Making strategic choices when the playbook isn’t written
While researching early aviation claims last week, I kept running into mentions of Gustave Whitehead's aircraft engine work. Sure, controversy surrounds Whitehead's claims that he flew a powered machine successfully in 1901 and 1902, predating the Wright brothers' 1903 flights. But whether or not you think he flew first, he was well known and sought out for his ability to make aircraft engines.
George Lawrence, another pioneer in the field, specifically sought him out for several engine projects. Other inventors bought his engines too. There was actual documented demand for what Whitehead could and did build.
And yet, Whitehead kept splitting his attention between what people would pay for and what might make him famous. This isn't about poor business strategy — I think it's about the challenge of making strategic choices when you're operating in a market that barely exists.
Sound like anything else going on right now?
cough, cough AI cough, cough biotech cough, cough crypto cough, cough.
The market that was starting to exist
Early 1900s: Aviation was totally experimental. Most inventors built their own engines or modified existing ones. But there were signals that a separate engine market might emerge. Whitehead's lightweight engines attracted attention from other inventors.
Charles Wittemann installed one of Whitehead's engines in a helicopter attempt. The craft didn't fly, but the engine worked well enough that people noticed. Whitehead displayed engines at aviation exhibitions and got orders.
1908: This is when Whitehead partners with George Lawrence to form Whitehead Motor Works. They built engines in three sizes: 25, 40, and 75 horsepower. Real products with real specifications for a market that was tiny but starting to take shape.
But this wasn't like entering an established industry. The entire field was being invented in real time. Literally, like building the plane while it’s flying.
Thanks, folks. I’m here all week.

The No. 21 (1901) monoplane/aircraft near Whitehead's Pine Street shop. Whitehead sits beside it with daughter Rose in his lap; others in the photo are not identified. A pressure-type engine rests on the ground in front of the group. Photo by Valerian Gribayedoff, from Wikipedia.
Where the constraints apply
Whitehead was an immigrant inventor with limited business connections — and faced lots of inherent challenges that made business difficult. Especially in the burgeoning field of aviation as he lacked access to capital and distribution networks. His business practices were unsophisticated — he was sued many times by customers and often hid his equipment to avoid seizure.
All the while, he kept diverting resources back to aircraft experiments. Part persistence, part necessity — proving he could fly might have been seen as his best shot at attracting serious backing. This is me speculating, not sure if this is true.
Personal challenges
Whitehead lost an eye in a factory accident and suffered chest injuries that contributed to ongoing health problems. By 1915, he was working factory jobs, possibly as much from physical limitations as business failure.
1927: Whitehead died of a heart attack while trying to lift an engine out of a car he was repairing.
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The pre-market problem
While it's unclear whether focusing solely on engines would have saved Whitehead's business, the early aviation market was essentially inventors commissioning custom work from one other. Most successful aviation companies of the era — Wright, Curtiss, others — did both engines and the aircraft structure work. Specialization wasn't viable when your total addressable market was as small as it was then.
Whitehead was essentially trying to build developer tools before there were enough developers to sell to. Or much of anything to develop. Compare this to any inventor working in a field that barely exists. You're not just building a product — you're trying to figure out if there’ll be a market at all.
What this teaches us about focus in pre-markets
The quip about focus — "do one thing really well" — assumes there's a sizable market for that one thing. When you're creating the market itself, the rules are different and how institutions shape which stories survive and how they get told.
Something else to consider
Anyone can become an inventor as long as they keep an open and inquiring mind and never overlook the possible significance of an accident or apparent failure.
Sherman, who co-invented Scotchgard fabric protector at 3M, discovered one of 3M's most successful products by accident while trying to develop rubber for jet fuel lines. Her experience captures Whitehead's dilemma perfectly. In pre-markets, you often don't know which "accident" or side project will become viable. Sherman's approach required staying open to multiple possibilities rather than committing to one path too early.
The positioning lesson: When markets barely exist, the "right" strategic choice often isn't clear until years later. Whitehead's split focus might have been rational given that neither engines nor aircraft had proven commercial viability in 1905.
This matters when building in emerging fields today. Sometimes you need to pursue multiple opportunities until one proves the market exists. The risk of premature focus can be as dangerous as spreading too thin when you're not sure there's a market to focus on.
The stories we tell about innovation often assume markets existed when they didn't. Or maybe that’s the wrong tense — markets exist when they don’t. Whitehead's challenge might have been about timing and access to capital as much as strategic focus.
Worth remembering when you're making strategic choices before markets form. Strategic choices in one light, bets in another.
Until next time,
Skipper Chong Warson
Making product strategy and design work more human — and impactful
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