The Hanseatic League
My vague awareness of Medieval History reminds me that in the Twelfth Century or thereabouts, the craftsmen of the northern Germanic countries of Europe gathered themselves into a massive and extended guild of sorts to protect their interests as they grew their commercial enterprises. This collective or union was called The Hanseatic League and it existed as a powerful business force in the region for several centuries. This confederation was put together first for business defense, but as all consolidations of power, it eventually turned more offensive in nature to give the tradesmen at its heart an edge over their competition. It is one of those constructs (not unlike a labor union in our current economic rubric) that can be seen as just and good to level the playing field of commerce, or it can equally easily be seen as an abusive and almost evil force for competitive advantage that seeks to upend the playing field to favor its members. I cannot imagine that I have ever spent one nanosecond thinking about such an commercial collective, even while I was actively studying economics in college. Today it came to mind.
For the second day I have been working with a coppersmith to put the roof edge on my Hobbit House to contain the green roof I am installing. I was going to just find a gutter guy to bend some powder-coated aluminum for me onsite, but I inadvertently called a guy who only worked in copper. I am a sucker for copper. It is a bright, shiny metal that always draws my interest due to its beautiful earthy color and it malleability. I have several copper wind sculptures and even on static copper statue on my back hillside. I have always liked copper trimmed roofs. They look quite exotic and elegant. Both I and this guy assumed that copper would be too expensive for a playhouse installation, but as we pursued it it landed pretty close to what I had budgeted for the green roof edging, so I went forward with it.
The coppersmith’s name is Hans and he is of German extraction, having emigrated to the U.S. in 1985 or so. He had apprenticed under an old German coppersmith and made a decent career out of it in the U.S. From my first conversation with Hans, it was clear that he was in financial straights and getting long in the tooth and was thus past his commercial prime. He had made a good living from his craft and had a nice home and a shop to show for it, but I immediately suspected that cash flow had slowed to a dribble for him. His shop looked…shop worn. His truck and other vehicles were showing some wear as well. His business seemed to consist of him and him alone. He also was in the asset disposition side of his business since he pitched and sold me on buying a large copper finial that was left over from a renovation of a Hindu temple in San Francisco some years ago. He told me he had four he could sell me and I bought one and listened as he kept pitching me to buy the others a well. I told him I had used up my yard art budget and that sufficed for the moment.
When Hans came over to my house to deliver the large finial, I could see him looking around casing the joint. Our hilltop looks more impressive and expensive than it is. Most friends are shocked at how little we paid for the place, but since then we have done a great deal to upgrade and invest in improving the property. Nonetheless, to Hans, I was suddenly Mr. Moneybags and he went right back into finial selling mode until I shut him down. When I called Hans last week to advise him that I was getting ready to need the copper edging I had ordered and made a deposit on, he whined about the rising cost of gas for a special trip to L.A. to pick up my copper, saying he wanted to combine it with another necessary trip to L.A.. I know a money whine when I hear it, so I told him I would pay the gas cost to make a special trip to bring the copper back last week. He agreed , but then on Friday when I called him he was beside himself with frustration. Apparently, while he got the copper, it wasn’t done to his exacting standards. I short circuited that by saying the playhouse didn’t need to be perfect and we should start putting it up on Monday. He finally agreed to see me Monday.
When he finally arrived, he carried one of the arched front pieces downhill to the Hobbit House and we put it in place. To his pleasure (and mine), it worked well and did not seem to be deficient. We put up that and one other piece and said we would do the rest the next day (today). Hans finally showed up at noon and in the next several hours, we stumbled our way through putting up several more pieces, but fell short of completing the task as we had planned. The operative words are “falling short” since Hans is somewhat height challenged and the ground around the Hobbit House is not known for its levelness. Every few hours, Hans would tell me that he hoped. CoulWhile I went up on the roof again (my perch from the day before as well), Hans struggled to find purchase for his footing and my ladders. He finally said he wanted to get some scaffolding he had at this shop. Needless to say, I just sat up on the roof while Hans prepared to get all the tools he needed to bend and shape copper.
Once we got to the northwest corner, where the ground falls away to the low side and a longer ladder is required, we were moving at glacial pace and I was up on the roof looking at the blue sky most of the time. Meanwhile, Hans was below the eaves mumbling this or that and moving the ladders around to suit his next task. In the background, the neighbor to the south was having his new pool jackhammered into the bedrock, so my head was pounding with every strike of the hammer on stone. Hans and I couldn’t hear one another, but I told Hans as loudly as I could to be careful and that we could just take our time. He mumbled something back and moved out of my field of vision below. The next time the jackhammer stopped I peered over the edge to see Hans seemingly lounging on a large rock. I asked him what he was doing and he said, “didn’t you see that I fell from the ladder?” I had not, and he didn’t look hurt in the least. Hans is an older gentleman and moves slowly, and I didn’t see that he was moving in any injury-based manner. After another half hour I saw him coming back down from his truck saying he had taken some pain reliever pills and that he was not really up to finishing today if that was OK. He promised he would finish in the morning.
It all felt sort of funny to me at the time since he did have the energy to bring two copper masks he wanted to sell me on a special trip down the hill. I agreed to buy one and like with the finials he seemed to think that Mr. Moneybags should have bought them both. I paid him for it on the spot and he said, “you trust me to polish it and bring it back?” I said I did.
This evening I was talking to my architect sister and told her the story. She immediately went defensive and said it sounded like a workman’s compensation scam (something she has seen many times). It hadn’t occurred to me, but she succeeded in raising my suspicions. I have now decided to bring Hans’ ladders and tools up the hill early tomorrow and when he arrives to tell him I’m not comfortable with him on a ladder and that I will take care of the brazing and finishing myself (obviously, I will get someone to do it for me). My sister has turned me defensive. I will pay Hans what I owe him and help him load his equipment and thank him for a job well done…but that I will take it from here. I now fear that the Hanseatic League has moved from defense to offense and that I may be the target of an effort to level the Mr. Moneybags playing field. Hopefully, the problem will drive away with his ladders and tools and that will be the end of it. We’ll see.