The Man Who Defeated Darkness. The Dean of Inventors. The Man Who Struck the Magic Spark. The Greatest Single Benefactor of the Race. The Archdeacon of the World. The Greatest Citizen of the World. Flattering, yes, but such honors were those bestowed upon a has-been, a statue for a museum. In his fifties, Edison was not ready—he would never be ready, even in his eighties—to step off the stage, to leave the lab, to rest on the laurels that went back to 1877 and those magical five years that followed. He resented being treated like a statue; admirers no longer seemed to listen to what he had to say. When an eighth-grader wrote him in 1915 with a few questions, asking for advice that would be useful to a student “wishing to take up your work,” Edison replied that he did not like “to give advice as no one ever takes it.” Even as he said these words, he was being asked for advice from a source that had never asked before: the federal government. Invited to head up the new Naval Consulting Board, which would offer the military the perspective and guidance of the civilian scientific community, Edison agreed to serve.
What do You think about The Wizard Of Menlo Park (2007)?
