Special people, and forgive me if I left you out: My brother George Inman, who, along with many others endured the cold, the heat, the toxic wastes of Union Station to help me document this incredible transformation; Kathy Wismer, who innocently showed up in shorts once, not knowing that was verboten on a construction site; the Batman, an iron worker who just felt an affinity for bats, of which there were many in Union Station in the early days. He would gently catch a bat when he saw one and release it later into the wild; Matt Nichols, photo assistant extraordinaire (now with his own, successful photography business); Chris Dahquist; and others whose names escape me at the moment.
There was one special person who was not really there to help, but to experience. That was internationally-known, local mystery writer Nancy Picard. She thought there might be inspiration for a book in the not-quite restored station.
The scaffolding was still in place in the Grand Hall, and I did not know until Nancy, George and I started up the first of 129 steps to the top, that Nancy had a real fear of heights. She was adaptable, but we had to stop on every landing and I had to "talk her up" to the next level.
At the outcome, she made it all the way to the top and touched the ceiling, something not many people had the chance to do. Back on the floor of the Grand Hall she thanked me for helping her overcome a challenge.
Speaking of the ceiling, Bill Ehlers, a master at the painting craft, directed a crew of artisans in the application of as many as 17 separate colors on the Grand Hall ceiling. It was an amazing piece of work.
Before that, however, sculptors reworked and remade 60% of the ceiling. Hales and Howe, based in England, was the company that provided the extremely skilled workers to complete the task.
One especially memorable character on the crew was Julian Davis, aka "chewy"-because he liked his chawin' tobacco. He had a British accent and a true artist's touch in measuring, creating and installing the hundreds of odd-sized pieces (some of which were called "eggs and rods") originally made more than 70 years ago.
I was curious how he felt about Union Station, given the fact that he and other Hales and Howe craftsmen had worked on Buckingham Palace and the United States Capitol Building.
Usually a light-hearted sort of fellow with a sharp sense of humor, he turned serious, looked me straight in the eye and uttered the words I shall never forget: "Roy, Union Station is Kansas City's castle."
I realized he was right. If there is a more grand building in our town, I don't know what it is.
____________________________
I had worked for nearly five years alongside the painters, sculptors (they were far more than mere plasterers), electricians, plumbers, tile installers. We got to know each other a bit, and we all knew that we were a part of history. They were reclaiming the station, I was recording the process. Out of that experience developed a sense of camaraderie. I more fully understood this when, at the outcome, and they were installing the final rosette in the Grand Hall, the sculptors asked me to sign it, along with the craftsmen who had brought it back to life. I have to tell you that I was touched-no, moved actually. It was a magic moment, and worth all the long days and nights, the physical hardships, the worn-out cameras, all the career sacrifices and time away from home.
So, if you are ever up close and personal with the 95-foot high ceiling, you will find my name up there :)
Next time: Final tale of the Book; a failed toy train attempt; "glam" photos; closing thoughts, FWIW.
The Photos:
A sculptor works on the platform built to a height of nearly 90'
The station was scrubbed inside and out with a non-toxic spray wash. The "before" section on the right gives an idea of how filthy the walls were.
This dusk photo of the scaffolding in the Grand Hall required six lights, a 4x5 view camera and a held breath on the 30' scissor lift.
A scaffold-builder awaits pieces of the puzzle. This strapped-to-the-pole view gives an idea of how massive the temporary structure was, and how far the platform was off the floor.
While this may appear to be your routine "replacing the clock" photo, there is more to it. As I hope you can tell, the two Capital Electric workers are turning a large wrench. There was much discussion before the clock's removal about exactly how to get it down with as little damage to the archway as possible. At first, the opinion was that a number of the marble blocks would have to be removed, a thought that made the historic preservationists cringe. Then, in a remarkable instant of insight, one of the Capital Electric men gave the big nut at the top a twist. Voila! It was a very large retaining ring. Unscrew it and the clock is free. Fortunately, it was being supported by scaffolding so that it did not drop to the floor. Consequently, no marble had to be disturbed, and the clock went away to its original makers for restoration and repair. BTW, the clock is six feet in diameter and weighs 1,000 pounds.
One of my favorite restoration shots. How do we know for sure it was taken during the restoration? Three things: 1) There is scaffolding in the semi-dark background; 2) There are no radiators near the railing; 3) The shadows on the floor indicate that the windows are open. They are now sealed shut.
And finally, Chewy's hands, after a day's work on the ceiling.
No comments:
Post a Comment