Answer extracted from the Creatures of the Industry podcast — listen to the full episode below.
Before written safety regulations existed, experienced scaffolders passed knowledge directly to younger workers through hands-on mentorship, making custom and practice more effective than formal rules. A skilled lead hand would watch over newcomers carefully, teaching them the trade and ensuring they understood the work before moving them into dangerous positions high in the air.
In the era before scaffolding work was heavily regulated, the construction site itself became a school. As described in Creatures of the Industry, the relationship between experienced and apprentice scaffolders was built on observation, correction, and earned trust—not compliance with written procedures.
The most critical figure in this informal system was the lead hand, whose watchfulness kept younger workers alive. This person held authority not through a title but through demonstrated competence and years of working safely on complex projects. They knew every hazard before it became dangerous.
A lead hand would train newcomers by placing them in progressively more challenging positions—never throwing an untested worker into work at height until they had proven themselves capable. This gradual exposure ensured that by the time someone was working 70 metres in the air, they had internalized the rhythms and risks of the job through months of supervised practice.
Custom and practice was also about integration into a work community with unwritten but absolute standards. A scaffolder didn't just learn techniques; they learned what it meant to be part of a gang. This sense of belonging created accountability—letting down the gang or breaking an unspoken rule carried social weight that often exceeded any formal penalty.
As discussed in the episode, the question "If you can't get on with people, you're no good" captured this reality. Technical skill alone was insufficient; trustworthiness, reliability, and willingness to look out for your workmates were equally valuable. The gang would remove someone who didn't fit, regardless of their scaffolding ability, because working at height with unreliable people was fatal.
"If you can't get on with people, you're no good. Doesn't matter if you're a super scaffolder. We'll just get rid of you and get two other people."
Terry Riggs — Contract Scaffolder. Riggs began his construction career in 1971 as a builder's labourer in Sale, East Gippsland, and transitioned to scaffolding a decade later. He worked on major offshore projects at Barry Beach from 1978 to 1983, obtaining both scaffolding and rigging qualifications. Throughout his career, Riggs has worked across numerous commercial and suburban construction sites in Victoria and Western Australia, giving him deep insight into how safety culture has changed over decades.
The strength of this system lay in its immediacy. If someone made a mistake, the lead hand saw it in real time and corrected it on the spot—not in a formal incident report weeks later. Mistakes that could kill you were addressed within seconds.
To explore how scaffolder training evolved formally and what changed when regulations finally took shape, listen to the discussion of 1970s training pathways in the same series.
In the 1970s, scaffolders obtained a permit valid for at least 12 months to 2 years, during which they recorded everything they'd done and learned before formal qualifications were awarded.
Riggs observes that on major Melbourne construction sites, the younger generation has experienced different workplace dynamics and a decline in the collective solidarity that once defined the trade.
Riggs criticizes companies for maintaining detailed safety documentation that remained unused in folders on shelves, disconnected from the actual conditions and decisions of workers in the field.