The fuel of the future
I even tasted the water before the mysterious green pill was dropped into the tank
Henry Ford’s promise to “grow automobiles from the soil” never made it past the prototype stage. “Why use up the forests which were centuries in the making and the mines which required ages to lay down,” the automotive mogul asked, “if we can get the equivalent of forest and mineral products in the annual growth of the hemp fields?”
A prototype, affectionately nicknamed the “Soybean Car,” was built with a plastic body derived from wheat, flax, hemp and the soy. It made at least two public appearances, first at the Dearborn Days festival, followed by the nearby Michigan State Fair Grounds in Detroit.
Soon after, news reel footage emerged, promising the material could “withstand 10 times the impact without denting,” as Ford took a hammer to the snow-covered rear trunk of his own personal soybean model. America’s entrance into the Second World War (Ford’s allegiances were clear) abruptly ended any future research and development into the project.
The automaker’s plant-based ambitions extended beyond the car itself, however. “The fuel of the future is going to come from fruit like that sumac out by the road, or from apples, weeds, sawdust — almost anything,” he confidently declared, “There is fuel in every bit of vegetable matter that can be fermented. There’s enough alcohol in one year’s yield of an acre of potatoes to drive the machinery necessary to cultivate the fields for a hundred years.”
The previous decade, he had begun a correspondence with George Washington Carver, who had risen to fame on the strength of several scientific breakthroughs. The renowned agricultural scientist shared the automaker’s passion for the development of a gasoline alternative. “If you should ever come near enough to Tuskegee Institute,” Carver wrote in a letter to Ford, “I hope you will stop long enough to look through my laboratory and you will see some of the things you are predicting already materialized and others in a high state of perfection.”
Carver passed in 1943 without meeting his goal of perfecting crop-based biofuel. Ford died four years later, failing also to meet that lifelong ambition. In the 1880s, while serving as chief engineer for Detroit’s Edison Illuminating Co., he had powered his first vehicle – the Quadricycle -- with alcohol. Three decades later, he would cross paths with another inventor working toward the same end.
Louis Enricht’s claims were far bolder than what Carver could offer Ford. His origin was hardly as humble (Carver was born into slavery), seemingly arriving out of nowhere. Enricht, a 70-year-old with a large gray mustache, held a well-attended press conference in the near his home in Farmingdale, New York. The timing couldn’t have been more opportune, with the United States on the brink of entering the First World War. He addressed the crowd with a small vial full of green liquid and a boatload of confidence.
The fluid – his “automobile dope” – had the power to revolutionize transit. "Gentlemen,” he announced, “I have just invented a substitute for gasoline that can be manufactured for a penny a gallon." Like a magician entrancing an audience, he stood in front of his car, telling the reporters to look for a non-existent backup tank. At his request, one grabbed a bucket of water, which he asked them to taste, for the full effect. Enricht poured the solution into bucket, which he then emptied into the car. The auto started, releasing a strong sent of almonds into the air.
“I examined the entire engine and tank,” the Chicago Herald excitedly reported. “I even tasted the water before the mysterious green pill was dropped into the tank. Then I opened the petcock and examined the liquid which now tasted like bitter almonds. I also tasted the liquid at the carburetor which was the same. I was amazed when the auto started. We drove it around the city without any trouble.”
Plenty of questions followed, but Enricht promised to keep the formula secret until an interested party tendered the right offer. “The secret is mine, and until somebody gives me a fair reward and promises to make the substance a public benefit, I’ll guard my rights to it even if I have to use this,” Enricht told reporters, gesturing to the large pistol in his hip pocket. He later related stories about having to send others out in secret to secure the necessary ingredients, so as to avoid spies.
Not everyone was entranced by the demonstrations, however. “This proposition is absolutely impossible,” a ‘chemist of international reputation’ fired back. “There is no chemical substance known that could produce any such effect. It’s trying to get something out of nothing.”
Hiram Maxim was a believer. The inventor of the first automatic machine gun paid Enricht $100,000 up front and promised a full million when the formula was revealed. Days after the initial press conference, Ford visited Enricht in Long Island. The two spent an hour talking before Ford adjourned to the golf course. The carmaker said he didn’t have time for a demo.
“He thought it was worth following up,” Ford’s secretary, Theodore Delavigne, said of the meeting, “that is about all that can be said. Mr. Ford is careful in his moves, going forward a step at a time.”
Maxim eventually rescinded the offer, as significant doubt mounted. Benjamin Franklin Yoakum, a banker and head of the National Motor Power Company, stepped in with his own offer. When the formula failed to materialize, the company was granted access to the safety deposit box where Enricth was believed to have kept a company. Again they came up empty handed. The inventor explained that he kept the recipe “in his head.”
Soon legal entanglements ensued and interest waned. Four years after the original announcement, however, Enricht returned with a new breakthrough: a method for distilling gasoline from peat. A new round of offers came in, but this time the Nassau County DA stepped in. Enricht soon found himself in court, where he was instructed to demonstrate the new process. Enricht spent three hours assembling the hardware. He inserted handfuls of peat into the machine, poured in some water and blasted it with a blowtorch. He eventually blamed the gasoline’s failure to materialize on leaks in the compressor.
The 76-year-old inventor was sentenced to seven years.
Sources:
Ford Sees Enright About Motor Fuel https://timesmachine.nytimes.com/timesmachine/1916/04/22/100204231.pdf
Gas From Water; Man Seeks More Secret Chemicals https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84022472/1916-04-21/ed-1/seq-3/
Fails to Produce Naptha from Peat https://timesmachine.nytimes.com/timesmachine/1921/12/10/98770812.pdf