Highs and lows

Some views from above and below

We don’t have majestic mountains or deep valleys. No Sears Tower or underground mall. But there are some swell places to take in the view or go subterranean. Here are a few of them.

CRANE

Stefany Delifer, project engineer with J.H. Findorff & Son Inc., is probably telling me something important right now. I can’t hear a word of it. She’s drowned out by the deafening, guttural buzz of four cement trucks outside The James, a new campus high-rise being built on West Gilman Street. Delifer points towards the entrance of the construction site. I have to lean in close to decipher her next instructions.

“See that guy in orange?” says Delifer. “His name is Skippy, and he’ll show you how to get up there.”

Skippy — I never did learn his last name — is all business. He motions to follow and starts walking without me. We head down a ramp to the building’s underground parking lot. To climb up the 270-foot crane, you first have to go below the earth’s surface.

We traverse a few bends and arrive at the base of the imposing structure. Steel trusses surround a hole cut in the ceiling. The crane’s cloud-high mast is fixed to the ground on a concrete slab. A ladder sits at the center of the metal cage. Skippy radios the crane operator to let him know a visitor is heading up to his workplace in the sky.

Rung by rung, I make my way up the crane tower. A stack of 10-foot ladders connected by metal floor gratings is the only route to the top. It’s 13 floors to the operating cabin and the catwalk atop the counter-jib (the short arm of the crane).

It isn’t long before Madison’s cityscape emerges. I can see sailboats on Lake Mendota near the Red Gym, a throng of morning commuters on University Avenue and the white dome of the Dane County Veterans Memorial Coliseum beyond Monona Bay. The long horizontal jib or working arm starts moving as I scale further up the tower. The ladder — my only connection to the ground — shakes as the crane slowly swings into a new position. I glance down from the terrifying height and tighten my grip.

After 10 minutes of climbing, I reach the slewing unit (the gear and motor that allow the crane to rotate 360 degrees).

“Come on up,” says Craig Glover, the crane’s operator. He isn’t wearing a hardhat or yellow vest like the other workers. There’s no danger of any tools falling up here. One last ladder, through the center of the skewing unit, and I’m on the surprisingly roomy crane platform.

It provides an awe-inducing, unobstructed view of the city. To the west is Bascom Hill. To the east is the State Capitol. Sunlight sparkles off Lake Mendota and Lake Monona. We float above it all perched upon the best balcony in town.

“This is such a pretty city. There aren’t many places you get to see both lakes,” says Glover. “Watching the weather and the seasons change from up here is probably the best part about the job. You can spot a storm approaching from miles away.”

Cranes perform a remarkably simple but crucial role in building skyscrapers. Glover’s job is to use the massive machine to hoist materials, tools and anything else workers might need from one part of the construction site to where it’s needed. He spends his entire work day up in the sky. Findorff specifically told me not to ask how he goes to the bathroom.

“You can probably figure it out,” he says.

Glover, a member of Operating Engineers Local 139, has been operating cranes for over two decades. He’s worked on the Edgewater Hotel, The Hub on State Street and the sprawling Epic Systems campus in Verona. 

“My favorite memory was at 100 Wisconsin Avenue,” says Glover. “I was 220 feet up in the air and watched a blizzard come through beneath me.”

— Dylan Brogan

CAPITOL TUNNEL

The tunnel that connects the State Capitol to the Risser Justice Center on East Main Street was built in 1999 during the Capitol’s renovation. No one gave it much thought for about a decade. But the tunnel took on mythical proportions in 2011, when tens of thousands of protesters descended on the Capitol to oppose Gov. Scott Walker’s collective bargaining measures. The governor avoided the crowds by using the tunnel, and it was even rumored that his office arranged to transport supporters through the passage to attend his March 2011 budget address — a claim later denied by state lawyers in court papers.

Sen. Fred Risser (D-Madison), who recently arranged a private tour of the tunnel for Isthmus, says Walker still avoids meeting the masses this way. “He can park and then take the east elevator to his office without walking in the Capitol,” says Risser. “I have served with 12 governors,” adds Risser, who was first elected to the state Legislature in 1956. “He’s the first governor that does not walk around the Capitol and meet people. He’s quite inaccessible.”

But Walker spokesman Tom Evenson says that is not true. “He walks into the Capitol like everybody else.”

Aside from the palace intrigue, the reality of the tunnel is pretty mundane. Well lit, with concrete walls and floor, it is, by design, wide enough for a golf cart to pass through. It is used mainly to transport goods and mail to the Capitol and to keep the Square free from trucks and other blight. “The tunnel was built basically to get rid of all the dumpsters around the Capitol,” Risser notes more than once.

It’s also a place for surplus supplies. Items are stacked neatly against one wall, leaving the other side free for travel. There are some old wooden desks, a bookcase and what looks to be a chunk of marble from the Capitol. Potential thieves are warned: “It’s okay to look…. The video recording camera and Capitol Police are looking too. Smile.”

— Judith Davidoff

MADISON CHILDREN’S MUSEUM ROOFTOP

You don’t have to be in the 1% to get a million-dollar view of the Capitol Square and Lake Mendota. But you might have to navigate around some chicken poop and lurching toddlers. My vote for the best view in Madison is the wonderland of art and nature that covers the roof of the Madison Children’s Museum.

As you exit the oversized elevator to the Rooftop Ramble, the first wonder awaits. Look up to see the colorful painted glass mural by Spring Green native Richard Haas, whose Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired art is now obscured by the Monona Terrace Convention Center.

Since the museum opened in 2012, the rooftop flora has flourished. Greenery sprawls over the edge of the sturdy railings, and edible plantings yield currants, squash, carrots, peas and herbs.

At the corner overlooking the Capitol Square, which museum director of education Kia Karlen calls the “prow of the ship,” two long metal necks spiral from “The Lovebirds,” an immense sculpture commissioned for the museum from the Baraboo-based scrap-metal genius, Dr. Evermor. The body is formed by a repurposed cheese kettle and designed so it can function as a bat house — no confirmed residents yet, though. At the foot of the sculpture, tiny construction workers plow Tonka trucks through troughs filled with gravel, while enjoying a bird’s eye view of the construction underway at ground level.

A small flock of fancy chickens lives in a rooftop coop; some enjoy wandering privileges, much to the delight of squealing youngsters. Next door is a flock of homing pigeons trained to return to the museum when released elsewhere. Kids attending the July 31 Mallards baseball game will be able send messages back to the museum.

“We know how important it is to connect kids with nature and to encourage them to spend time outside,” says Karlen. “We’re trying to demonstrate how you can create nature wherever you live, even if you don’t have a yard.”

You don’t have to bring a youngster to visit the Madison Children’s Museum, but if you feel awkward about it, watch for Adult Swim events. That’s when so-called grownups get to play on all three floors and the rooftop — with cocktails! The museum also rents the rooftop for private events and hosts High Tech Happy Hour on Aug. 18.

Says Karlen: “Sometimes I’ll pop up here after we’ve closed, and it feels like a private paradise.”

— Catherine Capellaro

BLACKHAWK SKI JUMPS

You may have glimpsed them while heading out of town on Highway 14, jutting like giant Tinkertoys above the hills to the south. Madison is home to not one but four ski jumps (five if you count an abandoned one), and what you’re seeing are the tallest two.

The jumps are maintained by the Blackhawk Ski Club and are used year-round. They have plastic landing mats and steel tracks for training when snow is scarce. The four in use are 5, 15, 30 and 60 meters — the dimension refers to a designated jump distance, not the height of the jump itself — on two separate hills.

On a recent summer day, the paths are covered in wildflowers and have a sleepy, deserted feel. The only sounds come from buzzing bees and the far-away voices of a couple of mountain bikers. (The area is home to a network of off-road bike paths.) The jumps are vertiginous: The largest has 230 steps, and the steep climb to the top is not for the faint of heart. Speeding down it at 60 miles per hour? I’ll pass.

To get there: Take the Beltline to Old Sauk Road, turn right on North Pleasant View Road, then left on Blackhawk Road. The entrance is down a mile and a half on the right. Take a left at the fork to reach the base of the lower jumps (four-wheel-drive-only in winter); take a right for the upper jumps. Bonus: For those who love old Trachte buildings — the locally made equivalent of Quonset huts that are scattered throughout the area — there’s an excellent exemplar on the lower hill with a terrific mural dedicated to the 2008 women’s ski jumping team.

— Michana Buchman

CARILLON BELL TOWER

To get to his instrument, Lyle Anderson must first climb more than 80 stairs.

Anderson is the UW-Madison carillonneur, and he plays carillon bells. Each Sunday at 3 p.m. during the academic year, he ascends to the floor below the belfry to play for an audience he can’t see.

“You’re up there isolated, you don’t see the audience. You can’t be a performer that lives for the applause,” Anderson says, adding that personal passion is what drives many carillonneurs to play. “It pleases them to make music for themselves. I play music that fits my taste.”

Positioned atop Bascom Hill at an elevation of 950 feet, the University of Wisconsin Memorial Carillon reaches 85 feet above the surface of the hill itself. The belfry, which turned 80 this year, provides a great view of Picnic Point to the west and a slight view of the Capitol if you tilt your head at the right angle to look between the bells.

Anderson’s view, from where he plays, is less spectacular.

“You can see the roof of the Social Science Building and the street. A little tiny part of the entrance of Ingraham Hall,” he says.

Fifty-six weathered brass bells corresponding to the keys he plays are suspended from a “fairly simple” mechanical system of wires and bars on the top level of the tower that connect to a room below where the instrument is played, says Anderson. It is activated using a piano-like keyboard made of 56 wooden batons that the carillonneur brushes with the bottom of a closed fist rather than his fingers.

Ten graduating classes from 1917 to 1926 gave the tower to the university. The bells come from England, France and the Netherlands.

Compared to a piano or violin, a carillon is low maintenance, with little need to tune or polish. The last time the bells were serviced was three decades ago, Anderson says.

The biggest bell tips the scale at nearly 7,000 pounds. It registers a B-flat on a musical scale, while the smallest bell weighs 12 pounds and chimes a G note almost five octaves higher than that.

Listening to a carillon isn’t for everyone.

“The sound of bells is distinctive enough that it takes some getting used to,” says Anderson, noting that’s why he keeps his programs under an hour. “It’s not soothing, like music you listen to in an armchair.”

— Rachael Lallensack

KIKI’S HOUSE OF RIGHTEOUS MUSIC

Walk down the narrow wooden staircase of Kiki Schueler’s east-side home and find a subterranean wonderland for music fans. The walls are plastered with show posters, and other music-themed ephemera are displayed in nooks and crannies around the room.

The intimate space for Kiki’s House of Righteous Music is special for performers as well. Audience members often hang on every guitar chord or harmony vocal — a nice contrast with commercial bars where talking tends to be a distraction.

The space is small enough that occasionally concerts are completely unamplified, a rare treat to hear in itself. Performers are also often more inclined to tell the stories behind the songs in the friendly confines of the basement, and more likely to hang around to talk to everyone after the show.

Touring acts also get to stay at Kiki’s if need be, and all donations collected for the show go to the performers. Many performers are repeat visitors; Schueler says the current leader is Jon Dee Graham, who played his 15th show at Kiki’s in July.

Since her first house concert in 2005, Schueler has hosted more than 190 shows. Not much has changed. “I have more sold out shows, but I still have some that only a dozen people come to. Probably the biggest change from when I started is that more folks are hosting [other house concerts], and more bands are willing to play them.”

The next concert, on July 29, features rockin’ trio the Figgs, who put on a fabulous show in the basement in September 2015. “We have played many house concerts over the years. Kiki’s is right up there with the best,” says guitarist Mike Gent. “We are really happy she wants us back, and are looking forward to our show there this month.”

Shows at Kiki’s are invitation only, but it’s easy to get an invite; just join the mailing list by contacting Schueler at righteousmusicmgmt@gmail.com.

— Bob Koch

CITY’S HIGHEST / LOWEST POINT

Just 353 feet separate Madison’s highest natural point from its lowest. For all its great charms, Madison does not have much in the way of natural peaks and valleys to glean a variety of perspectives

I am often confused by what people mean when they refer to the top and bottom of State Street. The street seems more or less flat, and I never can remember which is which. The State Cartographer’s Office reports that the elevation difference between the two ends of the street is 34 feet. This is not, in my opinion, what counts as a “hill” — not when stretched over six blocks.

For all its great charms, Madison does not have much in the way of natural peaks and valleys to glean a variety of perspectives. There are no grand lookouts where you can gaze at the city in all its glory.

The office’s AJ Wortley confirms my impression. “Dane County in general still falls in the glaciated zone,” he says. “The fact that we had a big layer of ice on top of us...really flattened out the landscape.

So it came as no surprise to me to learn that the city’s highest natural elevation is a mere 353 feet above its low point. According to the Cartographer’s Office, the city’s low point — 43° 6’ 7.2’’ north latitude and 89° 19’ 12’’ west longitude — is on the east side, at the intersection of Regas Road and Corporate Drive, near the bike path that wraps around Starkweather Park. It is 836.9 feet above sea level. The high point is at the far west side of town, 43° 3’ 21.6’’ north latitude and 89° 32’ 16.8’’ west longitude. This spot is 1,190 feet above sea level.

I decided to bike out there to take a look. Unfortunately, I picked one of the hottest days of summer to go. Cycling up sections of Old Sauk Road and Pleasant View Road in 92-degree heat forced me to concede that Madison, in fact, does have hills.

Madison’s peak is somewhere along Pleasant View Road, a bit south of Mineral Point Road.

I doubt I locate the exact spot — my cellphone’s compass isn’t that accurate — but I know I’m near it. The road is lined on both sides with corn fields. It’s pretty up here, and there is a view, but on this hazy afternoon it doesn’t stretch that far. I can see suburban houses and the Beltline, not the lakes. I can’t be sure, but I may see a faint glimpse of the Capitol.

Yet Madison’s tallest hill is upstaged by a ginormous radio tower perched on it. I look around for a few minutes and then head back on my bike. Fortunately, the trip home is mostly downhill.

— Joe Tarr

MEMORIAL UNION TURNTABLE LOADING DOCK

The semi-trucks and stinky trash that used to jockey for space on the old surface parking lot adjacent to the Memorial Union will now be hidden from view, thanks to the construction of an underground loading dock, slated for completion this summer.

When Alumni Park opens next spring between the Memorial Union and Red Gym, it will offer a serene place to congregate, with a beautiful view of Lake Mendota. But there will be a lot going on just below its surface — even if you can’t see it.

The semi-trucks and stinky trash that used to jockey for space on the old surface parking lot adjacent to the Union will now be hidden from view, thanks to the construction of an underground loading dock, slated for completion later this summer and part of the ongoing Memorial Union Reinvestment project. But it’s apparently so top secret that Isthmus was denied access to view and photograph it.

Union officials are happy to share details of the structure, however. Moving the loading dock underground serves two purposes: It allows for the ground-level Alumni Park to be built — more than 100 years after campus planners envisioned green space between Library Mall and Lake Mendota — and it conceals the 350 deliveries and waste collections that take place each week at Memorial Union and nearby buildings such as the Red Gym and Pyle Center. A tunnel system connects these locations.

“Even if a park had not gone on top of it, it’s great to get all that out of view,” says Mark Guthier, director of the Wisconsin Union since 2001.

One of the most visionary aspects of the facility is a rotating railroad car turntable, which will make it possible for trucks to back into one of three loading bays by a simple push of a button.

“It’s kind of an architectural marvel,” says Guthier.

Wisconsin Union communications director Shauna Breneman notes that city of Madison ordinances prohibit delivery trucks from backing off city streets. “The turntable device allows deliveries to the underground dock to meet this requirement,” she says. It’s a very confined space, but vehicles will be able to enter, unload and exit without ever shifting into reverse.

— Jon Kjarsgaard

UW-MADISON’S SPECIAL COLLECTIONS LIBRARY

They call it “the attic.”

Cool, peaceful and softly lit, you might never think to go to the ninth floor of UW-Madison’s Memorial Library. But the space is home to the Special Collections library, a treasure trove with thousands of rare books and priceless literary artifacts, carefully curated and cataloged by a team of students and librarians.

“It’s not a museum, it’s a working collection,” says Susan Barribeau, an English language humanities librarian and literary collections curator. “It’s a teaching collection...it’s a collection to be used.”

There’s a secure elevator to take you all the way up and strict rules once you get inside — no bags, no food or drink and, most importantly, no pens. The picture windows, which provide a panoramic view of Lake Mendota, cast a dim light because they’re treated with anti-UV film to protect the ancient tomes from the sun’s harmful rays.

Formerly known as the Rare Book Department, the collection was previously housed in the Wisconsin Historical Society and on the fourth floor of Memorial Library. In 1990, the library added its eighth and ninth floors to house the Special Collection. The eighth floor contains secure, climate-controlled vaults, and the ninth floor houses the exhibition room, a teaching area, staff offices and more vaults. There were plans to add a 10th floor, but construction was scaled back.

Glass cases in the display area hold rotating exhibits. This summer, each member of the Special Collections staff got to pick one and fill it with their personal favorites. Papyrus scrolls from ancient Egypt, illuminated manuscripts from Medieval times, textbooks owned and annotated by Sir Isaac Newton and the country’s largest collection of “tiny magazines” are just a few of the treasures waiting up above. This fall, the theme shifts to Shakespeare, with an exhibit displaying the Bard’s Second, Third and Fourth Folios. The event is tied to the First Folio exhibition at the Chazen Museum of Art in November.

“It really is a living history,” Barribeau says. “It’s a connection with the past that’s very immediate.”

Visitors are often surprised when they learn about the existence of the Special Collections library, but Barribeau is hoping that might change. Staff has made an effort to spread the word throughout the university, and in the last few years more classes have been taking the elevator up to the ninth floor.

“It’s fun to see the students when they suddenly realize what’s in front of them,” Barribeau says. “They’re like, ‘Wait — this book is from 1495?’”

— Allison Geyer

Editor's note: This article has been edited to reflect that Blackhawk Ski Club maintains the jumps. Also, the ski jumps are only open to the public during ski jumping events.