I first climbed the Mount Vernon water tower in September 1975.  I had spent my summer on the paint crew at a Monsanto chemical plant in Muscatine.  I wish that I could have brought my camera to that job.  The plant had an intricate network of pipes.  Each pipe had to be painted a different color to match what it contained.  Water?  Ammonia?  Acetic acid?  It could be a four-story adult-sized jungle gym.  By September I was a bit desensitized to working outdoors at a height.

The watertower was a bit different from the chemical factory.  The ladders at the factory had hooped backrests for safety.  The ladder that went up the leg of the watertower had no back.  It was bare painted metal.  The leg was splayed out a bit from center so the ladder had a slightly comfortable lean in for most of the climb.  The last 12 feet of the ladder departed from the leg and went straight up to the walkway around the watertower.

I don’t know why I did it other than because I knew that I would have a spectacular view at the top.  I didn’t tell anyone before I did it so that I wouldn’t inculpate anyone if something went wrong.  I just got my camera bag and did it.

My protocol was to keep at least three limbs attached to the ladder at any given time.  Move only one and set it before moving another.  Repeat this routinely.  Don’t stop.  Don’t look until you get to the top where you will have the best safest view.  And keep going when you are near the top, leaning back while you climb the vertical ladder to the top.

The view was spectacular.  The photos do it no justice.

To the east was downtown Mount Vernon with neighboring Lisbon down the road.  Highway 1 traveled south-west to the Cedar River bridge and up the bluff.  You could track that bluff all the way to the western horizon where it bordered Palisade Kepler state park.  The watertower was at about the same height as the clocktower of King Chapel on the Cornell College campus.

While I was up there I looked down onto the roof of Altoona Hall, the neighboring dormitory where I lived.  I got the idea to photograph the members of our dorm on that roof from the watertower.  Those photos are elsewhere on this website.

The most difficult step up was the first step down, turning backwards from the safe walkway and leaning back onto the ladder, setting a foot down into the void.  And finding a firm footing each step of the way down.

I’d climb the watertower four or five more times.  I stopped when a fellow student, Rachel McDavid, fell from the ladder while climbing and hurt herself.  Word got back to me that the administration that had been ignoring me would no longer.  I didn’t think it would be worth the risk any more.  I couldn’t explain it to my mother if I had to.  My basic rule of thumb for questionable behavior was, could I explain it to mom.  Not, would she understand or agree.  I could no longer explain to mom why I would climb a watertower.  To prove to myself that I could do it when I wanted to?

The photos described in this essay can be found in the gallery of Photos by Number, #47.