How Samuel F.B. Morse Brought Photography to America

Hulton Archive/Getty Images
Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Morse code creator Samuel F.B. Morse made long-distance chats almost instantaneous with his co-invention of the telegraph, which he patented in 1847. While he’s best known for revolutionizing telecommunications, Morse spent most of his career working as an artist—and he had a major influence on the future of that field, too, by introducing photography to the United States. Selfies, Instagram, and the ability to show off your vacation photos while you're still at the beach can all be traced back to Morse's vision.

Born in Charlestown, Massachusetts, on April 27, 1791, Morse was the eldest son of Jedidiah Morse, America’s leading geographer at the time. Samuel attended Yale College, where he pursued courses in religion, mathematics, and the emerging field of electromagnetism.

After graduating in 1810, Morse forged a successful career painting portraits of statesmen and other notable figures, including former U.S. president John Adams, inventor Eli Whitney, and Revolutionary War hero the Marquis de Lafayette. He also co-founded New York's National Academy of Design, the first artist-run institution to teach and exhibit American fine arts, and became the school's first president in 1826. At the same time, he was tinkering with an idea for an electromagnetic communications apparatus.

Morse made regular trips to Europe to view art exhibitions. On an 1839 visit to Paris (where he also sought patents for his telegraph prototype), he heard about Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre’s new process for fixing images produced by a camera obscura—also known as Daguerreotypes—that had been announced in France at a scientific meeting earlier that year.

19th century camera obscura
Daguerre used a camera obscura, like this, to create Daguerreotypes.
Alexander Klein/Staff/Getty Images

Many viewed early photography as an aid in painting and drawing, rather than its own artistic discipline. Morse, possibly on the lookout for a new tool that would make art students’ lives easier, told a friend that he didn’t want to leave Paris without seeing Daguerre’s process. The friend arranged a meeting where Morse would demonstrate his telegraph and Daguerre would take Morse on a tour of his Diorama, an immersive gallery displaying Daguerreotypes of street scenes, Parisian architecture, and interior settings.

At the Diorama, Morse was amazed by the photographic details and clarity of (non-moving) objects in the images. "The Boulevard, so constantly filled with a moving throng of pedestrians and carriages, was perfectly solitary, except for an individual having his boots brushed," Morse marveled. "His feet were compelled, of course, to be stationary for some time, one being on the box of the boot black, and the other on the ground. Consequently his boots and legs were well defined, but he is without body or head, because these were in motion."

The next day, Daguerre spent an hour with Morse as he demonstrated the telegraph. Unfortunately, at that exact moment, Daguerre’s Diorama was destroyed in a massive fire. "His secret [for developing the pictures], indeed, is still safe with him, but the steps of his progress in the discovery and his valuable researches in science are lost to the scientific world," Morse wrote in a letter published in the United States Democratic Review.

After Morse returned to the U.S. in 1839 with one of Daguerre’s cameras, he received the Frenchman’s instructions for creating pictures. By then, Morse had accepted a position as a professor of literature and design at New York University. He removed part of the roof from the school’s Old University Building, where his office was located, and replaced it with a skylight. In the room below, Morse and another professor, John William Draper, installed cameras and created the first studio in the United States to teach the art and science of photography.

It was also in that location that Morse shot the first photograph ever taken in America. Using Daguerre’s method, Morse photographed the Unitarian Congregational Church across the street from his studio. He recorded the event in his journal:

"Put the plate in the camera, 2 minutes before 3 o’clock, sun shining bright, but the objects were in the shadows mostly. The prevailing color was grey over all objects except the brick church, which was red with sunlight upon it, striking obliquely … Time required in the camera 16 minutes. Proof a good one for all the objects in shadow, light a little over-done."

Morse operated the studio for just two years. By the early 1840s, he was busy demonstrating his telegraph, hoping to earn federal funding for intercity telegraph systems. (He also ran for mayor of New York City twice—once in 1836 and again in 1841—but lost both times.) In 1843, Morse was awarded $30,000 by Congress, which he used to construct an experimental telegraph line between Washington, D.C. and Baltimore. On May 24, 1844, he tapped out the first long-distance message—"What hath God wrought"—and paved the way for ever-faster telecommunications. Meanwhile, the studio he co-founded produced some of the leading photographers of the 19th century, including Civil War photojournalist Mathew Brady.

The success of the telegraph overshadowed Morse’s other achievements, including his role in bringing photography to America. But by the time of his death in 1872, he was recognized as one of America’s most influential polymaths. "Few persons have ever lived to whom all departments of industry owe a greater debt," wrote The New York Times in his obituary. Almost a century and a half later, his influence still lurks behind your awkward family photos.

Has An Element Ever Been Removed From the Periodic Table?

lucadp/iStock via Getty Images
lucadp/iStock via Getty Images

Barry Gehm:

Yes, didymium, or Di. It was discovered by Carl Mosander in 1841, and he named it didymium from the Greek word didymos, meaning twin, because it was almost identical to lanthanum in its properties. In 1879, a French chemist showed that Mosander’s didymium contained samarium as well as an unknown element. In 1885, Carl von Weisbach showed that the unknown element was actually two elements, which he isolated and named praseodidymium and neodidymium (although the di syllable was soon dropped). Ironically, the twin turned out to be twins.

The term didymium filter is still used to refer to welding glasses colored with a mixture of neodymium and praseodymium oxides.

One might cite as other examples various claims to have created/discovered synthetic elements. Probably the best example of this would be masurium (element 43), which a team of German chemists claimed to have discovered in columbium (now known as niobium) ore in 1925. The claim was controversial and other workers could not replicate it, but some literature from the period does list it among the elements.

In 1936, Emilio Segrè and Carlo Perrier isolated element 43 from molybdenum foil that had been used in a cyclotron; they named it technetium. Even the longest-lived isotopes of technetium have a short half-life by geological standards (millions of years) and it has only ever been found naturally in minute traces as a product of spontaneous uranium fission. For this reason, the original claim of discovery (as masurium) is almost universally regarded as erroneous.

As far as I know, in none of these cases with synthetic elements has anyone actually produced a quantity of the element that one could see and weigh that later turned out not to be an element, in contrast to the case with didymium. (In the case of masurium, for instance, the only evidence of its existence was a faint x-ray signal at a specific wavelength.)

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Graham Crackers Were Invented to Combat the Evils of Coffee, Alcohol, and Masturbation

tatniz/iStock via Getty Images
tatniz/iStock via Getty Images

Long before they were used to make s’mores or the tasty crust of a Key lime pie, graham crackers served a more puritanical purpose in 19th-century America. The cookies were invented by Sylvester Graham, an American Presbyterian minister whose views on food, sex, alcohol, and nutrition would seem a bit extreme to today's cracker-snackers. Much like the mayor in the movie Chocolat, Graham and his thousands of followers—dubbed Grahamites—believed it was sinful to eat decadent foods. To combat this moral decay, Graham started a diet regimen of his own.

Graham ran health retreats in the 1830s that promoted a bland diet that banned sugar and meat. According to Refinery29, Graham's views ultimately inspired veganism in America as well as the “first anti-sugar crusade.” He condemned alcohol, tobacco, spices, seasoning, butter, and "tortured" refined flour. Caffeine was also a no-no. In fact, Graham believed that coffee and tea were just as bad as tobacco, opium, or alcohol because they created a “demand for stimulation.” However, the worst vice, in Graham's opinion, was overeating. “A drunkard sometimes reaches old age; a glutton never,” he once wrote.

Graham’s austere philosophy was informed by the underlying belief that eating habits affect people’s behaviors, and vice versa. He thought certain foods were "overstimulating" and led to impure thoughts and passions, including masturbation—or “self-pollution,” as he called it—which he believed to be an epidemic that caused both blindness and insanity.

Illustration of Sylvester Graham
Library of Congress, Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons

Graham's views directly influenced Victorian-era corn flake inventor John Harvey Kellogg, who was born a year after Graham died. Like his predecessor, Kellogg also believed that meat and some flavorful foods led to sexual impulses, so he advocated for the consumption of plain foods, like cereals and nuts, instead. (Unsurprisingly, the original recipes for both corn flakes and graham crackers were free of sinful sugar.)

In one lecture, Graham told young men they could stop their minds from wandering to forbidden places if they avoided “undue excitement of the brain and stomach and intestines.” This meant swearing off improper foods and substances like tobacco, caffeine, pepper, ginger, mustard, horseradish, and peppermint. Even milk was banned because it was “too exciting and too oppressive.”

So what could Graham's followers eat? The core component of Graham’s diet was bread made of coarsely ground wheat or rye, unlike the refined white flour loaves that were sold in bakeries at that time. From this same flour emerged Graham's crackers and muffins, both of which were common breakfast foods. John Harvey Kellogg was known to have eaten the crackers and apples for breakfast, and one of his first attempts at making cereal involved soaking twice-baked cracker bits in milk overnight.

Slices of rye bread, a jug of milk, apples and ears of corn on sackcloth, wooden table
SomeMeans/iStock via Getty Images

However, Kellogg was one of the few remaining fans of Graham’s diet, which began to fall out of favor in the 1840s. At Ohio’s Oberlin College, a Grahamite was hired in 1840 to strictly enforce the school’s meal plans. One professor was fired for bringing a pepper shaker to the dining hall, and the hunger-stricken students organized a protest the following year, arguing that the Graham diet was “inadequate to the demands of the human system as at present developed.” Ultimately, the Grahamite and his tyrannical nutrition plan were kicked out.

Much like Kellogg’s corn flakes, someone else stepped in and corrupted Graham’s crackers, molding them into the edible form we now know—and, yes, love—today. In Graham’s case, it was the National Biscuit Company, which eventually became Nabisco; the company started manufacturing graham crackers in the 1880s. But Graham would likely be rolling in his grave if he knew they contained sugar and white flour—and that they're often topped with marshmallows and chocolate for a truly decadent treat.