Heroes or Just Good at PR? – Part 2: Thomas Edison

Thomas Edison is that guy schools love to teach us about. You know, the one who “invented” the light bulb. The grand genius who played music on a phonograph and turned on the lights of the world, one shiny patent at a time. He’s the electric superhero in textbooks, casting long shadows—but maybe that’s because he always kept the spotlight aimed firmly at himself.

But here’s a tiny truth Edison’s flashy bulbs never really lit up: did he actually invent all those cool things? Or was he just super good at scribbling his name faster than anyone else could shout, “Wait, that was my idea!”?

Let’s be honest. Edison wasn’t dumb. Far from it. But he wasn’t the lone genius locked away in some basement. He was clever in a businessman kind of way. Edison was like a boss running a huge kitchen, where a room full of brilliant chefs cooked up ideas. He just showed up to taste the cake and take credit for the recipe. He wasn’t a lone wolf hunting ideas—he was the smiling shepherd making sure all his sheep stayed inside his fence.

Then comes Nikola Tesla, the quiet Serbian-American genius nobody heard about in school. Tesla was the guy who whispered groundbreaking ideas instead of screaming them from rooftops. He dreamed of lighting the world without sending everyone a bill. Edison, on the other hand, saw every light bulb as a tiny cash register.

Tesla’s idea was alternating current—AC, electricity’s express train. Edison’s direct current—DC, was more like a tricycle struggling uphill. AC flew across cities; DC barely crossed the street. If electricity was online shopping, Tesla offered free delivery. Edison made you pay shipping, handling, and a headache surcharge.

When Edison saw he couldn’t win fairly, he went Hollywood-level dramatic. He started scaring people about AC, electrocuting animals publicly—dogs, horses, even a poor elephant—to make Tesla’s brilliant idea seem dangerous. Imagine trying to prove a point about safety by casually inventing public executions. Edison wasn’t just marketing fear; he was directing a horror movie, complete with popcorn-worthy electrocutions.

He even helped cook up the electric chair—powered by AC—not because he cared about crime, but to brand AC as deadly. Imagine losing an argument, then inventing torture furniture just to win back your pride. That’s not genius—that’s reality TV-level pettiness.

While Edison electrified animals to prove a twisted point, Tesla fed pigeons and struggled to pay rent. He died poor, forgotten, and alone. Yet his AC powers your life today—the lights, computers, everything. Edison’s DC? Well, it’s still hanging around like that annoying cousin who overstays their welcome at every family event.

And still, history gave Edison the gold medal and Tesla a pat on the back after he’d already left the building. One man was loudly selling snake oil to applause, and the other quietly delivered the real medicine without ever seeing his face on the bottle.

How did Edison become the poster boy of innovation? Simple. History isn’t a court judging truth; it’s a noisy auction, and Edison was shouting the loudest bids. He understood something Tesla didn’t—that people buy stories, not science. Edison had the printing press wrapped around his finger, and when you control the microphone, you control the memory.

So ask yourself—did Edison invent modern life, or did he just trademark it? Was Tesla too pure, too honest, too quiet for history books that prefer shiny covers over accurate pages?

The next time you flip a switch, remember—history isn’t written by winners. It’s written by people who could afford the ink.