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Patent Models

Patent Model

From the beginnings of the U.S. Patent System until 1880, one had to submit a miniature model, no bigger than 12 inches, by 12 inches, by 12 inches of their invention. Well into the 1900s, inventors still submitted models to aid in obtaining patent protection. While the requirement has long been removed and a written description with drawings suffices, thousands upon thousands of models can be found today in museums and even for sale on Ebay!

What follows is an article on the subject of patent models printed in the New York Times on February 18, 2002.

Patent Models' Strange Odyssey

By TERESA RIORDAN

Published: Monday, February 18, 2002

IN the 1870's, the United States Patent and Trademark Office was a big tourist attraction in Washington. Its Parthenon-inspired facade, along with the United States Capitol, dominated the skyline. Inside, visitors roamed its grand galleries, peering into glass cases that stretched from the floor midway to the 20-foot vaulted ceilings. The cases held patent models ? Lilliputian reproductions of inventions that ranged from Morse's telegraph to waltzing dolls and collapsible hoop skirts.

Last week, after a strange and perilous odyssey that lasted nearly a century, some of those models went back on display at the patent office's museum in Crystal City, Va. Most of the 50 models in the new exhibition are on loan from Alan Rothschild, a former pharmacist who is now a health care executive in Syracuse. "Patent models represent a way we can visually turn back time 100- plus years," Mr. Rothschild said. The museum, which is tucked into a glass-and-steel office tower, lacks a 19th-century ambiance. But the patent models evoke their era: an "apparatus for breaking and subduing horses," a reed organ, an "earth scraper" (others might call it a plow), an "atmospheric and vacuum egg beater," a coffin with a window and so on. The patent office required that inventors submit models with their applications until 1880, when it deemed that models were no longer necessary except for perpetual motion contraptions and flying machines. After the Wright brothers demonstrated flight, the agency dropped the model requirement for flying machines; the exhibition features a 1902 model for a "blade for propellers for airships." (Anyone submitting a perpetual motion patent application would still be required to provide a proof-of-concept model.)

Although some models were crudely built by their inventors, many were made in Washington by about a dozen model-making shops for whom patent work had become a cottage industry. Some models can be perceived as not only artifacts from the history of technology but also as finely wrought examples of folk art. Mr. Rothschild, who owns about 4,000 patent models and exhibits some of them in a small museum in his house, hopes to establish a permanent museum dedicated exclusively to patent models. He is by no means the first person to have this ambition, but the nation's patent models have not exactly lived a charmed life. "Many people have had dreams of doing something big with these, but none of these dreams has ever come true," said Robert C. Post, who is a former curator at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History and currently a senior fellow at the Dibner Institute, a science and technology historical research center in Cambridge, Mass.

In 1836 a fire destroyed the patent office and its records, including models. In 1877 a second fire destroyed 76,000 models there. By 1893 the agency was strapped for space, so it hauled about 150,000 models to an abandoned livery stable. Congress ordered them sold in 1925. Before that sale, though, curators from the Smithsonian were allowed to cull the models to take what they wanted. Some models were returned to the inventors' families, and many were destroyed. The remaining lot was sold to Sir Henry Wellcome, the founder of the Glaxo Wellcome pharmaceutical company (now called GlaxoSmithKline ( news/quote )), who intended to establish a patent model museum. But he abandoned those plans after the 1929 stock market crash. Over the next decades the models were acquired by a Broadway producer, then by a group of businessmen who went bust and finally by an auctioneer. In 1979, Cliff Petersen, an aerospace engineer, bought 800 crates of models ? about 35,000 models ? many of which were in their original government packing. Mr. Petersen donated 30,000 models and $1 million to the United States Patent Model Foundation, a nonprofit organization whose goal was to set up a museum. That effort, however, went sour, and later was the subject of an unfavorable report by the investigative TV program "20/20."

When Mr. Petersen died last year, Mr. Rothschild acquired several thousand patent models from Mr. Petersen's estate. The remaining models are scattered in public and private collections throughout the United States. The Henry Ford Museum and Greenfield Village in Michigan, the Hagley Museum and Library in Delaware and the Smithsonian all have significant collections. A number of individuals have also amassed collections. Diane Davie of Woodbridge, Va., is such a collector. She and her husband, Jim Davie, who is a patent examiner and recognized as the agency's unofficial historian, own about 200 models. Several patent models are sold every month on eBay ( news/quote ). This month a washing machine went for about $3,000. Mrs. Davie said that the best way to establish a model's provenance was to have its original patent office tag attached, often with a red ribbon, an arrangement that supposedly gave rise to the expression "government red tape." "Otherwise," Mrs. Davie said, "it's hard to know that it's not just a salesman sample." The largest share of patent models appears to be held by J. Morgan Greene, who was affiliated with the United States Patent Model Foundation. Mr. Greene could not be reached for comment, but several patent model aficionados attested that as recently as a year ago they saw the collection of about 20,000 models stored in a warehouse in Alexandria, Va.

Mr. Post applauded Mr. Rothschild's efforts, noting that historians could learn from such artifacts. But he said that because the models required considerable space and maintenance, a museum would need a fat endowment. "You would have to establish the right pitch about how these symbolize ingenuity and what we revere about our national character," Mr. Post said. "And then you would have to go to someone like Bill Gates and ask for $50 million." N the 1870's, the United States Patent and Trademark Office was a big tourist attraction in Washington. Its Parthenon-inspired facade, along with the United States Capitol, dominated the skyline. Inside, visitors roamed its grand galleries, peering into glass cases that stretched from the floor midway to the 20-foot vaulted ceilings.

The cases held patent models Lilliputian reproductions of inventions that ranged from Morse's telegraph to waltzing dolls and collapsible hoop skirts. Last week, after a strange and perilous odyssey that lasted nearly a century, some of those models went back on display ? at the patent office's museum in Crystal City, Va. Most of the 50 models in the new exhibition are on loan from Alan Rothschild, a former pharmacist who is now a health care executive in Syracuse. "Patent models represent a way we can visually turn back time 100- plus years," Mr. Rothschild said. The museum, which is tucked into a glass-and-steel office tower, lacks a 19th-century ambiance. But the patent models evoke their era: an "apparatus for breaking and subduing horses," a reed organ, an "earth scraper" (others might call it a plow), an "atmospheric and vacuum egg beater," a coffin with a window and so on.

The patent office required that inventors submit models with their applications until 1880, when it deemed that models were no longer necessary except for perpetual motion contraptions and flying machines. After the Wright brothers demonstrated flight, the agency dropped the model requirement for flying machines; the exhibition features a 1902 model for a "blade for propellers for airships." (Anyone submitting a perpetual motion patent application would still be required to provide a proof-of-concept model.) Although some models were crudely built by their inventors, many were made in Washington by about a dozen model-making shops for whom patent work had become a cottage industry. Some models can be perceived as not only artifacts from the history of technology but also as finely wrought examples of folk art. Mr. Rothschild, who owns about 4,000 patent models and exhibits some of them in a small museum in his house, hopes to establish a permanent museum dedicated exclusively to patent models. He is by no means the first person to have this ambition, but the nation's patent models have not exactly lived a charmed life. "Many people have had dreams of doing something big with these, but none of these dreams has ever come true," said Robert C. Post, who is a former curator at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History and currently a senior fellow at the Dibner Institute, a science and technology historical research center in Cambridge, Mass. In 1836 a fire destroyed the patent office and its records, including models. In 1877 a second fire destroyed 76,000 models there. By 1893 the agency was strapped for space, so it hauled about 150,000 models to an abandoned livery stable. Congress ordered them sold in 1925. Before that sale, though, curators from the Smithsonian were allowed to cull the models to take what they wanted. Some models were returned to the inventors' families, and many were destroyed. The remaining lot was sold to Sir Henry Wellcome, the founder of the Glaxo Wellcome pharmaceutical company (now called GlaxoSmithKline ( news/quote )), who intended to establish a patent model museum. But he abandoned those plans after the 1929 stock market crash. Over the next decades the models were acquired by a Broadway producer, then by a group of businessmen who went bust and finally by an auctioneer.

In 1979, Cliff Petersen, an aerospace engineer, bought 800 crates of models ? about 35,000 models many of which were in their original government packing. Mr. Petersen donated 30,000 models and $1 million to the United States Patent Model Foundation, a nonprofit organization whose goal was to set up a museum. That effort, however, went sour, and later was the subject of an unfavorable report by the investigative TV program "20/20." When Mr. Petersen died last year, Mr. Rothschild acquired several thousand patent models from Mr. Petersen's estate. The remaining models are scattered in public and private collections throughout the United States. The Henry Ford Museum and Greenfield Village in Michigan, the Hagley Museum and Library in Delaware and the Smithsonian all have significant collections. A number of individuals have also amassed collections. Diane Davie of Woodbridge, Va., is such a collector. She and her husband, Jim Davie, who is a patent examiner and recognized as the agency's unofficial historian, own about 200 models.

Several patent models are sold every month on eBay ( news/quote ). This month a washing machine went for about $3,000. Mrs. Davie said that the best way to establish a model's provenance was to have its original patent office tag attached, often with a red ribbon, an arrangement that supposedly gave rise to the expression "government red tape." "Otherwise," Mrs. Davie said, "it's hard to know that it's not just a salesman sample." The largest share of patent models appears to be held by J. Morgan Greene, who was affiliated with the United States Patent Model Foundation. Mr. Greene could not be reached for comment, but several patent model aficionados attested that as recently as a year ago they saw the collection of about 20,000 models stored in a warehouse in Alexandria, Va. Mr. Post applauded Mr. Rothschild's efforts, noting that historians could learn from such artifacts. But he said that because the models required considerable space and maintenance, a museum would need a fat endowment. "You would have to establish the right pitch about how these symbolize ingenuity and what we revere about our national character," Mr. Post said. "And then you would have to go to someone like Bill Gates and ask for $50 million."

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