[SOC] soc

[Bert H. Cook]

Bob Krueger wrote:
> >From bob, WB9UKQ.
> Not so much a SOC story but something that a tower top worker might be 
> interested in.  enjoy.
>
> Where Is King Kong When a Bulb Goes Out?
> By CHARLIE LEDUFF      (N.Y. times)
> It was a cold and windy evening, which doesn't mean much, unless you are one 
> of the men hired to change the light bulb at the pinnacle of the Empire 
> State Building.
> The 10-inch, 620-watt aviation beacon went dark in October, around the same 
> time that a man waving a wooden musket and wearing a puffy pirate's outfit 
> plunged from the observation deck and died on the outcropping of the 21st 
> floor. This interesting bit of synchronicity was related by some engineers 
> who were congregated on the 85th floor, where they make their offices.
> ''Next time, he should try the door,'' said a rotund radioman who was 
> halfway through his second jelly doughnut.
> Deke Johnson, 38, a Kentucky-born gamecock whose job it was to scale the 
> 1,454 feet and 6 9/16 inches from the street level to inspect the filament 
> in the bulb, shook his head in mock horror at their conversation. ''They 
> sure know how to take the thrill out of the thing,'' he mumbled to himself.
> The official job title held by Mr. Johnson is antenna tuner. He is the son 
> of a good Christian man, he said, an unsuccessful insurance salesman who 
> donated his life to the occupation. The son tried the business as well, 
> found that he was no good at it, and found this job paying him $17.50 an 
> hour with medical benefits and a 401(k).
> ''Hell, I'm just an old high school boy, and I made it to the top of the 
> Empire State,'' he said in a thick Dixie drawl as he zipped his freezer coat 
> up to his chest early Saturday morning. The winds would reach perhaps 30 
> miles per hour at the summit and the temperature would hover around zero. 
> ''The only wind and temperature gauges up there's your hind end,'' he said. 
> ''But it's pretty accurate.''
> He was to be joined on the steel needle by Keith Unfried, 40, an antenna 
> installer, and Tom Silliman, the boss.
> Mr. Silliman has the reputation as one of the best antenna men in the world. 
> A stout and robust man of 55, he is a designer and manufacturer of 
> commercial antennas, a competent welder and electrician, and above all, an 
> able climber. He has made more than 100 trips to the top of the Empire 
> State, beginning in the early 1970's.
> To maintain his reputation and business relationship with the building, Mr. 
> Silliman had to get the work done in the appointed time. Two days. During 
> normal operation, 17 million watts are pumping from the antennas at the top 
> of the building; for the men to accomplish the repair work, four television 
> stations had to be shut down and 16 radio stations rerouted through other 
> antennas. The weather had to be ignored and fear left on the ground.
> ''You climb up there when it's a live wire and it'll cook you like 
> popcorn,'' Mr. Silliman said around 1 a.m. as he separated his tools and 
> wires while the television stations were taken off the air. ''But you have 
> to remember that a television station isn't making money when all you're 
> seeing is a black screen. Time is of the essence here.''
> Unlike most roughriders, these men did not drive into town in fancy cars, 
> drink bourbon with beer chasers or chase women they would never remember. 
> They did not bring good-luck pieces. They carried no tokens or amulets or 
> pictures of their wives, just a firm belief in the Lord Jesus Christ and a 
> sure belief in their grip.
> They came by plane and then by a bus and then by the subway train. They came 
> from Chandler, Ind., a small rural town in the southwestern corner of the 
> state that is the headquarters of Mr. Silliman's concern, Electronics 
> Research Inc.
> They are simple men and they dressed in leather and canvas and thermals and 
> whiskers. Their faces were red and lined and wind-whipped.
> Excepting the forlorn and the foolish, the 70-year-old building has good 
> luck for the working person. While the building was erected over one year 
> and 45 days -- ahead of schedule -- only two ironworkers fell to their 
> deaths, and no window washer ever has.
> The tower begins above the 105th story, the original mooring mast for 
> dirigibles and 1,250 feet from the ground. A hatch opens out into the 
> evening air, and from here the light bulb -- which can burn for two years --  
> is 204 feet away. Just 117 feet of this climb is enclosed ladders and 
> platforms built of U.S. Steel; the spire grows narrower and narrower until a 
> crow's nest is reached about 87 feet from the bulb. The crow's nest is less 
> than four feet wide and has no railings, and it is a straight plummet to a 
> certain death.
> There are few sounds besides the howling of the wind, and when a man spits, 
> he will watch it disappear into the night, calculating that it will take 
> minutes before it strikes the East River.
> The men strapped on their gear, including Manila safety ropes. But they 
> cannot use those ropes until after they have free-climbed the remaining 87 
> feet on 4-inch bolts welded into the antenna, much the same way a high-wire 
> diver must.
> It was the language of the barracks up there. The humor was pickled, but the 
> work, like their footing, was precise. They claimed that they were not 
> concerned with heights, but when it was time to go up, Mr. Unfried took a 
> deep breath and said to himself, ''I hate this part.''
> Once on top of the vibrating antenna that is about the width of a softball, 
> they locked their ropes into place and the blue sparks from the welding 
> began to fly, giving the appearance that the men were being struck by 
> lightning.
> Only the welding of new tuning brackets and heating strips that keep the 
> antenna free of ice and in proper frequency would be done that night. It was 
> not until the next afternoon, during sunlight hours, that they tightened the 
> radio antennas into position and solved the light problem. It turned out to 
> be a broken electrical line, not a broken light bulb, and the beacon was 
> restored at 4:31 p.m. Saturday. As it turned out, the beacon would not blink 
> as it usually does because the fuse that makes it do so had burned out. 
> Another job for another day.
> When the light came back on, the men lingered for a few minutes, and Deke 
> Johnson lighted a cigarette and leaned back on his heels. They admired the 
> Statue of Liberty and they admired a city that they would never want to live 
> in. Then they scaled back down, took off their tools and headed for the bar 
>
> _______________________________________________
> SOC mailing list
> SOC at mailman.qth.net
> http://mailman.qth.net/mailman/listinfo/soc
>
> Mailman: User Guide for List Subscribers
> http://mailman.qth.net/subscribers.htm
>
>   
        This is usch a profound and powerful story. Does anyone know 
when it was originally wrritten, or published. I see that it comes from 
the NEW YORK TIMES newspaper. Bert, K6CSL