Which he was. George is one of those rare men who was born a US citizen (graduated U of Washington), and had then gone out to Africa. There, his parents, also US citizens, lived in the Northern Cape, a bleak and empty region of South Africa, which resembles Nevada in many ways (but without any of that state's attractions). His father was General Manager of the Okiep Copper Mine, and George was surrounded by miners, prospectors and geologists from an early age. I have no idea what his degree was in, but George took to prospecting and for the past 50 years he's hunted everything from uranium to kimberlites, tigereye to iron ore. There seems to be almost nothing he couldn't turn his hand to. Along the way, he owned farms, transport companies, houses, a restaurant that made the best darned hamburgers in the Northern Cape, and an entire town in Namibia (built by the German Army). He's been the confidant of mining moguls in South Africa and North America, the acquaintance of US Presidents from Eisenhower to Reagan, and the buddy of Hollywood film stars and hobos alike. At the height of the racist Apartheid years, he married a Nama woman, and sent their son to the most prestigious college in Cape Town, while the government authorities fumed, but never charged him. George is one of those rare outsiders who embraced Africa in all its diversity and contradictions and, more rarely, Africa reciprocated and accepted him. By virtue of his wife's Nama roots, he became an honorary Nama himself, an elder, and finally, on the strength of his worldly experience, their quasi-paramount chief. Something borrowed, something blue. All of which would make George Swanson a remarkable man to meet. But there's something else that sets him apart. Nearly fifty years ago, while out prospecting, he stumbled upon a seam of chalcedony - blue lace agate - that turned out to be the only one of its kind in the world. He staked it, developed it and mined it. Today, wherever you are on the planet, if you see a piece of blue lace agate, you'll know it comes from George Swanson's workings. Back in the 1950s when he started, things were different. The farm on which the seam lay was just north of the Orange River, in what was then known as South West Africa. Under a 1920's League of Nations mandate, the country was run by South Africa, and to all intents and purposes, the two nations were one and the same. Which suited George fine, as he lived in Springbok, a town 100 miles to the south, in South Africa. But times change. Today, both are independent countries (SWA renamed itself Namibia) and the cash-strapped administrations on both sides of the river have discovered the potential for raising revenues at the border. Whichever way you're going, it's gonna cost you .. for the vehicle .. for the equipment .. for the ore .. for everything. If a dozer track breaks at the mine, it costs to take it to Springbok to get it welded, and it costs to take it back to the mine. George shrugs. That's Africa for you. About the only change for the better is the new road from Cape Town in the south to Windhoek in the north. In a region so vast and isolated, where you can drive all day and see nothing but fences and telephone lines paralleling the road, the highway actually runs right through George's property. The farm is named Ysterputs (it means iron holes, and is pronounced ay-stuh-pitts). So, although there are many logistical challenges, access isn't a problem. All the agate is trucked south across the Orange River in containers, and then on to Cape Town, for shipping worldwide. Fragile blue in space Back in the early days, George faced a marketing problem. While he had the world's only blue lace agate, it seemed the world didn't have a lot of interest in the product. George, who admired DeBeers and their remarkably successful strategy "A diamond is forever", realised he needed a slogan to catch the public's imagination. But nothing he tried seemed to work. And then, in December 1972, everything changed. NASA's Apollo 17 was the last mission to land men on the Moon, and on board was the only trained geologist to walk on the lunar surface, module pilot Dr Harrison Schmitt. On his return, he was asked at a press conference to describe what the Earth looked like from the dark depths of space. "If ever there was a fragile-appearing piece of blue in space, it's the Earth right now," he said. His words struck a sympathetic chord with ecological groups around the world. Those photographs of the planet, published in every newspaper and magazine around the world, gave the human race a sudden perspective we'd never seen before. And in far off Springbok, George Swanson heard Dr Schmitt's words, stared at a sphere of blue lace agate, and realised that his ship had just come in. Months later in California, George pitched a high-powered ecological association, that had on its board pretty much every US First Lady since Eisenhower (plus the Governor of California, an ex-B movie actor named Ronald Reagan). George handed out blue lace spheres, and asked his audience to compare them to the memorable photographs of Earth, taken by the astronauts as they returned from the Moon. "It's a fragile-appearing piece of blue in space," he said. The likeness was uncanny. Time Magazine liked it. Life Magazine picked it up. Blue lace agate was suddenly very hot. The annual Tyler Ecology Award, given every year to a person contributing to the enhancement of global ecology, became a blue lace agate sphere. George was in great demand, and even better, so was his agate. Orders poured in, as people began to ask for this delicate chalcedony. The following year, George was back in California, promoting for all he was worth. This time he came loaded with a full range of lapidary and jewellery goodies. At a fund-raising dinner that was attended by all of Hollywood's who's-who, George took the precaution of giving the MC, Clark Gable's widow, a matching set of blue lace earrings, necklace and ring before the start of the evening. Mrs Gable (Kay Spreckles) was a swinger. Glamorous and well lubricated by the time she rose to speak, she went into a boisterous explanation of how NASA astronauts had been unable to get the blue lace agate out of the Moon, but George Swanson had been sent for and done a damn fine job! Further, he had presented her with this beautiful necklace and earrings. Oh yeah, and a ring. Yes! A beautiful ring! Actually, that clinched it, she and George were engaged! It brought the house down. Sitting next to George at his table was a prominent industrialist. When Kay Spreckles sat down, he turned to George and said, "I donated fifty grand to this foundation tonight! And all she could talk about was your damn ring!" Ysterputs Farm, Namibia. The Namib Desert is a fierce place to survive. Summer temperatures swing up into the 130s (in the shade), and winter nights are brittle, freezing what little water there is about. Plants are scarce, and game rare. But what makes the place unattractive for a rancher, makes it easier for a prospector. The bones of the earth lie exposed to the eye, and subtle ripples and showings can be better detected. The agate seam averages about 2" (6cm) in width, and dips steeply (70 - 85 degrees) northwest. Over the years, miners have followed it for over half a mile (a kilometre), and down to about 50 ft (15m) which is the practical depth for the type of surface mining the company does. The seam pinches and swells from time to time, sometimes narrowing to half an inch (1cm), and at others getting up to 3" (8cm). There are occasional vugs too, where druzy blue agate can be found. But mostly, it's a continuous sheet of delicate, lacy blue agate that has no equal anywhere in the world. It has charmed and dazzled collectors and lapidaries alike since George first started hauling it out. Proven reserves indicate the seam goes down to 250 ft (75m) below the present workings, with a possibility of double that. As a rule, the blue colour improves with depth, so there's some incentive to getting down there. But the host rock is a hard dolerite, which takes considerable energy to blast and remove. It's unlike Australian chrysoprase, where the host rock is a soft sedimentary. At Ysterputs, the miners have cut a 2m (6 ft) wide trench down to about 50 ft and followed the seam. There's a second seam about 150m northwest of the main deposit, running parallel to the main structure. It's been extensively mined by shallow surface workings, where up to six separate veins are present in weathered dolorite. Because of the narrowness of the ore body, the gem is usually in small pieces, so presents no transportation problems. It's graded, bagged and containerised at the mine, and shipped out to the coast for export. Something old, something new. George Swanson wears large pants with baggy pockets. From their cavernous depths he produces chunks of brilliant blue material, plus handfuls of quartz crystals, which he hands out as samples to everyone he meets. Some crystals have rainbows or ghosts in them, others are covered in a red hematite coating. All are from neighbouring workings on his properties. There's also some frilly agate that resembles Mexican crazy lace, without the strong contrasts of red and white so popular in that country's material. Still, the Namibia material is strikingly beautiful too, and harder than heck to cut. Like any prospector, George has more bags slung over his shoulders than a luggage salesman. One contains rocks and similar material. Another is full of papers, maps, survey reports and assays. Still another has literature on his properties, letters of introduction, letters of support. Give him a moment, and George pulls out articles published by people all over the world, comparing blue lace agate to … well, pretty much anything you can think of. "It's the gem of ecology," declares George with conviction, "it's the fragile blue in space." In the local jewelry store there are polished baroques of blue lace agate laying in a basket on the counter. George approaches them almost reverentially, as though he's never seen their like before. He picks up a piece. "This is beautiful," he says simply. You can say that again. Thanks George, for doing it.

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