This was probably taken in 1998. I had harnessed up and climbed out of one of the globe’s panel openings at the very top of the Smith Tower. I was thinking I would be able to lower myself down to each of the gothic windows and cut around them with a utility knife so they would be operable. I had signed a twenty-year lease on a cool roughshod space and now I had to make it livable.
My body started shaking the minute I was outside the globe. It was more than sewing machine legs. It was a full-blown tremor upon tremor experience. I tried waiting it out. I tried deep breathing. I actually wondered whether I would be able to get back inside.
Looking down, I noticed that there was someone else far below who was also on the outside. They looked like they were working on the exterior terracotta near the 24th floor.
I did make it back inside. It was a relief to unhook the climbing harness and watch as my fingers slowly stopped their jiggling.
I sat still for about a minute, but I wasn’t ready to give this mission up. I quickly navigated down the dusty passageway, the ship’s ladder, the spiral stairs, and the catwalk stairs to the mess of pipes and patchy concrete that was the floor of the pyramid.
Of course, my next stop was to catch an elevator down to where I thought the masonry worker was.
“24th Floor,” said Hamilton, the elevator operator, as he slid the gate open to a darkened room. All the shades had been pulled down. As my eyes adjusted I realized that there were about 30 people tightly packed in and earnestly working on computers. I asked if it would be possible for me to lift the shade and open the window in the corner to talk to a gentleman that is working on the outside of the building.
“It is an odd request,” said the person who appeared to be in charge. “But we’ve heard stranger.” A few coders looked up from their workstations. “Okay.” He said. “Unfortunately you are going to have to climb on that desk. Move the computer carefully. Put everything back just as it is now.”
I thanked him and cleared a small spot to climb up on the desk. Then I raised the shade. Groans came from behind me as the searing daylight cut across the room. Then I gingerly raised the rickety 100-year-old window and poked my head out.
“Hello,” I said to the masonry worker and introduced myself. He looked at me quizzically and then said that he was David and that he worked for Pioneer Masonry.
I explained that I was trying to make the windows of the pyramid at the top of the building operable. They needed to be cut loose as it appears they are sealed in place on the outside. Would you be able to cut them free, so I can add hinges and locks?
He laughed and said, “I’d be happy to do that, in fact, I have something personal that I need to do up there at the base of the flagpole. Perhaps we can do a trade?”
I was flabbergasted. And delighted! “Wow. Yes. A trade would be incredible.”
“I’m all done here,” David said, “but I need to pack up a few things and reload the parking meter on my truck.” “How about I meet you up at the globe in 30 minutes?”
As I neatened up the desk, there were quizzical faces around me. I think everyone had heard the conversation and we were all likely wondering the same thing. What could it be that David needs to do at the base of the building’s flagpole?
Sure enough, David arrived as planned and knew exactly what to do. He was a large man but he had no trouble squeezing through the narrow space to reach the globe. Together we uploaded his ropes and equipment.
Each side of the pyramid had six triangular windows. He would slice around the outside of them and push them in about a 1/2 inch. I was on the inside and could catch each one and carefully lower it to the floor. Then I attached brass hinges to the bottom and screwed on a surface bolt style lock. Together we were able to make 19 of the 24 windows operable.
It turned out that David knew the building well. He did annual inspections and patched up the terracotta with grout when it was needed.
Over the course of the day, David shared why he wanted to help me. It was an incredibly sad story. Words simply do not capture the grief he was going through. We continued to work as he talked, but we were both crying hard.
About a week ago, his wife had died in a car accident.
He was taking things one day at a time.
Last night he went to his workshop had created a plaque for her. He wanted to attach it somewhere special. He was thinking about putting it on the outside of the Smith Tower in a place that was not likely to disturb the integrity of the terracotta tiles. He wanted to honor her. He liked the idea of placing it on the tip-top of the globe.
“The flagpole doesn’t get many visitors,” he said. “I will treasure that it is there and I will be able to see it from many places in the city and I’ll be back to polish it every year when I do the building’s exterior inspection.”
