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| One of the daring parachutists in his rather effeminate costume |
If
you’re a google user, you may have noticed in October last year there was a
google doodle to celebrate the 216th anniversary of the first-ever parachute
jump, by French aeronaut André-Jacques Garnerin on 22 October 1797. But did you
know that New Zealand’s
first parachute jump was made 124 years ago today, on 21 January 1889, by American
aeronaut Thomas Baldwin? And my great-great granddaddy Fred Bust helped
organise it!
Baldwin’s
visit to New Zealand
was sponsored by William E. Akroyd, who was the husband of my great-great
grandfather’s step-sister Emily. By all accounts, Akroyd and Baldwin met in England while Akroyd was on a trip ‘home’ and
Akroyd subsequently arranged for his brother-in-law Fred Bust to handle the logistics
of Baldwin’s visit on the ground (and in the air!) in New Zealand.
In his book A Passion for Flight, aviation
historian Errol Martyn explains this aerial phenomenon:
During the 1890s and early 1900s, touring ‘aeronauts’,
often glamorising themselves with self-appointed ‘Captain’ or ‘Professor’
titles, travelled the world to entertain people with death-defying acts from
large hot-air or gas-filled balloons. During an ascent the aeronaut might
perform acrobatic acts on a trapeze hung underneath the balloon or parachute
from it to earth, or a combination of both. Alarming as it may seem today, no
harness was worn to secure the jumper to his parachute. When he leaped from his
slender, swing-like rope sling suspended from the balloon, a tie would break
and for the entire descent he then simply hung on by his hands to the metal
ring, or hoop, to which were fixed the canopy's shroud lines.
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| Town and Country Journal illustration of parachutist, 19 November 1887 |
The
hype for the New Zealand
visit started the previous year. This from The Colonist newspaper, 24 April 1888:
AERONAUTIC GYMNASTICS
What is to be gained by such feats as throwing
oneself from a balloon five thousand from the ground? Thomas S. Baldwin, of Quincy Illinois,
is the name of the young man who has done this exciting feat. He travelled for
several years with a circus as a professional gymnast; then took to tight rope
walking and finally to ballooning. His first jump from a balloon was made in
January of this year at San Francisco.
He jumped from a height of 1000 ft. This was enough to thrill 25,000 people,
but it was only the modest beginning. At Syracuse,
September last, he had attained an elevation of 5000 ft before he switched off
on the parachute route. He says that it is a "funny thing to be performing
a feat for an audience so far below you that you cannot see anything but a dark
spot on the earth. When you get up so very high in a balloon, I do not think
that a person is so inclined to feel dizzy as at a much less height from which
he can compare the relative altitudes. But l am not subject to dizziness, My
training as a circus man has got me pretty well accustomed to things which call
for coolness. I do not lose my head, and do everything as coolly as if I were
on the ground. The strain on the arms is usually the only thing that bothers
me. I must get that stopped if I can, or else I may have to drop the
business." He has received two gold medals from his fellow townsmen for
the feats he has performed.
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An advertisement for Baldwin's later Auckland jump,
Observer, 2 February 1889 |
Baldwin’s
first New Zealand parachute
jump was to take place in Dunedin on Saturday 19
January, followed by further jumps in Christchurch
and Auckland.
The Otago Daily Times
published this advance report on 16 January 1889:
THE KING OF THE CLOUDS.
A FLIGHT THROUGH SPACE
Professor Baldwin, the daring aeronaut, who has
been creating such a sensation in Great Britain by his descents—or, more
correctly speaking, flights—from a balloon, reached Dunedin yesterday. He will
give an exhibition on the Caledonian grounds on Saturday afternoon [19 January],
and as this is the first time the public have had an opportunity of witnessing
any such performance, the aeronaut and his balloon will attract considerable
attention. The professor is accompanied by Mr Farini, a famous showman—the
English Barnum,—and from him we obtained some particulars of the professor and
his apparatus which should be of interest. In the first place, then, Professor
Baldwin has by careful calculations and observations obtained great control
over both the balloon and parachute, and this enables him, unless in the case
of a very strong breeze, to land within a very short distance of the place from
which the ascent was made—generally not more than 40 or 50 yards, away. At
first the balloons were in the habit of getting away, and on more than one
occasion when an ascent was made at the Alexandra
Palace, London,
the balloon wandered away and was picked up in France; now it generally happens
that the balloon reaches the ground within a few seconds of the parachute.
The balloon used is very light, with no
paraphernalia. It is made of silk prepared with a chemical covering. It has
neither car, nor ballast, nor grappling irons. Attached to it is the parachute,
which is simplicity itself. It is perfectly flexible, made of thin Tussora
silk, and is mushroom shaped at the top. In the centre of the top there is a
hole about 2ft in diameter, by which the professor is able to balance the
parachute and keep it vertical. There is just so much surface exposed as is
required for the weight of a man. It is tied to the side of the balloon by a
cord, which breaks on having to bear a support of more than 90 lb. As soon as
the professor reaches the desired height, generally about 1000 ft, he seizes
the parachute, and the balloon, freed of his weight, is seen at once to shoot
higher in the air. For the smallest possible space the aeronaut appears to be
motionless, and then the onlooker has to hold his breath as faster and faster
for 200 ft or 300 ft he drops like a stone, the parachute being then a
shapeless mass. As it distends the pace steadily decreases, and the professor
is seen slowly descending, holding on to the parachute by his arms only. So
gently is it managed at the finish that he appears to be floating in the air.
After the descent Professor Baldwin gives a short and interesting lecture to
the spectators.
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An advertisement for Baldwin's later Auckland jump,
Observer, 2 February 1889 |
Unfortunately, the events of 19 January did not
go as planned, as Errol Martyn explains:
… some 5000 spectators, including those from
Balclutha for whom a special train had been laid on, attended the Caledonian
ground on Saturday the 19th to witness the performance. Many thousands of
others, averse to being separated from their shilling entrance fee, lined the
surrounding hills to look on from a "Scotsman's grandstand".
All through the afternoon and into the evening,
Baldwin and Farini struggled to inflate the balloon in front of the grandstand
in the face of a cold and gusty northeasterly wind. Baldwin, who said he was
prepared to go up in any breeze under 10 miles an hour, hoped for a lull at
about 6pm but it did not eventuate. By 7pm, despite having given a short speech
to the crowd that if there were the slightest chance before dark he would go
up, people began leaving the ground.
A minor disturbance occurred when a few
spectators vented their annoyance upon Baldwin
at the cancellation, but his friends escorted him through the stand to the
safety of a waiting hansom cab.
The event was rescheduled for Monday
the 21st and, by 7pm, thousands had again gathered on and round the Caledonian
ground. What they were about to witness for the first time in New Zealand was
described in the following day's Otago Daily Times:
PROFESSSOR BALDWIN’S
ASCENT.
A SENSATIONAL FEAT.
Another large crowd assembled on and round about
the Caledonian ground by 7 o'clock yesterday evening to see Professor Baldwin take
his daring flight through the air. Within the enclosure there were not nearly
so many people as on Saturday, but the hill at the rear of Smith and
Fotheringham's brickworks and the Town Belt at Montecillo were packed with
sightseers, who had a good view of the exhibition without going through the
idle ceremony of paying a shilling.
As the advertised time for the ascent approached
considerable doubt was entertained among the public as to whether the balloon
would get safely away after all, rather a brisk breeze springing up just before
sundown. However, Professor Baldwin continued actively superintending the
inflation of his balloon, which was rather dangerously agitated by the gusts of
wind every now and then.
At a few minutes before 7, Professor Baldwin
mounted a form and, as before, made a short preliminary speech to the
spectators. He is a well-built, lithe-limbed American, with dark complexion and
moustache, good-looking, and with considerable alertness and resolution in his
manner. That he is a man of wonderful pluck and iron nerve, his aerial feats
amply testify. Standing up to address his patrons, attired in the orthodox silk
hat and black frock coat, he looks scarcely like a man on the eve of taking
such a startling journey. He might be intending to sell some town allotments,
or say a few words on the political situation. A little later, divested of hat
and coat, quick yet cool amid fill the bustle attending his departure, he is
seen at his best.
What the professor has now to say is brief and
to the point. He explains Saturday's failure in a frank and manly way. The
pressure of so high a wind on the frail fabric of the balloon was not to be
withstood, but had it not been for the purely accidental bursting, he himself
would have been willing to make the ascent. He could control his balloon and
his parachute once he got fairly away, but be could not control the elements.
In spite of the wind then blowing, he would endeavour to make the ascent that
evening at 7 o'clock sharp— ie, in 10 minutes' time—and he begged them all to
stand back and keep quiet while the attempt was made. There would be danger
again of the balloon bursting in that wind, directly it was raised off the
ground, and the air pressure got underneath it; but if such an accident did
happen it would not be his fault. If he could only get up he would guarantee to
come down right enough.
He regretted to see a statement in that
evening's paper to the effect that he had purposely ripped the balloon up on
Saturday. He was not standing within yards of it at the time, and it was
certainly no advantage to him at his first exhibition in a new country to
tamper with the feelings of the public. If he had to stay here all the summer
he would give them an ascent as promised, and he could assure them he would
rather lose a leg than miss the ascent that evening.
This short speech was well received by the
people, and Mr Baldwin then hurried away and began to make final preparations
for his excursion, in which he was assisted by his manager, Mr Farini. The
balloon was raised well off the ground, being held captive by several men, and
although it swayed rather violently in the breeze the fabric kept together on
this occasion. Everything being nearly completed, Professor Baldwin, who is now
bareheaded and clad in a dark close-fitting vest, runs across to a bench near
at hand and gives his wife a hasty parting kiss. There is nothing whatever of
the theatrical element about this ceremony, which is quickly and
unostentatiously performed, and is not even observed by the majority of the
spectators.
Confident as the aeronaut is in the efficacy of
his invention, he is probably too shrewd a man not to recognise that the wisest
schemes of mice and men “gang aft aglee." He has all the assurance of
safety that personal attention to his apparatus and splendid coolness and nerve
can give him, but there are chances against him too. Some blunder on the part
of an attendant, or some unforeseen hitch at the last moment, may wreck him
before he is sufficiently clear of the earth to rely upon his parachute,—or
what if away in the clouds some little thing—some very little thing—should go
amiss with the parachute itself?
Professor Baldwin, no doubt, does not believe in
this latter contingency, and would bet long odds against the parachute ever
failing him. It is to be hoped it never will, and that the adage about the
pitcher and the well will not be verified in the case of this daring man. His
leave taking over, the professor bends down and disappears for some minutes
within the folds of some silky looking drapery, which is held for him by Mr
Fanni. This mass of limp-looking cloth is the wonderful parachute, and it may
easily be guessed what Professor Baldwin is doing inside it. He is adjusting
the hoop which, when the machine is expanded, will form the orifice at the top,
and this orifice through which the air escapes in his descent is perhaps the
most important feature about Mr Bald win's invention.
He emerges presently, and then the folded
parachute is drawn up to the netting which hangs loose around the neck of the
balloon. It can be seen that depending from the parachute are a number of long
ropes attached to a stout hoop, which is presently passed over the aeronaut's
head. In descending he will hang by both hands to this hoop.
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| Baldwin performing in England, Illustrated London News, 13 September 1888 |
There is a great shouting of orders now, and the
excitement among the spectators is very great. "Lift her up," cries
Professor Baldwin, “but hold her," and as the struggling balloon rides a
few yards above the ground he is seen to have taken his position immediately
below her, and to be surrounded by a confusing array of ropes. An excited shout
by Mr Farini to some assistant to "Leave go of that rope" shows that
it is a critical moment, and then, before the spectators well realise it, balloon
and balloonist, are away.
She mounts swiftly and smoothly like a bird
released, the professor sitting apparently upon some small bar with
outstretched hands, in much the attitude of a driver handling a team of horses.
Spontaneous cheering and applause break from the crowd at the ascent, but it is
only matter of seconds before the bold aeronaut is out of ear shot. The ascent
is made from the leeward side of the stand, and the wind being from the north-east,
the balloon is driven at once in the direction of Caversham. In consequence of
this wind which is taking him rapidly away from the spectators, Professor Baldwin
does not go to anything like the height he has sometimes reached. He goes so
high, however, that he and his balloon look very small objects indeed against
the clear sky. About 1000ft would perhaps be the height and it has taken an
incredibly short space of time for him to reach it. Before his movements become
indistinguishable with the naked eye he has flexed his leg and has his foot
into a loop of rope that is hanging within reach.
Suddenly there is an unmistakable movement in
the diminutive figure aloft, and the next instant the folded parachute and its
inventor have left the balloon which turns upside down and floats aimlessly
about in the empyrean for awhile. The parachute retains its limp appearance,
and at the end of the long ropes that depend from it is the figure of the
falling balloonist. He is holding on with his arms raised above his head, and his
whole form is perfectly rigid feet together and frame erect. He comes down in
that fashion as straight as a stone and in a standing posture for neatly half
his journey, and then the onlookers draw a sudden breath of relief, for the air
has caught the parachute, and it has expanded into umbrella shape. The
aeronaut's fall is instantly checked, and from that point he descends steadily
with a gentle swaying motion that soon brings him apparently among the rooftops
of South Dunedin. Here he swings himself into
a sitting posture, evidently steering the parachute towards a safe alighting
place, and finally comes easily to earth in a vacant section off the Cargill
road, near the Railway Workshops Hotel.
Ten minutes later the professor was again at the
Caledonian ground and, accompanied by Mr Farini, appeared in the front of the
stand, receiving quite an ovation. He then gave a short address as announced,
claiming (of course with perfect truth) to have made the first descent of the
kind that had ever been attempted in New Zealand. The parachute, of
which he was the originator, required, he explained, two feet of surface to
every pound weight of the object attached to it. The orifice at the top was 18in
or 20in in diameter, and this, by allowing the compressed air in the parachute to
escape, formed a kind of column of air, down which he slid. As regarded the
long drop before the parachute expanded, that was merely a bit of sensationalism
he introduced. How soon the parachute expanded depended upon the size of the
hoop he placed in the orifice at the top. He could, if he desired it, make the
parachute expand directly after leaving the balloon. Mr Farini, who followed
with a few words, added some further information as to the way in which Professor
Baldwin had perfected his invention, and remarked that having solved the difficulty,
there had yet remained the necessity of finding a plucky fellow to jump from
the balloon and test the truth of the theory. That man they had found in
Professor Baldwin.—(Loud applause.)
In today’s world, where thousands
of travellers circle the globe daily in airplanes and, not so long ago, Felix
Baumgartner astounded us all with his record-breaking jump from 38,969.3 metres
up in the stratosphere, it’s difficult to get excited about Baldwin’s parachute
jump. But there has to be a first time for everything and I’m sure those
Dunedin folks back in 1889 were equally astounded to witness New Zealand’s first official human flight.
