GEORGE WESTINGHOUSE, G. EDWARD PENDRAY, & THE INVENTION OF THE TIME CAPSULE
I was touring “The Castle” with inventor and captain of industry George Westinghouse, Jr., who not only invented the Westinghouse Air Brake, still found on all railroads, but also founded the Westinghouse Air Brake Company to sell it. He also patented 360 other inventions and launched 60 companies, including the Westinghouse Electric Corporation, Union Switch & Signal, and the forerunner of aerospace giant Rockwell International.
Actually, it wasn’t the real George Westinghouse. He died in 1914. It was a Westinghouse impersonator named Charles Ruch, but in his black top hat, Prince Albert coat, and with his white mutton chops, Ruch certainly looked like the real thing.
Meanwhile, “The Castle,” through which Ruch guided me, *was* the real thing. It was built by George Westinghouse in 1890 in Wilmerding, Pennsylvania, about a 30-minute drive east of Pittsburgh. For nearly a century The Castle, a massive stone structure designed by noted architect H. H. Richardson, was the corporate headquarters of the Westinghouse Air Brake Company, also located in Wilmerding. Intended to look like a medieval robber baron’s castle, some might say it was an entirely appropriate command center for a modern robber baron.
Charlie Ruch would not be among those. Charlie Ruch greatly admired George Westinghouse. That’s why Charlie impersonated Westinghouse when he conducted tours of The Castle and when he made appearances as his hero throughout Western Pennsylvania. Born and raised in the Pittsburgh area, Charlie Ruch graduated from the University of Pittsburgh in 1936. There he’d been a journalism major and had edited The Pitt News, the student newspaper. He began working at the Westinghouse Castle in 1938 as assistant editor of the company’s employee magazine. In 1942 he became its editor and he subsequently served as communications manager. In the years before his retirement in 1980, he was the Westinghouse director of personnel communications and community relations.
But Charlie Ruch never really retired. He stayed on at Westinghouse as a volunteer historian. In 1984 Charlie began impersonating George Westinghouse in order to raise awareness of the inventor’s achievements. By 1998, when Charlie died, he had impersonated George Westinghouse on 501 occasions.
It was Charlie who was the driving force behind the creation of the George Westinghouse Museum, which opened at The Castle in 1987. When I stepped into the Family Room of the Museum that day, I saw George Westinghouse himself, incarnated by Charlie Ruch, bent over his writing desk. He looked up from his papers, smiled, and welcomed me into “his” home. Then he led me on a tour, proudly pointing out the artifacts and memorabilia of the Westinghouse family, including furniture and Tiffany glassware from Solitude, the Pittsburgh home of George Westinghouse and his wife, Marguerite.
In the Appliance Room “Mr. Westinghouse” introduced me to a complete kitchen outfitted with Westinghouse appliances, including toasters, irons, mangels, coffee percolators, waffle makers, radios, washing machines and driers, and even an early Westinghouse sewing machine.
The Inventions Room held memorabilia relating to the 361 patents and inventions of George Westinghouse, including a model of a pioneering city-wide automatic telephone switching system.
I was most impressed, however, by the “Room of Achievement,” filled with an array of artifacts and photographs of products developed by companies founded by George Westinghouse. On one wall was a spectacular 12-foot-long oil painting of the Electric Company’s far-reaching East Pittsburgh Works in 1920. Displays ranged from a rifle made for the Russian army in World War I to the model car used in introducing a rapid transportation system of automated people-movers.
Of greatest interest to me in this room, however, were exact replicas of the twin time capsules buried by the Westinghouse Corporation at the New York World’s Fairs of 1939 and 1964. Both were 7.5-foot--long cigar-shaped metal cylinders. Unlike the ones in New York, however, these replicas had windows cut into the sides so you could see duplicates of all the objects crammed into the original capsules buried somewhere in New York. An adjacent plaque listed every item inside.
I stared at the time capsules, gleaming like torpedoes ready for launching. With “George Westinghouse” himself beside me, it was almost as if I’d travelled back in time to the 1939 World’s Fair and was standing beside the very first “time capsules.”
Preserving things for the future, of course, wasn’t exactly new in 1939. Cornerstones in buildings date back to antiquity and are often filled with coins and other memorabilia. But in 1922 Howard Carter discovered the millennia-old tomb of the Pharaoh Tutankhamen in Egypt’s Valley of the Kings. Perhaps the most famous archaeological discovery ever, the artifact-crammed tomb -- an unintended time capsule -- catapulted the obscure “King Tut” into international prominence.
The discovery also inspired Thornwell Jacobs, president of Atlanta’s Oglethorpe University, with the idea of deliberately storing records and items for more than 6,000 years with a scheduled opening date. He eventually constructed a device to do so, which he called the “Crypt of Civilization,” at Oglethorpe University. He also publicized his idea in a notable 1936 Scientific American article.
Shortly thereafter, Westinghouse Electric Corporation was looking for something to promote the company at the 1939 World’s Fair. A Westinghouse publicist proposed that Westinghouse build and bury a similar “Crypt,” meant to be uncovered and opened in 5,000 years, at the Fair. However, the executive, who also coined the word “laundromat” to describe the Westinghouse washing machine, suggested a snappier label. He proposed that the “crypts” be called “time capsules.” The phrase gained currency almost overnight and stuck.
The Westinghouse publicist who proposed the idea of these time chambers, and named them, was G. (George) Edward Pendray, a rocket engineer and, under his own name and the name “Gawain Edwards,” also a science fiction writer. Pendray, who died from Parkinson’s Disease in 1987, was born in Omaha, Nebraska, in 1901 and graduated from the University of Wyoming in 1924. A year later he earned a Master’s from Columbia University. He thereafter authored over 500 technical articles.
The same year he graduated from Columbia, Pendray joined the staff of The New York Herald Tribune as a reporter, later becoming its science editor. He left the paper in 1932 and was an editor at the Milk Research Council until joining the Westinghouse Electric Corp. in 1936 as assistant to the president. There he helped develop and administer the annual Westinghouse Science Talent Search and kept the Westinghouse president from calling the 1939 time capsules “time bombs,” as he reportedly wanted to do. He left Westinghouse in 1945 to open his own industrial public relations firm, Pendray & Co., based in Bronxville, N.Y., where he was a senior partner until his retirement in 1971.
In 1929, New York publisher D. Appleton released Pendray’s only SF novel, "The Earth Tube," published under the Pendray name. It is a “Yellow Peril” future war story in which Asians tunnel under and conquer South America in a drive to invade America. The hero destroys the tunnel, in the process flooding South America (sorry ‘bout that!).
Perhaps it was this novel which brought Pendray to the attention of David Lasser, editor of Hugo Gernsback’s "Science Wonder Stories." In any case, Pendray soon appeared in Lasser’s magazine under the name of “Gawain Edwards.” He quickly published three stories for Lasser, including “A Rescue From Jupiter,” Science Wonder Stories, Feb.-March, 1930; “The Return From Jupiter,” Wonder Stories, March-April, 1931; and “A Mutiny in Space,” Wonder Stories, Sept., 1931.
More importantly, Pendray became the prime mover behind the American Interplanetary Society, responsible for much of its early rocket research.
The society was founded by David Lasser and his writers at an April 4, 1930 meeting in Pendray’s New York apartment. The writers elected Lasser as President and Pendray as Vice-President. When Lasser resigned in April, 1932, Pendray took over as President, serving in the capacity until April, 1934, when the society also changed its name to the American Rocket Society. Pendray continued his association with the society, serving as its Director from 1936-55.
In 1963 the society changed its name to the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics, and Pendray continued to serve as its public relations consultant. In 1945 Harper & Bros. published his The Coming Age of Rocket Power and in 1948 he edited the papers of rocket pioneer Robert H. Goddard, published by Prentice-Hall as Rocket Development: Liquid-Fuel Rocket Research, 1929-1941. He was chosen for the latter task by Goddard’s widow, Esther, as by then Pendray was recognized as one of the leading American experts on rocket research.
Looking down at the shiny time capsules Pendray was responsible for naming, I mentioned some of this history to Charlie. “Oh, yes, I remember Pendray, he was here at the Castle many times.”
I was excited to hear this. “What do you remember about Pendray?”
“His Van Dyke beard. No one wore beards in those days, but he had a very distinguished Van Dyke. We all talked about it. It made him look like a professor or an important scientist.”
I glanced at Charlie Ruch standing next to me. Every inch of him looked like George Westinghouse, important inventor and entrepreneur. But he wasn’t the real thing. He was just pretending. “Charlie,” I said, "Pendray didn't just look like someone important. He was the real thing.
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