Ryan Marshall had become fascinated with moving huge objects as a child. His first introduction came while visiting his grandfather Rusty at a timber harvest operation near Farmington, New Mexico. Rusty was the foreman of a giant forest products company, having spent his entire career in the logging industry. He was a legendary logger in Northern New Mexico. The elder Marshall taught his grandson the practical application of mechanical advantage using logging techniques from a bygone era.
Ryan was just seven years old when he first visited his grandpa’s worksite, but never forgot that fateful day. His little eyes bugged out at the sight of a huge earth-mover buried to its tracks in a sinkhole- the operator churning the tracks, hopelessly stuck. Ryan always smiled when remembering the sight of Rusty’s red baseball cap flying through the air, having been thrown at the hapless tractor operator.
“Goddamnit! Stop moving before you kill the engine, you dumb son-of-a-bitch,” Rusty yelled, as he raced to the tractor. Rusty was known as the bull of the woods, having earned the nickname “Hot Piss” for his explosive tirades.
The inexperienced operator continued spinning the tracks of the D7, sinking lower with each forward thrust of the monstrous tractor.
“ Stop, ya dumb redneck,” Rusty shouted again. “Fetch me a choker and two twelve-inch blocks from the maintenance shed… then haul your sorry ass back and I’ll show you what a smart logger can do,” he fumed, leaning over to pick up his dirty red cap. “Fuckin’ kids don’t know a goddamned thing anymore.”
Rusty clearly had a plan for extricating the hopelessly mired tractor. By connecting the pulleys, he hauled the hulking tractor free with a much smaller piece of equipment. How can something so small pull out that big tractor? Ryan had wondered. He had learned an invaluable lesson from his grandfather, one which launched him on a lifelong quest.
From that moment, Ryan spared no effort in learning everything he could from his grandfather. He became extremely skilled at both the theory and the practical application of mechanical advantage; the workings of fulcrums, pulleys, inclined planes, and hydraulics became his passion.
Ryan capitalized on this knowledge and developed the skill to expertly move all types of heavy objects. It began with heavy equipment, following in Rusty’s footsteps, and he became a journeyman crane operator, mastering the techniques to safely erect cranes capable of handling enormous weight. From cranes, he graduated to relocating massive buildings in one piece without dismantling them. As his professional development continued, Ryan ultimately advanced to his present role as the premier designer of special application cranes. It was in this capacity that his services were now in great demand throughout the world. As the saying went: Levitation Solutions has the might to surmount any weight or height.
Even with these successes, Ryan was a long way from realizing his ultimate dream; he imagined the perfect crane, capable of levitating any object regardless of the mass. In this regard, he was locked in a mortal contest with his cousin, Jarrod Conrad, to unravel the mystery shrouding their obsessive dream: the source of universal gravity. Ryan pursued the mechanical means to overcome gravity: a frictionless crane that could levitate infinite weight. It was this single-minded obsession that drove him forward and put him on a path toward self-destruction, ultimately costing him more than he could have imagined: the love of his life.
EIGHT
Rio Grande Gorge
Taos, New Mexico
Ryan Marshall rolled onto the jobsite where Levitation Solutions was erecting a truss-arch bridge spanning the 600-foot-wide Rio Grande Gorge. His men were busily preparing to unload the keystone arch- Big Mo- the huge piece of steel that would complete the span in the middle of the bridge. This chunk of steel was indeed a big mother, weighing nearly thirty tons-the absolute limit of the tower crane’s specifications.
Corky was true to his word. The massive steel girders that would support Big Mo were all strapped and looked ready for the lift. There was a frenzy of activity while the crew made last-minute preparations as the delivery truck from Apache Steel pulled into the yard.
Ryan parked next to the construction office-really a twenty-six-foot-long portable trailer that had been converted into an office. He grabbed a set of plans, donned his hard hat, and headed to the base of the tower crane. The men, likewise, began gathering for the mandatory safety meeting, recognizing that Ryan had just arrived.
The safety meeting was a daily ritual that Ryan believed was the single most important reason Levitation Solutions maintained a stellar safety record. The foreman would lay out the plan for the lift, with each crewman reciting his responsibility. Communication signals were always reviewed, even though the routine never varied. This repetitive familiarity focused the men on the task at hand and reminded them that no mistake would be tolerated.
Ryan sauntered into the center of the gathering. “Morning, everyone. Let’s close that gap,” he said, pointing at the open space in the bridge above. “Who’s in the bird’s nest, Corky?” This was the small enclosure hanging from the jib at the center of the tower crane. The operator climbed to this perch some 300 feet above the ground to run the crane.
“Artie’s the jockey today…he won the toss,” Corky replied. Artie Rummerfield broke into a moonwalk to celebrate his good fortune.
“Okay, settle down, twinkle toes,” Corky scolded. “Just because you won the flip don’t mean squat. If Big Mo ain’t ready by noon, we do it all over tomorrow.”
“Like hell,” Artie replied, still stirring up dust in a pitiful-looking break dance. “Once I’m in the nest, I ain’t comin’ down ’til the two ends meet,” he sang out. “I’ve got the pisser and lunch…it’s all I need. Nothin’ standin’ in my way, boss,” he said, grinning broadly. His antics were intended to aggravate Martin Cavanaugh, the other crane operator.
Cavanaugh scowled back at Artie, irritated that he drew the more mundane role of communications between the rigger and the operator. “Yeah, you just keep clowning around, ya dumb Injun,” Martin sneered. “You’ll twist an ankle and won’t be able to climb the tower.” He shoved Artie irreverently.
“Whatever…” Artie scoffed in retort. “I’ll be the one in the bird’s nest looking down at your sorry ass.”
“Okay, okay, let’s get serious, boys,” Ryan finally said, stepping forward and cutting off the horseplay. “Corky, did you have a chance to check with Martin and Artie about any swayback?”
“No, I didn’t, Ryan,” Corky replied, embarrassed by the oversight. “I planned to start off the safety meeting with that question.”
“How about it, guys…either of you notice swayback or anything out of the ordinary?” Ryan asked of his two experienced operators. The concern on his face was not missed by the men.
“Nothing unusual, Mr. Marshall,” Artie responded. “Why’d you ask?” This was not the kind of discussion an operator wanted to have before ascending the tower.
An accomplished crane operator was all about confidence-but not just blind machismo. They demanded perfection, relying on the erection team to precisely calculate the counterweight and cable strength of the crane. The counterweight, in turn, defined the load limits of the crane. As long as the operator stayed within these predetermined limits, catastrophic failure was unlikely.
As important as the reliability of the crane, though, was absolute faith in the ground rigger. Each load was equalized by the rigger to assure it couldn’t slip once hoisted. A shift in the load, once airborne, would cause a dangerous shock load as the static weight was mathematically magnified. This could buckle the jib and collapse the tower. Surviving a crane collapse was extremely rare, especially a 300-foot tower crane like the one at the gorge. Artie noticed that his stomach constricted and his butt puckered at the mere mention of the counterbalance being compromised.