World fame eludes EL's dolos man

DAVID DENISON looks at the
world-famous dolos that originated in East London -- and explodes a myth.

A DOLOS is displayed at the entrance to the East London harbour bearing this inscription: "The dolos breakwater block was designed in East London in 1963 by Mr EM Merrifield, Harbour Engineer."

What was to become internationally recognised as a revolutionary sea buffer first saw the light through the vision of a draughtsman, though it later brought fame, fortune and international design awards to a harbour engineer who basked in the glory as its inventor -- wrongfully it turns out.

The dolos was designed by Aubrey Kruger in 1966.

Kruger was a 31-year-old draughtsman in the East London harbour engineer's office that year.

Along with most other people in the sleepy town of East London in those days, Aubrey went home for lunch. It was July.

He walked straight into the house at 37, Renfrew Street, Cambridge, and cut three equal pieces measuring 5,5 inches (14cm) off the top of his wife's broomstick.

This was the dawn of the "dolos".

Aubrey took the three pieces of broomstick wood, a few nails and knocked together what looked like an "H" with one leg turned through 90 degrees.

When Kruger returned to his desk after lunch, Merrifield wasn't in his office and Aubrey put the object on his desk, an object born out of office discussions and brain-storming in the light of 30-ton rectangular cement blocks being shifted around in stormy seas.

The blocks were meant to protect the breakwater guarding the entrance to the East London harbour.

"Those big blocks used to aquaplane into the water in big-running seas," Kruger recalls today.

When Merrifield returned, he was intrigued with Kruger's invention and commissioned the young draughtsman to draw a plan of the object.

Kruger still has that original plan, dated 12 July, 1966. The plan carries his signature.

Kruger also built the first model of what was to become known as the dolos -- and he still has that original model in his possession.

Aubrey's father, Joe Kruger, also worked at the East London Harbour and his talents extended to woodwork.

Merrifield, excited at the potential of Kruger's invention, went down to the woodwork shop flanking one of the harbour quays, accompanied by Kruger, and told Aubrey's father to make a wooden mock-up of the object.

When it was completed, Joe Kruger observed: "Wat speel julle met die dolos?" (What are you playing at with the dolos?)

And with that the dolos was baptised.

Dolos is an Afrikaans word for the knuckle joint in an animal's leg.

The name is particularly appropriate since the dolos is used by witchdoctors when they throw the bones.

The next step was to have the invention tested by the Council for Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR).

They built a big pool and in simulated stormy seas tested the dolos, a hollow tetrahedron (a hollow pyramid-shaped object) and a tetrapod, an object similar to a "duiweltjie" thorn.

The tetrahedron and tetrapod disintegrated; the dolos emerged unscathed.

At this stage, recognising the enormous commercial potential of his invention, Kruger suggested to Merrifield and Harvey Pelser, the assistant harbour engineer, that they take out a world-wide patent, resign from the South African Railways and Harbours (SAR & H) and look at marketing the dolos.

Kruger, regretting to his marrow every day since, allowed himself to be talked out of his patent plans.

Merrifield maintained the dolos was conceived in office time on SAR & H property and therefore, it belonged to the Harbours.

But that didn't deter Merrifield from embarking on a tour of the world, garnishing honours, basking in the glory the dolos had brought to him, never even acknowledging to international audiences Kruger's pivotal role in its development.

He always presented a front that the dolos was his "baby" and flew to Japan to receive the most prestigious international design award in the world, the Shell Design prize, a prize which also carried the then handsome monetary prize of R3000.

Returning to East London, Merrifield promptly installed a swimming pool at his home, thanks to Shell's largesse.

Cecil English, a brother-in-law of Aubrey's, was so incensed by Merrifield hogging the limelight without giving any recognition to Kruger that he tried to muster press support to get Kruger a belated Nobel Prize for engineering.

"The son invented it; the father named it and the engineer in charge stole it by claiming to be its inventor," a charged-up English wrote in support of his proposal.

Kruger lives in quiet retirement now at Mgwalana Mouth near Port Alfred and while he says he is not bitter about Merrifield grabbing all the dolos kudos, it is obvious it still rankles deep in his psyche, like a burr under his skin.

It rankles that only once did Merrifield ever acknowledge Kruger's role in the creation of the dolos -- at a farewell office function when he was instrumental in having Kruger transferred to the Durban harbour office.

It rankles that when Kruger returned to East London he was completely snubbed by Merrifield when their eyes crossed at a schoolboy rugby game.

It rankles that the Border Historical Society publishes an article in a recent edition of its newsletter on the history of the dolos giving all the glory to Merrifield.

Aubrey Kruger is not even mentioned.

The article was written by David Bowen, a man who followed Aubrey into the East London harbour engineer's office, arriving when Aubrey was leaving.

It rankles Kruger that in his article Bowen patronisingly quotes a "talented harbour carpenter" saying: "Nou wat gaan meneer met hierdie dolos maak?" (What, sir, are you going to do with this dolos?)

Kruger says the exact quote, as mentioned previously, was: "Wat speel julle met die dolos?"

He says Bowen's article is riddled with inaccuracies, including a reference to Merrifield being taken down to the harbour for the first time by his chauffeur in his official black Chevrolet.

"In fact, it was a Vauxhall."

Challenged on why there was no mention of Kruger's part in the evolution of the dolos, Bowen said: "Because I always understood Merrifield was the designer."

I put it to him pointedly that he must have been aware of Kruger's contribution and Bowen quickly adopted a conciliatory tone, offering to correct his perception in the society's next newsletter.

Then he added he had mentioned Kruger in talks with the Merrifield Preparatory School.

Merrifield Prep School secretary Carol Macphail said the school was named after Merrifield "to honour the man who actually designed the dolos. He has had little recognition" and added: "The innovative dolos, popular all over the world, epitomises the ethos of what our school stands for."

The school's principal, David Bawden, endorsing Macphail's comment, added the school had decided to honour someone from East London who was well-known for something that was environmentally friendly.

But he was surprised when appraised of Kruger's pivotal role in the development of the dolos, admitting he had never heard of Kruger.

Today millions of dolosse are scattered around the world, protecting harbours and shore earthworks and binding sea-sand.

"Would you like one cent for every dolos there is now?" Kruger was asked.

"Hell," he replied, "I'd happily take half a cent!"