Henry Clum was a genius.
Yet, as is often the case with such gifted people who are ahead of their
time, Clum spent most of his life misunderstood, underappreciated, and
reclusive. However, we can now recognize
his rightful place in scientific history: Clum was one of the first
meteorologists.
Henrich Augustus Clum was born on August 17, 1821 in Columbia
County, NY to Jacob and Elisabeth Schultes Clum. Clum must have been a precocious child and
young man because he was allegedly put in an insane asylum near Le Roy, NY during
the 1830s for claiming that he could predict the weather (a radical notion at
that time). He was released after one
week when the doctors declared him sane.
Clum was an inventor and mechanical scientist who had a wide
array of interests. In addition to his
weather inventions, Clum also patented a portable commode that could double as
a fashionable ottoman and he gave lectures about and was an expert on early
blimp aviation.
Clum's Portable Commode, patented in 1878 in Elmira |
Clum's Aerial Locomotive |
Poster for one of Clum's lectures |
Clum
and other scientists built upon the discovery that the stronger the air
pressure, the more force was placed on the bottom of the tube. This then forced
the mercury to rise. High pressure, which typically causes clearer skies,
indicates sinking motion in the atmosphere and therefore pushes down harder.
Anytime the mercury is above the mean sea level pressure (MSLP) of 29.92 inches
of mercury, it indicates high pressure. When the mercury is below 29.92, air is
pushing down less on the tube. This indicates areas of low pressure, and can
show the potential for rising air motion. When the air has the ability to rise,
it can condense and form clouds and even storms if the rising motion is strong
enough.
Patent for Clum's 1860 barometer |
Face of Clum's 1860 barometer (see patent above) from CCHS collection |
The aellograph, or “storm writer” was 10 feet tall, weighed
nearly a ton, and allegedly had the ability to detect changes in atmospheric
pressure as far away as the Rocky Mountains.
In Rochester, Clum was a founding member and trustee of the American
Aelloscope Company, which in 1866 released a circular describing the machine
and the science of weather prediction.
Clum’s radical invention was not easy to sell as he
struggled to convince people of its practical use. Although an 1874 newspaper joked that Clum
should now “make his everlasting fortune of intending bridal parties and
women with new bonnets," he failed to actually strike it rich. In fact, Clum was destitute for much of his
life. He did sell some of his
machines, including one aelloscope to Queen Victoria of England after doing a
demonstration in her court. France’s
Napoleon III and the Russian government each purchased one, too. He was once offered $10,000 for his patent,
which he refused, believing that it was worth no less than $100,000. He made most of his income from the sales of
his small barometers and the lectures that he gave across the country and
Europe.
Clum with his aellograph |
Henry Clum likely came to Elmira during the 1860s. He first lived on the northwest corner of
Carroll and Lake Streets and then moved to the block of the Lyceum Opera
House. While in Elmira, Clum built a
storm finder for the New York Tribune, which used the machine for 6 years. He was in talks with Senator Charles Sumner
to build a storm finding machine to sit atop of the US Capitol building, but
the plan was called off after Sumner died.
The US government eventually did purchase one of Clum’s machines. The machine needed to be taken apart and
cleaned every year, and by the second year, the government thought that they
could do it themselves without Clum’s assistance. They succeeded in getting the machine apart,
but could not put it back together. Clum
refused to help, claiming he didn’t take “second hand” jobs.
At this time, Clum’s personal life suffered about as much as
professional life. He married Elmiran
Annie Snell, who was the war widow of Charles Harris. The couple was happily married for five years
and had a daughter when the presumed dead Harris came back to claim his
wife. Annie and their young daughter
went to Buffalo with her first husband (who being the jerk that he was, left
Annie again). Though Clum and his wife
never reunited, Clum continued to use his meager income to support Annie until
her death in 1881. He even had to go to
Buffalo to bury her.
One of Clum’s only close friends was Matt Lockwood, the
costumer for the Lyceum Theater (and another fascinating character who I am
writing a future blog post about). The
two friends spent much time together, and Lockwood was allegedly one of the
only other people who were able to understand and put together the
aellograph.
Matt Lockwood |
On July 6, 1884, Clum was in Binghamton to give a lecture at
the Fireman’s Hall. While he was
preparing his equipment, there was an explosion which caused iron shrapnel to strike
Clum in the head and fatally wound him.
Although the windows of the hall were blown out and Clum was killed, the
aellograph, which was on the stage, was remarkably unharmed. When Clum’s friend Lockwood came to bring the
body back to Elmira, he discovered that the people in Binghamton were planning
to keep the machine. Lockwood disagreed
with this and he waited until the Hall’s janitor left and he stole it out of
Binghamton. It remained in his
possession until he donated it to the Chemung County Historical Society. At one point, the inner workings were stolen,
and may have never been recovered (they are not part of CCHS’ collection).
Aellograph case in CCHS collection |
His funeral was attended by his few friends and his
daughter, Ettie. Clum was buried in
Woodlawn Cemetery in Matt Lockwood’s plot.
Despite his many achievements during his lifetime, Clum is another one
of our historical figure who has been largely forgotten. When he has been remembered, the accounts of
his life have focused more on the melodrama of his biography rather than his
scientific contributions. While these
personal hardships certainly were important points in his life, I prefer to
remember Clum as an eccentric scientific genius rather than a figure like those
in a Shakespearean tragedy.
Clum's gravestone in Woodlawn Cemetery |