Failure never deserves taking your own life. Neither does the partner you love abandon you, nor is it worth being ruined "for life" by a "bad deal." Things can turn around. The reasons why someone decides to take their own life may fade (or not). But if they fade, or lose their strength, it's better not to make an irreversible decision. Someone at rock bottom doesn't see it that way, of course.
When businessman Javier Camps learned that his project to build the Besòs Water Tower had failed—which meant he had lost his invested fortune (and that of his family, friends, and acquaintances)—he dismantled it. Completely alone (he was single), in the dark, with an oil lamp, he wrote that salt water ran through his veins. The next day He climbed the tower that had taken him so much effort and jumped into the void.
The reason for the failure: the poor quality of the water, which contained excessive salt, making it unsuitable even for irrigation. And yet, before building the tower, a careful study of the groundwater, sourced from the Besòs River, had been carried out, and it was notable for both its quality and quantity. "There was a severe drought, and seawater penetrated the water table. The supply was suspended," says Jordi Fossas, president of the Poblenou Historical Archive. "We'll climb 311 steps," explains Jordi, who knows this building like the back of his hand. Or almost. "What we don't know is how many bricks there are in total. We tried to calculate it with a computer program: without success," explains Fossas.
In any case, the tower stored and supplied water for ten years, from 1882 to 1892. It was a profitable business. Barcelona grew and grew... and it was thirsty. With the water from this tower, Barcelona went from having 15 liters per inhabitant per day to 30 liters per inhabitant per day, far behind other cities like Rome (500 liters per inhabitant per day).
As we climb, he explains in a very engaging way—you can tell a lot of groups have been there—some interesting facts about the tower. He does it in chapters. Each chapter takes place on a landing during the climb. It's easier that way. From the outside, you can see an exterior staircase (they made it because you couldn't go up inside, as it was filled with pipes, which are no longer there). I'd be a bit scared to go up. But we went up inside.
We're now standing right above the now empty water tank. Lights accurately recreate the amount of water it contained (up to 600,000 liters). A sound like a shower can be heard. This was recorded at the Tibidabo water tower, located near the amusement park, almost at the top. This tower is still active. It was the work of Josep Amargós and Samaranch, dating back to 1905.
We're at the top! The tower isn't actually particularly tall, but the fact that it's somewhat distant from tall buildings gives it a great view. The sea seems closer than it is. And so does Mallorca: on crystal-clear days, those with good eyes (or good binoculars) can even see the Tramuntana mountains.
From 1929 to 1990, the tower had a function not initially intended: at the MACOSA company, heir to the Can Girona metalworking company, the water was very useful for rapidly cooling iron.
So the tower has had three functions. "Who would have thought it would be a first-class viewing platform today?" I say. "Little did Javier Camps imagine it! In life, we all have projects. It's better to carry them out, even if they don't turn out well. Because the real failure is not trying," reflects Jordi.
"Look at this chimney," he says. It's close to where we are, on the side of the mountain. "It's made of reinforced concrete," he adds. It's the last chimney built in Barcelona, in the 1960s, when the industry in Poblenou had long since languished. It's about 64 meters tall, one meter taller than the tower we're standing in now. They built it a bit taller so the smoke wouldn't be obstructed. "Why would you say chimneys aren't demolished?" he challenges me. "Because they're a symbol of industrial heritage," I reply. "Well, no. Because it costs money, and by doing so, you practically don't gain any floor space, unlike what happens with factory buildings," he explains.
"This was Camp de la Bota. It was a shack-like area, completely undervalued, and today it's one of the places in Barcelona where housing is most expensive per square meter," explains Jordi, pointing toward the buildings located on the seafront. How things have turned around!
The tower is clearly modernist. It was designed by Pere Falqués, best known for creating the set of lampposts and benches on Barcelona's Passeig de Gràcia. Falqués was chief firefighter and municipal architect of Barcelona, two things that don't have much in common; the accumulation of unrelated political responsibilities wasn't so unusual at that time, nor is it today. Falqués had already created—it was his debut film– the renovation of the dome of the Sant Andreu church, which collapsed and caused seven deaths. Sorry, but this article has more deaths than I expected.
The republican flag was raised during Franco's regime
"Whether the weather is good or not, we take guided tours of the tower. And if it's windy, you can stay protected," says Jordi Fossas below the tower, where there's a small exhibition about the building's history, with some unique pieces, such as an original manhole cover from the company's early days and a Republican flag. "Every April 14th, the day the Second Republic was proclaimed, that flag was raised at the top of the tower," he tells me. It's not that small, but up there it would go quite unnoticed. Now, in "full democracy," this activity isn't held.
Numerous artists have depicted this tower: Ramon Calsina, Josep Maria Subirachs, Miquel Vilà, among others. The square where the tower stands has been named after Ramon Calsina.