a sixty-thousand-pound load as a fifty-cent piece. It was also so
reliable that in Worcester Tech's hundredth year, the old scale was
still in constant use at the hydraulic laboratory. In a small one-story
building on the site of the old woolen mill, this Fairbanks
scale was placed near the copper-lined weighing tank. Other
indispensable equipment was the Venturi meter, thirty-six inches in
diameter, purchased by Mr. Salisbury after the Chicago World's
Fair of 1893. Through this meter, the largest in the world, all
the water used at the Fair had passed.
George Alden guided the work of the hydraulic laboratory during
its first two years before his resignation; by later provisions he
was to influence its activities permanently. Assisting him was a
young graduate of 1894, Charles Metcalf Allen, and thus began
another indissoluble relationship of "man and lab" which would
span more than a half century.
In the summer of 1896 young Charlie Allen shared a third-floor
room in the Higgins home with his friend, John Higgins. The
Higgins family, with the exception of John, had gone to Europe
with the hope that Mr. Higgins might recuperate from a breakdown
of physical and nervous energies. John, a graduate of Tech's
Electrical Engineering course the previous spring, had set up a
completely automatic system in his room. By pushing the right buttons,
he and Charlie Allen could raise the window shades, open the
furnaces, and even feed Nelson (the horse) his morning oats.
John Higgins had also become plant engineer and shipping
clerk of the Plunger Elevator Company, which his father and
Professor Alden had bought from Worcester Tech and transferred
to Barber's Crossing near the increasingly successful Norton
Company. For his thesis in 1896 John Higgins had submitted a plan for
installing steam power and electricity in this elevator factory.
Electrical Engineering was becoming the predominant course at
Tech, straining the resources of the Physics Department under
whose care it had started with Professor Kimball before his death
in 1897. The number of majors in Electrical Engineering equaled
the graduates of all other departments; it was evident that
accommodations would soon have to be made for this greedy innovation
which gave signs of encompassing almost every area of human
activity.
At the same bitter board meeting in which the Washburn Shops
had been disrupted--in the strange way incidents have of balancing
each other--a young Purdue University professor, Harold B. Smith,
had been engaged to organize an extensive course in Electrical
Engineering Its scope was to broaden so rapidly that though the
department offered eleven courses in 1897, it had "limited" them
to forty-one by 1915.
When the third president of the school, Edmund A. Engler,
ordered a reorganization of curriculum in 1905, Professor Smith
wrote a dramatic report of his cramped department in which he
said a complete "strangulation" was imminent.