On September 20, 1932, 11 ironworkers sat shoulder-to-shoulder, chatting over cigarettes and sandwiches.

What made this ordinary lunch extraordinary, however, is the fact that they were all sitting on a narrow beam, seemingly unattached to the under-construction RCA Building in Midtown Manhattan, floating 840 feet above the city.

Today, the photo is known as ‘Lunch on a Beam’ and is among the most recognized and reproduced documentary photographs ever.

As the archivist of Rockefeller Center, I’m often asked about that image: who the men and their photographers were, and what compelled them to risk their lives on a beam high above the city streets.

The answer to those questions has been largely unknown - until now.

In my search for the truth, I trawled Rockefeller Center Archive’s collection of photos and documents from the 1930s, continued my search through union halls, libraries, museums, private archives, public appeals, the internet, magazines, newspapers.

And I interviewed ironworkers and the descendants of ironworkers who related poignant accounts of life in the Roaring Twenties.

The result of all that research not only identified the men on that beam for the first time, but also of the daredevil photographers who documented their work.

And it painted a vivid picture of the challenges and opportunities that faced families as America sped toward prosperity and social change.

For the first time, more Americans lived in cities than rural areas, creating a building boom and jobs for the unprecedented number of immigrants arriving in New York.

Then came the crash.

On Thursday, October 24, 1929, the stock market began its collapse, sending America and the rest of the industrialized world spiraling downward into the Great Depression. Half of all banks failed, unemployment rose to 25 percent, and many became homeless.

‘Those were bleak times,’ said Michael Breheny, one of the scores of descendants of New York ironworkers who shared their family stories with me.

Many of them told me that the decade it took to construct Rockefeller Center saved their families from devastation.

‘At least they were putting bread on the table,’ Breheny said. ‘They were better off than most.’

John D Rockefeller Jr - the visionary behind the center and once the most hated robber baron in America - faced his own, not entirely unconnected, challenges: to drum up interest in more than five million square feet of office and retail space, which didn’t yet exist, during the darkest years of the Great Depression.

His solution: Hype the construction and hype it relentlessly. And nothing dazzled like jaw-dropping photos of daredevil ironworkers, feeding a public primed by pulp fiction and Hollywood to romanticize the ‘cowboys of the sky.’

Until now, the photographers who risked their own lives to take those iconic pictures have remained a mystery.

And while most of the images cannot be attributed to an individual, we know who some of the photographers were because pictures taken that day include mind-blowing shots of the photographers themselves: Charles Ebbets, Thomas Kelley and William Leftwich.

Only Ebbets’s family has claimed he took the famous picture. Their evidence includes a handwritten note from Charlie’s wife, Joyce, attesting to his creation of ‘Lunch on a Beam.’

Ebbets was present at the RCA Building that day, as documented in a photo of him crouching atop the steel skeleton with a camera in hand.

He would often photograph himself on the job, he told an interviewer in a 1938 article for Popular Photography magazine.

‘In order to obviate any opportunity for critics to claim that he fakes his pictures, Charlie Ebbets carries an automatic timer in his equipment and makes a picture of himself in every setting,’ the article reported. ‘Thus he is the most photographed camera operator ever.

His daughter, Tami Ebbets, confirmed the photo is a self-portrait.

When Charlie left New York in November 1932, he returned to Miami, where he lived until his death in 1978. He was renowned as an adventurer, wrestler, parachute jumper, wing walker, pilot, automobile racer and a World War II Army Air Corps photographer.

He trekked the Everglade swamps and crossed the sands of Egypt, producing a body of work found in almost every picture publication of the time.

The famous shot may also have been taken by 18-year-old Thomas Kelley - an archival photograph from that day in September 1932 shows him audaciously straddling a narrow I-beam while adjusting the focus of his camera 70 stories above the city.

He wears trendy spectator shoes, suspenders and a white belt, the getup of a man who wants to be noticed - or at least keep his pants up.

Kelley appears undaunted by the extreme height as he casually hooks the heel of his shoe on the flange of the I-beam. The view is south, as the Empire State Building looms in the background.

In the 1940s, Kelley left New York and opened a photography studio in Hollywood. He became known for his portraits of movie stars, and famous for his iconic 1949 nude photos of Marilyn Monroe, later published in the first Playboy magazine.

After Kelley died in 1984, his son, Thomas Kelley Jr, continued the studio.

Kelley Jr told me that many of his father’s New York photos are lost. But he said his father liked to tell stories about his famous subjects.

One such story: His father met Monroe at a party, near the beginning of her career. He gave her five dollars for a taxi home and later reached out three times to propose shooting her in the nude.

She declined twice but finally agreed, and posed for Kelley only with his wife in attendance.

Tellingly, Kelley never claimed credit for the famous photo of the ironworkers, his son said.

Then there is William ‘Lefty’ Leftwich, a debonair and gutsy paparazzo. In his breathtaking portrait, he stands nonchalantly atop a six-inch-wide I-beam over (it seems) the 840-foot abyss.

He wears a dark suit, a fedora (note the press card in the hat band), and two-tone wingtips while precariously balancing and focusing his camera.

The tops of buildings on the Upper East Side of Manhattan stretch out directly below him.

‘He had no fear of heights,’ his son, Bill Leftwich Jr, told me. ‘And he was a bon vivant, a man about town, frequently accompanied by Rockettes.’

He was the quintessential freelancer, photographing everybody and every event. He took pictures of politicians like FDR and sports figures like Lou Gehrig while developing corporate clients, including Trans World Airlines and Studebaker.

Leftwich was on the steel structure September 20, 1932, the day ‘Lunch on a Beam’ was taken, and his personal agency, Newspictures, is credited with other photos taken that day - including one strikingly similar to the famous image.

Considering that the nation was struggling through the worst months of the Great Depression, the pictures may seem frivolous.

But they served a tangible cause: to attract attention and rent space in the RCA Building.

And a less tangible one: the photos promoted a vision of the future of New York, America, and even the world: confident, prosperous, hard-working and fearless.

Don’t look down, they said. Don’t look down.

Abridged and Reprinted with permission from Lunch on a Beam: The Making of An American Photograph by Christine Roussel, published by Brandeis University Press © 2026 by Christine Roussel. All rights reserved.