It was an ordinary July day in 1967 — the kind of sweltering Florida heat that made the hum of air conditioners echo across neighborhoods. In the city of Jacksonville, the demand for electricity soared so high that the power lines strained under the weight.

Somewhere along those buzzing cables, two linemen — Randall Champion and Jay Thompson — were performing what should have been a routine maintenance job.

Nothing hinted at danger. The men were experienced, skilled, and careful. But in a single instant, routine turned into tragedy.

As Randall reached for a wire, a 4,000-volt surge shot through his body. The shock was so powerful it stopped his heart instantly. His body went limp, hanging motionless in his safety harness — lifeless, suspended forty feet above the ground.

For comparison, the electric chair — used for executions — delivers roughly 2,000 volts. Randall had taken double that.

Below him, his partner Jay froze for just a moment, staring up at the unthinkable. Then instinct and training took over. Every second mattered. Climbing toward Randall, Jay knew that waiting for help was not an option — by the time anyone arrived, his partner would be gone.

There, high above the street, surrounded by humming wires and open sky, Jay did the only thing he could. He pressed his lips to Randall’s and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation — balancing awkwardly on the wooden crossbeam, one arm wrapped around the pole for support, the other holding his friend’s lifeless face.

It was an image no one could forget: one man suspended in death, another refusing to let him go.

Down below, a professional photographer named Rocco Morabito happened to be driving past. He looked up, saw the scene, and grabbed his camera. He snapped a single, timeless frame — the one that would later be known as “The Kiss of Life.”

In the photograph, Jay Thompson’s face is tense with effort, his mouth sealed over Randall’s as he breathes life into him. The composition is pure instinct — two men hanging against the sky, surrounded by danger, yet locked in one of the most intimate acts of humanity imaginable.

As Jay worked desperately, a faint pulse returned. He felt Randall’s chest move — shallow, but real. He didn’t stop. He kept going until Randall’s heart began to beat again. Only then did he unhook his friend’s safety line, throw him over his shoulder, and carefully descend to the ground, where emergency crews — called by Morabito — were already on their way.

By the time the rescuers arrived, Randall was alive. Bruised, burned, weak — but alive.

He would go on to live another 35 years, passing away peacefully in 2003 at the age of 64. Jay Thompson, the man who refused to give up, is still alive today.

When the photograph was published, it stunned the world. It wasn’t just a picture of a rescue — it was a portrait of brotherhood, of courage, and of the fragile line between life and death. The image captured everything words could never say: danger, devotion, and the split-second decisions that define true heroism.

In 1968, Rocco Morabito was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for that photograph — one of the highest honors in journalism. Yet even he admitted that no award could match the power of what he had witnessed.

“I didn’t take it for glory,” he said later. “I took it because it was life — right there, hanging by a wire.”

Decades later, The Kiss of Life remains one of the most iconic images ever captured — not because of tragedy, but because of triumph. It reminds us that even in moments of greatest peril, compassion can rise above fear.

One man’s breath brought another back from death — and in that instant, humanity itself was illuminated.