skimmed the article rapidly。 He knew most of the information from a
Newsweek story on Derwent the year before。 Born poor in St。 Paul； never finished
high school； joined the Navy instead。 Rose rapidly； then left in a bitter
wrangle over the patent on a new type of propeller that he had designed。 In the
tug of war between the Navy and an unknown young man named Horace Derwent； Uncle
Sam came off the predictable winner。 But Uncle Sam had never gotten another
patent； and there had been a lot of them。
In the late twenties and early thirties； Derwent turned to aviation。 He bought
out a bankrupt cropdusting pany； turned it into an airmail service； and
prospered。 More patents followed： a new monoplane wing design； a bomb carriage
used on the Flying Fortresses that had rained fire on Hamburg and Dresden and
Berlin； a machine gun that was cooled by alcohol； a prototype of the ejection
seat later used in United States jets。
And along the line； the accountant who lived in the same skin as the inventor
kept piling up the investments。 A piddling string of munition factories in New
York and New Jersey。 Five textile mills in New England。 Chemical factories in
the bankrupt and groaning South。 At the end of the Depression his wealth had
been nothing but a handful of controlling interests； bought at abysmally low
prices； salable only at lower prices still。 At one point Derwent boasted that he
could liquidate pletely and realize the price of a three…year…old Chevrolet。
There had been rumors； Jack recalled； that some of the means employed by
Derwent to keep his head above water were less than savory。 Involvement with
bootlegging。 Prostitu