January 7, 1943. Room 3327, New Yorker Hotel, Manhattan.

Nikola Tesla, 86 years old, passed away quietly, alone on his bed, with just 33 cents in his pocket. No family. No fortune. Only a room stacked with papers, pigeons, and the echoes of a life spent dreaming far beyond the world around him.

Tesla arrived in America in 1884 with a handful of coins, a book of poetry, and plans for a flying machine. He transformed electricity, defeating Thomas Edison’s direct current with alternating current, powering homes across the nation. He imagined technologies that seemed like magic: radio, remote control, wireless energy. He inspired awe—but always stood apart, a solitary visionary.

By the 1920s and ’30s, the world moved on. Investors abandoned his projects. Wardenclyffe Tower, his dream of global wireless energy, remained unfinished. Tesla became a hotel resident, feeding pigeons in Bryant Park, scribbling ideas for cosmic rays and death rays, hoping someone, someday, would understand.

On January 12, 1943, the world paused to honor him. Over 2,000 people filled the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine in New York City. Scientists, engineers, ordinary citizens came to pay tribute. The U.S. government was represented, Eleanor Roosevelt sent condolences, and Nobel laureates spoke of his genius. The FBI seized Tesla’s papers after his death; many remain classified today.

He died with almost nothing—but everything he gave continues to flow through the world every day. Every light switch, every charged phone, every wireless signal carries his legacy.

Tesla’s life reminds us that genius is not always recognized in its own time. Visionaries often die before their visions are realized. But ideas powerful enough to change the world endure—long after the dreamer is gone.

On January 7, 1943, Nikola Tesla took his final breath alone. Yet the current he set in motion? It still flows, everywhere, forever.