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 Contents vii

8 Concept of Stress 337

Introduction 338
8.1 Stresses in the Members of a Structure 338
8.2 Stress on an Oblique Plane Under Axial Loading 359
8.3 Stress Under General Loading Conditions;
Components of Stress 360
8.4 Design Considerations 363
Review and Summary 376
Review Problems 379

9 Stress and Strain—Axial

Loading 383
Introduction 384
9.1 Basic Principles of Stress and Strain 385
9.2 Statically Indeterminate Problems 406
9.3 Problems Involving Temperature Changes 410
9.4 Poisson’s Ratio 422
9.5 Multiaxial Loading: Generalized Hooke’s Law 423
9.6 Shearing Strain 425
*9.7 Deformations Under Axial Loading—Relation
Between E, ν, and G 428
9.8 Stress and Strain Distribution Under Axial Loading:
Saint-Venant’s Principle 436
9.9 Stress Concentrations 438
Review and Summary 442
Review Problems 448

10 Torsion 451
Introduction 452
10.1 Circular Shafts in Torsion 454
10.2 Angle of Twist in the Elastic Range 469
10.3 Statically Indeterminate Shafts 472
Review and Summary 485
Review Problems 488
viii Contents

11 Pure Bending 491

Introduction 492
11.1 Symmetric Members in Pure Bending 494
11.2 Stresses and Deformations in the Elastic Range 498
11.3 Members Made of Composite Materials 511
11.4 Eccentric Axial Loading in a Plane of Symmetry 522
11.5 Unsymmetric Bending Analysis 532
11.6 General Case of Eccentric Axial Loading Analysis 537
Review and Summary 545
Review Problems 548

12 Analysis and Design of Beams

for Bending 551
Introduction 552
12.1 Shear and Bending-Moment Diagrams 554
12.2 Relationships between Load, Shear, and
Bending Moment 566
12.3 Design of Prismatic Beams for Bending 577
Review and Summary 587
Review Problems 589

13 Shearing Stresses in Beams and

Thin-Walled Members 591
Introduction 592
13.1 Horizontal Shearing Stress in Beams 554
13.2 Longitudinal Shear on a Beam Element
of Arbitrary Shape 608
13.3 Shearing Stresses in Thin-Walled Members 610
Review and Summary 620
Review Problems 623

14 Transformations of Stress 625

Introduction 626
14.1 Transformation of Plane Stress 628
14.2 Mohr’s Circle for Plane Stress 640
 Contents ix
14.3 Stresses in Thin-Walled Pressure Vessels 650
Review and Summary 658
Review Problems 661

15 Deflection of Beams 663

Introduction 664
15.1 Deformation Under Transverse Loading 666
15.2 Statically Indeterminate Beams 675
15.3 Method of Superposition 687
Review and Summary 699
Review Problems 702

16 Columns 705
Introduction 706
16.1 Stability of Structures 706
16.2 Centric Load Design 722
Review and Summary 738
Review Problems 740

Appendices A1
A Typical Properties of Selected Materials Used
in Engineering A2
B Properties of Rolled-Steel Shapes A6
C Beam Deflections and Slopes A18

Index I1
Answers to Problems AN1

*Advanced or specialty topics

 Preface
Objectives
The main objective of a basic mechanics course should be to develop in
the engineering student the ability to analyze a given problem in a simple
and logical manner and to apply to its solution a few fundamental and
well-understood principles. This text is designed for a course that com-
bines statics and mechanics of materials—or strength of materials—
offered to engineering students in the sophomore year.

General Approach
In this text the study of statics and mechanics of materials is based on the
understanding of a few basic concepts and on the use of simplified models.
This approach makes it possible to develop all the necessary formulas in
a rational and logical manner, and to clearly indicate the conditions under
which they can be safely applied to the analysis and design of actual
engineering structures and machine components.

Practical Applications Are Introduced Early. One of the character-

istics of the approach used in this text is that mechanics of particles is clearly
separated from the mechanics of rigid bodies. This approach makes it pos-
sible to consider simple practical applications at an early stage and to post-
pone the introduction of the more difficult concepts. As an example, statics
of particles is treated first (Chap. 2); after the rules of addition and subtrac-
tion of vectors are introduced, the principle of equilibrium of a particle is
immediately applied to practical situations involving only concurrent forces.
The statics of rigid bodies is considered in Chaps. 3 and 4. In Chap. 3, the
vector and scalar products of two vectors are introduced and used to define
the moment of a force about a point and about an axis. The presentation of
these new concepts is followed by a thorough and rigorous discussion of
equivalent systems of forces, leading, in Chap. 4, to many practical applica-
tions involving the equilibrium of rigid bodies under general force systems.

New Concepts Are Introduced in Simple Terms. Because

this text is designed for the first course in mechanics, new concepts are
presented in simple terms and every step is explained in detail. On the
other hand, by discussing the broader aspects of the problems considered
and by stressing methods of general applicability, a definite maturity of
approach is achieved. For example, the concepts of partial constraints and
statical indeterminacy are introduced early and are used throughout.

Fundamental Principles Are Placed in the Context of Simple

Applications. The fact that mechanics is essentially a deductive sci-
ence based on a few fundamental principles is stressed. Derivations have
been presented in their logical sequence and with all the rigor warranted

x
 Preface xi
at this level. However, the learning process being largely inductive, simple
applications are considered first.
As an example, the statics of particles precedes the statics of rigid
bodies, and problems involving internal forces are postponed until Chap. 6.
In Chap. 4, equilibrium problems involving only coplanar forces are con-
sidered first and solved by ordinary algebra, while problems involving three-
dimensional forces and requiring the full use of vector algebra are discussed
in the second part of the chapter.
The first four chapters treating mechanics of materials (Chaps. 8, 9,
10, and 11) are devoted to the analysis of the stresses and of the corre-
sponding deformations in various structural members, considering succes-
sively axial loading, torsion, and pure bending. Each analysis is based on
a few basic concepts, namely, the conditions of equilibrium of the forces
exerted on the member, the relations existing between stress and strain in
the material, and the conditions imposed by the supports and loading of
the member. The study of each type of loading is complemented by a large
number of examples, sample problems, and problems to be assigned, all
designed to strengthen the students’ understanding of the subject.

Free-body Diagrams Are Used Extensively. Throughout the

text, free-body diagrams are used to determine external or internal forces.
The use of “picture equations” will also help the students understand the
superposition of loadings and the resulting stresses and deformations.

Design Concepts Are Discussed Throughout the Text

Whenever Appropriate. A discussion of the application of the
factor of safety to design can be found in Chap. 8, where the concept of
allowable stress design is presented.

The SMART Problem-Solving Methodology Is Employed.

New to this edition of the text, students are introduced to the SMART
approach for solving engineering problems, whose acronym reflects the
solution steps of Strategy, Modeling, Analysis, and Reflect & Think. This
methodology is used in all Sample Problems, and it is intended that
­students will apply this in the solution of all assigned problems.

A Careful Balance Between SI and U.S. Customary Units Is

Consistently Maintained. Because it is essential that students be
able to handle effectively both SI metric units and U.S. customary units,
half the examples, sample problems, and problems to be assigned have been
stated in SI units and half in U.S. customary units. Since a large number of
problems are available, instructors can assign problems using each system
of units in whatever proportion they find most desirable for their class.
It also should be recognized that using both SI and U.S. customary
units entails more than the use of conversion factors. Because the SI system
of units is an absolute system based on the units of time, length, and mass,
whereas the U.S. customary system is a gravitational system based on the
units of time, length, and force, ­different approaches are required for the
solution of many problems. For example, when SI units are used, a body is
generally specified by its mass expressed in kilograms; in most problems
of statics it will be necessary to determine the weight of the body in new-
tons, and an additional calculation will be required for this purpose. On the
xii Preface

other hand, when U.S. customary units are used, a body is specified by its
weight in pounds and, in dynamics problems (such as would be encountered
in a follow-on course in dynamics), an additional calculation will be required
to determine its mass in slugs (or lb·s2/ft). The authors, therefore, believe
that problem assignments should include both systems of units.

Optional Sections Offer Advanced or Specialty Topics. A

number of optional sections have been included. These sections are indi-
cated by asterisks and thus are easily distinguished from those that form
the core of the basic first mechanics course. They may be omitted with-
out prejudice to the understanding of the rest of the text.
The material presented in the text and most of the problems require
no previous mathematical knowledge beyond algebra, trigonometry, and
elementary calculus; all the elements of vector algebra necessary to the
understanding of mechanics are carefully presented in Chaps. 2 and 3. In
general, a greater emphasis is placed on the correct understanding of the
basic mathematical concepts involved than on the nimble manipulation of
mathematical formulas. In this connection, it should be mentioned that the
determination of the centroids of composite areas precedes the calculation
of centroids by integration, thus making it possible to establish the concept
of the moment of an area firmly before introducing the use of integration.

Chapter Organization and

Pedagogical Features
Each chapter begins with an introductory section setting the purpose and
goals of the chapter and describing in simple terms the material to be
covered and its application to the solution of engineering problems.

Chapter Lessons. The body of the text has been divided into units,
each consisting of one or several theory sections followed by sample prob-
lems and a large number of problems to be assigned. Each unit corresponds
to a well-defined topic and generally can be covered in one lesson.

Concept Applications and Sample Problems. Many theory

sections include concept applications designed to illustrate the material
being presented and facilitate its understanding. The sample problems pro-
vided after all lessons are intended to show some of the applications of
the theory to the solution of engineering problems. Because they have
been set up in much the same form that students will use in solving the
assigned problems, the sample problems serve the double purpose of
amplifying the text and demonstrating the type of neat and orderly work
that students should cultivate in their own solutions.

Homework Problem Sets. Most of the problems are of a p­ ractical

nature and should appeal to engineering students. They are primarily
designed, however, to illustrate the material presented in the text and help
the students understand the basic principles used in e­ ngineering mechan-
ics. The problems have been grouped according to the portions of material
they illustrate and have been arranged in order of increasing difficulty.
Answers to problems are given at the end of the book, except for those
with a number set in red italics.
 Preface xiii
Chapter Review and Summary. Each chapter ends with a review
and summary of the material covered in the chapter. Notes in the margin
have been included to help the students organize their review work, and
cross references are provided to help them find the portions of material
requiring their special attention.

Review Problems. A set of review problems is included at the end

of each chapter. These problems provide students further opportunity to
apply the most important concepts introduced in the chapter.

New to the Second Edition

We’ve made some significant changes from the first edition of this text.
The updates include:
∙ Complete Rewrite. The text has undergone a complete edit of the
language to make the book easier to read and more student-friendly.
∙ New Photographs Throughout. We have updated many of the pho-
tos appearing in the second edition.
∙ The SMART Problem-Solving Methodology is Employed. Stu-
dents are introduced to the SMART approach for solving engineering
problems, which is used in all Sample Problems and is intended for
use in the solution of all assigned problems.
∙ Revised or New Problems. Over 55% of the problems are revised or
new to this edition.
∙ Connect with SmartBook. The second edition is now equipped with
Connect, our one-of-a-kind teaching and learning platform that boosts
student learning through our adaptive SmartBook and includes access
to ALL of the more than 1200 homework problems in the text. In-
structors will appreciate having access through Connect to a complete
instructor’s solutions manual, lecture PowerPoint slides to facilitate
classroom discussion of the concepts in the text, and textbook images
for repurposing in personalized classroom materials.

Acknowledgments
The authors thank the many companies that provided photographs for this
edition. We also wish to recognize the efforts of the team at McGraw-Hill
Education, including Thomas Scaife, Brand Manager; Nick McFadden,
Marketing Manager; Robin Reed, Product Developer; and Melissa Leick,
Content Project Manager. Our special thanks go to Amy Mazurek (B.S.
degree in civil engineering from the Florida Institute of Technology, and
a M.S. degree in civil engineering from the University of Connecticut) for
her work in the checking and preparation of the solutions and answers of
all the problems in this edition.
We also gratefully acknowledge the help, comments, and suggestions
offered by the many users of previous editions of books in the Beer &
Johnston Engineering Mechanics series.

John T. DeWolf
David F. Mazurek
 ®

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 List of Symbols
a Constant; radius; distance PU Ultimate load (LRFD)
A, B, C, . . . Forces; reactions at supports and q Shearing force per unit length; shear flow
connections Q Force; vector
A, B, C, . . . Points Q First moment of area
A Area r Centroidal radius of gyration
b Width; distance r Position vector
c Constant; distance; radius rx, r y, rO Radii of gyration
C Centroid r Radius; distance; polar coordinate
C1, C2, . . . Constants of integration R Resultant force; resultant vector; reaction
CP Column stability factor R Radius of earth
d Distance; diameter; depth s Length
e Distance; eccentricity S Force; vector
E Modulus of elasticity S Elastic section modulus
F Force; friction force t Thickness
F.S. Factor of safety T Force; torque
g Acceleration of gravity T Tension; temperature
G Modulus of rigidity; shear modulus u, v Rectangular coordinates
h Distance; height V Vector product; shearing force
H, J, K Points V Volume; shear
i, j, k Unit vectors along coordinate axes w Width; distance; load per unit length
I, Ix, . . . Moments of inertia W, W Weight; load
I Centroidal moment of inertia x, y, z Rectangular coordinates; distances;
J Polar moment of inertia displacements; deflections
k Spring constant x, y, z Coordinates of centroid
K Stress concentration factor; torsional α, β, γ Angles
spring constant α Coefficient of thermal expansion;
l Length influence coefficient
L Length; span γ Shearing strain; specific weight
Le Effective length γD load factor, dead load (LRFD)
m Mass γL load factor, live load (LRFD)
M Couple δ Deformation; displacement; elongation
M, Mx, . . . Bending moment ε Normal strain
n Number; ratio of moduli of elasticity; θ Angle; slope
normal direction λ Unit vector along a line
N Normal component of reaction μ Coefficient of friction
O Origin of coordinates ν Poisson’s ratio
p Pressure ρ Radius of cuvature; distance; density
P Force; vector σ Normal stress
PD Dead load (LRFD) τ Shearing stress
PL Live load (LRFD) ϕ Angle; angle of twist; resistance factor

xvi
 © Renato Bordoni/Alamy

1
Introduction
The tallest skyscraper in the Western Hemisphere, One World
Trade Center is a prominent feature of the New York City skyline.
From its foundation to its structural components and mechanical
systems, the design and operation of the tower is based on the
fundamentals of engineering mechanics.
2 Introduction

Introduction Objectives
• Define the science of mechanics and examine its
1.1 WHAT IS MECHANICS?
fundamental principles.
1.2 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS
AND PRINCIPLES • Discuss and compare the International System of
1.2A Mechanics of Rigid Bodies Units and U.S. Customary Units.
1.2B Mechanics of Deformable • Discuss how to approach the solution of mechanics
Bodies problems, and introduce the SMART problem-solving
1.3 SYSTEMS OF UNITS methodology.
1.4 CONVERTING BETWEEN • Examine factors that govern numerical accuracy in the
TWO SYSTEMS OF UNITS solution of a mechanics problem.
1.5 METHOD OF SOLVING
PROBLEMS
1.6 NUMERICAL ACCURACY
1.1 WHAT IS MECHANICS?
Mechanics is defined as the science that describes and predicts the condi-
tions of rest or motion of bodies under the action of forces. It consists of
the mechanics of rigid bodies, mechanics of deformable bodies, and
mechanics of fluids.
The mechanics of rigid bodies is subdivided into statics and dynamics.
Statics deals with bodies at rest; dynamics deals with bodies in motion. In
this text, we assume bodies are perfectly rigid. In fact, actual structures and
machines are never absolutely rigid; they deform under the loads to which
they are subjected. However, because these deformations are usually small,
they do not appreciably affect the conditions of equilibrium or the motion
of the structure under consideration. They are important, though, as far as
the resistance of the structure to failure is concerned. Deformations are
studied in a course in mechanics of materials, which is part of the mechanics
of deformable bodies. The third division of mechanics, the mechanics of
fluids, is subdivided into the study of incompressible fluids and of com-
pressible fluids. An important subdivision of the study of incompressible
fluids is hydraulics, which deals with applications involving water.
Mechanics is a physical science, since it deals with the study of
physical phenomena. However, some teachers associate mechanics with
mathematics, whereas many others consider it as an engineering subject.
Both these views are justified in part. Mechanics is the foundation of most
engineering sciences and is an indispensable prerequisite to their study.
However, it does not have the empiricism found in some engineering sci-
ences, i.e., it does not rely on experience or observation alone. The rigor
of mechanics and the emphasis it places on deductive reasoning makes it
resemble mathematics. However, mechanics is not an abstract or even a
pure science; it is an applied science.
The purpose of mechanics is to explain and predict physical phenom-
ena and thus to lay the foundations for engineering applications. You need
to know statics to determine how much force will be exerted on a point in
a bridge design and whether the structure can withstand that force. Deter-
mining the force a dam needs to withstand from the water in a river requires
statics. You need statics to calculate how much weight a crane can lift, how
much force a locomotive needs to pull a freight train, or how much force a
circuit board in a computer can withstand. The concepts of dynamics enable
you to analyze the flight characteristics of a jet, design a building to resist
 1.2 Fundamental Concepts and Principles 3
earthquakes, and mitigate shock and vibration to passengers inside a vehicle.
The concepts of dynamics enable you to calculate how much force you need
to send a satellite into orbit, accelerate a 200,000-ton cruise ship, or design
a toy truck that doesn’t break. You will not learn how to do these things in
this course, but the ideas and methods you learn here will be the underlying
basis for the engineering applications you will learn in your work.

1.2 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS
AND PRINCIPLES
1.2A Mechanics of Rigid Bodies
Although the study of mechanics goes back to the time of Aristotle (384–
322 B.C.) and Archimedes (287–212 B.C.), not until Newton (1642–1727) did
anyone develop a satisfactory formulation of its fundamental principles.
These principles were later modified by d’Alembert, Lagrange, and Hamilton.
Their validity remained unchallenged until Einstein formulated his theory of
relativity (1905). Although its limitations have now been recognized, new-
tonian mechanics still remains the basis of today’s engineering sciences.
The basic concepts used in mechanics are space, time, mass, and
force. These concepts cannot be truly defined; they should be accepted on
the basis of our intuition and experience and used as a mental frame of
reference for our study of mechanics.
The concept of space is associated with the position of a point P.
We can define the position of P by providing three lengths measured from
a certain reference point, or origin, in three given directions. These lengths
are known as the coordinates of P.
To define an event, it is not sufficient to indicate its position in
space. We also need to specify the time of the event.
We use the concept of mass to characterize and compare bodies
on the basis of certain fundamental mechanical experiments. Two bodies
of the same mass, for example, are attracted by the earth in the same man-
ner; they also offer the same resistance to a change in translational motion.
A force represents the action of one body on another. A force can
be exerted by actual contact, like a push or a pull, or at a distance, as in
the case of gravitational or magnetic forces. A force is characterized by
its point of application, its magnitude, and its direction; a force is repre-
sented by a vector (Sec. 2.1B).
In newtonian mechanics, space, time, and mass are absolute con-
cepts that are independent of each other. (This is not true in relativistic
mechanics, where the duration of an event depends upon its position and
the mass of a body varies with its velocity.) On the other hand, the concept
of force is not independent of the other three. Indeed, one of the funda-
mental principles of newtonian mechanics listed below is that the resultant
force acting on a body is related to the mass of the body and to the manner
in which its velocity varies with time.
In this text, you will study the conditions of rest or motion of par-
ticles and rigid bodies in terms of the four basic concepts we have intro-
duced. By particle, we mean a very small amount of matter, which we
assume occupies a single point in space. A rigid body consists of a large
number of particles occupying fixed positions with respect to one another.
4 Introduction
m magnitude F (Fig. 1.1), given by the formula
r
F where r 5 the distance between the two particles and G 5 a uni-
–F
M have the same line of action.
Fig. 1.1 From Newton‘s law of gravitation,
two particles of masses M and m exert
forces upon each other of equal magnitude,
opposite direction, and the same line of
action. This also illustrates Newton‘s third
law of motion.
The study of the mechanics of particles is clearly a prerequisite to that of
rigid bodies. Besides, we can use the results obtained for a particle directly
in a large number of problems dealing with the conditions of rest or
motion of actual bodies.
The study of elementary mechanics rests on six fundamental prin-
ciples, based on experimental evidence.
∙ The Parallelogram Law for the Addition of Forces. Two forces
acting on a particle may be replaced by a single force, called their
resultant, obtained by drawing the diagonal of the parallelogram
with sides equal to the given forces (Sec. 2.1A).
∙ The Principle of Transmissibility. The conditions of equilibrium
or of motion of a rigid body remain unchanged if a force acting at
a given point of the rigid body is replaced by a force of the same
magnitude and same direction, but acting at a different point, pro-
vided that the two forces have the same line of action (Sec. 3.1B).
∙ Newton’s Three Laws of Motion. Formulated by Sir Isaac Newton
in the late seventeenth century, these laws can be stated as follows:
FIRST LAW. If the resultant force acting on a particle is zero,
the particle remains at rest (if originally at rest) or moves with con-
stant speed in a straight line (if originally in motion) (Sec. 2.3B).
SECOND LAW. If the resultant force acting on a particle is not
zero, the particle has an acceleration proportional to the magnitude
of the resultant and in the direction of this resultant force.
This law can be stated as
F 5 ma (1.1)
where F, m, and a represent, respectively, the resultant force acting
on the particle, the mass of the particle, and the acceleration of the
particle expressed in a consistent system of units.
THIRD LAW. The forces of action and reaction between bodies
in contact have the same magnitude, same line of action, and oppo-
site sense (Chap. 6, Introduction).
∙ Newton’s Law of Gravitation. Two particles of mass M and m
are mutually attracted with equal and opposite forces F and 2F of
Mm
F5G (1.2)
r2
versal constant called the constant of gravitation. Newton’s law of
gravitation introduces the idea of an action exerted at a distance and
extends the range of application of Newton’s third law: the action F
and the reaction 2F in Fig. 1.1 are equal and opposite, and they
A particular case of great importance is that of the attraction of the
earth on a particle located on its surface. The force F exerted by the earth
on the particle is defined as the weight W of the particle. Suppose we set
M equal to the mass of the earth, m equal to the mass of the particle, and
r equal to the earth’s radius R. Then introducing the constant
 1.2 Fundamental Concepts and Principles 5
GM
g5 (1.3)
R2
we can express the magnitude W of the weight of a particle of mass m as†
W 5 mg (1.4)
The value of R in formula (1.3) depends upon the elevation of the point
considered; it also depends upon its latitude, since the earth is not truly
spherical. The value of g therefore varies with the position of the point
considered. However, as long as the point actually remains on the earth’s
surface, it is sufficiently accurate in most engineering computations to
assume that g equals 9.81 m/s2 or 32.2 ft/s2.
The principles we have just listed will be introduced in the course
of our study of mechanics as they are needed. The statics of particles
carried out in Chap. 2 will be based on the parallelogram law of addition
and on Newton’s first law alone. We introduce the principle of transmis-
sibility in Chap. 3 as we begin the study of the statics of rigid bodies, and
we bring in Newton’s third law in Chap. 6 as we analyze the forces exerted
on each other by the various members forming a structure.
As noted earlier, the six fundamental principles listed previously are
based on experimental evidence. Except for Newton’s first law and the prin-
ciple of transmissibility, they are independent principles that cannot be derived
mathematically from each other or from any other elementary physical prin-
ciple. On these principles rests most of the intricate structure of newtonian Photo 1.1 When in orbit of the earth,
mechanics. For more than two centuries, engineers have solved a tremendous people and objects are said to be weightless
number of problems dealing with the conditions of rest and motion of rigid even though the gravitational force acting
bodies, deformable bodies, and fluids by applying these fundamental prin- is approximately 90% of that experienced
ciples. Many of the solutions obtained could be checked experimentally, thus on the surface of the earth. This apparent
contradiction can be resolved in a course on
providing a further verification of the principles from which they were dynamics when Newton’s second law is
derived. Only in the twentieth century has Newton’s mechanics found to be applied to the motion of particles.
at fault, in the study of the motion of atoms and the motion of the planets, © NASA
where it must be supplemented by the theory of relativity. On the human or
engineering scale, however, where velocities are small compared with the
speed of light, Newton’s mechanics have yet to be disproved.

1.2B Mechanics of Deformable Bodies

The concepts needed for mechanics of deformable bodies, also referred to
as mechanics of materials, are necessary for analyzing and designing vari-
ous machines and load-bearing structures. These concepts involve the
determination of stresses and deformations.
In Chaps. 8 through 16, the analysis of stresses and the corresponding
deformations will be developed for structural members subject to axial load-
ing, torsion, and bending. This requires the use of basic concepts involving
the conditions of equilibrium of forces exerted on the member, the relations
existing between stress and deformation in the material, and the conditions
imposed by the supports and loading of the member. Later chapters expand
on these subjects, providing a basis for designing both structures that are
statically determinant and those that are indeterminant, i.e., structures in
which the internal forces cannot be determined from statics alone.

†
A more accurate definition of the weight W should take into account the earth’s rotation.
6 Introduction

1.3 SYSTEMS OF UNITS

Associated with the four fundamental concepts just discussed are the
so-called kinetic units, i.e., the units of length, time, mass, and force.
These units cannot be chosen independently if Eq. (1.1) is to be satisfied.
Three of the units may be defined arbitrarily; we refer to them as basic
units. The fourth unit, however, must be chosen in accordance with
Eq. (1.1) and is referred to as a derived unit. Kinetic units selected in
this way are said to form a consistent system of units.
International System of Units (SI Units).† In this system, which
will be in universal use after the United States has completed its conversion
to SI units, the base units are the units of length, mass, and time, and they
are called, respectively, the meter (m), the kilogram (kg), and the second
(s). All three are arbitrarily defined. The second was originally chosen to
represent 1/86 400 of the mean solar day, but it is now defined as the dura-
tion of 9 192 631 770 cycles of the radiation corresponding to the transition
between two levels of the fundamental state of the cesium-133 atom. The
meter, originally defined as one ten-millionth of the distance from the equa-
tor to either pole, is now defined as 1 650 763.73 wavelengths of the orange-
red light corresponding to a certain transition in an atom of krypton-86. (The
newer definitions are much more precise and with today’s modern instru-
a = 1 m/s 2 mentation, are easier to verify as a standard.) The kilogram, which is approxi-
mately equal to the mass of 0.001 m3 of water, is defined as the mass of a
m = 1 kg F=1N
platinum-iridium standard kept at the International Bureau of Weights and
Measures at Sèvres, near Paris, France. The unit of force is a derived unit.
Fig. 1.2 A force of 1 newton applied to
a body of mass 1 kg provides an acceleration It is called the newton (N) and is defined as the force that gives an accelera-
of 1 m/s2. tion of 1 m/s2 to a body of mass 1 kg (Fig. 1.2). From Eq. (1.1), we have
1 N 5 (1 kg)(1 m/s2 ) 5 1 kg?m/s2 (1.5)
The SI units are said to form an absolute system of units. This means that
m = 1 kg the three base units chosen are independent of the location where measure-
ments are made. The meter, the kilogram, and the second may be used
anywhere on the earth; they may even be used on another planet and still
a = 9.81 m /s 2
have the same significance.
W = 9.81 N The weight of a body, or the force of gravity exerted on that body,
like any other force, should be expressed in newtons. From Eq. (1.4), it
follows that the weight of a body of mass 1 kg (Fig. 1.3) is
W 5 mg
Fig. 1.3 A body of mass 1 kg experiencing 5 (1 kg)(9.81 m/s2 )
an acceleration due to gravity of 9.81 m/s2 5 9.81 N
has a weight of 9.81 N. Multiples and submultiples of the fundamental SI units are denoted
through the use of the prefixes defined in Table 1.1. The multiples and sub-
multiples of the units of length, mass, and force most frequently used in
engineering are, respectively, the kilometer (km) and the millimeter (mm); the
megagram‡ (Mg) and the gram (g); and the kilonewton (kN). According to
Table 1.1, we have
1 km 5 1000 m 1 mm 5 0.001 m
1 Mg 5 1000 kg 1 g 5 0.001 kg
1 kN 5 1000 N
†
SI stands for Système International d’Unités (French).
‡
Also known as a metric ton.
 1.3 Systems of Units 7
Table 1.1 Sl Prefixes
Multiplication Factor Prefix† Symbol
12
1 000 000 000
000 5 10 tera T
1 000 000
000 5 109 giga G
1 000
000 5 106 mega M
1
000 5 103 kilo k
100 5 102 hecto‡ h
10 5 101 deka‡ da
0.1 5 1021 deci‡ d
0.01 5 1022 centi‡ c
0.001 5 1023 milli m
0.000 001 5 1026 micro µ
0.000 000 001 5 1029 nano n
0.000 000 000 001 5 10212 pico p
0.000 000 000 000 001 5 10215 femto f
0.000 000 000 000 000 001 5 10218 atto a
†
The first syllable of every prefix is accented, so that the prefix retains its identity. Thus, the
preferred pronunciation of kilometer places the accent on the first syllable, not the second.
‡
The use of these prefixes should be avoided, except for the measurement of areas and volumes
and for the nontechnical use of centimeter, as for body and clothing measurements.

The conversion of these units into meters, kilograms, and ­newtons, respec-
tively, can be effected by simply moving the decimal point three places
to the right or to the left. For example, to convert 3.82 km into meters,
move the decimal point three places to the right:
3.82 km 5 3820 m
Similarly, to convert 47.2 mm into meters, move the decimal point three
places to the left:
47.2 mm 5 0.0472 m
Using engineering notation, you can also write
3.82 km 5 3.82 3 103 m
47.2 mm 5 47.2 3 1023 m

The multiples of the unit of time are the minute (min) and the hour (h).
Since 1 min 5 60 s and 1 h 5 60 min 5 3600 s, these multiples cannot
be converted as readily as the others.
By using the appropriate multiple or submultiple of a given unit,
you can avoid writing very large or very small numbers. For example, it
is usually simpler to write 427.2 km rather than 427 200 m and 2.16 mm
rather than 0.002 16 m.†
Units of Area and Volume. The unit of area is the square meter (m2),
which represents the area of a square of side 1 m; the unit of volume is
the cubic meter (m3), which is equal to the volume of a cube of side 1 m.
In order to avoid exceedingly small or large numerical values when com-
puting areas and volumes, we use systems of subunits obtained by respec-
tively squaring and cubing not only the millimeter, but also two intermediate
†
Note that when more than four digits appear on either side of the decimal point to express
a quantity in SI units––as in 427 000 m or 0.002 16 m––use spaces, never commas, to sepa-
rate the digits into groups of three. This practice avoids confusion with the comma used in
place of a decimal point, which is the convention in many countries.
8 Introduction

submultiples of the meter: the d­ ecimeter (dm) and the centimeter (cm).
By definition,

1 dm 5 0.1 m 5 1021 m
1 cm 5 0.01 m 5 1022 m
1 mm 5 0.001 m 5 1023 m

Therefore, the submultiples of the unit of area are

1 dm2 5 (1 dm) 2 5 (1021 m) 2 5 1022 m2

1 cm2 5 (1 cm) 2 5 (1022 m) 2 5 1024 m2
1 mm2 5 (1 mm) 2 5 (1023 m) 2 5 1026 m2

Similarly, the submultiples of the unit of volume are

1 dm3 5 (1 dm) 3 5 (1021 m) 3 5 1023 m3

1 cm3 5 (1 cm) 3 5 (1022 m) 3 5 1026 m3
1 mm3 5 (1 mm) 3 5 (1023 m) 3 5 1029 m3

Note that when measuring the volume of a liquid, the cubic decimeter (dm3)
is usually referred to as a liter (L).
Table 1.2 shows other derived SI units used to measure the moment
of a force, the work of a force, etc. Although we will introduce these units
in later chapters as they are needed, we should note an important rule at

Table 1.2 Principal SI Units Used in Mechanics

Quantity Unit Symbol Formula
Acceleration Meter per second squared ... m/s2
Angle Radian rad †
Angular acceleration Radian per second squared ... rad/s2
Angular velocity Radian per second ... rad/s
Area Square meter ... m2
Density Kilogram per cubic meter ... kg/m3
Energy Joule J N?m
Force Newton N kg?m/s2
Frequency Hertz Hz s–1
Impulse Newton-second ... kg?m/s
Length Meter m ‡
Mass Kilogram kg ‡
Moment of a force Newton-meter ... N?m
Power Watt W J/s
Pressure Pascal Pa N/m2
Stress Pascal Pa N/m2
Time Second s ‡
Velocity Meter per second ... m/s
Volume
Solids Cubic meter ... m3
Liquids Liter L 10–3 m3
Work Joule J N?m
†
Supplementary unit (1 revolution 5 2π rad 5 360°).
‡
Base unit.
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medicine, or some little thing to eat, put out her candle, open the
window a moment, and then I would return to my task.
After the day of my debut at the Chicago Progressive Lyceum I
continued my dramatic career. The incidents of my performances
would suffice to fill several volumes. For without interruption,
adventures succeeded one another to such an extent that I shall
never undertake the work of describing them all.
I should say that when this first theatrical incident took place I
was just two and a half years old.
 III
HOW I CREATED THE SERPENTINE DANCE

I N 1890 I was on a tour in London with my mother. A manager

engaged me to go to the United States and take the principal part
in a new play entitled, “Quack, M.D.” In this piece I was to play
with two American actors, Mr. Will Rising and Mr. Louis de Lange,
who has since then been mysteriously assassinated.
I bought what costumes I needed and took them with me. On our
arrival in New York the rehearsals began. While we were at work, the
author got the idea of adding to the play a scene in which Dr. Quack
hypnotised a young widow. Hypnotism at that moment was very
much to the fore in New York. To give the scene its full effect he
needed very sweet music and indeterminate illumination. We asked
the electrician of the theatre to put green lamps along the footlights
and the orchestra leader to play a subdued air. The great question
next was to decide what costume I was to wear. I was unable to buy
a new one. I had spent all the money advanced me for my costumes
and, not knowing what else to do, I undertook to run over my
wardrobe in the hope of finding something that would be fit to wear.
In vain. I could not find a thing.
All at once, however, I noticed at the bottom of one of my trunks a
small casket, a very small casket, which I opened. Out of it I drew a
light silk material, comparable to a spider’s web. It was a skirt, very
full and very broad at the bottom.
I let the skirt dangle in my fingers, and before this little heap of
fragile texture I lingered in reverie for some time. The past, a past
very near and yet already far away, was summoned up before me.
It had happened in London some months before.
A friend had asked me to dine with several officers who were
being wined and dined just before leaving for India, where they were
under orders to rejoin their regiment. The officers were in handsome
uniforms, the women in low dresses, and they were pretty, as only
English women are.
At table I was seated between two of the youngest officers. They
had very long necks and wore extremely high collars. At first I felt
myself greatly overawed in the presence of people so imposing as
my neighbours. They looked snobbish and uncommunicative.
Presently I discovered that they were much more timid than I, and
that we should never be better acquainted unless one or the other of
us resolved to overcome his own nervousness and, at the same
time, that of his companions.
But my young officers were afraid only in the presence of women.
When I told them I hoped they might never be engaged in a war, and
especially that they might never have to do any killing, one of them
answered me very simply:
“I fancy I can serve as a target as well as any other man, and
certainly the people who draw on me will understand that war is on.”
They were essentially and purely English. Nothing could unsettle
them, provoke them or change them in the least. At our table they
seemed timid. They were nevertheless men of the kind who go into
the presence of death just as one encounters a friend in the street.
At this period I did not understand the English as I have
subsequently come to know them.
I left the table without remembering to ask the names of my
neighbours, and when I thought about the matter it was too late.
I recalled, however, that one of them took the trouble, in the
course of our conversation, to learn the name of the hotel at which I
was staying. I had quite forgotten the incident when, some time after,
I received a little casket, addressed to me from India.
It contained a skirt of very thin white silk, of a peculiar shape, and
some pieces of silk gauze. The box was not more than sixteen
inches long and was hardly taller than a cigar box. It contained
nothing else, not a line, not a card. How odd! From whom could it
come?
 I knew no one in India. All at once, however, I remembered the
dinner and the young officers. I was greatly taken with my pretty box,
but I was far from suspecting that it contained the little seed from
which an Aladdin’s lamp was destined to spring for my benefit.
This, of course, was the casket which I had just discovered in my
trunk.
Deep in thought I stooped and gathered up the soft, silky stuff. I
put on the Hindu skirt, the skirt sent me by my two young officers,
those young men who must by this time have “served as targets”
somewhere out there in the jungle, for I never heard from them
again.
My robe, which was destined to become a triumphal robe, was at
least a half a yard too long. Thereupon I raised the girdle and so
shaped for myself a sort of empire robe, pinning the skirt to a
décolleté bodice. The robe looked thoroughly original, perhaps even
a little ridiculous. It was entirely suitable for the hypnotism scene,
which we did not take very seriously.
Photo Sarony
LOIE FULLER IN HER ORIGINAL SERPENTINE DRESS
 We “tried the play on the dog” before offering it to the New York
public, and I made my debut as a dancer at a theatre in a small city
of which the average New Yorker had hardly heard. No one, I
suppose, outside its boundaries took the slightest interest in what
went on in that city. At the end of the play, on the evening of the first
presentation, we gave our hypnotism scene. The stage scenery,
representing a garden, was flooded with pale green light. Dr. Quack
made a mysterious entrance and then began his work of suggestion.
The orchestra played a melancholy air very softly, and I
endeavoured to make myself as light as possible, in order to give the
impression of a fluttering figure obedient to the doctor’s orders.
He raised his arms. I raised mine. Under the influence of
suggestion, entranced—so, at least, it looked—with my gaze held by
his, I followed his every motion. My robe was so long that I was
continually stepping upon it, and mechanically I held it up with both
hands and raised my arms aloft, all the while that I continued to flit
around the stage like a winged spirit.
There was a sudden exclamation from the house:
“It’s a butterfly! A butterfly!”
I turned on my steps, running from one end of the stage to the
other, and a second exclamation followed:
“It’s an orchid!”
To my great astonishment sustained applause burst forth. The
doctor all the time was gliding around the stage, with quickening
steps, and I followed him faster and faster. At last, transfixed in a
state of ecstasy, I let myself drop at his feet, completely enveloped in
a cloud of the light material.
The audience encored the scene, and then encored it again—so
loudly and so often that we had to come back twenty times, or more.
We were on the road about six weeks. Then came our opening in
one of the New York suburbs, where Mr. Oscar Hammerstein, who
has since become a famous impresario, owned a theatre.
 The play was unsuccessful, and even our hypnotism scene was
not strong enough to save it from the attacks of the critics. No New
York theatre cared to give it house room, and our company broke up.
The day after this opening at Mr. Hammerstein’s theatre a local
newspaper of the little community in which we had successfully
presented this “Quack, M.D.,” which the New York managers refused
to touch, wrote a ridiculously enthusiastic article on what it called my
“acting” in the hypnotism scene. But as the play had not “made
good,” no one thought that it would be possible to take a single
scene out of it, and I was left without an engagement.
Nevertheless, even in New York, and in spite of the failure of the
play, I personally secured some good press notices. The
newspapers were in agreement in announcing that I had a
remarkable string to my bow—if I only knew how to make the most of
it.
I had brought my robe home to sew up a little tear. After reading
these comforting lines I leaped from the bed and arrayed only in my
night-gown, I put the garment on and looked at myself in a large
glass, to make sure of what I had done the evening before.
The mirror was placed just opposite the windows. The long
yellow curtains were drawn and through them the sun shed into the
room an amber light, which enveloped me completely and illumined
my gown, giving a translucent effect. Golden reflections played in the
folds of the sparkling silk, and in this light my body was vaguely
revealed in shadowy contour. This was a moment of intense
emotion. Unconsciously I realised that I was in the presence of a
great discovery, one which was destined to open the path which I
have since followed.
Gently, almost religiously, I set the silk in motion, and I saw that I
had obtained undulations of a character heretofore unknown. I had
created a new dance. Why had I never thought of it before?
Two of my friends, Mrs. Hoffmann and her daughter Mrs.
Hossack, came from time to time to see how I was getting on with
my discoveries. When I found an action or a pose which looked as if
it might amount to something they would say: “Hold that. Try it
again.” Finally I reached a point where each movement of the body
was expressed in the folds of silk, in a play of colours in the
draperies that could be mathematically and systematically
calculated.
The length and size of my silk skirt would constrain me to repeat
the same motion several times as a means of giving this motion its
special and distinctive aim. I obtained a spiral effect by holding my
arms aloft while I kept whirling, to right and then to left, and I
continued this movement until the spiral design was established.
Head, hands and feet followed the evolutions of the body and the
robe. It is very difficult, however, to describe this part of my dance.
You have to see it and feel it. It is too complicated for realisation in
words.
Another dancer will obtain more delicate effects, with more
graceful motions, but they will not be the same. To be the same they
must be created in the same spirit. One thing original, though up to a
certain point it is not so good as an imitation, is in reality worth much
more.
I studied each of my characteristic motions, and at last had
twelve of them. I classed them as Dances No. 1, No. 2, and so on.
The first was to be given under a blue light, the second under red
light, the third under a yellow light. For illumination of my dances I
intended to have a lantern with coloured glass in front of the lens. I
wanted to dance the last one in total darkness with a single ray of
yellow light crossing the stage.
When I had finished studying my dances, I went in search of a
manager. I was acquainted with them all. During my career as singer
and actress I had served all of them more or less frequently.
I was, however, hardly prepared for the reception which they
gave me. The first one laughed me in the face as he said:
“You a dancer! Well, that’s too good! When I want you for a
theatrical part I’ll look you up with pleasure; but as for dancing, good
heavens! When I engage a dancer she will have to be a star. The
only ones I know are Sylvia Gray and Lettie Lind in London. You
cannot outclass them, take my word for it. Good-evening.”
He had lost all respect for my perspicacity and he made fun of
the idea of my being a dancer.
Mrs. Hoffmann had come with me, and was waiting in the lobby,
where I rejoined her. She noted at once how pale and nervous I was.
When we left the theatre it was night. We walked in silence through
dark streets. Neither spoke. Some months later, however, my friend
told me that all that evening I never stopped emitting little groans like
those of a wounded animal. She saw that I was cut to the very quick.
Next day I had to continue my search, for necessity was spurring
me on.
Mrs. Hoffmann offered me the privilege of coming to live with her
and her daughter—an offer which I accepted gratefully, not having
the faintest idea when and how I could ever repay her.
Some time later I had to give in; since I was known as an actress,
nothing could hurt me more than to try to become a dancer.
One manager went so far as to tell me that two years of absence
from New York had caused the public completely to forget me, and
that, in trying to recall myself to their memory, I should seem to be
inflicting ancient history on them. As I had then just passed my
twentieth birthday I was extremely irritated by that insinuation, and I
thought: “Would it then be necessary for me painfully to build up a
reputation and to look old to prove that I was young to-day?”
Unable to restrain my feelings any longer, I told the manager
what I thought.
“Hell,” he replied, “it isn’t age that counts. It’s the time the public
has known you, and you have become too well known as an actress
to come back here as a dancer.”
Everywhere I encountered the same answer, and finally I became
desperate. I was aware that I had discovered something unique, but
I was far from imagining, even in a daydream, that I had hold of a
principle capable of revolutionising a branch of æsthetics.
 I am astounded when I see the relations that form and colour
assume. The scientific admixture of chemically composed colours,
heretofore unknown, fills me with admiration, and I stand before
them like a miner who has discovered a vein of gold, and who
completely forgets himself as he contemplates the wealth of the
world before him.
But to return to my troubles.
A manager who, some time before, had done his best to engage
me as a singer, and who had absolutely refused to consider me as a
dancer, gave a careless consent, thanks to the intervention of a
common friend, to an interview at which I was to show him my
dances.
I took my robe, which made a neat little bundle, and I set out for
the theatre.
Mrs. Hoffmann’s daughter accompanied me. We went in by the
stage entrance. A single gas jet lighted the empty stage. In the
house, which was equally dark, the manager, seated in one of the
orchestra chairs, looked at us with an air of boredom, almost of
contempt. There was no dressing-room for my change of clothing,
not even a piano to accompany me. But the opportunity was a
precious one, all the same. Without delay I put on my costume, there
on the stage and over my dress. Then I hummed an air and started
in to dance very gently in the obscurity. The manager came nearer
and nearer, and finally ascended the platform.
His eyes glistened.
I continued to dance, disappearing in the darkness at the rear of
the stage, then returning toward the gas jet. Finally I lifted a part of
my robe over my shoulders, made a kind of cloud which enveloped
me completely and then fell, a wavering mass of fluffy silk, at the
manager’s feet. After that I arose and waited in keenest anxiety to
hear what he would say.
He said nothing. Visions of success were crowding upon each
other in his brain.
 Finally he broke his silence and gave my dance the name of “The
Serpentine Dance.”
“There is the name that will go with it,” he said, “and I have just
the music that you need for that dance. Come to my private office. I
am going to play it for you.”
Then for the first time I heard an air which later became very
popular, “Au Loin du Bal.”
A new company was rehearsing “Uncle Celestin” at the theatre.
This company was to go on the road for several weeks before
playing in New York. My new manager offered me, for this tour, an
engagement at fifty dollars a week. I accepted, making it a condition
that I should be featured on the placards, in order to regain in a
measure the prestige I had lost.
A few days after I joined the company and made my first
appearance at a distance from New York. For six weeks I appeared
before country audiences, feverishly counting the hours until I should
at last have my chance in the big city.
During this tour, contrary to the conditions I had imposed, I was
not featured. The posters did not even announce me, and yet my
dance, which was given during an interval and without coloured
lights, was successful from the first.
A month and a half later in Brooklyn its success was
phenomenal. The week following I made my debut in New York, at
what was one of the prettiest theatres in town.
There I was able for the first time to realise my dances just as I
had conceived them; with darkness in the house and coloured lights
on the stage. The house was packed and the audience positively
enthusiastic. I danced my first, my second, my third. When I had
finished the whole house was standing up.
Among the spectators was one of my oldest friends, Marshall P.
Wilder, the little American humourist. He recognised me and called
my name in such a way that everybody could hear it, for they had
neglected to put it on the programme! When the audience
discovered that the new dancer was its old favourite comedian, the
little soubrette of a former day, it gave her an ovation such as, I
suppose, never another human being has received.
They called out, “Three cheers for the butterfly! Three cheers for
the orchid, the cloud, the butterfly! Three cheers!” And the
enthusiasm passed all bounds. The applause resounded in my ears
like the ringing of bells. I was overcome with joy and gratitude.
Next morning I arose early to read the papers. Every New York
newspaper devoted from a column to a page to “Loie Fuller’s
Wonderful Creation.” Numerous illustrations of my dances
accompanied the articles.
I buried my face in my pillow and shed every tear that, for a long
time, had lurked in my discouraged soul. For how many months had
I waited for this good luck!
In one of these articles a critic wrote “Loie Fuller had risen from
her ashes.” Next day the whole city was plastered with lithographs,
reproduced from one of my photographs, representing me larger
than life, with letters a foot high announcing: “The Serpentine Dance!
The Serpentine Dance!” But there was one circumstance came near
giving me heart failure. My name was nowhere mentioned.
I went to the theatre and reminded the manager that I had
accepted the modest salary he offered on condition that I should be
featured. I hardly understood when he remarked drily that he could
not do more for me.
I asked him then whether he supposed that I was going to
continue dancing under such conditions.
“Nothing can compel you to do so,” answered the manager. “In
any case, I have taken my precautions in case you do not care to
keep on.”
I left the theatre in desperation, not knowing what to do. My head
swam. I went home and consulted my friends.
They advised me to go and see another manager, and, if I
secured an engagement, simply to drop the other theatre.
 I went to the —— Theatre, but on the way I began to cry, and I
was in tears when I arrived there. I asked to see the manager, and
told him my story.
He offered me one hundred and fifty dollars a week. I was to
make my first appearance at once, and sign a contract dating from
the next day.
On reaching home I asked if nothing had come for me from the
other theatre.
Nothing had come.
That evening my friends went to the theatre, where they saw a
poster announcing, for the following evening, the initial appearance
in the “Serpentine” of Miss —— ——. When they told me that piece
of news I understood that my six weeks on the road had been
profitably employed by my manager and one of the chorus girls to
meet just this situation, and I understood, too, why my name was not
mentioned on the first posters.
They had stolen my dance.
I felt myself overcome, dead—more dead, as it seemed to me,
than I shall be at the moment when my last hour comes. My very life
depended on this success, and now others were going to reap the
benefit. I cannot describe my despair. I was incapable of words, of
gestures. I was dumb and paralysed.
Next day, when I went to sign my new contract, the manager
received me rather coldly. He was willing to sign only if I would give
him the privilege of cancelling at his own discretion. He felt that my
imitator at the Casino, announced for the same day, would diminish
greatly the interest that would be felt in what he ironically called my
“discovery.”
I was obliged to accept the conditions which he imposed, but I
experienced all the while an access of rage and grief as I saw in
what a barefaced manner they had stolen my invention.
Heartbroken, with my courage oozing, I made my appearance at
the Madison Square Theatre and, to my astonishment, to my
immense satisfaction, I saw that the theatre had to turn people away.
And it was that way as long as my engagement lasted.
As for the other theatre, after three weeks of featuring my
imitator, it was obliged to close its doors to rehearse a new opera.
 IV
HOW I CAME TO PARIS

A LITTLE while after my appearance at the Madison Square

Theatre I was asked to dance for the benefit of a charity at the
German theatre in New York. I had forgotten all about my
promise until the day of the performance, when a card arrived to call
it to my mind. I had neglected to ask my manager’s permission to
appear on that evening, not thinking that he would refuse to grant the
privilege of my participating in a philanthropic affair.
A short time before there had taken place the first part of a
painful incident which was destined to rupture the pleasant relations
subsisting between the management of the Madison Square and
myself. My manager’s associate had asked me as a great favour to
come to open a ball given by some friends in his honour. Delighted
to be of service to him, I readily agreed to do so. When I asked him
the date of this affair he told me not to bother about that.
It was just then that I asked permission to dance at the German
theatre for the benefit of an actress who was ill. The manager
consented. At the German theatre they had engaged a Roumanian
orchestra for me. The leader of this orchestra, Mr. Sohmers, an
enthusiastic man, as the Roumanians are apt to be, came to see me
after I had danced and foretold for me the wonderful artistic success
which I was sure to meet with in Europe. He advised me to go to
Paris, where an artistically inclined public would give my dances the
reception they deserved. From that moment on this became a fixed
idea with me—to dance in Paris. Then the manager of the German
theatre proposed to me a tour abroad, beginning with Berlin.
I promised to think the matter over and acquaint him with my
decision.
Some days later the famous ball took place which my manager’s
associate had asked me to open. I went to it.
 They took us, a friend who accompanied me, and myself, into a
little drawing-room where they begged me to wait until some one
should come and fetch me for my appearance on the stage. More
than an hour passed. Finally a gentleman came to tell me that
everything was ready. Through a corridor I reached the platform,
which had been erected at the top of the ball-room. It was terribly
dark, and the only light perceptible was the little ray that filtered
through from one of my lanterns that was imperfectly closed. The
hall looked totally empty. I saw, when I had taken my bearings, that
the whole audience was disposed in the galleries, forming a balcony
half-way up the room. The orchestra finished its overture and I
began to dance. After having danced three times, as I was
accustomed to do at the theatre, I returned to the scene to
acknowledge the applause and I saw before me in luminous letters a
sign with the words: “Don’t think Club.”
That looked queer to me, but I did not attach much importance to
it. I bowed again to the magnificently gowned women and the men,
who were all in sombre black, and then, walking through the same
passage way, I once more reached the dressing-room, where I put
on my outdoor clothes and left. At the door I entered the carriage
that had brought me there, and while we were on our way home I
kept wondering what the Don’t Think Club could be.
That worried me in spite of myself.
The next morning my friend brought me a newspaper, in which I
found on the first page a long article headed:
“LOIE FULLER OPENS THE DON’T THINK CLUB.”
There followed a description of the affair and of the orgies which
took place there. The article had been written with a deliberate
purpose of creating a scandal. I was exasperated beyond measure. I
had gone there merely to please my manager, and the humiliation
inflicted upon me wounded me deeply.
Possibly he thought that I would never know where I had been. A
single newspaper might print something about the affair; but most
probably my manager thought it would never come to my notice. No
newspaper men had been invited to the performance. There was
one guest, a very little man but with a great reputation, who found
himself among the invited, and he wrote the scandalous article, so I
have been told.
I have since had my revenge, a terrible revenge; for this man,
then at the climax of his career, so mismanaged his affairs and those
of others, that he was imprisoned.
“Everybody is blaming him for the article,” my manager explained
to me when I reproached him for having dragged me to this club.
That was his only excuse. He thought he was lessening the insult
by offering me more money. This offer so increased my anger that I
tendered my resignation. I felt in no wise under obligation to a man
who I thought had morally lost all right to consideration. This was the
reason for my leaving, never to return.
The notion of going to Paris possessed me after that more
completely than before. I wanted to go to a city where, as I had been
told, educated people would like my dancing and would accord it a
place in the realm of art.
I was making at this time one hundred and fifty dollars a week
and I had just been offered five hundred. I decided, nevertheless, to
sign a contract with the manager of the German theatre that
guaranteed me sixty-five dollars instead of five hundred. But the
objective, after a tour in Europe, was Paris!
While I was dancing in New York I had to begin to invent special
robes for my new dances. These were just being made and, when I
was about to leave for Europe, they were ready.
The manager of the German Theatre had gone ahead and had
reserved berths for us on one of the steamers.
After taking leave of my friends I was still full of hope and
ambition. My mother in vain tried to share my feelings; she could not
avoid painful misgivings. As for me, I wanted to think only of the
good things that awaited, and to forget all the past annoyances.
 During the voyage an evening entertainment was organised for
the benefit of the seamen and I agreed to dance. A stage was
arranged by the bridge. There with the sea for a background and
with the coloured lights used for signalling as the media of
illumination, I tried for the first time a series of new dances, each with
a special gown.
The enthusiasm of passengers and crew knew no bounds and I
felt that I had taken my first step in the conquest of a new world.
We landed in Germany. My manager came to meet us and took
us to Berlin. But, to my great annoyance, I found that I was not to
make my initial appearance for a month, and I could not discover in
what city I was to make it.
That meant a month of inactivity.
Finally I learned that I was to make my debut, not at the Opera as
my manager had promised, but in a music hall. The Opera was
closed, and the music hall was the only place where I could dance.
In that event I would dance only my first dance and would exhibit
only a single gown, just as I had done in New York. I then chose
three of my numbers and prepared myself for my appearance. But
this debut was made without personal interest. In America the best
theatres offered me engagements on much better terms than those I
had to accept in Europe. In Berlin I was obliged to appear where my
New York manager wished. If, before signing the contract, he had
told me where I should have to dance I should have declined. But
when the time for my appearance was at hand I was without
resources and quite at his mercy. To cap the climax my mother fell
seriously ill.
At the time of which I am writing cholera had just broken out at
Hamburg. My mother’s illness came on so suddenly that it was
thought she was stricken with cholera. Everybody at the hotel was
frightened, and we were obliged to take my poor mother to the
cholera hospital.
All these circumstances, conjoined with frightfully trying weather,
put me in bad shape for the struggle. I renounced everything, my
pride, my highest hopes, and I started in assiduously to gain our
livelihood. But I was disabled and without courage.
After a month my German manager informed me he did not care
to continue my contract. He was going back to the United States with
a company that he had come for the express purpose of engaging in
Germany. It seemed clear to me that his only motive in bringing me
to Europe had been to procure the means with which to engage this
new company and take it back with him. He travelled with his wife, a
pretty American woman, who had become a close friend of mine,
and who reproached him most bitterly on my account.
Our manager left Berlin with his company, leaving me with only
just enough money to pay my bills at the hotel when I had completed
the contract that held me to the music hall in Berlin. I then had
absolutely no engagement in sight. I learned that he was getting ten
thousand marks—about $2,500—a month for me. And yet he had
given me only about $300 a month. What was I to do? My
appearance in Berlin had been deplorable and was likely to have an
unfortunate influence on my whole career in Europe. My purse was
empty, my mother ill. We had not the slightest hope of an
engagement and we had no one to help us.
A theatrical agent, an unknown man at that time, who has since
become a theatrical manager, Mr. Marten Stein, came to see me,
and I tried to continue at the music hall where I was dancing. I was
obliged to make concessions to keep going a week or two more, to
get money enough to go away and to look for a new engagement. I
kept thinking more than ever of Paris. If I could only go there!
In these circumstances Mr. Marten Stein secured for me a dozen
performances in one of the beer gardens at Altona, the well-known
pleasure resort near Hamburg. I earned there several hundred
marks, which allowed us to go to Cologne, where I had to dance in a
circus between an educated donkey and an elephant that played the
organ. My humiliation was complete. Since then, however, occasions
have not been lacking when I have realised that the proximity of
trained horses and music-mad elephants is less humiliating than
intercourse with some human beings.