Nikola Tesla

This must happen to other people. Someone, something that I've never heard of pierces my consciousness and before you know it, I hear of them or it again. Quickly. At this point, I've travelled over 60 years in earth's time zone, never heard of someone, and before the day is over, I've heard of them twice. Gotten to know them, so to speak.

On my way to work each day I pass the back of the Serbian Orthodox Cathedral on 26th Street, between Broadway and 6th Avenue. The church runs through the block. It's of Gothic design, but to me, not particularly attractive. Maybe it's the mid-block setting, the cleaned, but still muddy looking stone, or the fact that for many months now the place is ringed by large half-dead potted palms. No landscaping is better than that.

On Wednesday I had an errand to do after work and passed in front of the church. Not much better; still more nearly dead palms. But to the left of the entrance was a modest bust of Nikola Tesla on a polished black marble pedestal. I don't know who everyone is, and I don't know who Nikola was. I'll assume Serbian. A legendary pastor?

Going home, reading the Wall Street Journal's column by "The Numbers Guy" the story goes on about lucky, unlucky numbers, their origin and how different cultures react to them. There are "missing" floors in some places. I work on the 13th floor in a building that I was surprised kept a 13th floor in its numbering scheme.

Anyway, the column, by Carl Bialik, gets to describing people who are just a tad compulsive about these numbers, and other numbers and their combinations. "Electricity pioneer Nikola Tesla demanded 18 clean towels a day and showed an intense preference for multiples of three."

This is incredible. A bust of a Serbian in front of a church has made the pages of today's newspaper.

It turns out Nikola Tesla was no scientific slouch. He worked with Thomas Edison, went out on his own, is credited with improving the efficiency of electric motors and is considered to be the inventor of the radio. The guy was on the cover of Time magazine. He lived from 1856-1943, and was of course born in Serbia-Croatia.

"Obsessive about threes" is mild. He lived the remaining years of his life in New York, in the Hotel New Yorker, insisting on being on the 33rd floor, in room 27: 3327. No doubt the hotel was chosen as much for its height as it was for its ability to supply towels.

The Sebian Orthodox Cathedral of St. Sava New York was originally the "uptown Trinity" church, meant to serve the Episcopalians in New York who lived just a little further north of Trinity Place and Broadway. The building is a NYC landmark and is on the Register of National Historic places.

It became a Serbian church in 1943, the year of Tesla's death. So, can Nikola be happy where he is? He's no longer at 3327, and 26th Street, is not evenly divisible by three.

Well, the front of the church is on 25th Street, and 2+5+2+6 = 15. Last I looked, evenly divisible by three.

Nikola, rest in peace.

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