invention. I asked other persons for the money, but they told me that it was not convenient to spend more money to renew the caveat,” Meucci said in future court testimony.

On March 7, 1876, Alexander Graham Bell was granted US Patent No. 174,465 for his invention of the telephone, to which Antonio Meucci reportedly reacted with anger and frustration.

On Oct. 5, 1885, in the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York, Judge William J. Wallace presided over the court case of “American Bell Telephone Company and others vs. the People’s Telephone Company and others.”

Wallace oversaw several lawsuits challenging Bell’s telephone patent.

Antonio Meucci, who testified as a witness for the People’s Telephone Company and the Globe Telephone Company, both of which were competitors of the American Bell Telephone Company, asserted his claim that he was the inventor of the electric-speaking telephone before Alexander Graham Bell obtained his patent.

Meucci’s hand drawings and sketches of his teletrofono and patent caveat showed his telephone could transmit voice signals over a distance.

He cited an 1861 article in the New York Italian newspaper, L’Eco d’Italia, which mentioned his invention; however, the newspaper’s and Meucci’s copy was lost in a fire, so he testified about the article from memory.

Meucci said that in 1872, he had asked Edward B. Grant, the American District Telegraph Company vice president in New York, to test his telephone instruments on their telegraph lines.

“I told Mr. Grant I had an invention for talking over a wire that I called a sound telegraph. He promised to furnish me with the wires and the lines to try my instruments,” Meucci testified in court.

If tested successfully, Meucci could obtain the money to pursue a full patent.

Grant requested Meucci’s patent caveat papers, drawings, and instrument [telephone] descriptions, which Meucci provided.

Meucci said that after nearly two years of delays, Grant told him “he had lost the papers and would have nothing to do with it.”

In court, Meucci presented several witness testimonials and affidavits to support his assertion that he invented the first telephone. However, the court dismissed their testimonies as unreliable and inconsistent.

In the court’s opinion, the testimonials and evidence presented were not convincing and did not prove Meucci invented the telephone before Bell.

The court ruled Alexander Graham Bell’s telephone patent was valid and enforceable.

It also cited Meucci’s contribution: “There is enough for us to say that no one denies him that credit for originality of conception.”

Antonio Meucci died at 81 Oct. 18, 1889.

“He died in the full belief of the priority of his claim as inventor of the telephone, which, during the lucid intervals of his sickness, he declared must be recognized sooner or later,” the New York Herald wrote Oct. 19, 1889.

On June 11, 2002, the US House of Representatives passed House Resolution 269, recognizing Antonio Meucci for developing a telephone to transmit speech electrically over wires.

“That it is the sense of the House of Representatives that the life and achievements of Antonio Meucci should be recognized, and his work in the invention of the telephone should be acknowledged,” states part of the resolution.

The full 2002 House Resolution 269 can be read at https://tinyurl.com/2002Meucci.

While writing these last two columns, I sifted through various sources, including Sandra Meucci’s book “Antonio and the Electric Scream: The Man Who Invented the Telephone.”

Imagine if Antonio Meucci had renewed his patent caveat in 1874, continued his research, and obtained a full patent.

We may have called it the Meucci Telephone System instead of the Bell Telephone System.

Was Antonio Meucci the inventor of the first telephone?

Elisha Gray, Charles Bourseul, and Johann Philipp Reis are also recognized for their contributions to the development of the telephone, but the controversy over who invented it persists.

Alexander Graham Bell’s telephone patent can be seen here: https://tinyurl.com/BytesBell.

Antonio Meucci’s home on Staten Island is now a museum featuring documentation and a showcase model of his invention, the telettrofono, which can be viewed at https://tinyurl.com/BytesMeucci.

Antonio Meucci's
1871 Caveat

Artist Nestor Corradi's illustration of Meucci’s “telettrofono” telephone,  depicting two people communicating over a wire.
Each is holding a transmitter and a receiver.

'The Sound Telegraph'

© Mark Ollig

Telephone, as a word, has its origins in ancient Greece, from “tele,” meaning “far off,” and phone, meaning “sound” or “voice.”

Antonio Meucci was born in 1808 near Florence, Italy, and studied mechanical and industrial engineering at the Florence Academy of Fine Arts.

In 1850, Antonio and his wife, Esterre, lived in Staten Island, NY.

He operated a tallow candle factory while experimenting with electromagnetism and developing devices for transmitting sound waves over wires.

By 1857, Meucci had installed a communication system in his home using a “talking telegraph” he called the telettrofono (telephone) in his basement laboratory wired to another in a third-floor bedroom.

He used this system to communicate with his wife, as she spent most of her time there due to illness.

Meucci used Daniell electrochemical batteries (invented by John Frederic Daniell, a British chemist, in 1836) with copper and zinc electrodes immersed in copper sulfate and zinc sulfate solutions to supply audio power for the copper wire conductor insulated with cotton.

“It [telettrofono] consists of a vibrating diaphragm and a magnet electrified by a spiral wire that wraps around it. By vibrating, the diaphragm alters the current of the magnet. These current alterations, transmitted to the other end of the wire, impart similar vibrations to the receiving diaphragm and reproduce the word,” Meucci wrote.

Meucci improved the device by adding a copper disc to the mouthpiece and experimenting with different diaphragms and electromagnets.

He published an article related to his work in the New York-based newspaper “Progresso Italo-Americano.”

On July 30, 1871, Meucci was severely burned in an explosion while traveling on a ferry boat and was bedridden for several months during his recovery.

Meucci’s wife, Esterre, struggled to pay his medical expenses, and she was forced to sell most of his telettrofono invention technical designs and models to cover their bills, which Meucci later learned had been sold to others.

During Meucci’s recovery, his friend and banker Angelo Bertolino found four partners to help promote his telettrofono invention: Angelo Tremeschin, a lithographer; Angelo Z. Grandi, a musician; Sereno G. P. Breguglia, a notary public, and G. B. Lusignani, a merchant.

On Dec. 12, 1871, the Telettrofono Company was established.

The company was a beacon of hope for Meucci. He saw it as a chance to showcase his telettrofono to the world.

Meucci and his new partners brought the telettrofono to prominent New York patent lawyer Thomas Spenser Stetson.

The cost of a full patent application was $250 ($6,292 today), which the partners considered too expensive, so Stetson advised them to file a patent caveat for $20 ($503 today), which could be quickly completed.

On Dec. 28, 1871, Antonio Meucci filed a caveat application No. 3335 for his telephone invention with the US Patent Office.

“The Sound Telegraph” was the title of the caveat application, which included an attached cutaway drawing of the receiver and the transmitter of a prototype telettrofono.

Parts of Meucci’s caveat contained the following:

“Fourth – The same in combination with provisions for electrically insulating the sending and receiving parties.”

“Fifth – The mouth piece or speaking utensil in combination with an electrically insulating conductor.”

“Sixth – The ear utensils or receiving vessels adapted to apply upon the ears in combination with an electrically insulating sound conductor.”

“Seventh – The entire system comprising the electrical and sound conductor insulated and furnished with a mouth piece and ear pieces at each end adapted to serve as specified.”

An inventor could file a patent caveat with the United States Patent and Trademark Office stating their intentions to file a full patent application.

A caveat could be renewed; however, by 1910, the US Congress had nullified the patent caveat system.

As 1872 began, the financial support of the Telettrofono Company began to fall apart.

Angelo Z. Grandi sold his shares to Breguglia, who passed away a few months afterward, and Tremeschin left the US and moved back to Italy.

Before Breguglia died, he arranged a meeting between Antonio Meucci and Edward B. Grant, the vice president of the American District Telegraph Company of New York, requesting to test the telettrofono on their telegraph lines.

Grant told Meucci that before any tests could be approved, he needed a copy of the patent caveat, drawings, and a description of the prototype invention.

Meucci provided the items to the American District Telegraph Company and was told to return later.

After repeated attempts by Meucci to learn the testing results, he was told Grant could not get permission for testing, and the prototype documentation and the copy of his caveat were lost or misplaced.

Meucci had limited options, and he renewed his patent caveat in December 1872 and again in December 1873.

On Dec. 28, 1874, Meucci’s legal protections ended when he couldn’t afford to renew his patent caveat.

On March 7, 1876, Alexander Graham Bell was granted US Patent No. 174,465, which he described as “The method of, and apparatus for, transmitting vocal or other sounds telegraphically.”

Antonio Meucci’s story continues next week.

Cutaway drawing of the receiver and the transmitter from the telettrofono attached to caveat application No. 3335 by Antonio Meucci filed with the US Patent Office on Dec. 28, 1871. 

[Rights to publish this image paid]

Punched cards transformed data processing

© Mark Ollig

Herman Hollerith graduated from Columbia College in New York with an engineering degree in 1879.

After graduating, he researched data collection and organization as a statistician during the 1880 US Census.

He observed the time-consuming and labor-intensive hand-counting tabulation of data points, including name, age, gender, profession, marital status, birthplace, and more.

Hollerith began developing a punched card tabulating machine system in 1881 while working for the head of the US Census Bureau’s Division of Vital Statistics, where he got the idea to mechanize the repetitive tabulations involved in census work.

Some folks call them punch cards; others say punched cards. For today’s column, I refer to them as punched cards, whether punched with a hole or not.

Hollerith wanted to automate the process for the US Census and decided to integrate punched cards with his new system.

He was inspired by Joseph-Marie Jacquard’s invention of the Jacquard loom in 1801, which used punched cards made of heavy pasteboard to control the fabric weaving process.

Each card had a grid of holes corresponding to the loom threads. When a card was inserted into the loom, the holes allowed certain threads to pass while others were blocked, enabling the loom to weave the desired pattern.

Different patterns could be created by changing the punched cards, making it possible to produce a variety of woven cotton fabrics.

Hollerith’s tabulating machine used heavy stock paper-punched cards to read, store, and process data.

His first punched cards used 12 rows and 24 columns, with holes representing specific data and/or characters.

In the strictest sense, his punched cards did not use the binary system but appeared to represent binary numbers. With the binary system, a hole in a specific card location represents a one, and the absence of a hole represents a zero.

With Hollerith’s punched card, each column could represent a different value, such as a letter, a number, or a special character. A punched hole in a specific location on a punched card might indicate marital status. A hole represents marriage, and no hole represents single.

When using Hollerith’s tabulating system, a human operator opens the punch card reader and positions a card between two metal plates resembling a waffle iron. The tabulating machine electrically reads the data from the punched card when the plates are closed.

The machine accomplished this by passing spring-loaded metal pins through the card holes and into small cups filled with mercury, completing an electrical circuit that activated a peg counter to compute the number of pins making electrical contact and using this information to sort the individual data set points from the card.

The tabulating machine totals were displayed on electromechanical solenoid counters/accumulators and rang a bell informing the human operator that the data from a punched card had been read.

On Jan. 8, 1889, US Patent 395782 A, “Art of Compiling Statistics,” was granted to Herman Hollerith for a tabulating machine he described as an “electromechanical counter used in connection with the counting apparatus.”

The US Census Bureau was worried about completing the 1890 census before the 1900 census due to population growth and the already lengthy seven-year process of hand-counting the 1880 census.

In 1888, the US Census Bureau hosted a competition in which the winner would be awarded a contract for the 1890 US Census, which Herman Hollerith’s tabulating machine easily won.

For the 1890 census, the US Census Bureau leased over 100 Hollerith tabulating machines to process data using punched cards that were 3.25 by 7.38 inches with 12 rows and 24 columns.

The Minneapolis Times newspaper of June 30, 1890, mentioned the “counting machines” used in the 1890 census, adding, “It is expected that by the use of these machines, the results of the census will be known much sooner than they could be by any other known method.”

The 1890 US Census took under two years to complete, a substantial improvement over the 1880 census.

His tabulating machines processed the census data quickly and accurately, saving the US Census Bureau an estimated $5 million.

The population of Minnesota in 1890 was 1,301,826, while the entire US population was 62,979,766.

In 1896, Herman Hollerith founded the Tabulating Machine Company.

The same year, the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad began using his tabulating machines to audit their freight accounts and gather traffic statistics.

Tabulating Machine Company became Computing-Tabulating-Recording Company in 1911, which, in 1924, was renamed International Business Machines (IBM).

By 1928, most railroads in the United States used Hollerith tabulating machines to manage schedules, inventory, and freight.

IBM became the leading manufacturer of tabulating systems using Hollerith/IBM AA1-5081 square corner punched cards that measured 7.38 by 3.25 inches and were 0.007 inches thick.

The AA1-5081 punched cards had 80 columns, each with 12 rows with numbers zero through nine and two zones.

Developed in the late 1950s, FORTRAN (FORmula TRANslation), a high-level computer programming language, used Hollerith/IBM punched cards for its program code storage.

Hollerith’s use of punched cards laid the foundation for 20th-century computer data input, output, and storage using magnetic tapes, hard drives, and solid-state drives.

Born Feb. 29, 1860, in Buffalo, NY, Herman Hollerith died Nov. 17, 1929, in Washington, DC, at age 69.

The ‘Watchman’ of the airwaves

© Mark Ollig

Sony began selling a stylish, compact portable TV in 1982 that revolutionized how we watched television.

The Sony Watchman FD-210 was the first true handheld pocket TV to succeed commercially. It quickly appealed to travelers, sports fans, and anyone who wanted to watch their favorite shows on the go.

The Watchman name combined the word “watch” from watching television and “man” from the portability of the popular Sony Walkman TPS-L2 model cassette player introduced in 1979.

I was confused when I first heard about the Sony Watchman. Why would they name a portable TV after a security guard or night watchman?

Watchman also implied time-keeping, but ironically, the Sony Watchman FD-210 had no built-in clock or timer.

On Dec. 6, 1982, an article in the Minneapolis Star and Tribune said, “How many Watchman, one might reasonably wonder, will be squished into pancakes by people who fall asleep with them in their beds?”

However, I digress.

The Sony Watchman FD-210, a TV small enough to fit inside your pocket, sold for $372 in 1982 ($1,162 in 2023).

One of the factors behind the success of the Sony Watchman was its slim and lightweight design, which was achieved through its unique flat-display tube instead of the traditional cathode ray tube.

The 1982 Watchman FD-210 design was compact, measuring 3.5 by 7.75 by 1.25 inches and weighing 1.4 pounds. It included a built-in speaker and an earphone jack for private listening.

The Watchman’s two-inch newly-developed monochrome 0.65-inch thick flat display tube, phosphor angular screen, high-contrast ratio, and backlighting provided excellent viewing of TV video in low-light conditions.

The Watchman FD-210’s tube used an electron gun to emit a beam of electrons that scanned the screen line by line, creating a rectangular raster pattern that captured and reconstructed images progressively, one line at a time.

The beam moved horizontally from left to right, blanked, and then quickly moved back to the left before sweeping out the next line.

Each scan line slightly sloped downhill towards the lower right, while the retrace was faster and horizontal.

The varying intensity of the electron beam created shades of gray images on the flat-display phosphor-coated screen by causing the phosphor pixel dots (tiny, light-emitting particles) to glow with different brightness levels.

The Watchman FD-210 operated on four 1.5-volt AA regular or rechargeable batteries for up to three hours or, with its six VDC transformer, it could be plugged into a standard AC outlet.

A superheterodyne receiver with a 6.3-inch telescopic antenna was used to receive VHF (2-13) and UHF (14-83) channels, which could be selected via the tuning wheel on the front of the Watchman.

The original Sony Watchman, the FD-210, was a huge success and was acknowledged for its role in developing other small mobile electronic devices.

Each Watchman model introduced after 1982 was smaller and featured improved technology.

Introduced in 1998, the Sony Watchman FDL-22 was one of the last handheld TVs made by Sony.

It featured a 2.2-inch color LCD screen with an ergonomic case tapered down from the top and included Sony’s new Straptenna technology, where the wrist strap also served as the antenna.

However, by February 2009, the Sony Watchman and other analog models became obsolete when the switch to over-the-air digital broadcasting made them unable to receive TV broadcasts without a digital converter box.

The start of digital television and the evolution of smartphones made portable pocket televisions obsolete.

Once the watchman of the airwaves, the Sony Watchman FD-210 is a valued piece of historical technology sought by collectors.

I recently took my Sony Watchman FD-210 (manufactured in September 1982) out from storage and placed it on the table.

The FD-210 was still in excellent condition, as was its leather carrying case, user manual, earphones, and AC transformer.

While writing today’s column, I occasionally glanced at the Watchman and decided to see if it still worked.

After plugging it into an AC outlet and switching on the power, the green LED light came on.

The 41-year-old Sony Watchman FD-210 display screen quickly lit up, and I heard static audio from the speaker.

Although the FD-210 could not receive any over-the-air digital TV channels due to its analog receiver, it was still a nostalgic experience seeing the fuzzy, flickering black-and-white random static images on the screen.

It reminded me of my youth when the television station broadcasts we watched were on Channels 2, 4, 5, 9, and 11.

On rare occasions, when the weather was just right, and the rooftop antenna was correctly positioned, our family’s Zenith console television could receive Channel 3 from Duluth and Channel 12 out of Mankato.

While on the go today, I watch TV using the YouTube TV app on my smartphone.

The heart of the community

© Mark Ollig

As Jim Croce sang, “Operator, oh, could you help me place this call?”

In the early 20th century, small-town telephone switchboards were often located in the home of the telephone exchange manager so calls could be answered on a 24-hour basis.

The manager and his family usually operated the switchboard.

It is Sept. 1, 1923. Mark lifts the receiver from the switch hook and holds it to his ear. He hand cranks the Western Electric Model 317 wall phone’s side-mounted handle connected to an internal magneto generator, initiating the ringing voltage that signals the local telephone exchange switchboard.

Seeing the incoming signal on line 104, the operator inserts a talk patch cord, toggles the switchboard key backward, and says, “Operator. Number, please?”

“Hello, operator. Please connect me with Henry at 105,” Mark says into the telephone’s long-neck Bakelite mouthpiece transmitter.

“Of course, Mark. Hold the line momentarily while I check to see if he is available,’ replies the operator.

The operator plugs an associated patch cord for line 104 into the jack labeled 105 and toggles a switchboard key forward, which rings Henry’s telephone.

Henry picks up the receiver on his telephone, speaking into the transmitter. He says, “Hello, this is Henry.”

The switchboard operator toggles the key backward to talk with Henry.

Operator: “Hello, Henry. I have a call for you from Mark.”

Henry: “Thank you, operator.”

The operator connects a switchboard patch cord from 104 to 105.

Switchboard operator: “Mark. You are now connected with Henry.”

Some switchboards did not indicate when a call ended, so the operator would periodically check the line for silence before pulling the patch cords out and reusing them for another call.

In the early days of telephony, people were assigned new phone numbers when they moved because phone numbers were associated with the wired lines for particular locations.

Signaling methods used with early switchboards depended on the type of telephone exchange, subscriber telephone, and the switchboard model.

Telephone switchboards incorporated various methods for signaling the operator of an incoming call, including audible bells, a lamp light above the round metal connector jack on the switchboard panel, or hearing the clicking of and seeing a small spring-loaded metal cover dropping above the connector jack.

Early telephones used magneto generators and talk batteries; later, some phones would connect with a “common-battery” arrangement so that when a phone went off-hook, it completed an electrical talking voice circuit and signaled the switchboard. These phones would be wired with an internal or external ringer to hear incoming calls.

On Dec. 9, 1878, just two years, nine months, and three days from when Alexander Graham Bell obtained the US patent for his telephone, the Minneapolis Tribune newspaper announced the inauguration of the new telephone central office switchboard.

“The object of the exchange is to place as far as possible the stores and residences of our citizens in instantaneous and complete communication with each other, as desired, by means of telephones, so that conversation between remote points may be carried on as freely and unrestrainedly as though the parties were in the same room,” the newspaper reported.

The telephone switchboard became very busy whenever the fire siren sounded or the church bells rang, as townspeople wanted to know where the fire was or who died.

A 1930s-era small-town telephone switchboard averaged six feet wide and four feet tall, with its frame and outer panels made from oak, walnut, or mahogany.

Metal for the switchboard panel’s telephone line cylindrical jacks, usually about half an inch in diameter, having a hole in the center through which a patch cord could be inserted, was made of brass or copper, and was sometimes plated with nickel.

The jacks were arranged in rows and columns, each representing a telephone line, a different part of the exchange area, or a connection to a switchboard in another town.

The jacks were wired at the back of the switchboard to carbon-fused “arrestors,” which protected the switchboard from voltage surges from the outside wiring connected to the telephones.

The materials used with an average eight-foot-long telephone flexible switchboard cord included rubber, stranded copper wire, metal connector plug, and insulation to protect the copper wire from moisture and corrosion.

When asked to place a long-distance call to a telephone in a different telephone exchange, the switchboard operator would connect the caller’s patch cord plug into the connector jack of an interexchange tandem trunk line to the next town, establish and then converse with the switchboard operator in the other exchange, who would continue to process the call.

Switchboard operators recorded the talk-time of long-distance calls in minutes on paper cards for billing.

In 1931, the Winsted telephone exchange (where my family worked) provided telephone service using a Monarch switchboard to process calls.

In 1949, the Monarch switchboard was replaced with a Wilcox electrical relay-switching dial office, allowing subscribers to place local calls from their rotary dial phones without operator assistance.

The town’s switchboard was once the heart of the community.

Photo taken in May 1941 of the Winsted Telephone Company
 Monarch switchboard used during the 1930s and 1940s

My 1915 Western Electric Model No. 1317 magneto wooden
 wall phone and 1920s candlestick telephone

Jack panel lines 101 - 105 from the original Winsted Telephone Company
Monarch switchboard. I inserted into jack 104 a spare, never-used,
 still-in-the-box switchboard cable from 1960.