In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

13 The Allure of the Ledge Working Close to the Clouds, the Window Washer Is the Ultimate Risk Taker, the Ultimate Voyeur. I V O R H A N S O N IAM poised on a narrow ledge that angles downward to the street below . Drops of water fall from the mop in my left hand and form a momentary trail before scattering in the breeze. My right hand grips a cold metal frame while a squeegee dangles from my waist. I am 55 stories up and set to clean a window. At that height, wind is a factor, so I hug the building close. I look down to get my bearings; looking up can induce vertigo. Because I am on a postwar high-rise, there are no hooks to which I can secure my window cleaner’s belt. I can only rely on my fingertips and sense of balance. Still, I take advantage of my perch for a moment to admire the Chrysler Building a few blocks north. I feel a part of the skyline. I trust myself with my life out on the ledge. This trust lets me know that I am in sync, combining absolute awareness with controlled fear, and allows me to do my job. It keeps my feet in place and my head clear. I know how far my body can lean out, how far I can reach with my squeegee. Window cleaning has honed my concentration, and in close calls, this focus helps me hold on. I experience a rush, equal parts exhilaration and relief. I know the danger involved, but can also play down my derringdo . I can joke about where I would splat if I fell. I can even laugh—now —about dropping an air-conditioner out a Park Avenue apartment window . Whoever installed that air-conditioner did his best to make it appear that it would stay in place when the window was opened. It didn’t. I’m lucky I didn’t kill someone that morning, specifically the building porter 87 who had been sweeping below the window a minute before the thing fell two stories. Rightfully, he chewed me out when my boss and I ran down to the street and chucked the Freon-spewing unit into a nearby Dumpster . There was a dent in the pavement. I’m still leery of opening that window, despite the steel bar that holds the new air-conditioner in place. The least observed law in New York City? Article 9, Section 27/313 of the city Building Code, which states that an air-conditioner cannot extend more than 10 inches from a window frame when the unit is more than 10 feet from the ground, or more than 4 inches when it is less than 10 feet. These units routinely stick out much farther, putting a great strain on the window frame. That’s why when I walk down the sidewalk, I stick close to the curb. Window cleaning offers an appealing mix of personal challenge— dangerous windows—with sights I shouldn’t have seen along the way. Combining these with my squeegee’s low-tech charm and an O.K. wage helps to explain why, at the age of 36, I have kept at this dirty and demanding job for nearly nine years. It allowed me to pursue music in the past and makes possible my writing now. As for my own windows, they aren’t as clean as you might think; I clean the three but twice a year. I learn a lot about life as I attach myself to a window frame’s belt hook, after first testing the hook and checking for a hairpin or paper clip, what we cleaners leave behind to mark an unsafe window. Self-reliance comes to mind, as does knowing when to walk away from a job that’s too dangerous. Some people climb mountains simply because they are there, and spend lots of money to do so. I climb out on a ledge simply because some windows are dirty. And I get paid to do so. It’s funny. Many people tell me that they wouldn’t do what I do for a million dollars. And yet I do it for $10 a window ($11 if they’re cut up into smaller panes). It’s not often you know the exact worth of your life. Fortunately, a lot of what I see is priceless. Allow me a confession: voyeurism is one...

Share