Gunfire in the Laboratory -
T. Henry Moray and the Free Energy Machine
by Jeane Manning
Doctors of science... are just as involved in
industrial espionage as are their business counterparts. And so
T. Henry Moray's Radiant Energy Device was... suppressed by
readiness, suspicion and desire for power. . .
The Sea of Energy in Which the Earth Floats
Professional skeptics were stumped, a generation or
two ago, by an invention in Utah. Incredulously, people witnessed a
working "free energy" device. Men of science mailed impressive
credentials ahead to open the inventor's workshop door, then strode
in to examine his table top apparatus from all angles, poking it and
interrogating him in their search for evidence of fraud. Scientists
were allowed to dismantle everything except a delicate two-ounce
component, the Radiant Energy detector.
When the unit was put back together, they ended up
witnessing—but not all believing their eyes—as the self-contained
unit converted some unknown energy into usable power, and ran
continually for days at a time. Without any moving parts, the device
produced a strange cold form of electricity which lit incandescent
bulbs, heated a flat iron and ran a motor.
The inventor—T. Henry Moray, D.Sc. of Salt Lake City, Utah—in
the late 1920s was a confident thirty-three-year-old engineer with a
young family and a gift to give humanity. The gift was his Radiant
Energy invention, which as he saw it converted power from the cosmos
from rays which, on their eternally-launched flights through space,
constantly pierce the earth from all directions.
Despite his self-confidence, there were hints that he might be
stopped from mass producing his device. His family was harassed by
mysterious threats. "Your husband's life is not worth a plugged
nickel unless he cooperates on Radiant Energy," an anonymous caller
told Ella Moray over the telephone. Their home was repeatedly broken
into when the family was away, as if in warnings of worse to come.
But the young man believed in his dream, and expected that the world
would accept his discovery and would eventually have abundant clean
energy for homes, vehicles and industry. Many people did arrive at
the Moray house in apparent sincerity, and he tuned up the Radiant
Energy device for them.
An example of Henry's work in 1926 is described in the book by
Henry and John Moray,
The Sea of Energy In Which the Earth Floats,
in a letter from E. G. Jensen to an associate. One October morning
in that year, Jensen, another businessman, an attorney, and Henry
Moray packed his electrical equipment and a lunch into an automobile
and drove into the Utah mountains. Henry kept an eye on the cloudy
sky through the car window; he did not like to work in a storm. His
spirits rose when the sky lightened occasionally and cheered him
with shafts of sunlight.
He sat back and let the other men pick the location; the more they
had a hand in the work, the more likely that they would believe it.
They chose to drive 26 miles from the nearest power line, to a spot
on a little stream which undulated down a grassy flat to Strawberry
Lake. After they unloaded the car, the businessmen pounded the
six-foot long lower section of his ground pipe into the creek bed,
then screwed a four-foot section of the half-inch water pipe onto
it. Also without help from Henry, the wit-nesses to the test put up
two antenna poles about 90 feet apart.
Other than the antenna and ground wires, Moray's only equipment was
a brown container about the size of a butter box, another slightly
smaller box, a fiberboard box about 6 x 4 x 4 inches containing
mysterious "tubes" and one other piece—a metal baseboard with what
seemed to be a magnet at one end, a switch and a receptacle for an
electric light globe as well as posts for connecting wires.
He set these parts on the car's running board and stood on a rubber
mat on top of two dry boards to protect against electric shock.
Wrong plan; it turned out that the running board was not wide enough
to be a workbench. Unruffled by the change of plans, he gently moved
his equipment onto the planks on the ground. Snowflakes drifted
lightly in the air, so the three spectators hung a tarpaulin over
open car doors to protect the electrical equipment.
Before Henry primed and tuned his apparatus, he put a key into the
post and showed the men that there was no power flowing. Then he
tuned the device by stroking the end of a magnet across two pieces
of metal sticking out from what seemed to be another magnet. After
tuning for about ten minutes, Moray put the key into the post, and
the 100-watt light bulb brought along by one of the men burned
brightly for fifteen minutes.
Jensen wrote that the light was even, without
While the light was burning, Mr. Moray
disconnected the antenna leadin wire from the apparatus and the
light went out. He connected it again and the light appeared. He
also disconnected the ground wire and the light went out.
Mr. Moray . . . said he could do the same thing in the middle of
the Sahara Desert or in the deepest mine. When the demonstration
was over we congratulated Mr. Moray and I felt confident that he
had a real invention and that no hoax was being perpetrated.
Where, then, was the dazzling light—the strange
electricity which seemed to ignite the entire contents of a light
bulb—coming from? Moray's device had no batteries. Was this Utah
scientist gifted with advanced intuitive understanding about a
previously-unknown source of energy?
The answer may be found in Henry's words:
"Energy can be obtained by oscillatory means in
harmony with the vibrations of the universe ... the Moray
Radiant Energy Device is a high-speed electron oscillating
He also said that those vibrations continually surged
onto the earth like waves onto a seashore.
"The power—the surges—would come in so strongly
during the day that it would burn out his detector," Henry and
Ella Moray's oldest son, John Moray, told the author. "So he
mainly worked at night."
Since the device seemed to go against current "laws"
of physics, professional doubters went to ludicrous lengths in
attempts to dismiss it as a hoax. Moray's sons remember the family
laughing about a visitor who saw the device working in Moray's
He insisted that,
"Mrs. Moray was secretly powering it; she must
have been pacing back and forth on a carpet upstairs and
generating static electricity!"
Would-be debunkers, sabotage, and lack of funding
were only some of the obstacles in the way of further developing the
invention. Because of betrayals, Henry Moray himself eventually
distrusted people outside his family and he guarded his technical
secrets closely—even to the point of losing a potential business
HERITAGE OF WARINESS
Causes for Henry's untrusting nature are outlined by John Moray, in
the second edition of The Sea of Energy. To begin with, a heritage
of wariness was passed on from previous generations. Henry's mother,
Swedish immigrant Petronella Larson, had a rather difficult
life before she married an American, James Cain Moray. James had
been born in Ireland to a family which had to hide from being killed
by political enemies. After Henry's father died (in Salt Lake City)
of natural causes, certain individuals—people whom the Morays
trusted—swindled his mother out of the family fortune.
She turned to her only son, hoping that Henry would specialize in
money matters, and she insisted that he attend a Latter Day Saints
(Mormon church) college because it had a good business course.
However, from the age of nine Henry had had a driving interest of
his own—radio and electrical science. In his spare time as a boy he
searched the garbage dump for scraps of wire and other materials for
basement tinkering. By age fifteen, he had a job wiring houses,
which taught him more about electricity. Meanwhile, the beginnings
of the Radiant Energy concepts were pounding through his mind. In
the summer of 1909 he started experimenting with taking electricity
from the ground, and by autumn of the next year he had enough power
to run a miniature arc light. Thinking about Benjamin Franklin's
kite experiment, Henry at first figured he was dealing with static
electricity. He later changed his view.
He firmly believed in his energy idea, despite the reigning
scientific ideas which would label it as impossible. Even when his
experiments only converted enough energy to make a slight click in a
telephone receiver, he was sure that he was on the right track.
During Christmas holidays of 1911, he became more certain that the
mysterious energy was not static, but was oscillating (swinging back
and forth) like pendulum upon pendulum across the universe. And he
realized that the energy was not coming out of the earth, but
instead it was coming to the earth from some outside source. The
electrical oscillations pound the earth day and night, "always
coming, in vibrations from the reservoir of colossal energy out
there in space."
After a correspondence course in electrical engineering, the next
step in his education was an extended stay in Sweden; he went on a
mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. The
young mission-ary managed to study science at the University of
Upsalla and complete a doctoral thesis. Naturally, the thesis
related to his idea that there is energy throughout space.
While he was a homesick student/missionary in Scandinavia in the
summer of 1913, Henry picked up a soft, white stone-like material
out of a railroad car at Abisco, Sweden. He also took some of the
material from the side of a hill, tested it and decided the stone
might be good to use in a valve-like detector of energy. This led
Henry to his research in semi-conductive materials; from this stone
he developed the "Moray valve" that was used in his early Radiant
After he returned to the United States in 1917 he married Ella
Ryser and they later had five children. On his career ladder,
Moray worked his way up through various jobs to electrical
engineering and positions such as design engineer for the largest
oil-cooled electrical switch yard in the world.
An industrial accident at a power substation in late 1920 burned the
retina of his eyes and propelled him into legal battles for
In a way, losing much of his eyesight for years turned out to be a
blessing. Although it meant an empty bank account at the time
because he was unable to work at his usual profession, being forced
away from the drawing table led him back into Radiant Energy
SENATOR PROTECTED UTILITIES
Far from being the stereotype of a reclusive basement inventor,
Moray was known in his community and was listed in a 1925 Who's Who
in Engineering. On July 24 of that year, Senator Reed Smoot invited
the young inventor to meet with him in the senator's office in the
Hotel Utah. Henry Moray made an offer which, if accepted, could
perhaps have dramatically changed events in this century. Oil wars,
nuclear plant accidents, acid rain were yet to come.
Henry offered his Radiant Energy discovery to the United States
government. Free of cost. According to The Sea of Energy, the
senator thanked Moray but replied that the government would decline
such an offer.
"On the grounds that the government was not
competing with public utilities."
Undeterred, Henry spent countless hours in his
basement working on solid state physics with what he called the
Moray Valve as a detector for radio frequencies. According to his
records, early in the 1930s he made a radio which was no bigger than
Part of Henry's invention was his pioneering use of semi-conductors.
Moray's first germanium solid-state device (a transistor) was sent
to the U.S. Patent Office in 1927, and was rejected on the basis
that it would not work without a heated cathode. Heated cathodes
were commonly used in vacuum tubes of that time.
This means that Henry Moray was so far ahead of his
time in semi-conductor technology that the patent office had not
heard of it, and so the bureaucrats decreed that what he had was
impossible. Of course society later learned that cold cathodes are
most definitely possible. But when the transistor was officially
invented twenty years later, no credit was given to Henry Moray.
The second generation of Moray's radio valve not only picked up
radio waves, it also detected a small amount of power. Launched by
these experiments with semi-conductors, he followed a trail of
discovery which led to his powerful energy converter. By 1939, a
unit weighing less than 55 pounds, including its wooden case,
converted 50,000 watts of power— enough to run a small factory. He
tested it 90 miles from the nearest radio station, at a desolate
area now known as the U.S. Army Dugway proving ground, and the
device still worked.
Witnesses to his experiments included engineers and
curiosity-seekers from other countries as well as local visitors
from Utah Power and Light, the Secretary of State's office in Utah
and other officials. As far as this author can discover, no one
refuted Henry Moray's claim that his Radiant Energy device did run
motors, light bulbs and a radio.
The invention had unusual characteristics. Photographers exclaimed
over the intensity of the light from the bulbs—remarkably brighter
than 100-or 150-watt bulbs normally shone.
While the invention converted energy from the cosmos into light and
attracted well-known officials, some people entered Moray's life
without leaving a calling card. For example, in 1939 he refused an
offer to take his work to Russia. Soon the anonymous threatening
phone calls began, telling Henry there was a contract out on his
Despite death threats, Henry Moray repeatedly worked on his strange
electric generator in front of creditable witnesses. The only threat
which stopped him from demonstrations came in the form of advice
from his patent attorneys in Washington, D.C.—under patent laws he
could have lost his rights to a patent if he showed his invention to
The U.S. Patent Office itself was not much help either. That agency
rejected seven patent applications for his Radiant Energy Device
because the device did not fit the physics known at the time.
"Where is the source of energy?" the examiners
One rejection notice from the patent office wrongly
assumed that the energy was originally electromagnetic.
Moray, however, only said it is electrical after it
hit his semi-conductors.
BULLETS PIERCE WINDSHIELDS
Henry carried on multiple battles at the same time. Instead of being
helped to research the Radiant Energy device, he was hindered. In
time-wasting letters he fought the patent office, treachery from
business partners, and scientists who witnessed Radiant Energy and
later denied it when their employers changed. And he had to be
strong to keep his family's morale up in the face of unknown
John Moray remembers an incident in Salt Lake City when he and the
other children were in the family car, with his mother driving.
Sitting in the back seat, the boy felt his heart lurch with shock as
a bullet crashed through the car and lodged in the windshield in
front of his mother. "A classic black sedan with all the shades down
almost forced her off the street, then sped away up 21st South."
Within a few weeks, an unknown assailant had also fired shots at
Henry's friend S. E. Bringhurst, the first president of his research
Bringhurst did not have bullet-proof glass in his car, and the
bullet zipped past his head and out the rear of the car.
Henry bought a 32.20 revolver and a Colt .32 handgun to protect his
family, in addition to the bullet-proof glass installed in the
windows of his automobiles. The whole Moray family suffered as a
result of the mysterious opposition to Henry's work. Mrs. Ella Moray
lived in fear that some-thing would happen to one of the children,
and the children paid the price of losing a normal childhood. They
were forbidden to go anywhere by themselves.
Even when the boys were almost teenagers, they could
not go out without an escort because of the threat of a kidnapping.
R.E.A. MAN SABOTAGES DEVICE
Violence in Henry's laboratory also shocked the family. A man named
Felix Frazer who had been sent by the Rural Electrical
Administration to work in Moray's lab went crazy with a sledge
hammer (or as some reports say, an axe) one day, and destroyed the
Radiant Energy machine. He had not broken into the lab; he had been
hired to work there!
What type of person would hammer an important invention into useless
pieces—destroy a device which took years to perfect and which
contained expensive and almost irreplaceable parts? John Moray
describes the saboteur as,
"a double agent trying to force Dr. Moray to
co-operate with the U.S. Department of Agriculture's Rural
Electrical Administration and a communist government."
John was 12 years old at the time, and as a grown man
he chronicled a related episode in the book Sea of Energy:
As a result of the constant threat to his life,
my father carried a gun with him at all times. He carried a .32
in his pocket, and whenever he walked from the house to the
laboratory at night he would wear a 32.20 revolver. He was an
excellent shot in the old Western sense . . .
On three different occasions, he was attacked at
his laboratory and shot his way out of the situation.
The incident of March 2, 1940, particularly stands out. . . Late
that afternoon a friend of mine and I were playing on the front
lawn of our home. My cousin was just starting up his car, which
was parked beside my father's car in the garage—the two cars
side by side, from the street one could not tell which car was
being cranked or who was driving.
Suddenly several men in a sedan turned into the driveway and
pulled guns as if they intended to fire on the car that was
starting up in the driveway. When my cousin backed out, the men
could see that it was not my father, and they quickly drove
I told my father about the incident and he laughed, trying to
minimize it to prevent my worrying...
Henry Moray later drove John and his two sisters to
the Centre Theatre. After the movie, the youngsters phoned home as
instructed. They were told to wait there; mother would pick them up.
However, no one came, and we waited for several
hours. Finally my cousin Chester picked us up. When we arrived
home we discovered that my father had been shot in the leg and
the doctor was there ... the president of the company was also
Henry Moray had gone to his laboratory that evening.
When he was ready to leave and had the front door open, he
remembered to pick up some materials from a locked inner office. As
he fumbled with keys in the dark, he had the impression someone was
coming up behind him. As he turned to look, a heavy object hit his
right shoulder, leaving the arm half-paralyzed. With his left arm,
he grabbed the assailant's head. While Moray pinned the assailant to
his left side, the man's gun became entangled in his overcoat.
As the first man struggled, a second man carrying a gun ran up.
Henry Moray kicked the second man, knocking his gun free at the same
time as the first man's gun discharged. The bullet travelled
downward, grazing the side of Moray's leg, and ricocheted off the
concrete floor. Moray's right arm came back to life enough to get
his own gun out. He pointed it at the two men and waved them out the
"He was immediately fired upon again by someone
at a distance," John Moray writes.
He returned the fire, knocking the third gunman down.
A fourth man rushed up to help the wounded gunman. Henry recognized
this man as Felix Fraser (Rural Electrification Administration
The second man said to the first assailant,
"Well, you weren't as quick on the draw as you
thought you were," and Henry Moray recognized the voice of a FBI
man he had known at one time as a security guard.
At that point, Henry realized he was all alone in a
very difficult and dangerous situation.
Bleeding severely, Henry knew he would faint at any moment. If he
fainted while the men were there, he would be at their mercy.
"So in panic he told them to get out, pretending
that he had not recognized any of them, and the men promptly
Henry Moray was an excellent shot and could have
killed his assailant in his laboratory, but Moray was not a violent
Suppressed Inventions and Other Discoveries
WOUNDED AND HARASSED
He believed the harassments were intended to force him to turn over
his laboratory notes to Felix Fraser and associates. He tested his
theory the next workday. His family helped him to hobble to the
laboratory before anyone arrived. Julius Noyes, his assistant at the
time, arrived at 8 A.M., greeted Henry, and went to work in the back
room, while Henry did not move from behind his own desk.
John Moray describes the incident:
Later, Felix Fraser came in and rushed back to
Julius Noyes. Shortly after, Fraser returned to the office and
fussed around for a few minutes, looking at the floor. Then he
came into my father's office and said, "Henry, why didn't you
tell me you were shot?" Immediately Dad asked him how he knew
that he had been shot. Fraser said, "Oh, Julius told me." But my
father had deliberately prevented Julius from knowing of the
From then on, trouble multiplied. Henry Moray refused
to cooperate further with the REA. John recalls that people attacked
his father's credibility. His family later discovered that more than
a dozen of Henry's original patent applications had disappeared from
the U.S. Patent Office, although the file jackets remained there.
"The contents and applications themselves are
gone ... Watergate was not the first great cover-up and act of
duplicity," John Moray wrote.
Who stole the more-than-a-dozen patent applications?
John Moray says the question will probably remain unanswered.
Over half a century after Henry Moray's discovery, his sons are
still waiting for an investor who will fund the expensive
development of the Moray device; engineering problems still have to
Some researchers believe that T. Henry Moray's secrets died with him
and that the family and associates would not be able to replicate
his device even if they had funding. After all, a saboteur had
destroyed the priceless parts of the Moray device. Moray's sons,
however, reply that Henry had built another working model which he
later took apart, and that they inherited all his laboratory notes.
John remembers the later model, and he describes a 1942 trip to the
mountains of Colorado with his father and the device. Since it was
during World War II, Henry had to scrape up enough gas rations for
the round trip. He set up the experiment in a park and the unit
"Well," said their host, "If you leave it here
and if my engineers like it, we'll decide if we want to buy it
or not." This is what Moray ran into all the time, John
maintained, "My dad said 'thanks but no thanks.'"
The second generation of the Moray family of Utah has
lived with the Radiant Energy project close to their hearts for
decades. But their experi-ences make it difficult to trust all too
many of the people who seek him out, even today. John tells about a
friend of 30 years, with whom Henry left a piece of equipment. It
was not even a power component; it was a measuring piece.
His friend tore the equipment apart looking for its
WHO WILL HELP INDEPENDENT INVENTOR?
The financial cost of developing the Radiant Energy device was high,
considering how difficult it was in the 1920s for even an
upper-middle-class family to scrape together $400,000 for materials
and equipment, John said. Translating to circa-1995 dollars, the
Moray family spent millions on the Radiant Energy Device.
Their longtime goal was the development of Radiant
Energy, which Henry described in 1958 (letter to Colin Gardner of
California) as a source of energy,
"greater than that coming from the Atom, more
unlimited and of no danger to the user whatsoever from
radiations, residue, etc."
Gardner was one of countless people who contacted the
Moray family after reading Henry's book Beyond the Light Rays or the
later book. In 1958 Gardner conveyed his enthusiasm to fellow U.S.
Navy officers at Point Mugu, California. In a letter to Moray,
Gardner offered to connect his superior officers with Moray. Moray's
reply illustrates his weariness at that point:
"The government has a funny way of going at
investigating and/or accepting new ideas . . . That is why we
are not first into space . . . Just sending me a form to fill
out, treating RE as every other minor discovery, is of no
interest to me. That is what all the government branches ever
do. . ."
Moray left his laboratory door partly open to the
Navy, however; and replied to a second letter from Gardner by saying
that he would be delighted to meet Gardner's very top supervisors
and discuss his "discoveries which are greater than nuclear
However, added Moray,
"we have so many hundreds asking for information
who take up our time needlessly that we cannot spend the time
unless it is with those qualified (to under-stand Radiant
Energy) and with high enough authority to deal."
Moray's office sent his confidential papers to
Gardner's boss. After two weeks of silence from the Navy, the
message relayed back to Moray was "it is felt that you do not have a
commercial product for us to buy and use at our discretion."
This incident is only one example of difficulties facing independent
inventors of unorthodox energy devices. Although Moray spent the
family's bank account on experiments which produced a laboratory
proof-of-concept device, he was expected to somehow without funding
take it beyond that stage through the very expensive stage to a
commercial product. A final product must be engineered and
fine-tuned until it works consistently enough to be mass-produced.
Today, the Moray brothers estimate it would take more than $14
million just to build the parts used in a Radiant Energy laboratory
model (which is not as refined as a production model); they say that
high-priced personnel, expensive test equipment and huge capital
outlay would be needed.
Instead of a factory producing Radiant Energy units, Henry Moray had
one model which he tore apart—"cannibalized"—to re-use its expensive
parts whenever he built an improved model.
Similar in another way to fellow independent inventors throughout
the century, Moray's experiences with would-be financiers was
discouraging. Moray Products Company, for example, seemed to be
going well until Henry found out that the company's treasury was
being pilfered from within. Stocks were being sold without benefit
to either himself or the company; the thieves kept no records of
those stock down-payments and also ignored offers from investors who
would have exposed the pilfering. Henry Moray took these associates
to court. The costs bankrupted him, and the company broke apart.
To add to his distress, Henry's closest friend, W. H. Lovesy
of Utah Oil Refining Company, died under mysterious circumstances in
a one-car accident. A hitchhiker who was never identified walked
away from the crash.
Hearing the family talk about so many troubling incidents for so
many years, John Moray was bound to grow up with a grimly determined
set to his jaw. From childhood John lived with the expectation that
he would continue the work his father began. As a boy he would be
rewarded for good behavior by being allowed to go downstairs to the
basement laboratory in the evening and watch his father experiment.
(In 1939 Henry built a 50-foot by 60-foot laboratory with four rooms
above it, and the workshop was moved outside of the house
Around 1950, Henry and his grown sons sat down to brainstorm a plan
for financing Radiant Energy development. Richard volunteered to go
to Canada and invest in land, and Henry and John stayed in Salt Lake
City. Richard and his family found it more difficult than
expected—battling bureaucracy in British Columbia in an attempt to
develop a subdivision was not always successful. John had planned to
go into electrical engineering, but found that the University of
Utah physics department was more flexible in allowing him to choose
Nearing the end of his lifetime, Henry Moray became "more and more
amazed," wrote John, "for he had never believed he could really be
stopped." Dr. T. Henry Moray passed on in 1974.
Interviewed in 1994, John Moray was (in his sixties) a retired army
colonel now working full-time as a substitute teacher in Salt Lake
City, getting up before 5 A.M. to work on correspondence, and
thinking of selling the laboratory. The family had by no means
abandoned Radiant Energy, he said; keeping within their budget they
contract out work on the project. One time-waster, the family has
discovered, is battling at rumors.
The latest wild tale which John heard was that there
was a Moray device in his basement.
"What a ridiculous statement; that is the last
place we would keep one!"
"If I had a machine, what good would it do to show people? If
they don't believe the tests that have already been run, they're
not going to believe what they see anyhow."
What part did secretiveness play in the fadeout of
Moray's Radiant Energy technology?
And is secretiveness a result of today's patent
Admitting that his father refused to release
specifics about his invention without first getting signed and
legally-binding contracts, John Moray wrote in The Sea of Energy
"If this is carrying an invention as too tight a
secret then why do patent laws require it?"
What factors most suppressed the Moray device? John
"Finances. And also personal animosity, ego,
avariciousness . . ."
"It was always over money."
The ego factor enters when a scientist values a
reputation as an expert more than truthfulness. This was underlined
when Richard Moray visited Harvey Fletcher Sr. before the eminent
scientist died of old age. The man had publicly denied that he had
seen a working model of Henry's invention. Now the scientist was
well into his nineties and apparently making peace with his life.
"He admitted that, yes, the Radiant Energy device
worked just like my father said," Richard said in an interview,
with a look of deep frustration. "I asked him 'then why, why did
you do what you did?'" Richard measured out his next words
flatly. "He said 'because I couldn't admit that I didn't know .
Ego, greed, excessive pride and distrust. Will enough
people rise above these motivations and see themselves connected
with all others in a sea of energy?
Perhaps then Radiant Energy units could light up this
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