No Pane, No Gain : Window Washers From Around the World Show Their Stuff at San Diego

From around the globe, men and women came to talk about and demonstrate their skills with a close friend--the squeegee.

More than 400 members of the International Window Cleaning Assn. convened here over the weekend to talk shop, view a showcase of new glass-scrubbing products and, for some, compete in a Guinness Book of World Records-sponsored window-cleaning competition.

It was, even by California standards, a bit bizarre.

“This whole city, the whole country, geez . . . the whole world is talking about nothing except the war (in the Persian Gulf), and I’m working in a place with people carrying these squeegee things around with them for a tournament or something,” remarked one bellhop at the Town and Country Hotel, the convention headquarters.

The bellhop, a student at San Diego State University, said he wished to remain anonymous because, he emphatically pointed out, he wished to remain employed.

To the participants, it was serious business.

“Two guys walked through the lobby Friday night with these squeegees in cases, like little tennis racquets,” the bellhop said. “They were treating them like they were expensive violins or something. And they didn’t speak English. It was really weird.”

Among the conventioneers were washers from Venezuela, Japan, Denmark, Australia, Norway, The Netherlands, Italy, Canada, the Grand Cayman Islands, the United States and Iceland.

Jim Willingham of Lubbock, Tex., was one of the competitors. And there is perhaps no training ground in the nation as good as Lubbock for his chosen profession, he opines, claiming that a Lubbock dust storm in midsummer can often leave a homeowner wondering if there could possibly be any glass remaining under the dirt.

“In this country, us Texans are the best at window-washing,” said Willingham, who finished fifth the last year. “We’re just quickest on the draw, I guess. We’re just good at it.”

The record heading into this weekend’s event was 10.5 seconds, held by Keith Witt, 35, of San Antonio, Tex.

The competition involved three large mounted glass panes. Behind each pane is a judge who makes sure the entire surface is cleaned. Other judges hold stopwatches. The one who cleans the three panes the fastest wins.

In a blur, the competitors lathered the windows with a soapy mixture and, with a squeegee in the other hand--or sometimes in the same hand--shaved the foam off in an instant.

Some were so fast, an observer wondered what had happened. The squeegee, as the ages-old saying goes, was quicker than the eye.

“Every window-cleaning company in the United States tries to enter his best guy,” Willingham said. “They all try to send their hotshot. It’s a big ego thing.”

No doubt, but during wartime?

“As long as you don’t think about it, it’s OK,” said Witt, who was trying to improve on his record. “You’ve got to block that kind of stuff out of your head, or it will screw up your performance in the competition.”

As the finals approached, those remaining in the competition worked feverishly on windows outside, in the hotel courtyard, perfecting the squeegee stroke they hoped would bring them the $3,000 first prize.

When the official sloshing was over, Witt had emerged once again as the champion, but his world record remained unchanged.

Willingham finished a close second.