Need for speed

Another day spent researching ships, boats and all things marine. Nothing as exciting or entangled as last week’s P&O but still pretty engrossing. However, two people records did strike me as being somewhat diverting in their differences.

The things I like best at work, are the technical files, particularly when they contain letters from the inventors, engineers, designers, etc. Beautifully hand written letters from 1930’s New York, hastily scrawled notes from 1890’s Scotland, they’re all there. It’s almost as if the people are talking to you, telling you a little bit about their lives.

So far, my favourite letters are from the marine engineer, John Ericsson (1803–1889). Originally from Sweden, he worked in Britain for a while, inventing better and better engines and propellers for ships but became exasperated by how long it took from invention to implementation. The Admiralty, for whom he supplied his latest devices, was a haven of red tape, driving him insane with their dithering. Eventually he moved to New York.

In America, his work was given a lot more priority; the American government could see the benefits inherent in his ideas for faster steam ships. He spent over 20 years living in New York and the bulk of his work was completed there.

As well as his engineering models and drawings (which I’ve posted about before), he wrote a lot of letters and some of them were addressed to the Patents Office in London, where he sent a lot of his patent models (which is how we obtained them).

Most remarkable about his letters is his command of written English. They are almost always perfect, both in grammar and spelling. And his writing is beautifully legible. I feel like I know the guy, I’ve read so much of his stuff!

Henry Segrave (1896–1930), on the other hand, was a man who wanted to go faster than anyone else. He was committed to it. Wounded in the First World War, he wound up racing cars, going faster and faster. He was one of those gung ho guys with a death wish. And his wish came true.

He had set the fastest mile recorded in the power boat, Miss England II on Lake Windermere in 1930. Not satisfied with that, he decided to try two more runs. They were to be his last. The boat hit some debris sitting on the surface of the water and he was mortally wounded (Miss England II sank to the bottom of the lake), only to die a few days later. Apparently (and this is probably apocryphal) he regained consciousness just before he died and someone told him he’d broken the record.

It’s always sad when someone dies tragically, particularly when they’re comparatively young, but Segrave didn’t do things by half measures, living life to the full. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have enjoyed old age anyway and it’s nice to think that someone actually did tell him about the record, letting him die a happy man.
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I really have to include this photo. I spotted this thing as I left the V&A at lunchtime. It’s an art installation above the front entrance. It’s of traffic cones and is from the studio of Thomas Heatherwick. He was responsible for the London Olympic cauldron.

Traffic cones galore