On a Streak

For most people, window cleaning is a chore. For others, it is a job. But for a select few, it is sport.

Dressed in sweatsuits, squeegees in hand, about 80 of the world’s most fanatical window washers converged upon Anaheim’s Disneyland Hotel last week.

Intent on dethroning the reigning speed-cleaning champion, Franck Lauret of France, they came to compete in the International Window Cleaning Assn. competition, now in its 12th year.

Awaiting their turn to practice on a triptych of 45-inch-square panes, three Japanese contestants worked out their nervous energy by stretching and performing jumping jacks. A pair of Britons hovered near the equipment table, carefully selecting their sponge applicators, waiting for the contest to begin.

Jeremiah Hickey nervously twirled his squeegee. This was his first time in IWCA competition; he had placed ninth in the previous evening’s prelims.

“I just thought it would be a bunch of guys in a room cleaning windows,” said Hickey, 23, owner of On the Spot Window Cleaning in Pismo Beach. Not quite--the ballroom was filled with a couple hundred spectators.

Jim Willingham, of Lubbock, Texas, has cleaned “millions and millions” of windows in his 24 years in the business. A specialist in high-rise cleaning, he has competed every year, always placing among the top 10 but never winning.

“You can only go so fast with a squeegee,” he sighed. “But if I were to compete with one of these guys on a high rise, I could smoke ‘em.”

Willingham helped establish the IWCA 11 years ago to promote professionalism in window cleaning and to develop safety standards for the U.S. Occupational Safety and Health Administration. He started the window-cleaning competition for fun.

Still, the competition sometimes gets dirty. During last year’s event, 10 contestants were disqualified for “skinning”--failing to wet the entire window and pretending to squeegee across a dry pane. Someone also tampered with a front-runner’s squeegee by loosening the rubber from its frame, according to attendee Vince Riegler, 32, of Modern Window Cleaning in Grand Rapids, Mich.

*

Kenny Cohn, whose Washington, D.C., firm washes windows on the Capitol building and Supreme Court, was one of three judges positioned behind the panes at this year’s competition. He said he was on the lookout for skinning, as well as streaks, squeegee marks and drips.

Lauret was first to compete this year. Stepping onto the stage, he approached the three, side-by-side panes arranged center stage and placed his moistened applicator to the glass. The crowd fell silent.

“Three, two, one. Go,” a woman instructed.

Using a two-handed technique, Lauret set to work, dragging a soapy strip washer across the pane, chasing it with a squeegee. Little more than 10 seconds later, he was finished. Even with three soap streaks, resulting in an adjusted time, Lauret had set a new world record: 11.84 seconds.

For his trouble, the two-time champ would receive prizes totaling $525--$150 in cash, and reimbursement for his competition registration fee, $375.

*

Most everyone agreed that Lauret’s was an excellent time for competition but a hard pace to keep in a regular work environment.

“That could be a little difficult,” said outgoing IWCA President John Long, who runs LWC Services Inc. in Pennsylvania. “But if he could, I’d like to hire him.”

The 39-year-old Long, a window washer since age 7, competed in this year’s second contest--the medley.

“The idea is not so much speed but perfection,” said Long, who used a pole, a sponge and three sizes of squeegee to clean seven windows of varying shapes. He had four minutes to complete the job but finished in two minutes, 52 seconds, with one water drip.

“Last night was the first time I’d cleaned windows in three or four months. Most of my employees don’t even believe I can clean windows,” said Long, who placed fourth. First place went to Allen O’Connor, an Englishman who took more time but whose work was flawless.

“I dried all the frames first to get the sponges out of me hand,” O’Connor said of his winning technique. Then he left with his mates in search of a Guinness.

Susan Carpenter can be reached at susan.carpenter@latimes.com.