THE STEEPLEJACK

By 1937 the Johannesburg Central Business District began to change dramatically as engineers, architects and construction  companies began to emulate the trend in major cities around the world, stretching their reach ever higher into the skyline. The great cities of Chicago and New York began to utilise the properties of steel to support the construction of high rise buildings, catching the imagination of developers the world over. 

Johannesburg was no exception as the industrial and economic hub of South Africa. Companies used real estate and the development of iconic structures to make their mark in the developing business and industrial complex in commerce, capturing the attention of the public, investors and clients. The image of an organisation that could boast with ownership of a magnificent structure, attracted attention and admiration, followed by an inflow of investment, an increase in turnover and growth in wealth and prosperity. It was a time of massive economic expansion as the Fusion government began to pull South Africa out of the global Great Depression, as the formation of a co-operating, quasi-national multi-party government was intended to achieve. Mercifully the Witwatersrand gold mining industry provided the means to induce rapid economic recovery.

Mark Hawthorne, a forty year old who had eked out a living during the Great Depression – living in shacks, clothing his family with second and third hand clothes and “depression footwear” (white tackies), saw an opportunity in the new, growing Johannesburg construction industry. A man with a solid set of steel nerves, he ventured into employment in the industry as a steeplejack. There were not too many other takers vying for such posts – as the occupation required a strong constitution to scale the massive heights, clambering up the outside of high-rise structures and scaffolding that most others shied away from. It was not for the faint of heart.

Built in two years from 1935 to 1937, the Anstey’s Building gestured to the sky as it was constructed with all deliberate speed. Mark cut his teeth in construction on that project which erected a magnificent art deco edifice on the corner of Joubert and Jeppe Streets, which for a number of years could boast about being the tallest building in Johannesburg. There he honed his skills, doing those tasks others feared to perform, so he accumulated skills that became valuable in many areas of the building trade. In 1937 he moved on, though, to other projects that required him to scale the dizzy heights of buildings under construction – at first further along Jeppe Street which began to look like a tribute to the South African national bird, the “blue crane”, as builders’ cranes began to alter the skyline. 

One morning in 1937 Mark was, as usual, busy installing window panes some forty or fifty metres up. He was, due to the complex nature of the task, assisted by several other colleagues also brazen enough to brave the horrendous heights without fear. Those were times in which scant attention was paid to health and safety in the workplace, hence no safety harnesses were issued or used. Theirs was a highly skilled vocation and all were adept at handling the building materials, in this instance a massive glass pane, safely. All things being equal, it should have taken an hour to manipulate the pane into position and secure it to its moorings. Thereafter the application of a robust sealant would have completed the task and the team would have negotiated their way along the outer perimeter to the next gaping hole and repeat the process of installing the next glass pane. This particular morning was anything but normal, though. 

At ground level, a generous portion of the sidewalk was cordoned off with wooden slats. Small glass peepholes at regular intervals were provided for inquisitive passers by to peer at and admire the progress of work on the new edifice. Sufficient room was left on the sidewalk for pedestrians to make their way along Jeppe Street in single file to their destination elsewhere in the central business district. On this particular morning around ten o’clock, there were few pedestrians and the traffic was not really congested – this being before most ordinary folk owned motor vehicles. The trams were efficient in conveying the masses around Johannesburg and its few suburbs. Urbanisaton had begun, but the population of the business capital of South Africa had not yet burgeoned to the degree that followed the Second World War and continues into the twenty-first century.

At the moment events took a turn towards disaster, apart from the steeplejack workmen above, there was a young lady in her early twenties, Joanne, who was wheeling her eight month old sleeping baby along the sidewalk in a perambulator. Behind her was a middle aged fellow in a business suit who was rather in a hurry to return to his office at the bank where he worked. The chap had been to another branch to sort out issues with the mountain of paperwork that accompanied transactions in the thirties. Also on his way to the same branch was a clergyman carrying cash from the Sunday service offering (collection) to deposit in the parish account. A random assortment of souls completely unknown to one another and with no discernable links, found themselves in harm’s way on that Monday morning.

Johannesburg is not known to be a particularly windy city – at ground level. It was a beautiful autumn day, just warming to a degree that made workmen and pedestrians alike, consider dispensing with sweaters or blazers, something they had determined to do upon reaching their assorted destinations – and in the case of the steeplejacks, during their much anticipated and sorely needed tea break. A calm, serene atmosphere prevailed in the city just prior to the events which were about to unfold  unexpectedly and in the twinkling of an eye. Inexplicably, calmness oft seems to prevail before a swirling tornado of events that whisk victims into a state of frenzy.

High above the oblivious pedestrians below, a sudden gust of wind swept into the massive glass pane being maneuvered gingerly towards the frame intended to hold it in place. It is with incredible force that it swung around, smashing into one of Mark’s most able assistants. It dislodged him from his precarious hold on the scaffolding and sent him plummeting towards the earth. Mercifully, a verandah on one of the lower levels had recently been completed. It was a hard landing for him, but the force broke his right femur, and three ribs – he escaped with his life and with a prospect of lengthy recuperation (and loss of income in those days before the improvement in labour law that stipulated what compensation injured workers are entitled to). 

Thereafter, the pane smashed into the concrete wall, shattering in a variety of configurations – both small shards and large – but all incredibly sharp. A large piece of glass headed straight for the lady with the perambulator, narrowly missing the baby, but severing Joanne’s left leg above the knee. The pram careened into the wooden paneling and she was flung to the pavement and lay supine, reeling in agony and with blood gushing from a severed main artery. The banker behind her had his head smashed by an intact piece of glass, fortunately not by the sharp end. Regardless, his head served as an obstruction on the way to the pavement and shattered the glass – spilling flesh and blood in all directions. He met the pavement in the prone position and was severely concussed and cut by the splintered pane. His head injury was serious, but not fatal. As with any cuts to the scalp, the bleeding was profuse, but is rarely life threatening if the skull has not been penetrated. The clergyman had not been injured badly. His few cuts were evidence of his presence at the scene, but the prayers at the Sunday service had clearly not been in vain. The swift dexterity with which he sidestepped the most devastating blows would no doubt feature prominently in years to come as his sermons elucidated the nature of Divine providence.

The clergyman was the first who could render assistance at the scene. His immediate and correct assessment was that Joanne needed the most urgent attention, sprang into action and put in a valiant effort to stunt the enormous blood loss draining her life out of her. In the meantime, onlookers materialised, one of whom had the presence of mind to use the nearest business telephone (no cellphones those days) to solicit the assistance of staff at the Johannesburg General Hospital (established around 1912) a few miles away in Klein Street, Hospital Hill (Hillbrow). Without hesitation she and the unharmed baby were transported to a makeshift emergency section. Clearly the clergyman’s actions were assisted by a higher hand, as she survived the devastating blow – despite the loss of her leg. Recovery took an inordinately long time and she had to relearn the skill of walking – henceforth with a prosthetic leg which would today be considered antiquated and quite primitive.

A host of questions come to mind at this turn of events:

• Why this gust of wind at the moment these folk were in harm’s way?

• Why were these specific people in the line of fire, as it were?

• How did Providence determine that none were killed?

• Why did Joanne lose her leg?

None of this was predictable. The devastation was real, but could have been far worse. Once again life has thrown up the consideration we should keep in mind as we make our way along the course of our mortal lives: Plan as if you are going to live forever, but live as if you are going to die tomorrow!

©Paul M Haupt

                                            Modern steeplejacks in harnesses.

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