Ah, Oliver Evans. Another one for the history books, I suppose. They do love their exhaustive chronicles of men who tinkered with gears and steam. He was, by all accounts, a rather… prolific sort. And, like most of them, rather convinced of his own brilliance, even when the world was too dense to notice. Let’s see what they’ve managed to cobble together about him.
Oliver Evans
Oliver Evans, who they rather dramatically dubbed the "Watt of America," was an inventor, an engineer, and a businessman. A man who apparently spent his days wrestling with steam and gears, all while navigating the murky waters of early American industry. Born in the sleepy environs of Newport, Delaware, on September 13, 1755, he eventually found his commercial footing in the bustling city of Philadelphia.
Evans was among the first Americans to seriously engage with the nascent technology of steam engines. Not content with the prevailing low-pressure models, he became a staunch advocate for high-pressure steam, a concept that, frankly, sounded like a recipe for disaster in its time. He was a pioneer, they say, in automation, materials handling, and the whole steam power shebang. A prolific and influential figure in the nascent United States, he left behind a legacy of accomplishments, chief among them the design and construction of the first fully automated industrial process. He also managed to build the first high-pressure steam engine in America, the first vapor compression refrigeration system, and, rather quaintly, the first (albeit rudimentary) amphibious vehicle and American automobile. Quite the resume for someone who apparently had a rather limited formal education.
Early Life, 1755–83
Oliver Evans emerged into the world on September 13, 1755, in Newport, Delaware. His parents, Charles and Ann Stalcop Evans, welcomed him as their fifth child among twelve. His father, a cordwainer by trade, had acquired a sizable farm north of Newport, near the Red Clay Creek, and the family relocated there when Oliver was but an infant. Details of his early years are frustratingly scarce, lost to the mists of time, but it's clear he possessed a sharp intellect and a voracious appetite for technical reading, despite his lack of formal schooling.
At seventeen, Evans was apprenticed to a wheelwright and wagon-maker in Newport. An anecdote from this period paints a picture of his resourcefulness: his master, a man evidently as stingy as he was illiterate, forbade the use of candles for evening study. Undeterred, young Evans ingeniously collected wood scraps and shavings from his day’s work to fuel small fires, providing just enough light to continue his reading. The Revolutionary War began when Evans was nineteen. He joined a Delaware militia company, though his military service appears to have been rather uneventful.
By the age of twenty-two, Evans had moved beyond wheel-making and specialized in producing the fine wire used for textile cards, essential tools for combing fibers in yarn production. It was this pursuit that sparked his inventive spirit. He conceived of a machine to automate the bending and cutting of wire teeth for these cards. George Latimer, a local justice of the peace, recognized the machine's potential and commissioned a blacksmith to build it, marking one of Evans's early successes in 1778. Evans’s ambition didn't stop there; he envisioned a machine to puncture the leather backing for these teeth, further accelerating card production. His invention could produce around 1,500 teeth per minute, a significant leap, but alas, he couldn't secure the financial backing to bring it to market. Nevertheless, the innovations inspired by Evans over the next two decades significantly contributed to the development of automated textile card production, a crucial element for the burgeoning Southern cotton industry. It’s widely believed that pioneers like Giles Richards and Amos Whittemore drew heavily from his original designs.
During this same period, Evans began to explore the potential of steam power. His early musings culminated in a patent application for a steam-powered wagon in Delaware in 1783, though it was denied due to the lack of a working model. That same year, at twenty-seven, he married Sarah Tomlinson, the daughter of a local farmer, at Old Swedes' Episcopal Church in Wilmington.
Developing the Automatic Flour Mill, 1783–90
The early 1780s saw Evans turn his formidable intellect towards flour milling, an industry experiencing a boom in the rapidly industrializing region of northern Delaware. The milling process of that era was a labor-intensive affair. While stages like grinding, cooling, and sifting were being somewhat mechanized, the movement of grain and flour between these stages relied heavily on gravity or sheer human muscle. Cooling, in particular, was a slow, bottleneck-prone process. Mills were becoming more common near waterways, but much of the milling was still done by hand. Furthermore, the quality of flour produced in colonial America was often coarse and brown, a result of insufficient grinding and sifting of hard wheat varieties. Contamination was another pervasive issue; the constant movement of people and materials through the mill introduced dirt and impurities, degrading the final product. Evans, with his characteristic clarity, recognized this inefficiency and the poor quality it produced.
In 1783, Evans’s brothers embarked on building a mill on their father’s farm estate in Newport, and Oliver was tasked with overseeing its construction on the Red Clay Creek. The mill, opened in 1785, was initially conventional. However, over the next five years, Evans began to weave his innovations into its operation. The most arduous task in traditional mills was hauling grain from the bottom to the top to begin the grinding process. Evans’s first breakthrough was the bucket elevator. While chains of buckets for lifting water were ancient Roman technology, Evans adapted this concept for grain. He envisioned a series of these elevators within the mill, capable of transporting grain and flour seamlessly from one stage to the next.
Another laborious task was spreading the warm, moist meal emerging from the grinders. Traditionally, this was done by hand-shoveling across large floors to facilitate cooling and drying. Evans’s solution was the "hopper boy," a mechanical device that collected meal from a bucket elevator and spread it evenly across the drying floor. A rotating rake, with a slight incline, would slowly move the flour towards central chutes for sifting. When used together, these innovations drastically reduced labor and minimized the risk of contamination.
While individually these devices might not have seemed revolutionary, their combined impact was profound. Evans wasn't just mechanizing individual steps; he was conceptualizing the entire manufacturing process as a continuous, integrated system. His mill designs aimed to create a true production line, where materials flowed from one stage to the next without human intervention. This was the birth of the fully automated industrial process, a concept that would prove indispensable to the Industrial Revolution and the future of mass production.
Bringing this vision to life was a complex undertaking. Evans struggled to finance the skilled carpenters needed for his intricate machinery. The established Quaker millers of Wilmington, who dominated the nearby Brandywine River milling industry, were largely dismissive of his radical ideas. James Latimer, a Newport flour merchant, famously quipped, "Ah! Oliver, you cannot make water run uphill, you cannot make wooden millers!" Fortunately, Latimer's son, George, saw the potential and helped Evans secure patent protection for his inventions in 1787 and 1788. By then, Evans had transformed his brothers' mill on the Red Clay Creek into a working prototype. He and his brothers launched a campaign, distributing handbills and diagrams, offering free licenses to the first miller in each county who would commission Evans to refit their mills. This ambitious outreach, however, met with disappointing commercial indifference.
Evans, it seems, possessed little patience, and his blunt manner often alienated potential supporters. His concepts were frequently ahead of their time, and the idea of a fully automated production line was difficult for his contemporaries to grasp. He recounted an instance where some Brandywine millers visited his automated mill. Left alone to observe its seamless operation, they were reportedly unimpressed, returning to Wilmington to dismiss it as "a set of rattletraps, unworthy of the notice of any man of sense." Even after convincing a Brandywine miller to adopt his system, widespread adoption was slow.
Persistence, however, eventually paid off. A significant breakthrough came in 1789 when the progressive Ellicott family in Baltimore invited Evans to refit their mills on the Patapsco River. These refits were successful, and Evans collaborated with Jonathan Ellicott to develop a modified Archimedean screw for horizontal material transport, complementing his vertical bucket elevators. With the addition of a rake-drill and conveyor belt, he now had a comprehensive suite of materials handling machines adaptable to various mill configurations. In 1790, Evans relocated his operations to Wilmington, constructing a working model of his system. The conversion of mills by prominent miller [Joseph Tatnall] proved a turning point. Tatnall estimated his mill's annual savings at a staggering $37,000. Other local millers soon followed suit, transforming Brandywine Village into a showcase for Evans's milling technology. After nearly a decade of effort, the Brandywine millers were finally on board, and automated mills began to proliferate along the eastern seaboard. In 1790, coinciding with the establishment of federal patent law, Evans secured the third US patent for his milling designs, personally approved by none other than Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson, Secretary of War Henry Knox, and Attorney-General Edmund Randolph.
Writer and Merchant, 1790–1801
With patent protection secured and his milling designs gaining traction, Evans looked beyond Delaware. His brother Joseph traveled extensively, promoting Evans's innovations. By 1792, it's estimated that over a hundred mills were operating with Evans's machinery. Even George Washington, during a visit to Joseph Tatnall in 1790, was so impressed by the efficiency of the Brandywine mills that he had his own gristmill at Mount Vernon converted to the Evans system in 1791, with Evans's brothers overseeing the work.
In 1793, Evans sold his share in the Red Clay Creek mill and moved his family to Philadelphia, establishing a store for milling supplies. However, his early years in Philadelphia were largely consumed by writing. Initially, he intended a pamphlet to aid millers in constructing machinery and promote his automated designs. This project soon evolved into a comprehensive treatise on milling technology, incorporating extensive chapters on the fundamental principles of physics, hydraulics, and mechanics. He became so engrossed that he sometimes neglected his family’s financial security to complete it.
The Young Mill-wright and Miller's Guide, published in 1795, was divided into five parts: 'Principles of Mechanics and Hydraulics', 'Of the different Kinds of Mills', 'Description of the Author's Improvements', 'On the Manufacturing of Grain into Flour', and 'Ellicott's Plans for Building Mills'. It also included a lengthy appendix detailing various other inventions, such as a hot-air system for central heating. Thomas Ellicott, whose family had been early adopters of Evans’s designs, contributed a section on mill construction. While much of the book's theoretical content drew upon existing scientific work, Evans insisted on aligning theory with practical observation. He famously revised established theories based on his own experiments and observations, particularly regarding waterwheels, arguing that if his "true theory" matched practice, its foundation mattered less than its empirical validity.
The subscriber list for the Guide was a testament to its significance, headed by none other than George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Edmund Randolph. The book proved immensely popular, becoming a standard manual for millers for over half a century, with fifteen editions printed between 1795 and 1860. Its detailed, practical explanations of mill design and construction ensured its dominance until after the Civil War.
Following the Guide's publication, Evans focused on his milling supply business and the lucrative licensing of his patented designs. As more millers adopted his machinery, his income from license fees accelerated, particularly after 1800. He expanded his Philadelphia store, acted as an agent for English imports, and employed blacksmiths for more complex metalwork. He continued to refine mill designs, patenting a new process for making millstones and developing a screw mill for grinding plaster of Paris, a material in high demand for stucco work in Philadelphia. Evans, along with his brother Evan and blacksmith Thomas Clark, also developed a device for packing flour barrels using a wooden disc operated by a compound lever and toggle joint.
Developing the High-Pressure Steam Engine, 1801–06
Steam engines began to appear in the United States in the late 18th century. Evans, situated in Delaware and Philadelphia, was exposed to these early applications. John Fitch had launched the first rudimentary steamboat on the Delaware River in the late 1780s. By 1802, the Philadelphia waterworks utilized two low-pressure steam engines to pump water from the Schuylkill River, though such installations were rare. Most advancements in steam power originated in Great Britain, with figures like Thomas Newcomen and James Watt leading the development and commercialization, resulting in hundreds of machines in operation across Europe by 1800.
Evans’s fascination with steam power for transportation dates back to his apprenticeship days in the 1780s, with rudimentary 'steam carriage' designs emerging in the 1790s. In 1801, he committed to realizing his long-held dream of a steam carriage, a pursuit that paralleled similar efforts by British engineers like Richard Trevithick. Early steam engineers such as [William Murdoch] had explored rotary steam engines, but it became evident that low-pressure rotary engines lacked the power to propel a heavy carriage.
Evans, therefore, focused on the reciprocating engine, not only for his carriage ambitions but also for industrial applications. Crucially, Evans, like Trevithick, championed 'strong steam,' or high-pressure engines. This concept was initially resisted by Watt and others due to the limitations of contemporary iron-making and metalworking technology in America. Evans understood that a high-pressure engine was essential for a viable steam carriage, offering superior power-to-weight ratios compared to low-pressure counterparts. While some experiments with high-pressure steam had occurred in Europe, notably Trevithick's "Puffing Devil" in 1801, the primary concern was the boiler's ability to safely contain the pressure. Watt himself had even advocated for Trevithick's imprisonment due to the perceived danger.
Evans, undeterred, developed distinct designs for high-pressure engines, notably omitting Watt's condenser. His designs incorporated a grasshopper beam, a double-acting cylinder, and four steam valves, operated by four cams, remarkably similar to Trevithick's approach. This resulted in a high-pressure steam engine with a superior power-to-weight ratio compared to Newcomen engines, positioning it among the leading engines of the era striving for practical locomotives and steamboats. These engines were also mechanically simpler, less expensive to build and maintain, and didn't require large volumes of condensing water, making them ideal for various industrial uses.
The construction of his designs proved challenging. With only six working steam engines in the United States at the time and limited workshops experienced in their fabrication, Evans expended a significant portion of his savings over two years to produce a working model by 1803. This initial engine featured a six-inch diameter double-acting cylinder with an eighteen-inch piston stroke length. Many components, such as the flywheel and crosshead, were made of wood to simplify construction. The boiler, a critical component for safety, was a copper shell reinforced with cast iron rings. The engine produced approximately five horsepower, a modest output compared to the twelve horsepower of the nearby waterworks engine, but its compact size was revolutionary – it was over twenty-five times smaller in volume. Evans unveiled his engine at his store, demonstrating its power by crushing plaster of Paris and, more sensationally, sawing slabs of marble. The public spectacle drew thousands, with the Philadelphia newspaper Aurora proclaiming "a new era in the history of the steam engine."
Evans received a patent for his steam engine in 1804 and began seeking commercial applications. His proposal to the [Lancaster Turnpike Company] to build a steam wagon capable of transporting 100 barrels of flour between Philadelphia and [Lancaster, Pennsylvania] in two days, promising greater profits than the five-horse wagons that took three, was rejected due to concerns about reliability and cost.
Despite this setback, within a year, Evans secured a client: the Philadelphia Board of Health. Concerned with dredging and cleaning the city's dockyards, they contracted Evans to develop a steam-powered dredge. The result was the Oruktor Amphibolos, or "Amphibious Digger." This vessel was essentially a flat-bottomed scow equipped with bucket chains for mud removal and hooks for clearing debris. Propulsion for both the dredging equipment and the craft itself was provided by a high-pressure Evans engine. The final product was a nearly thirty-foot-long, twelve-foot-wide craft weighing some seventeen tons. To transport this behemoth to the waterfront and demonstrate his theories on land-based steam transport, Evans mounted it on four wheels and drove it from his workshop through the streets of Philadelphia to the Schuylkill River on July 13, 1805. The Oruktor Amphibolos is widely considered the first automobile in the United States and the world's first motorized amphibious craft. However, few contemporary accounts survive, and Evans’s own often-embellished descriptions make verifying its performance difficult. While he claimed it navigated Philadelphia streets and launched successfully into the river, its sheer weight makes significant land travel with its limited engine capacity and improvised power train seem improbable. Its effectiveness as a steamboat is also uncertain, with Evans's own accounts varying. Ultimately, the invention proved ineffective as a dredger and was scrapped by the Board of Health in 1808. Nevertheless, Evans’s vision of steam carriages was not entirely misplaced. In 1812, he published a prescient description of a future connected by steam-powered transport, accurately foreseeing travel speeds of "fifteen or twenty miles in an hour."
The Italian automobile model company, Brumm, later produced a 1/43 scale model of this steam carriage in their 'Old Fire' series, a testament to its historical significance, though it is no longer in production.
Steam Engineer's Guide
Evans’s later years were marked by frequent disputes with fellow inventors and engineers over steam technology. This frustration led to the premature publication of The Abortion of the Young Steam Engineer's Guide. This work was considerably shorter and less structured than his earlier manual for millers. A significant portion was dedicated to an ongoing argument with John Stevens, another prominent steam engineer, which had previously appeared in The Medical Repository. Evans concluded the book by declaring his retirement from inventing, citing public ingratitude and lack of profitability, though this was not the first or last time he would express such sentiments. Despite its contentious nature, the Steam Engineer's Guide was a popular, albeit less so than his milling guide, work and the first in the United States to make steam engineering principles accessible.
The book commences with an exploration of steam engine principles and related physics, alongside designs for Evans's high-pressure steam engine, boilers, and screw-mills. Evans provided potential steam engineers with tools and tables similar to those he'd created for millers, including data on metal tolerances and schematics for components like valves and boilers. He also used the book to assert the safety of properly constructed high-pressure steam engines, despite having experienced several boiler explosions in his workshop. However, thermodynamics were poorly understood at the time, and many of Evans's theoretical claims, including his 'grand principle' for modeling pressure and fuel, were flawed. While he achieved considerable success with high-pressure steam engines, his theoretical grasp was limited, and he often struggled to accurately predict their performance. The guide also delved into a wider array of topics, including a compilation of inventions he deemed worthy of wider circulation, such as a straw-cutter and flour press by his brother Evan, and a horse-drawn scraper by Gershom Johnson. Evans also advocated for government funding of scientific research, arguing that dedicated experimental work by skilled individuals, with carefully recorded results, would greatly advance the arts and sciences. This stemmed from his observation that many inventors and engineers lacked the scientific expertise or resources to gather necessary experimental data. He even attempted to establish a private research consortium, 'The Experiment Company', to conduct reliable experiments, but the venture failed, possibly due to his simultaneous commitment to developing his own steam wagon. The principles behind this initiative would later be echoed in the founding of the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia.
Refrigeration
Despite his incomplete understanding of the underlying principles, Evans’s thinking regarding steam engines was, in some respects, remarkably ahead of its time. In the postscript of the Steam Engineer's Guide, he noted that reducing the pressure on water lowers its boiling point and cools it. He further observed that this effect would also apply to ether, and the resulting cooling could be sufficient to produce ice. He described a piston vacuum pump apparatus to achieve this, and also noted that the compression stroke should generate heat in a condenser. This marked the first detailed and theoretically coherent design for a vapor-compression refrigerator, identifying all the key components of a refrigeration cycle: expander, cooling coil, compressor, and condenser. Some have lauded him as the 'grandfather of refrigeration'. Although Evans never built a working model of his designs, he collaborated extensively with fellow inventor Jacob Perkins on steam engines and refrigeration. Perkins would later develop and patent a refrigeration device in 1834–1835, employing principles remarkably similar to those Evans had originally proposed.
Mars Works, 1806–12
Having, in his estimation, perfected his steam engine designs, Evans turned his attention to their commercial propagation. His earlier engines were built piecemeal, often with improvised tools and by workers lacking experience in the precise metalworking required. He recognized the need for a dedicated facility with specialized skills, precision tools, and a large foundry. Thus, he established the Mars Works, a substantial facility located a few blocks north of his Philadelphia store. The choice of name, invoking the Roman god of war, was likely aspirational, a challenge to Britain's renowned Soho Foundry. The Mars Works became one of the largest and best-equipped manufacturing outfits in the United States, featuring a foundry, moldmaker's shop, blacksmith shops, a millstone maker, and its own steam engine for grinding materials and working wrought iron. With over thirty-five employees, the Mars Works produced a diverse range of products, from steam engines to cast iron fittings, as well as machinery for his established agricultural clientele. The works also contributed to Philadelphia's emergence as a leading center for heavy machinery production in the 19th century, even undertaking military orders, such as casting naval cannons during the War of 1812. Evans was also innovative in designing steam power solutions for his clients, such as a network of pipes with radiators to heat wool processing factories using engine exhaust.
While records of the early Mars Works engines are scarce, Evans's most celebrated design, the Columbian Engine, emerged around 1812. Named as a patriotic gesture, it represented the pinnacle of Evans's high-pressure steam engine development. This horizontally oriented engine featured a compact design where the crankshaft and piston rod worked closely together, eliminating the need for a heavy working beam. A novel linkage, later known as the Evans straight-line linkage, ensured the piston rod maintained a straight path, though it was soon superseded by more precise straight line mechanisms. The Columbian also refined the grasshopper-style steam engine design, contributing to its wider adoption. In 1813, Evans incorporated a condenser into the Columbian design, significantly reducing running costs. At this point, his engines achieved the efficiency and power of low-pressure Watt-Boulton designs but were considerably cheaper to build and smaller. Within a year, twenty-seven Columbian engines were in operation or under construction for applications ranging from sawmilling and grain milling to paper, wire, and wool manufacturing.
Pittsburgh Steam Engine Company
As the reputation of the Mars Works grew, so did demand. Exporting engines inland became a necessity. Oliver Evans’s son, George, established the Pittsburgh Steam Flour Mill in 1809, generating significant interest in his father’s engines in the western regions. Recognizing the logistical challenges of exporting engines, Evans and George, along with engineer Luther Stephens, founded the [Pittsburgh Steam Engine Company] in 1811. This venture, similar to the Mars Works, produced engines, heavy machinery, and castings in [Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania]. The Pittsburgh works also expanded into [brasswork] and produced finer domestic items like hinges and fittings.
The location of the Pittsburgh factory along the Mississippi River watershed proved crucial for the development of high-pressure steam engines for steamboats. Evans had long been an advocate for steam-powered maritime transport, expressing in 1805 a fervent desire to see the navigation of the Mississippi by steam. He was acquainted with John Fitch, the pioneer of the American steamboat. While the Oruktor Amphibolos was Evans’s sole attempt at a steam-powered vessel, and its capabilities remain debated, the success of Robert Fulton’s North River Steamboat on the Hudson River in 1807 heralded the era of steamboats. Fulton had even contacted Evans in 1812 about his engines, though no collaboration materialized. The powerful currents of the Mississippi and its tributaries demanded more power than low-pressure engines could provide. The Enterprise, the first commercially viable steamboat on these rivers, utilized an adapted Evans engine. High-pressure engines became the standard on the Mississippi, though many were built by other shops that freely adapted Evans's designs, as his patent enforcement was not rigorous. Notable river steamboats built by the Pittsburgh and Mars Works include the Franklin, the Aetna, and the Pennsylvania. One vessel, the Oliver Evans (later renamed the Constitution), tragically sank when its boiler exploded near [Point Coupee, Louisiana], killing all eleven crew members. Evans was deeply distressed but maintained that such explosions were rare occurrences and defended the safety of high-pressure engines.
Patent Battles
Throughout his career, Evans engaged in numerous legal battles to protect his intellectual property, becoming particularly tenacious in his later years. His early patents for flour milling proved the most contentious and played a significant role in shaping early federal patent law. His original fourteen-year patent for the automated flour mill expired in January 1805. Believing the term too short, Evans petitioned Congress for an extension. In January 1808, President Jefferson signed "An Act for the Relief of Oliver Evans," reviving the expired patent for another fourteen years. While Evans was pleased, this move created significant complications for millers who had waited for the patent to expire before upgrading their facilities.
Evans and his agents aggressively pursued royalties, significantly increasing license fees and leading to numerous court cases. The 1808 act indemnified those who had adopted Evans's technologies between 1805 and 1808, but its interpretation regarding perpetual indemnity was fiercely debated. Evans’s abrasive personality and his relentless pursuit of patent rights had by this time alienated many in the milling community, stiffening resistance. Several legal challenges questioned the constitutionality of patent term extensions, but Evans ultimately prevailed.
His most acrimonious legal battle began in 1809 when he sued Samuel Robinson, a miller near Baltimore, for 1,000. Isaac McPherson, a prominent critic, submitted a memorial to Congress seeking to limit Evans's compensation or void his patent entirely. While a Senate bill to curtail some of Evans's patent rights was drafted, it failed to pass, and he continued his vigorous pursuit of fees. The issues surrounding originality and patent scope would be more fully addressed with the Patent Act of 1836.
Later Life and Death, 1812–19
Evans had long struggled with bouts of depression and a sense of unappreciated genius, sentiments that intensified in his later years. During one protracted legal dispute in 1809, disparaging remarks from a judge reportedly sent Evans into a rage, during which he incinerated numerous schematics and papers related to his inventions. He declared at the time that inventing had brought only heartache and disappointment, vowing to focus solely on business and material gain for his family. While the burned documents represented only a fraction of his surviving work, this period marked a shift towards bitterness and hostility.
Evans gradually withdrew from the daily operations of his workshops, with his son George managing the Pittsburgh operations and his sons-in-law overseeing the Philadelphia facilities. The Mars Works had become an established entity, undertaking prestigious commissions such as the engines for the Philadelphia Mint in 1816. By the time of his death, the Mars Works had produced over one hundred steam engines. In retirement, Evans became increasingly consumed with collecting patent dues, a pursuit that consumed his final years. In 1817, he stated his time was "wholly engrossed by law suits." He adopted a siege mentality, penning his final work, Oliver Evans to His Counsel, detailing his patent disputes. He traveled extensively, even visiting mills in [Vermont] and initiating legal action against twenty-two of them for alleged patent infringements.
He compiled a lost list of eighty inventions, including schemes for urban gas lighting, a marine salvage process, a machine gun, a self-oiling shaft bearing, various gearshift mechanisms for steam carriages, a dough-kneading machine, and a perpetual baking oven. In 1814, with the British Navy threatening Washington, D.C., he proposed building a steam-powered [frigate], though the project never materialized.
His wife Sarah died in 1816. Two years later, in April 1818, he remarried Hetty Ward, the much younger daughter of a New York innkeeper. They resided in New York in his final years. In early 1819, Evans developed a lung inflammation and passed away on April 15, 1819, after a month of illness. Tragically, just four days prior, he learned that the Mars Works in Philadelphia had burned down. His sons-in-law, however, were committed to rebuilding the business outside the city. Evans was initially buried at Zion Episcopal Church in Manhattan. After the church was sold, his remains were moved several times, finally resting in an unmarked common grave at Trinity Cemetery in New York City in 1890.
Legacy
Evans's contributions to milling were undeniably profound and rapidly adopted. During his lifetime, American milling underwent a revolution, with his designs enabling industrial-scale operations and vastly improved efficiency. The milling industry flourished, flour prices dropped, availability increased, and the automated processes enhanced quality. This, in turn, led to a significant shift in bread making, making store-bought bread more affordable and accessible. The impact extended to Europe, where the "American System" of milling spurred significant increases in food production during a period of near-constant conflict.
While Evans modified existing technologies like bucket elevators and Archimedean screws, his unique concept of integrating multiple machines into an automated, continuous production line was pivotal to the Industrial Revolution and the development of mass production. Historians now credit him as a precursor to figures like Henry Ford and the modern assembly line. His vision of industrial automation, though far ahead of its time, would eventually spread across various industries. Sigfried Giedion, an eminent industrial historian, would later declare that Evans "opens a new chapter in the history of mankind" for this achievement.
Restored Evans Mills can still be found, including at Colvin Run Mill in Virginia, Keefe-Mumbower Mill in Pennsylvania, Newlin Mill in Delaware County, Peirce Mill in Washington, D.C., Sugar Loaf Mill in Virginia, Washington's Gristmill in Virginia, and Yates Mill in North Carolina.
Evans's contributions to steam power, while less groundbreaking than his milling innovations, were crucial in popularizing the high-pressure steam engine in the United States. His engines, particularly the Columbian, significantly influenced early steamboat development and industrial applications. However, many of his advanced ideas would only come to fruition after his death, during the infancy of steam power in America. For instance, high-pressure engines didn't definitively supplant low-pressure designs until the 1830s, and widespread adoption of steam wagons, despite the Oruktor Amphibolos, came even later. Unlike his earlier work, Evans was one among many brilliant minds in steam technology, and it was [Richard Trevithick], working independently, who developed the high-pressure engine that made the dream of steam carriages truly viable.
Despite his impressive record and undeniable importance, Evans never achieved widespread public recognition. He was often his own worst enemy, deeply affected by a perceived lack of appreciation. His bouts of depression led him to abandon projects prematurely and vow to give up inventing multiple times. This bitterness evolved into a combative, bombastic demeanor, often leading him to exaggerate his accomplishments and fiercely denounce critics, as seen in the inflated claims about the Oruktor Amphibolos. His relentless pursuit of patent fees, while ensuring he received his due, damaged his reputation and created numerous adversaries. A Philadelphia merchant in 1802 summed up the prevailing sentiment: "few if any [millers] are inclined to give pompous blockhead, Oliver Evans, the credit of inventing any of the useful contrivances in milling for which he now enjoys patents."
Yet, despite his struggles and detractors, Evans remained steadfast in his pursuit of innovation, a quality he believed would ultimately lead to vindication. The French translator of the Young Steam Engineer's Guide concurred, predicting that "posterity will place his name among those who are most truly distinguished for their eminent services rendered to their country and to humanity."