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Biography of Thomas Midgley, Jr.

By Joseph Valencia
Narrated Posthumously by Thomas Midgley, Jr.
I remember the day that I died, November 2, 1944, in my home in Worthington, Ohio. I
was fifty-five years old and stricken with Polio; and, being trained in Mechanical Engineering, I
had designed built a harness to help me get from my bed to my wheelchair. It was when I had
been in this harness that I became entangled in the ropes. As the air slowly trickled out of my
lungs, the world around me began to slip into a deep blackness. Then, all of a sudden, I was
there no more.
When I came to, I was standing in my backyard in Columbus. Except, this wasnt my
current backyardit was my backyard from my first home in Columbus, where I moved to when
I was six and spent the majority of my childhood. (I had previously been born in Beaver Falls,
Pennsylvania on May 18, 1889.) The Polio had vanished, and I noticed that I was able to move
again. Turning around, I saw a young boy (of about six years of age) sitting on the lawn, playing
in the dirt. He had short, brown hair and a cleft chin. It was me when I was six years old. Even
then, as I was in my later career, I was curious. The six-year-old me appeared to be on an
adventure in the dirt, trying to discover something, investigate something. Eventually, my
mother called the six-year-old me inside for lunch, and I, pants covered in dirt and thrilled with
the revelation of new-found earthworms, ran inside. Then the beloved home of my childhood
vanished before my eyes.
A moment later, I was standing in the dusty outfield at the baseball field at my public
high school in Columbus. It was a scorching hot, dry summer day, and I had to squint to be able
to see anything. There in the dugout stood myself and Sandford Brown, a good friend. I was

rubbing a baseball between my palms. I watched Sandford grab a bat as the high-school-me
walked out to the pitchers mound. Sandford nodded to me to show me he was ready. I wound
up and threw the best pitch Id ever hoped to throw in my lifea curveball. It veered to the right
of Sandford at the last second as he swung, missing the ball by a mile. Then, I remembered this
particular moment. Sandford and I had been attempting to find something to make the ball more
slippery, and thus give it a better curve. This was the time that I had used the extract of the bark
of the slippery elm, and it worked. I felt a twinge of pride surge in me for my high-school-aged
self, knowing that this was something that even professional Baseball Players would go on to
use. I believe this is where my curiosity first realized the fruits of invention and innovation.
Looking back on my life, I would have been disappointed if I had not achieved scientific
success. To a certain degree, it was in my blood. My father innovated tires for automobiles, my
grandfather on my mothers side created the inverted tooth saw, and it was even rumored that
somewhere up the family tree, one of my ancestors worked for Thomas Edison. I was born to
invent and innovate, and the next several years of education were where I began to see many of
the qualities of innovators arise in me.
When the world went dark again, I was hoping that I would find myself on the football
field with my high school team in Columbus; but instead, I found myself in Stamford,
Connecticut, in front of the Betts Academy. Here, I had finished up high school and began to
cultivate my inner scientist and engineer. As I walked up to the entryway of the Academy, I
reminisced over my Geometry class. I remember sitting in the classroom, watching my teacher
stand at the chalkboard, walking us through the daily exercises. As I would sit, I would wonder,
Is there a different way to solve this? Is there a better way? And then, I would try it. I would
work through complex steps of algebra in order to solve problems or work through the problems

in reverse order. It would often result in much extra work, but I loved every moment of it.
Allowing my thoughts to drift, I remembered one other course here at the Betts Academy which
I held dear in my memories. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. I
unfolded it and found myself face-to-face with one of my enlightening of teachers, most infinite
of puzzles, and greatest of keys to the universethe Periodic Table. At the Betts Academy, my
Chemistry teacher, Professor H. M. Robert, had, in a sense instilled a love for and fascination
with the Periodic Table in me. He and I would get into debates regarding whether the periodic
table was divinely or randomly organized; and this developed in me an incredible passion for the
periodic table; a passion of such depth that made me choose to carry a copy of it with me during
my later career. Then, once again, the world around me faded into darkness.
I found myself face-to-face with a familiar mass of red and white. I was at Cornell
University. Judging by the fact that there were hundreds of students in cap and gown, it must
have been graduation. I noticed my college-aged-self walking across a stage in front of me. The
year was 1911, and I was receiving my diploma. As I saw myself smile when my college-agedself took ahold of his diploma, I smiled back, for I realized that this was the end of my formal
education, but my life would be one of continued learning. And I chuckled as I thought back on
my college years. I was constantly getting sidetracked from my studies in Mechanical
Engineering, not by usual student distractions but by my own inquisitiveness. I loved research
and learning so much that I would often procrastinate on my own course material in order to
perform experiments or learn about other topics (such as Chemistry) that I was interested in. I
even started an aviation organization for students. Even with all of the intellectual distractions,
however, I still managed to maintain a high very high standard for my learning the discipline of
Mechanical Engineering, and received a quality education.

After graduation, I would go on to hold a job at the National Cash Register Company in
the same department as one of my future partners, Charles Kettering, and there I learned about
his work. After a short time at this job, I went to work with my father in the tire manufacturing
business; but the company failed shortly thereafter. I learned that Charles Kettering had created
the Dayton Engineering Laboratories Company, so I pursued employment there. It ended up
being the greatest decision of my life.
I hadnt even realized that I had left Cornell by the time that I recognized the small lab of
Dayton Engineering Laboratories, which, when I began my work there, was on the second floor
of an old Tobacco warehouse. The year was now 1917. I noticed my younger self mixing a
something into gasoline, and instantly recognized that I had arrived at the genesis of anti-knock
agents. In months prior, my younger self had been thriving in his new job under the direction of
my supervisor, W.A. Chryst. I had been completing tasks, then asking what do you want me to
do next, boss?, but this task was one that I had come up with. Drawn by the allure of research
and discover, I had asked my Charles Kettering if I could investigate the cause of the knock in
combustion engines. He assented, and after the initial test, I came to conclude that the knock did
not came about after ignition, not before, as had previously been the predominant assumption of
the time. Kettering and I had surmised that the knock was actually being caused by the gasoline
not being fully evaporated, so we had decided to add red dye to the gasoline in order to cause the
gas to absorb more heat, and thus, evaporate. My head had lowered as I had been thinking, and,
glancing up, I chuckled again as I watched my younger self finish preparing the experiment and
thought about how wrong he had and Kettering had been. Today was a Saturday, and there had
been no red dye anywhere to be found; so, I had dissolved Iodine in the gasoline instead, which
also yielded a red color. My younger self ignited the gasoline and there was no knock

whatsoever. The Iodine completely eliminated it. I laughed out loud (he couldnt hear me) when
I noticed my younger selfs reactionhis jaw dropped and he stood there, dumbfounded, for
about ten seconds. I had just made my first unprecedented discovery. Then, I blacked out again.
I stood in the room of a hospital. I heard the screams of a baby, looking down, I saw
myself, a newfound father, looking quite queasy, and my wife (I married miss Carrie M.
Reynolds on August 3, 1911) holding our new baby girl, Jane. I had time to think of my son,
Thomas Midgley III, who was not yet born, and for warm wishes on all of my family as they
survived me. Then I faintedI couldnt stomach the sight of birth, even in death.
When I came to again, I was startled by one of the most shocking sights a chemist may
ever seea man was pouring mercury into his eye. I had lived through this experience during
the latter part of the Great War, but I was nonetheless startled to see it happen again. As the
silvery liquid made contact with the cornea, I recalled that I had been prompted to do this
because of some of my research during the Great WarI had undertaken research regarding the
hydrogenation of benzene into cyclohexane so that it could be used as fuel for airplanes. (This
reaction was difficult to create in mass, but was eventually able to be facilitated so that yield of
seventy percent cyclohexane was attained.) During my research, however, one of the plugs from
a hydrogen tank exploded, sending metal shrapnel into my eye. My doctor was unable to remove
it without damaging my eye further, so I undertook the task of removing it by chemical means.
Eventually, I was able to use purified Mercury to safely pull the metal out of my eye, a treatment
that I was now watching a younger version of me self-administer. As I watched the shrapnel
come out of my younger selfs eye, I made a realizationI had come out of Cornell an Engineer,
but at that point in my life I had now become a Chemist. My experiences just prior to and during
the Great War had caused me to step out of the world of Mechanical Engineering and into the

universe of Chemistry. And just after that realization, my world again went as dark as the
universe.
There was a boom, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in Carnegie Hall. It was
1925, just six years after the Great War had ended, and there I was, giving a demonstration of the
first anti-knock agent that would become commercially successful. I startled many in attendance
that day by using a combustion engine in that prestigious hall; both by way of the loud booms
that took place when I demonstrated the motor without the tetraethyl lead (in another
demonstration I added reagents that caused the knock to be greater for the purpose of effect) and
by way of the utter silence of the start of the engine (and from the dumbfounded audience) when
I started the engine with tetraethyl lead.
As I watched the crowd ooh and ah, I thought about boom that my career as a
chemist experienced after the Great War. After the Great War, I had taken off with my
newfound wings for chemistry. With all of my prior research pertaining to fuel, I dove straight
back into this line of research, starting again with the search for a prime anti-knock agent. I
recalled a plethora of different agents that were testedsuch as nitrogen, arsenic, and
telluriumbut each of these anti-knock agents were flawed in some way, shape, or form.
Eventually, when I had reached the age of thirty-three (1921), I discovered tetraethyl lead, and
this ended up being the most successful of the anti-knock agents; but, tetraethyl lead, like other
compounds, was not a perfect anti-knock agent; and Bromine also had to be present in the
gasoline in order to prevent the formation of Lead Oxide upon combustion. I was thrilled with
the success of these compounds to be utilized in combination; however, because Bromine was
very difficult to come by in mass during this time. So, I was tenacious, and had once again asked
the questionhow can we overcome the difficulty and move ahead? Three years after the

discovery of tetraethyl lead, I was able to find a way to extract (for all practical purposes of
humanity) an infinite source of Bromine from the sea, even though it constitutes only 0.0065%
of the particles in seawater. (I was especially thankful when this process was developed, for
during those three years my team continued to research other anti-knock agents along with the
Bromine solution, and by the end of the search, we had gone through thirty-three thousand
potential anti-knock agents.) Then, as if pulled up from out of the water, I was yanked out of my
thoughts and noticed how deafeningly silent the room was. Immediately, as if sucked underwater
by a riptide, the darkness and the silence again swallowed me.
The next thing I knew, I was standing in a presentation room watching myself exhale my
new compound, Dichlorodifluoromethane (Freon), like a fire-breathing dragon. I remembered
this demonstration because it marked an exhilarating time of my life where I was able to play
salesman; to not only develop my products, but bring them into use in the world as well. I
watched as I breathed out the Freon onto a candle and extinguished the flame. In this particular
demonstration, I had to demonstrate that Freon was non-toxic to humans and animals and was
inflammable; for these were the concerns of the refrigeration industry at the time. I recalled that
this, being my initial presentation of Freon as a refrigerant, I felt that I had to emphasize safety.
However, while the world was fascinated with the safety and effectiveness of the compound (for
the time), at that time I was fascinated by how simple it was to find the refrigerant. Reaching
into my back pocket, I again pulled out my worn, tattered periodic table and remembered how it
had shown me what the solution wasit had pointed me to Fluorine as the key to making a
successful refrigerant. It was absolutely fascinating, all of the secrets that lay in that table. But
then, a wind came rushing by me, tore my beloved periodic table from my hands, and sucked me
down into darkness.

This time, the darkness planted me on a golf course in Columbus, Ohio. I watched
myself putt the ball across the green. After rolling about ten yards, the ball intersected with the
side of the hole and appeared to be on a path to go in, but instead curved off of the edge of the
hole at about a sixty degree angle. I jumped as I heard my other self shout Aaagghh! Five
again? I chuckled as I watched the other me put the ball in and storm off the golf course. I
remembered this day wellit was the day that I had had my last straw with the final score of
five.
I had become interested in golf during the latter years of my career. I saw a club that my
disgruntled self had left behind on the golf course, so I picked it up and took a swing. I thought
about the mechanics of it as I went. I had started off simply with an interest, which lead me to
reading books about how to golf, which peaked my curiosity enough to interview professionals
about the mechanics of their swing. After absorbing all of this information, I tried my hand at
the sport, and quickly had my final score in the lower seventies. I kept improving until my score
got down to five, but it never got any lower than that.
I set the club down and turned around. I couldnt help but chuckle again as I noticed my
only slightly younger self chewing out the greenskeeper about the quality of his green. I looked
down around me. It wasnt in too bad of shapeI had really been the one at fault for not getting
a final score of four on that day a few years earlier. Nevertheless, my small outburst at the
owner proved to be fruitful later on, for it caused me to begin experimenting with the green. I
grew different types of green and figured out how to keep it in a perpetual state of utmost
quality. I was so successful at optimizing the green that I even counseled the local greenskeepers
in Columbus until I contracted Polio in 1940 and could no longer play. Then, all of a sudden, the
lush green color was sucked from the grass, and the course went as dark as the starless sky.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a crowd of people. There was a man speaking at a
podium up front, and I instantly recognized him as me. I had already contracted Polio and was in
my wheelchair. I had been on the Board of the American Chemical Society since 1930, but this
was 1944, and I was giving my presidential address, which I called Accent on Youth. I
listened to myself for a few minutes. I heard myself cite the statistic that ninety percent of the
patents in the United States had come from men of age forty-five or younger. It had always been
my firm belief that the elder should step aside and increase the responsibility of the youth in the
advancement of science, for people are more energetic, productive, and filled with ingenuity
when they are young. Much time receiving extra education was wasted when they could be
researching. That was the greatest thrill and drama of life, and it brought the most rewards. I
began to reminisce.
I thought back on my accomplishments by this stage of my life (essentially, the end) and
what had caused them. My three major discoveries had led me to leadership in industryvice
President of Ethyl Corporation, vice president of Kinetic Chemicals, Inc. (Freon) and to a
director position of the Ethyl-Dow Chemical Company. I had received two honorary doctorates
and numerous medals and awards, but what mattered most to me were not the honors. I was glad
to have innovated the world so, to have created a great many jobs, to have supported research for
the younger generation (such as through my service to the American Chemical Society), to have
been a husband and a father, and to simply enjoy the thrill of discovery regardless of reward. I
began listening again to myself, and noted that I had come to the end of my speech. I had a love
for writing poetry, and had ended it with a warning of the end that I was about to bring myself to:
Let this epitaph be graven on my tomb in simple style,
This one did a lot of living in a mighty little while.

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And then I saw myself, sitting there, in my chair. I was in my room again, this time, just
a few days before I had died. I looked into the eyes of that sad, hurt man and hoped against hope
that he could cope. But I knew that the sadness and limitations of Polio would be too much for
him to bear, so he would be all too willing to be suffocate in the chair. He had seen the life
expectancy increase by fifty-percent in his life time, but he would be confined to living just to
age fifty-five. He soon would be overcome by strife, and would be all too willing to take his own
life. And as I faded in into blackness for the last time, I saw again my simple and fateful rhyme:
Let this epitaph be graven on my tomb in simple style,
This one did a lot of living in a mighty little while.

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References
Asimov, Isaac. "Midgley, Thomas, Jr." In Asimov's Biographical Encyclopedia of Science and
Technology: The Lives and Achievements of 1510 Great Scientists from Ancient times to
the Present Chronologically Arranged, 718-719. 2nd Rev. ed. Garden City, N.Y.:
Doubleday, 1982.
Daintith, John, Sarah Mitchell, and Elizabeth Tootill. "M." In Biographical Encyclopedia of
Scientists, 556. Vol. 2. New York: Facts On File, 1981.
Giunta, Carmen. "THOMAS MIDGLEY, JR., AND THE INVENTION OF
CHLOROFLUOROCARBON REFRIGERANTS: IT AINT NECESSARILY SO."
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign School of Chemical Sciences. January 1,
2006. Accessed November 22, 2014.
http://www.scs.illinois.edu/~mainzv/HIST/bulletin_open_access/v31-2/v31-2 p6674.pdf.
Kettering, Charles. "Biographical Memoir of Thomas Midgley, Jr. 1889-1944." National
Academy of Sciences. Accessed November 17, 2014.
http://www.nasonline.org/publications/biographical-memoirs/memoir-pdfs/midgleythomas.pdf.
Martel, Mark. "Midgley Innovation Strategies." Midgley Innovation Strategies. Accessed
November 18, 2014. http://www.daytoninnovationlegacy.org/midgleyinnovation.html.
Pearson, Andy. "Happy Birthday, Mr. Midgley." Star Refrigeration. Accessed November 21,
2014.
http://www.starref.co.uk/star/images/stories/news/abp_article_thomas_midgley.pdf.