de bene esse: literally, of well-being, morally acceptable but subject to future validation or exception
Summer
does not officially begin until June 21st, but the temperature reached
ninety degrees in New York City last week. There, the heat possesses
a special, withering oppressiveness: from the sidewalks below, the
concrete canyons of the city come to resemble the contours of a giant
tandoor oven. As Arthur Miller wrote in the magazine, in a piece about
the summer heat,
“The city in summer floated in a daze that moved otherwise sensible
people to repeat endlessly the brainless greeting ‘Hot enough for ya?
Ha-ha!’ It was like the final joke before the meltdown of the world in a
pool of sweat.”
New York City has a randomly outsized role in
what is perhaps the twentieth century’s most taken-for-granted
innovation. In 1889, Alfred R. Wolff designed a ventilation system for
Carnegie Hall, which employed blocks of ice and steam-powered blowers
to cool its patrons. Essentially, the air from the blowers flowed over
the ice, cooling the space. Ten years later, he designed a system for
the dissecting room of Cornell Medical College that more directly prefigures
the invention that would come to be known as the beginning of modern
air conditioning; a refrigeration unit circulated a brine solution
through pipes, over which air was blown to cool the fifth-floor lab.
(Though meant to keep cadavers from rotting, inevitably it was used by
students to escape the heat.)
Willis Carrier is widely credited as the inventor of modern air conditioning for engineering his “apparatus for treating air,”
in 1902. Crudely speaking, it worked by blowing air over a set of coils
filled with a coolant. The intent wasn’t to chill the suffocating
summer air into a pleasant breeze for sweltering humans. Rather, the
device was built to precisely control the humidity of the air inside a
Brooklyn printing plant owned by the Sackett-Wilhelms Lithographing and
Publishing Company; the vacillating humidity levels caused paper to
shrink and swell, complicating the printing process. (The building still
stands, in the neighborhood of Bushwick.)
Humidity, not temperature, was front of mind for most of the first
engineers of what came to be called air conditioning, according to Gail
Cooper, a professor of history at Lehigh University. In her study, “Air-Conditioning America,”
she writes, “Once engineers found the means to regulate humidity, they
claimed that alongside the other technical marvels of the modern era,
they had finally achieved mastery over the weather as well.”
The first space that was cooled with modern air conditioning
specifically for the comfort of sweaty people was the trading floor of
the new building for the New York Stock Exchange, which opened in 1903.
Designed by Wolff, it relied on three ammonia-absorption machines, each
with a cooling capability equivalent to a hundred and fifty tons of ice.
Like all early air-conditioning systems, it was meant for industrial
use and deeply integrated into the architecture of the building. Cooper
notes that Wolff, who became the leading air-conditioning engineer in
New York City, installed just three residential systems in total—for the
Vanderbilt, Carnegie, and Astor residences.
The first true home air conditioner was not developed until 1929.
The system required both a four-hundred-pound sulfur-dioxide-condensing
unit and a two-hundred-pound cabinet to function, and it cost thousands
of dollars to install. Air conditioning for the masses was not possible
until Henry Galson invented the far more compact and inexpensive self-contained unit, in the early nineteen-thirties, decades after the first systems by Carrier and Wolff. The thrill has not faded from this description of the machine, published in a 1935 issue of Popular Mechanics:
“Compact and so low in height that it fits below the window sill of the
average home or office, a self-contained air-conditioning unit is ready
for the market.”
Within five years of the release of Galson’s portable air
conditioner, Philco-York started marketing what became the “first
successful model of a window air conditioner,” writes Vaclav Smil in
“Creating the Twentieth Century.” Its Cool-Wave line of air conditioners
included models that cost as little as a hundred and fifty dollars—“the
mere price of a good radio!” enthuses one 1939 ad—and
could be plugged into a standard power outlet. They were also
relatively portable: while a window-mounted unit produced in 1937 by
Pacific weighed three hundred and fifteen pounds, a 1939 ad for a C.W.-40 lists a shipping weight of a hundred and ninety-five pounds.
Air-conditioning adoption boomed after the Second World War as prices
fell precipitously. By 1962, Donald Malcolm lamented, in a June Talk of the Town piece,
the “countless thousands of these machines pumping heat into the
streets” and believed that “their use in summer ought to be strictly
forbidden.”
The windows of apartment buildings still sprout air-conditioning
units like a citywide fungal infection every summer, since centralized
air conditioning in private homes remains a relative luxury in New York
City. Con Edison estimated, in 2012,
that there were over six million window units in use in its service
area, which includes virtually all of New York City and most of
Westchester County. It expects peak demand for electricity this summer
to reach thirteen thousand and two hundred megawatts; the current record
is thirteen thousand one hundred and eighty-nine megawatts, set on July
22, 2011. With the National Weather Service’s Climate Prediction Center
forecasting temperatures to be slightly above average this summer, it’s clear that things are just warming up.
Photograph: Carrier Corporation/AP
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