Originally, Whitcomb L. Judson (1843-1909) was just looking for a way to easily tie his boots. Or, to be more fair, a patent, whatever it was, that would make him rich. This mechanical engineer from Illinois began to invent when he was already in his forties, after half a life as a salesman of workshop machinery. He first tried it with atmospheric railways, one of the many useless gizmos produced by the Industrial Revolution, but which seemed promising at the time.
It was a light, silent train that could not be derailed, since it circulated attached to a pipe. Air was pumped from one end, which, due to the pressure difference, sucked the convoy towards the other end, hence the “atmospheric”.
Judson thought they would be the streetcars of the future, but he only managed to put up one mile-long line in Washington, on Georgia Avenue. On paper the numbers came out, but in practice it was much more expensive than electricity.
In 1890 he sold his company and began to think small. How about an alternative to laces? In those years, high boots with infernal laces were fashionable, both for men and women.
What he did was create a guide with hooks on one side and eyelets on the other, which closed with a kind of pin. In 1891 he took the idea to the United States Patent and Trademark Office, which rejected it on the grounds that automatic shoe closures already existed. The problem may have been that, since he did not show them a prototype – the office did not require it – the officials did not understand the description.
It did not get approved until 1893, when it presented an improved version. This time, on both sides of the guide there was an identical succession of pivots and bushings. By sliding the pin, the "female" on one side joined the "male" on the opposite side. Although with different pieces, it is the same principle of modern zippers.
After founding the Universal Fastener Company, that same year he appeared in Chicago for the World's Columbian Exposition (1893), in which he reaped a resounding failure.
The design was ugly and the mechanism complicated: it tended to open wide. Judson did not live to see it, but in 1913 one of his employees, Gideon Sundbäck (1880-1954), came up with an aesthetic and efficient alternative.
He replaced the pivots and bushings with two notched strips that fit when closed. As the closure was almost hermetic, the pin had a V-shape that bent the strips so that males and females mate.
The first major customer came in 1918, when the company that made the suits for US Navy aviators incorporated the device into its design. At that time, the product was not yet baptized. They called it “clasp fasteners,” or “Talon,” one of a thousand names for Judson's company.
It was not a minor issue, since he had already launched the marketing. In English they speak of zipper, a name that came to it in a very natural way: it is a derivation of zip, the sound it makes when it is activated.
And "zipper"? In León there will still be those who know what a gramallera is, a jagged hook that was used to suspend the pot over the fire, at the desired height. Etymologically, the most remote origin is from the Greek kremaster, which means "to suspend". From there it passed to the Latin cremasclum, until it reached the French crémaillère. That is to say, it is a loan from French, which was used for the new invention due to its similarity –although a bit of imagination is needed– with this homemade utensil.
At first, it settled on shoes, gloves, tobacco pouches, and industrial sacks. It was difficult for her to become fashionable, because haute couture designers, who, in the end, are the ones who shape people's tastes, considered her vulgar.
Like everything, it was a matter of getting used to. After the Italian designer Elsa Schiaparelli broke the ice in the thirties, daring to place it on the chest and waist of her models, it quickly became widespread. It was, after all, a strong closure.
Since the fifties, and to the anger of the nostalgic, they have even worn them on jeans. Not even astronauts can do without it anymore. Just ask the Russians, who in 2019 nearly forced their space agency to spend millions redesigning a prototype spacesuit. The problem: that she didn't have a zipper on her fly.
It was not because of what happened in 1961 to Alan Shepard (1923-1998), the second man to be launched into space, that minutes before take-off he had to choose between short-circuiting the wiring of his suit or having his bladder burst.
If Russian cosmonauts want zip flys, it's because of something the first man in space, Yuri Gagarin, did on April 12, 1961. A bus was taking him down a dusty desert road to the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan when he stopped the cosmonaut. driver. It would be nerves, but he had to relieve himself, and he did it on the right rear wheel.
Since then, everyone repeats the ritual. How not to be superstitious before a rocket launches you up to 28,000 kilometers per hour? In short, the company that makes the suits, Zvezda, had to confirm that it would find a way for the tradition to continue.
Of course, the zippers by themselves are not enough for an astronaut to trust them with life. The space suit that Neil Armstrong wore when he stepped on the Moon had three zippers and, in between, a layer of rubber. Otherwise, when he emerged into the vacuum of space, his entire body would have been pushed through the hole in his neck and smashed inside the diving suit.
