 Thomas Midgley Jr. was born in 1889 in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania. His father was an inventor, and young Thomas had a great interest in gadgetry, science and invention, as well as music, history and poetry. Growing up in Columbus, Ohio, he was always fascinated with his father's inventions, which primarily revolved around automobile tires. Determined to follow in his father's footsteps as an inventor, Midgley graduated from Cornell University in 1911 with a degree in mechanical engineering. Following a brief year of working on the design of cash registers, he joined his father in developing car tires and auto parts. After a lack of financial success on his own, he joined Dayton Engineering Laboratory's company, which would later be acquired by General Motors. This was 1916. Midgley was 27. One problem at the time was that of engine knock. This was a loud noise made by the engine that indicated a loss of power from too rapid ignition of fuel. Midgley and colleagues were brainstorming and came up with the idea of dying the fuel red so that it would absorb more radiant heat. The only red dye they had on hand was iodine. To their surprise, the addition of only a small percentage iodine almost completely eliminated the knocking problem. This was serendipity because the iodine, not its color, was responsible for the change. The iodine was altering the octane level of the gasoline fuel, allowing for the more desirable high compression ratios to be used without the loss of power from knocking. Experimentation showed that the most effective fuel additive to increase octane rating was a formulation of organic lead called tetraethyl lead, or TEL. The lead, along with a pink-tended bromo and chloroethane mixture, were added to the fuel. This mixture, simply called ethyl, can still be found in high-octane aviation fuel and in a few countries around the world. However, from the very beginning, the toxicity of the lead was noticed. 17 workers at the plant that made the organic lead compound died from lead poisoning. But it wouldn't be until the early 1950s that the full impact of leaded gasoline would be felt. Claire Patterson, trying to solve the problem of the age of the earth, found that atmospheric lead isotopes in his ice core samples were incredibly high in the last few decades. He was able to very accurately date the increase to the adoption of ethyl and the EPA launched an investigation which ultimately led to the banning of leaded gasoline in virtually every country on earth, even China, which switched over in 2001. But Midgeley still had more to contribute. After ethyl had been successfully made and sold around the world, he turned his attention to the development of better refrigerant, one that would be safe, nonflammable, and free of toxicity. He quickly found one that fit the bill, dichloro-difluoromethane, the first commercial chlorofluorocarbon, freon. It was so wildly successful, so completely non-toxic, that it was used in hundreds of ways. Air conditioners, refrigerators, mosquito sprayers, aerosol cans, asthma inhalers, virtually anywhere you needed an inert gas. It was a fantastically successful product. In 1941, the American Chemical Society gave Midgeley its highest award, the Priestly Metal, and followed up with the Willard Gibbs Medal in 1942. He also held two honorary degrees and was elected to the National Academy of Sciences. In 1944, he was President and Chairman of the American Chemical Society. It wouldn't be until 1973, when chemists Frank Rowland and Mario Molina noticed the impact that all those inert CFC molecules were having on our protective ozone layer. A year later, those scientists were called to testify before Congress, and by 1982, CFCs were starting to be banned internationally, and the world reacted in horror to pictures from space showing gaping holes in our atmosphere's protective layer. Tom Midgeley wouldn't be around to see the results of his work. In 1940, at the age of 51, he contracted polio and was severely disabled. Being largely bedbound, he devised an ingenious system of pulleys and cables to assist his movement in and out of bed. Four years later, he was found dead, strangled to death by his own invention after he became accidentally entangled. We might see this as a fitting end for a man who made both great and terrible contributions to the field of engineering and innovation. His most ingenious innovations often had the most horrifying outcomes. To give an example, Midgeley had soft bits of metal sprayed into his eye by a blown-out spark plug during his work on airplane fuel additives. He ingeniously devised a solution. When his doctor was unable to remove the pieces, he soaked his eye frequently in pure mercury and floated out the metal pieces. Another example, in order to assuage rumors that his lead gas additive was dangerous, he performed a demonstration for the press. He poured ethyl over his hands and he held it under his nose for 60 seconds. He failed to report, however, that it took him almost a year to recover from the lead poisoning brought on by this demonstration. One might almost suspect that someone in charge of this universe didn't care much for Tom. We might all be a lot better off if he hadn't existed or if he had chosen to be a school teacher or janitor instead of a world-class innovator. There's a lesson to be learned from his life, though, and this is the reason I've spent some time telling a story. It has to do with not knowing the outcomes of our own actions. I'd like to leave it open for you to discuss in the comments section. Was it purely epic bad luck? Or was there something wrong with Midgeley's devotion to progress and innovation that we can learn from? Was it his fault that his contributions ended up being so harmful? I look forward to your responses, and thanks for watching.