Nikola Tesla Articles
He always sat at the same, pre-reserved table. A friend approaches him. The gentleman with the beard and pince-nez confides something to him benevolently. His name is Robert Underwood Johnson. He is editor of the Century Magazine. He is also a poet. He is the same American friend who, out of devotion and love for his inventor friend, began to learn Serbian and who, among his other pseudonyms, had one Serbian one too. Because of Tesla he called himself Luka Filipov.
Tesla, by the way, always dined alone at the hotel table. Around him there were always his eighteen napkins which he placed around after use.
The next moment a messenger approached him. He handed him a note. As soon as he opened it, he saw the characteristic scrawl. It was written by the writer Mark Twain. He too was Tesla’s devoted and close friend.
“If you have no more serious plans for this evening,” the note from Mark Twain read, “you could join me at the Players Club…”
By the same messenger Tesla replied:
“Alas, I must work. But if you wish to join me in my laboratory at midnight, I think I can promise you good entertainment.”
Those peculiar good entertainments that he prepared for his friends were wonderful experiments that Tesla gladly showed to a select audience. And one more thing: none of his friends could ever see the same experiment twice. That too was one of Tesla’s principles.
Lika handbag, handmade by mother Đuka: Tesla kept this bag in America instead of a photograph of his mother, which he did not have.
On the way back to the laboratory he turned toward the nearby park. The elegant gentleman suddenly whistled through his teeth, exactly as all the children in Lika whistle when calling pigeons. The sound of wings was heard. A small flock of pigeons landed around his feet, a large blue pigeon stopped on his hat and a white dove on his hand. He gave them dinner too — a bag of grain — and to the white dove, which flew up, he sent a kiss.
Letters and Money Orders
Only after that could he calmly set to work in his laboratory. That evening, however, he remembered something important that he had almost forgotten. He would have to write a letter right now to Simo Majstorović, son of his aunt Marija and his cousin:
“Dear Simo, here I am sending mother 150 forints (i.e. 60 dollars) and I sent 150 for. immediately upon my arrival. I have not yet heard a word from my uncles or sisters to whom I wrote. I would like to know how you are. I am especially worried about Marica, so I ask you to write to me immediately when you receive this letter. There is still no sign of the wine; perhaps our friend Gomirjac changed his mind when he learned how much it would cost. My work is
