Cycling art, energy, and locomotion

by Robert P. Scott

THE CYCLE INVENTOR.

Close upon the question of patents comes the idea of the cycle inventor. It is not my desire to in any way curtail the income of the respective governments of the world, or to embarrass the Patent Offices thereof, by causing a lack of new applications, but the cycle inventor, as well as inventors in other departments, might profit by a little advice from a personal stand-point. A glance at the numerous samples of patents illustrated in this book, and a thought of the total number issued, should be enough to convince any fair-minded reader that many useless fees are yearly dropped into the patent-slot at both the American and English offices. This fact, together with an extended experience in other departments of invention and a limited turn at the gridiron upon which the cycle inventor is grilled, has caused a few facts appertaining to inventors and patents to dawn upon me, which I now propose to inflict upon the reader. These things are not the discovery of a sore-head; they are related by one who has to thank the patent department of his country for all of his worldly financial success.

If you think of a good thing in cycles, don’t rush off to the Patent Office all at once; just stop a little, there is no hurry, and do this. Draw off a good sketch of the thing, put a date upon it at once, and explain it to one or two trustworthy friends and have them sign the sketch as witnesses. Get this done, and then breathe a little while. Next, write out this question in large bold letters,—Do I want to go into the cycle business? After cool deliberation, taking into account your capacity, your wealth, your family, present occupation, and prospects, if you can answer in the affirmative, then you may be bolder. If your answer is nay, then go very cautiously. In any case, be sure you do this next. Send the sketch and about ten dollars to a first-class patent-attorney, with instructions to make a five-dollar preliminary examination and to spend the other five dollars in copies of patents nearest allied to your invention, and insist that the attorney sends these copies to you. Either in the English or American office you should be able to get them at twenty-five cents each, and for less if you order a quantity. If you have any knowledge of the art, you ought to be as good a judge as the attorney whether these patents anticipate your own or not; but whatever you do, don’t take out a patent simply because one can be had. Study calmly and lucidly whether your thing is of any account or not, and practically try it, if possible. If you conclude to take out a patent, be sure and employ a good attorney, being particularly wary of the low-priced men. Not that I would say to always employ the old attorneys of great reputation, because a young practitioner, if unusually bright, will perhaps make up in extra time spent upon the case what he lacks in astuteness of snap judgment.

Beware of the “no patent, no pay” fellows. It costs just as much to find out that the office will not grant the patent as to find out that it will, unless a careful preliminary settles the case definitely. You can be assured that if the invention is promising it will ultimately, in all probability, have to stand the scrutiny of a court before it will be of any great value. If you do not intend to go into the manufacture of your invention, a good plan is to offer it to a reliable man already in the business before you go into any expense at all; of course, taking the precaution of having your sketch witnessed, as before advised. Very few manufacturers in the cycle or any other line are the notorious patent thieves they are commonly supposed to be; especially are they loath to take advantage of a confiding inventor who has no patent. Of course, if you have taken out a patent, and pretend by virtue thereof to assert that you are protected, you make yourself a legitimate prey if your patent happens to be invalid, which it often is even when the invention deserves the most rigid protection. There are, in all, over five thousand patents in the world in connection with the cycle art, many of which are sound. Think of this before you divert your mind from your legitimate business. It seems hard to the general would-be inventor to say it, but I believe that the proper persons to spend their time and talents in the invention of cycles are the persons employed by the manufacturers for that purpose. In trusting to the judgment of the manufacturer in regard to any idea you may have, if you keep your sketch and a copy of your correspondence, it will be powerful evidence against him if he plays false with you and goes into a fight for priority of invention. Almost any manufacturer will answer a letter about a new idea in his own line, and if he decides against you he will generally give his reasons, from which you can judge whether it will pay you to go ahead or not. This advice may seem to encourage a great risk to the inventor, but I give it from the experience on both sides of the fence. Inventors will say that they get no attention from manufacturers; this, when true, is almost invariably because the alleged invention is absolutely unworthy of any attention at all, though of course all inquiries should receive courteous answers.

The real inventor is a very nice fellow, but the chronic inventor is generally a bore. Take notice, my dear reader, of one fact, how few of the great inventions were the work of chronic inventors. I do not refer to men who have simply taken out a number of patents in their own particular line: one of the best cures for chronic inventorism is to resolve to confine yourself to one line; the next best cure being to firmly conclude never to take out a second patent until the first has paid you something, or has done you some good in some way. The great inventors are those who stick to one thing until success is attained or absolute failure fully demonstrated. Why, now, this anathema against the chronic inventor? It is this: the chronic inventor is lazy; you say he will stay up at night, work all day, and never sleep; well, let him, all except the work; this element is supposititious. It is not work, and here is just where the trouble comes in,—the chronic inventor stops just where the work begins. It is fun to invent, and it only takes a little practice to be able to accomplish it; it is as easy as “castle-building,” but when you come to build the real castle, out of good hard stone and grimy mortar,—“ay, there’s the rub!”

The men who have really done something to the benefit of the world, are those who have reduced their inventions (or those of some one else) to practice and brought them before the people. A great invention which has never gotten beyond the confines of the brain that evolved it might as well never have been evolved at all. Nor is it any better that a pasteboard model lies moulding in the garret; and, strange as it may appear, a record of the same in the Patent Office does not help matters much. See the number of patents, many of which are good, lying in the files at the Patent Office,—neglected and forgotten by everybody except the examiner, who persistently uses them as ammunition against the real benefactor of mankind who, though subsequent, would like to do something with them.

Before my early entrance into the arena of invention, I had a suspicion that some of the work of benefiting mankind, if so high a title be justifiable, consisted in getting an invention into practical and useful form for general use. I also had some premonition that it would require a portion of the ingenuity to get the pay for it at the hands of the populace. In this connection a diverting amusement was discovered in the way of apportioning the ingenuity to the different departments of the required work. My original scale was as follows: One-half of the ingenuity to inventing the thing, one-fourth to getting up the tools and making same, and one-fourth to placing upon the market and gathering in the returns.

After a little experience the schedule was remodelled, making one-third to each section. Later on, the entire schedule underwent a most decided and radical change. It stands now as follows:

Scale of proportional genius required for each department in benefiting mankind (and yourself) by means of invention: Two per cent., inventing; seven per cent., getting into shape; three per cent., getting American patent; one-hundredth of one per cent., getting English patent; ten per cent., getting patent through court; twenty-eight per cent., getting the money; forty-nine and ninety-nine-hundredths per cent., keeping it after you get it.

[8] Pickering, March 30, 1869, No. 88507.