The 1,200 ton
Unless otherwise noted, all images are copyright of www.Sackrabbit.com 2008
I've written this segment with a heavy heart. I started this project enamoured like many
with the big blue iron crane, an inanimate object on our horizon. At that point I had yet to
meet Bobby Harvey. The crane was always "over there" across the bay. Large, lurking like
a dinosaur frozen in time. For 30 plus years I gazed at it thinking, it would be cool to just
walk near it, touch, climb it. In 2007, I had the first opportunity to get up close. It was as big
as I thought, but it was a lot different. It had a low level pulse. Walking near it, there were
noises coming from it. Shudders from the wind, a slight echoic rumble on occasion. A year
later, when I rekindled my interest to document this icon, it was surrounded by life. There
were twenty to twenty five workers all earning a living at doing what they do best.
As the weeks went on, I met some of the workers. Each and every one of them were
proud to be working on Goliath, which is likely to be the biggest job they will ever see.
Sure there will be taller buildings, one worker said, "let's get it done, we have a city to build
next". They all had a gleam in their eye when they reached a milestone. On August 8th, the
day they removed a 160' leg and 80 tons of steel, they were they strongest men on the
planet. When they completed that pick, there were high fives with all their might, whoops
and cheers " that's what we do gentlemen, Local 7's finest" chanted foreman Dave Carter
as he walked off side by side with Bobby Harvey and crew. These guys were stoked!
These men are proud of what they do. The pros make it look easy, but it's experience,
dedication and "game on" as the General Foreman says. I shook hands with several of
them right afterward, it was a proud moment for sure. "How ya doing boss" Bobby said to
me as he headed for the job trailer, " that was awesome, I'm lucky to see you guys in
action" I replied. At that point, I didn't realize the significance of our brief exchange. Another
day as he walked by on the way back to lunch he said "lets get this done, we have a city to
build".
The project has taken on a real pulse, workers with families, job stories, with pride and a
lot of commitment to get it done right. My story has transformed from industrial to one of
human interest. To see the sweat and muscle, brains and brawn at work changed the
perspective. Old shipyard workers have contacted me, told me stories to make you laugh,
a few to make you cry, all very human, transformed from inanimate to intimate. One
afternoon I met a man at the gate. He was leaning on his Harley, shades on, arms folded,
he looked intensely at the crane. When I introduced myself, he said "I worked there, I
helped build that". A half hour later I was at his garage listening to stories, and seeing
pictures that have been in a desk draw for years. I made another new friend.
I'm personally very saddened to learn of the tragic accident and death of Bobby Harvey,
the proud Ironworker, husband and son. From a giant hunk of sky blue steel to deep
emotion embraced by the thousands who worked there, sweat there and the few who are
forever remembered for their ultimate sacrifice and died there. It's as if the shipyard is
giving up a fight, kicking and screaming. My mission extends the human element to this
extinct shipyard and to help in any way I can, by creating a place of reflection and
remembrance.
with the big blue iron crane, an inanimate object on our horizon. At that point I had yet to
meet Bobby Harvey. The crane was always "over there" across the bay. Large, lurking like
a dinosaur frozen in time. For 30 plus years I gazed at it thinking, it would be cool to just
walk near it, touch, climb it. In 2007, I had the first opportunity to get up close. It was as big
as I thought, but it was a lot different. It had a low level pulse. Walking near it, there were
noises coming from it. Shudders from the wind, a slight echoic rumble on occasion. A year
later, when I rekindled my interest to document this icon, it was surrounded by life. There
were twenty to twenty five workers all earning a living at doing what they do best.
As the weeks went on, I met some of the workers. Each and every one of them were
proud to be working on Goliath, which is likely to be the biggest job they will ever see.
Sure there will be taller buildings, one worker said, "let's get it done, we have a city to build
next". They all had a gleam in their eye when they reached a milestone. On August 8th, the
day they removed a 160' leg and 80 tons of steel, they were they strongest men on the
planet. When they completed that pick, there were high fives with all their might, whoops
and cheers " that's what we do gentlemen, Local 7's finest" chanted foreman Dave Carter
as he walked off side by side with Bobby Harvey and crew. These guys were stoked!
These men are proud of what they do. The pros make it look easy, but it's experience,
dedication and "game on" as the General Foreman says. I shook hands with several of
them right afterward, it was a proud moment for sure. "How ya doing boss" Bobby said to
me as he headed for the job trailer, " that was awesome, I'm lucky to see you guys in
action" I replied. At that point, I didn't realize the significance of our brief exchange. Another
day as he walked by on the way back to lunch he said "lets get this done, we have a city to
build".
The project has taken on a real pulse, workers with families, job stories, with pride and a
lot of commitment to get it done right. My story has transformed from industrial to one of
human interest. To see the sweat and muscle, brains and brawn at work changed the
perspective. Old shipyard workers have contacted me, told me stories to make you laugh,
a few to make you cry, all very human, transformed from inanimate to intimate. One
afternoon I met a man at the gate. He was leaning on his Harley, shades on, arms folded,
he looked intensely at the crane. When I introduced myself, he said "I worked there, I
helped build that". A half hour later I was at his garage listening to stories, and seeing
pictures that have been in a desk draw for years. I made another new friend.
I'm personally very saddened to learn of the tragic accident and death of Bobby Harvey,
the proud Ironworker, husband and son. From a giant hunk of sky blue steel to deep
emotion embraced by the thousands who worked there, sweat there and the few who are
forever remembered for their ultimate sacrifice and died there. It's as if the shipyard is
giving up a fight, kicking and screaming. My mission extends the human element to this
extinct shipyard and to help in any way I can, by creating a place of reflection and
remembrance.
| A tragic day - In Memory of Robert "Bobby" Harvey 8/14/08 by George Graham |
| Local 7 Ironworkers Bobby Harvey and Foreman Dave Carter remove the shackle and rigging from the SW Leg. (8/8/08) |
| Team work, IUOE Local 4 Oiler Jay Cushman and Local 7 Ironworker Bobby Harvey work hand in hand to guide the leg in place. (8/8/08) |