Hot air balloon rallies, such as the one scheduled for September 1st through 4th, always revive memories of similar spectaculars in the history of Dansville. Local folks first looked aloft at kindred aircraft more than a century ago.
Dr. Wooster B. Preston (1845-1905), Dansville physician, once estimated he treated more people for "crick in the neck" than any other affliction known to medical science. In the latter l9th and early 20th centuries, the ailment reached epidemic proportions throughout the community during summer months.
This good doctor never authored a treatise for medical Journals but he knew exactly what causedthe seasonal neck problemsit was those Allens who built, tested, perfected, then went flying in balloons filled with smoke and hot air. Earthbound spectators were prime candidates for a grade "A" crick as they watched the antics overhead. Relief usually came from Gottlob Bastian's liniment, a fiery concoction formulated by Dansvllle's foremost druggist and advertised for use on "humans or lame horses". The label urged discretion when applying it to the human body"PAT ON GENTLY" it cautioned.
Allen family interest in ballooning began with Ira during the Civil War. As a Private with Co. K, 21st Regiment, New York Cavalry, he happened to be in the area where Thaddeus Sobieski Coulincourt Lowe operated an observation balloon Intrepid for the Union Army. Most people preferred to call the balloonist "Professor" Lowe, for obvious reasons.
The professor risked his life each time aloft as enemy troops fired at him. On one trip his balloon accidentally ground behind Confederate lines but he was unhurt and managed to hide, avoid capture, then return to friendly territory. Lowe accepted the risks because of a firm personal conviction his efforts provided valuable intelligence to the Union Army Staff. Abraham Lincoln agreed. As President and Commander-in-Chief, he ordered Professor Lowe to organize a corps of five observation balloons and conferred upon him a brand new title, "Chief of Aeronautics, U. S. Army".
Ira Allen tried to make the flying team without success but his interest, and desire to go aloft, never diminished. After discharge, in 1866, he returned to Dansville where his brothers listened to stories of ballooning. Ira's enthusiasm had a contagious effectbrothers Comfort and Martin caught it. Without hesitation or reservations, the three Allens agreed to construct a balloon.
Right at this point the embryo flyers lacked two essentials, money and basics of construction. Because gas generators, such as those used by Professor Lowe, were far beyond reach financially, the Allens opted for hot air to provide lift. Construction of the big bag would be a trial and error, do-it-yourself project. Monsieur Gillette, high wire artist and sometimes balloonist, from nearby Livonia (N.Y.) offered no advice but the Allen boys did manage to sneak a close look at his very crude balloon. It provided little help.
For some time Ira and Mart had been practicing shenanigans on a tightrope stretched across the Genesee Valley Canal basin where a miscue meant nothing more than getting wet. By using an Allen-made device Ira rode a bicycle-like affair on the rope while Mart performed from a trapeze suspended beneath. For the Nation's Centennial, July 4, 1876, they took the act to Dansville's Main Street where their rope spanned the thoroughfare from tops of buildings three stories high. Onlookers were delighted with the performanceand word spread. Ira and Mart soon had bookings in nearby communities. Income from these hazardous performances went toward balloon construction.
Pullman and Hamilton's Circus played Dansville June 25, 1877. A widely advertised feature, the balloon ascension, appeared to be in jeopardy. Their balloonist languished in an Elmira (N.Y.) jail for indiscreet activity while under the influence of alcohol. No problem in Dansville. Ira Allen stepped forward ready and willing, in fact eager, to make the trip aloft. Up he went in that circus owned balloon which had so many holes it might have been blasted with bird shot. Ira declined Pullman and Hamilton's offer of steady employment!
Dansville Advertiser, issue of June 28, 1877, noted - "Ira had never done any ballooning in his life but had walked ropes from rooftop to rooftop. On Monday he sailed toward East Hill while performing daring feats on the trapeze underneath. In about fifteen minutes the balloon descended into Conrad Welch's woods near the hilltop. Later Ira related how he could see Mt. Morris and Wayland, neighboring villages, as well as Hemlock and Canadice Lakes."
Many years later Mart Allen told a young Dansville historian about that first ascension by Ira. He also related how all three Allen brothers inspected Pullman and Hamilton's balloon carefully. They scaled it in mind's eye and made measurements with a cloth tape as they scribbled figures on scraps of paper. When the show moved on, cutting and stitching began on the lawn of Comfort's home, intersection of Dock and Pranklin Streets, in Dansville. The AIlen boys were making a balloon of unbleached muslin. (Florence Allen Wood provided identification of material used.)
Fortunately Comfort, Martin and Ira, along with their kinfolk, possessed an enviable ability to invent, improvise, construct and adapt. Balloon panels were carefully designed and methods to reinforce seams, rings, grommets, devised. After long hours the time for testing arrived but cool fall weather imposed limitations on this phase.
Come spring 1878 a field on the south side of lower Ossian Street became Allen's proving ground. They dug a trench running east and west then by covering it with sheet metal, except for openings at each end, created a fire box and flue. As straw, wood, leaves, anything combustible, burned in the trench their balloon, suspended between poles over the downwind opening began to fill with hot air and liberal quantities of smoke. A dozen, or so, men grasped the fabric to keep it earthbound. When the big bag bulged, became restless, tugged at restraining hands, someone shouted, "Let `er go!" Away it soared into the blue skies over Ossian's hills while Ira, clinging, to a rope harness underneath, went along on his second balloon ride.
At this stage of the art Allen balloonists had no flight control. Altitude depended upon temperature aloft but, more important to the flyer, the big bag descended whenever, and wherever, air inside cooled to the point at which pull of gravity exceeded lift. On his initial flight, in an Allen-made balloon, Ira had no parachute rigginghe just sailed away at the mercy of the elements and laws of physical science. Somewhere near Canaseraga (N.Y.) the experimental balloon returned to earth, about seven air miles from launch point.
It took courage to make that maiden flight just as it would every time the brothers experimented with improvements such as parachutes, larger bags, advanced inflation methods. Meanwhile Dansvillians had to tolerate "cricks" in their collective necks because of activity aloft week after week. Bastian's liniment business prospered.
The original practice of riding a balloon to earth did not meet with wholehearted ground crew approval. They had to hunt for the downed flyer via horse and wagon, then haul equipment a long way back to Dansville. Allens began experimenting with a parachute.
Reminiscing in later years, Martin claimed the honor of being first family member to drop by chute. Of course there had been a testing stage. Parachute panels of strong material were cut to dimensions scaled-up from an ordinary umbrella. There came rigging and a device by means of which the contraption could be securely attached beneath the balloon yet released at will of the flyer.
In a half dozen test flights inflated balloons ascended with parachutes dangling below and carrying only a sack of sand weighing about the same as a grown man. These were captive affairs with the big bag restrained by ropes which could be manipulated to release the chute or "cut `er loose", as they liked to say.
After minor modifications, and reassuring test results, Martin took off at a Weedsport (N.Y.) carnival then drifted back to earth beneath an Allen-made parachute. A beautiful spectator event even at the risk of that ornery crick-in-the-neck.
One nagging problem remained unsolved. Sure enough the parachutist landed close to base of operations but the blankety-blank balloon drifted for miles. That tiresome retrieving junket had not been eliminated. The Allen knack for solving problems went to work again. A rope, rigged from top center of the balloon, dangled just below widest part of the bag when inflated. At ropes end they tied a cloth sack of sand weighing five to ten pounds. Once the parachutist had cut loose that sandbag took charge, tipping the balloon. As hot air and smoke poured from the inverted bag it plummeted earthward reasonably close to launching point.
Allens had perfected an exhibition of high standards. Demands for performances came from a wide area.
Right at this point, maintenance of frequently used equipment became extremely important. Comfort Allen withdrew from flying status to devote his expertise in making, as well as repairing, balloons and parachutes on a full time basis. As he once remarked, "We make our own and take care of them. We know they will go up and come down RIGHT when we do our own stitching."
For some reason the "making and repair" assignment also included balloon inflation, a risky specialty if ever one existed. Before each flight the big muslin bag was suspended from rope between poles, erected temporarily, or from one strung across the street, building top to building top. Comfort ducked underneath. Once inside he started, and stoked, a roaring fire fed by wooden boxes, excelsior, or whatever combustible discards might be found in the alleys. Meanwhile a ring of spectator volunteers pulled the fabric clear of those flames. Choosing the right moment, a very critical decision, Comfort doused water on the fire then quickly crawled outside. The balloon, bulging with hot air and smoke, went aloft at an astonishing speed. Any miscalculation in extinguishing that blaze could send the flyer skyward beneath a burning muslin bag!
Each year brought events Allens considered outstanding. It is safe to assume, however, the mid 1890s provided two sparkling items for family memoirs.
Certainly they had every right to be proud when, on August 8, 1894, three hot air balloons took off simultaneously from Dansville's Main Street as a red sun sank in the west. Martin guided one of them from Main and Exchange (now Clara Barton) Streets; Ira rode another from Main and Ossian Streets; the third carrying Warren, 18 year old son of Comfort, lifted off from Main and Perine Streets. Publicity termed this three balloon spectacular a race, an unusual one in that the "Valuable Prize" would be awarded to last man down.
After a dispute, anticipated and prepared for by those in charge, the silver bowl went to Ira. Apparently Martin claimed to have landed last but his loud protests were disallowed when judges "ruled-out" the time he had spent entangled in a treetop before reaching ground.
Actually it was Warren, representing a new generation of Allens, who received something special and enduring, a nickname. As the story goes, one lady onlooker remarked, "My, my, he's just a speck in the sky!" From that moment Warren Allen (Sr.) was called "Speck".
The triple balloon spectacular attracted an estimated 8000 persons to Dansville's Main Street where many of them developed an old time crick-in-the-neck. Several had other woes. They lost watches and pocketbooks, while concentrating on overhead maneuvers, as pickpockets reaped a harvest below.
The second memorable event, in the mid 1890s, occurred when two new members joined the flying Allen family. On August 2 1896 twin redheaded sons arrived at the home of Mary and Comfort. Proud parents named their newcomers Edgar William Allen and Edward Bostwick Allen. (Edward's parents chose his middle name from Rev. Alexander N. Bostwick, pastor of St. Peter's Episcopal Church.) Nicknames took precedence at an early age when Edgar became "Red" while, for some unexplained reason, Edward became "Bill".
Those Allen twins captured the hearts of Dansvillians at an early age. On Memorial Day 1910 their Uncle Ira led Seth N. Hedges Post G. A. R. in the traditional parade. Although he had become blind in declining years, that old warrior-balloonist marched stiff and straight with auburn haired nephews, on each side, guiding his footsteps along the parade route. Onlookers reacted by applauding vigorously.
With all their kinfolk engaged in balloon activity, as flyers or ground crew, the strong active look alikes must have turned eyes skyward from day of birth. Bill began flying at Lockport (N.Y.) when he reached age 15 while Red made his initial trip one year later near Delhi (N.Y.). At this point Comfort's flair for showmanship went into high gear. Why not send his redheaded twins aloft, in tandem, under the same balloon? Allen ingenuity quickly devised a double parachute suspension, each with trapeze bar beneath. Beginning in 1913 the boys thrilled many, many, audiences by double "jumps" under sturdy homemade chutes.
An important matter, "Who will cut loose first?" was seldom resolved before takeoff. As the balloon ascended most earthbound onlookers could hear those twins debating the issue while hanging by their knees from trapeze bars. In later years when asked how they settled the cut loose question, Red explained, "Whoever talked loudest went first!"
Comfort Allen could not suppress the urge to maintain a crowd pleasing exhibition. His twins had captured public admiration and attracted throngs of people wherever they appeared. During family discussions, in the winter 1914-15, the matter of maintaining popularity had priority. Someone suggested adding a dog parachutist, to the performance. All agreed enthusiastically.
A poodle named "Fuzzy" was recruited to join the Allens. In later years Red referred to him as a "Rank Outsider" because of the strong dog odor.
Comfort designed and fabricated a harness and special chute for this new member of his flying team. Of course the under-balloon rigging had to be modified also but everything was ready to go when the 1915 exhibition season arrived.
Fuzzy, who had been renamed "Cloud Buster", created problems from day one. Operations procedure called for him to be released first. His miniature red, white and blue parachute provided a colorful addition to Allen's performance but difficulty arose from landings.
On the very first trip earthward, Cloud Buster dropped into a creek. That harness and chute weighed too much for his dog paddle swimming technique to handle. An alert spectator rescued him from drowning. Another time the dog balloonist landed on the roof of a business section building. It took searchers an hour to locate him. Several times the little chute snagged in treetops where probing branches provoked loud yip yips and yowls. Animal lovers took a dim view of what they called "cruelty."
One day Comfort answered a knock on his door where he came face to face with a county lawman who served a written and verbal warning to the effect that Allen's canine aeronaut segment was a no no. An animal humane group had lodged a formal complaint. Comfort offered no rebuttal. He had decided to scrub the dog act anyway.
Next time out, for the Allen twins, was at Hemlock (N.Y.) World's Fair. When their hot air filled envelope reached 2500 feet that day, a small tri colored parachute began to descend. Spectators could hardly believe their eyesa dog dangled beneath that tiny chute. Most everyone knew the AlIens were given legal notice to discontinue their latest gimmick.
A deputy lawman had been assigned to the fairground with specific orders to arrest Comfort Allen, and sons, if they defied the official ultimatum in that dog matter. When the little chute, and chutist, reached ground this officer grabbed it quickly for evidence then, face red with anger and embarrassment, he turned to face the crowd. There, dangling from his gloved hands, was a stuffed, toy, poodle dog with harness and parachute.
Some fair goers may have been amazed at this development but not the folks from Dansville who knew those redheaded Allen twins. Incidentally Cagey twins slipped their chutes to land well away from the action at Hemlock that day.
The last opportunity for Dansvillians to watch hometown Allens, in a super spectacular, came during a week long Daniel Goho Post No. 87, American Legion, Mardi Gras starting July 3, 1922. Downtown Dansville took on a carnival appearance with bunting, tinsel, and pennants in abundance. Various booths and thrill rides extended along both sides of Main Street business section. Barricades banned all but pedestrian traffic in three blocksPerine Street to Chestnut Avenue.
Mardi Gras planners engaged Edward "Bill" Allen for a balloon exhibition each night of the week. On Monday eve he carried flares aloft in a thrilling and beautiful spectacle. The Tuesday night effort was a quality performance, also, until Bill's landing when the parachute snagged in a treetop at Shepard Homestead, now Dansville Public Library. He sustained aggravating injuries that threatened to force cancellation of remaining balloon events. Burns on the buttocks, from the flares, were a painful handicap.
THE SHOW MUST GO ON! Twin brother Red emerged from the safe, snug family life he had chosen. He made four ascensions without injury although one landing rightfully belongs in the hair-raising category. It happened this way.
Balloon inflation and launching, for Mardi Gras exhibitions, took place at Main and Ossian Street corner. About 200 feet west of the launch site, four masonry walls had been erected, the start of a building to be used for automobile sales and repair. (Dansville NAPA Auto Parts location today.) Inside the growing structure, roofless at the time, were tiers of wooden scaffolding and piles of lumber. Red parachuted into this hazardous spot on Thursday night.
There came a crash blended with the sound of splintering boards. Street lights illuminated a cloud of dust arising ominously. Spectators rushed to the scene fully prepared to remove a broken body from the wreckage but, before they could enter the building, Red emerged unscathed. He climbed through one of the windowless openings to announce, "That was one hell place to land. I'm O.K. and ready to close `er up tomorrow night."
Sparkling tinsel, bright colored lights, the lively music of merry-go-round and bands, kept folks in a happy carnival mood. No one grasped the depressing significance of that takeoff to "close `er up" the Daniel Goho Post Mardi Gras July 8, 1922. Historically it marked the last time a resident Allen would ride into the blue sky over Dansville beneath a homemade, hot air and smoke filled, balloon. Furthermore the community would no longer be widely recognized as ballooning capitol of the northeast although it retained historical bearing as "cradle of exhibition ballooning." Tandem spectaculars by The Twins, along with their brother Speck's (Warren Sr.) daredevil stunts, had been able to capture the fancy of thrill seekers and attract spectators by the thousands wherever they performed. Most everyone regarded that second generation of flying Allens as capable successors to the pioneers Ira, Comfort, Mart. All from a base at Dansville. Then the picture changed quickly.
Red who had married pretty Frieda Weber, received her reluctant approval to leave retirement, briefly, as that 1922 flying fill-in for his brother. With a "never again" he then withdrew permanently from exhibition ballooning. According to a 1922 newspaper item. Red estimated he had teamed with brother Bill in more than one hundred twin ascensions. These in addition to many solo appearances.
Bill and Speck continued activities aloft but moved their base of operations to Batavia (N.Y.) some forty miles from Dansville as the balloon drifts. Bill had married lovely Louise Brundage. Six children blessed their homeEdward, Gloria, Florence, Arlene, Joseph and Mildred. All began to look skyward as soon as eyes could focusthat was Daddy up there on the parachute trapeze bar beneath a hot air and smoke filled balloon.
This Genesee County community, Batavia, became training center when the third generation of Allens reached flying age. Furthermore it served as the proving ground for equipment refinements and dramatic innovations in technique.
Glamorous fledglings these, the third generation of flying Allens. Their colorful exhibitions hold an outstanding spot in the history of ballooning. Edward, instructed by his father Bill who had acquired the title "Captain Eddie", began solo flights in 1934 at age 16. (That new title had been conferred upon Eddie Sr. by another balloonist"Captain Eddie, Professor Emeritus of Modern Ballooning.")
Right here it would be best to let Eddie, now retired and living at Newtown Square, Pennsylvania, tell the story of his initiation into exhibition flying and those days when a new generation of Allens kept throngs of people looking skyward.
"It all began for me in 1934, at age 16, when Dad (Captain Eddie) asked if I would like to make a jump? My answer was enthusiastically affirmative! I am sure he knew it would be just that.
"Next day we went to Dansville where equipment had been stored in Uncle Edgar's barn for twelve years. That old balloon looked like a huge patchwork quilt, smoke stained and dusty. The parachute was in better condition especially its hickory hoop and trapeze assembly which had been handmade by my grandfather (Comfort) in the 1880s."
(According to Mart, Comfort brought hickory boughs from the woods near Dansville. After trimming off side twigs he sized them with a drawshave to produce neat wooden shafts. When they had "seasoned" he soaked them in water until flexible. Finally Comfort fashioned the shafts into hoops and bars for that very important parachute rigging. When dry his handiwork had amazing strength and durability. Comfort produced several of them.)
"Within a few days we signed a contract to provide the balloon ascension and parachute jump exhibition at Corfu (N.Y.) Firemen's Carnival for a $50 fee! There was work to be done on equipment and time seemed to slip away. Each old patch, on balloon or chute, had to be checked and restitched where necessary. New ropes were purchased to be used as guys holding 35 ft. poles between which the balloon would be suspended for inflation. Dad's experience led us to include a clause, in the contract, requiring any organization hiring Allens, for exhibitions, to furnish these poles whenever an alternative means of suspension did not exist. Usually they were freshly cut pine trees with limbs loped off,
"A Ford chassis (Model A) became the trailer upon which we transported equipment, it was pulled by our I934 Desoto sedan. Dad could well recall when pioneer Allen balloonists, and gear, traveled by canal barge, horse drawn wagon, or train. He was very proud of this modern look."
An Allen designed firebox proved to be a vast improvement over the trench-in-ground method for supplying heat and, of course, smoke in generous quantity. The new device was a six foot by four foot plank box, open at each end and standing upright inside the suspended muslin bag. It held newspapers, wood scraps, excelsior, and some wooden slabs. Captain Eddie supervised the firing process for that first flight at Corfu. He regulated intensity by administering kerosene from a tin dipper as needed.
Soon hot air had the big bag bulging to the point where a ridge rope (strung from pole to pole through a ring on top of the balloon) could be removed. The balloon seemed restless, straining to take off. Twenty-five or thirty volunteers, who had been holding fabric away from flames, shifted positions to grasp a heavy band some four feet from the bottom in order to prevent premature launch.
One might expect teenage Eddie to be uptight as first flight time approached. Not so! He describes those final moments thus, "On this first jump, to show you how nonchalant I was, several of my friends and I were throwing passes with a football. That is until my father was able to take his attention from the blaze to look about for me. Then in a good loud Allen voice he yelled `Drop that damned football and grab the trapeze bar. We're ready to go.' I just had time to follow orders when he cried out, "let `er go" and off I went on my first trip aloft.
"Actually the initial jump proved to be uneventful. Both the balloon and I came down in open farm fields after reaching an altitude of about 2000 feet before cutting loose with the chute."
Eddie refers to his first year, or two, in flying as a learning experience which is certainly accurate phraseology. "Dad gave me excellent advice, as well as ground instruction, but one learns best when actually involved in aerial maneuvering. It is important to be a competent judge of wind direction and velocity aloft. Expertise in these factors allows the flyer to select an advantageous release time to permit safe landings in preselected open areas. During this beginner period I dropped into trees, lakes, rivers, and even a lady's rose garden from which I made a hasty retreat when she appeared on the scene with fire in her eye and swinging a big broom."
Another phase of the learning experience involved "slipping" the parachutethat is guiding it by pulling shroud lines on the side in direction of desired travel. This technique also carried a high degree of importance in avoiding ground structures that might cause injury when landing.
In 1935, at Bolivar (N.Y.), Eddie made a solo ascension that ended prematurely. As he hung from the trapeze, beneath a rising balloon, everything appeared normal until, at 200 feet, the ground suddenly seemed to be rushing up to meet him. Actually the big bag was dropping rapidly to a very rugged landing midst oil well apparatus. Immediate inspection revealed a split in the fabric from top to bottom. This had sent it tumbling back to earth while belching a trail of smoke.
Allens were ready for most any eventuality. Their traveling gear included a sewing machine, heavy duty model. It went into action quickly to repair that long rip. Soon the balloon had been refilled with hot air and Eddie took off again, waving to the crowd of people below.
Over the years Allens had made their own balloons and parachutes from long strips of fabric. Furthermore they patched rips, burn holes, whatever, time after time. That day at Bolivar the family group went into action so rapidly and efficiently, many spectators thought it was all part of the show.
Allen ingenuity slipped into high gear during 1936-37 winter months. Captain Eddie conceived the idea of a ninety foot balloon, one with sufficient lift to carry three people skyward, each with a chute and trapeze. In making this huge aircraft he had the capable assistance of Louise who, in addition to being a loving wife, devoted mother, meticulous homemaker, was also a super balloon designer-stitcher-patcher. (It would be reasonable to assume that, in mind and heart, Louise Brundage Allen went aloft at each family ascension without leaving the ground.)
That large balloon had been completed and rigged for initiation at Craig Beach Park in Youngstown, Ohio as summer 1937 arrived. Experienced balloonist Eddie occupied the trapeze under one parachute with sisters Gloria, age 17, and Florence, 15 years, riding beneath the others on their initial flights.
Florence describes the parachute drops that day. "Although our training had us well prepared to drop on land it didn't help this time. We all landed in water. However, the three of us made 32 triple ascensions that summer. Our landing instructions proved to be mighty helpful then."
Following their first flight, Eddie, veteran of the trio, became skipper aboard that colossal balloon. He signaled the girls when to cut loose and pointed out fields, or clear areas, for landings.
Eddie describes a frightening experience. "On one occasion, after Gloria had started her drop satisfactorily, I gave Florence the signal to `go'. She pulled hard on the cutoff rope but it failed to release her parachute. I stayed with her, and the balloon, determined to ride it down together. Unfortunately we found ourselves above a frightful high powerline. Furthermore the wind was carrying us directly toward it as we settled lower and lower beneath the cooling balloon.
"I had a choice of cutting loose thus giving Florence an opportunity to rise a little (with my weight off) and avoid the powerline. However she would have no control so I decided to stick with her, maneuver as best possible, and take our chances together. Upon reaching a point some 200 feet from the electric line we could see a curve in its course. We prayed! Because of that curve we missed electrocution by about 20 feet. One might say Florence and I came that close to being in an `electric chair'."
From the very beginning some folks had referred to the Batavia balloonists as "the flying Allens". Then in the late 1930s the name began to appear officially as THE FLYING ALLENS in big, bold capital letters on equipment and in publicity relating to a wide variety of public affairs where they were featured attractions. Courage, a flair for showmanship, ingenuity in devising and executing sparkling maneuvers, the radiant personality of strong, healthy, attractive young people, all these assets combined to establish a demand for this third generation of Allens aloft.
An aerial cannon hair-raiser brought gasps of astonishment from ground viewers. In this feature a device resembling Ira Allen's Civil War field gun hung beneath the balloon. At apogee of the aircraft a sky shaking explosion produced smoke in quantity from which the parachutist emerged, as one fellow said, "like a shot out of a gun." This rated tops for several years while people down below engaged in heated arguments about whether, or not, the chutist had actually been blasted from the cannon. Allens were mum on the subject at the time but Florence tells the story now.
"Dad purchased a cannon, large enough for me to crawl inside, from Thompson Brothers Co. of Aurora, Illinois. He suspended it, horizontally, beneath the balloon by means of ropes, one at breech end and one at muzzle end. The later could be released, from inside the gun, by pulling a pin. Position then changed quickly from horizontal to vertical, open (muzzle) end down.
"In actual operation it went like thiswhen the balloon had been inflated and cannon suspended beneath it, I crawled inside with my parachute. TAKEOFF! Dad, on the ground waited until the balloon reached 2000 to 2500 feet, then he sent up an aerial bomb as my `time to get going' signal. Immediately I lit the fuse on an explosive device hanging below the cannon. As this burst I pulled the pin on that front rope and, when the gun dropped to vertical, slid out through a cloud of bomb smoke as my chute opened. To folks on the ground this caper certainly must have appeared like I had actually been blasted from the cannon."
After several years Allens dropped this feature and disposed of the cannon. Recently David Allen, fourth generation family balloonist, came across it while purchasing equipment. He now owns this precious item of family memorabilia. (More about David as the story progresses.)
Another crowd pleaser "National Colors in the Sky" combined creative ideas of young Allens with Captain Eddie's ability to devise and produce. If spectators had been given an opportunity to vote, this maneuver would be all time winner in the picturesque category.
For their national colors event Eddie, Gloria and Florence ascended as a team under the big balloon. Each wore three parachutes. At cut loose time, as they dropped, their chutes opened one by onefirst a red, then white, then blue. Beautiful! Three young folks drifting to earth beneath large canopies that filled the sky overhead with national colors.
(Previously Allen parachutes were so-called "string-out" type, individually suspended beneath the balloon like a huge closed umbrella. In this color extravaganza, family ingenuity devised a variation. It provided each balloonist with folded chutes, three of them, rigged to open one after the other.)
Those Flying Allens had a sense of humor coupled with the tendency to "dream up" and execute surprises. One involved intentional destruction, by fire, of a balloon although it appeared to be an accident in routine preparation for flight.
As one might expect the big fabric bags aged rather quickly due to repeated exposure to heat and by damage caused in landing at less than desirable places. When one of them became too worn-out for "manned" flight, the Allens presented an extraordinary show.
The aged balloon, after being suspended between poles, was filled with hot air from a blazing fire inside. (It might be mentioned here, the refuse burning method, for filling the balloon had been discarded and replaced by an oil fired contraption capable of blasting a smoking flame twenty feet high. This device, extinguished before launch, remained on the ground.) With cooperation of a few individuals, privy to the prank, guy ropes were slackened just enough to let that towering flame ignite the fabric. Local firemen, previously informed of Allen's intention, stood by in case the blaze posed a threat to nearby structures.
Spectators, in general, had mixed emotions. They were thrilled by the spectacular blaze but may have muttered appropriate words to express dismay at such an abrupt abortion of the daredevil ascension. Allens, of course, had another balloon nearby. Soon flight preparations resumed. Then parachutists soared aloft while chuckling at crowd reaction to the "accidental" fire.
Night flights had less than enthusiastic support from all members of the flying family. While such excursions could not be avoided entirely, Captain Eddie made every effort to do so. He had painful memories of rugged landings when darkness hid ground hazards. Fireworks enhanced nighttime trips whenever scheduled.
Captain Eddie certainly could recall his own experience with night flying over Dansville in younger days. While descending, seated on the trapeze bar beneath his chute, he ignited and dropped a long burning fuse [a friction match with a bulbous head not easily blown out] obtained from Dansville and Mt. Morris Railroad friends. It provided spectator appeal. The illumination also served to reveal landing hazards. In this particular instance, however, the flare set fire to Sam Geary's henhouse on Dansville's Mill Street. While damage to the rickety old chicken coop required little more than "I'm sorry" to restore goodwill, that fire hazard put an end to future flare drops.
An outstanding representative of the national media focused its spotlight on Allen's activity during Erie County Fair Days at Hamburg (N.Y.) in 1937. Fox Movietone News cameras filmed Eddie, Gloria and Florence being snatched skyward in that unique triple under balloon rigging. Parachute drops were captured on film too. Later the feature, narrated by Lowell Thomas, appeared in theaters across the country. Today Allens have a videotape of original pictures. Eddie refers to the filming as "highlight of my career" but read on before accepting that appraisal.
By l940 Eddie had found the girl of his dreams. This beautiful, intelligent young lady, who made his heart beat faster, had a name with dreamy memories of bonnie Scotland, Margaret Gouinlock. The male member of Flying Allens displayed typical antics of a young Swain the first time Margaret watched him ride aloft under the big balloon. Let Eddie tell about his "hot-dogging" performance that day.
"Of course I had to show off a little. At initial liftoff I hung from the bar by one hand while eating an ice cream cone with the other. Then, by swinging about, I hung by my toes still eating away at that cone."
Marg, valedictorian of their graduating class in Batavia High School days, must have been impressed with Eddie's performance and attracted to this young man of courage, strength and fine masculine appearance. She and Eddie exchanged vows in 1942 when, according to him, "the joining of her beauty and brains, with my brawn, was the nicest thing that ever happened to me and to our four sonsEdward III (Ted), George, David and Michael."
Prior to marriage Eddie had made his last official Flying Allen ascension at Conshohocken, Pa. in July 1941, just one day before entering service with the United States Air Force. On the basis of three years college study in Physical Education, at the University of Pennsylvania, he drew assignment as a physical training director for troops in all branches of the armed forces.
By happy coincidence Eddie served at an Augusta, Georgia post when the Allen family "played" in nearby Macon. He obtained a one day pass to visit them during the Macon Fair where Florence and Arlene were thrilling large crowds. There the inbred ballooning urge reached irresistible proportions. Eddie made a solo ascension and jump which passing years have labeled "his last". According to best records available it was number 300.
Dislocations, restrictions, shortages, rationing, during the war period, made it extremely difficult to continue a balloon ascension business. Florence last entertained at Batavia Airport in 1944. Record keeping never had top priority on the Flying Allen operational agenda but Eddie's reasonably accurate estimate credits her with 350 successful ascensions and parachute drops.
Florence's retirement came after eight years of ballooning. She cherishes a host of memories from flying days such as:
- During World War II the Flying Allens presented their specialty at Donaldsonville, Louisiana. This one had an unusual flair as twenty, or more, young men from the United States Navy served as ground crew. Of course the Allen girls were thrilled and wore sailor caps on the trip aloft.
- On another flight, at Jamestown (N.Y.), and updraft lifted the balloon rapidly into a bank of low, dense clouds. Claustrophobic Florence became terrified but her parachute escape had to be delayed. From preflight briefing she knew the ground pattern included a lake that could be avoided only by drifting, with air currents, for fifteen minutes which in this case seemed like an hour. Thereafter the young lady balloonist studied overhead cloud formations before takeoff.
- At Des Moines, Iowa Florence and her parachute dropped into the top of a very large tree. Balloonist, ropes, fabric and branches were so completely entangled she could barely move. Onlookers summoned a tree surgeon who scaled the trunk then lowered her by means of a rope.
- It was a beautiful day when Florence released her chute then drifted to an easy landing at Glen Park. Meanwhile the balloon, after tipping to expel hot air, dropped onto busy Bailey Avenue in Buffalo (N.Y.). A traffic jam, of colossal proportions, developed before police could arrive at the scene. In writing his report on this event the precinct captain certainly had to depart from routine terminology.
Upon retirement Florence Allen became Mrs. Edward Wood of West Seneca, New York, a homemaker and mother of six children, Sandy, Karen, Allen, Arnie, Dennis, Millie.
Captain Eddie found it difficult to shrug off the thrill of rising beneath a smoke filled, hot air balloon. There were bookings now and then. On August 22, 1948 he returned to the old home town for two ascensions at an air show. An early trip aloft opened activities at Dansville Airport - Pickard Field while his second one dropped the curtain on a crowd pleasing, day long program of flying exhibitions by gliders, helicopters, and fixed wing, motor powered aircraft.
First time out that day Captain Eddie landed alongside lower Franklin Street, very near the home of his sister Mrs. Harold (Ella Allen) Dixon, Sr. The balloonist, parachute draped over an arm, rapped on the front door of her residence. He offered a most appropriate salutation, "Hi Sis I Just thought I'd drop in."
The urge to fly would not go away as, deep down inside, the longtime balloonist apparently generated emotional stimuli to keep active. These were rooted in decades of crowd pleasing, self-satisfying performances aloft. Perhaps he experienced that compulsion to stay active for another reasonafter so many years it would be difficult to accept a ballooning era minus the name ALLEN.
During the early 195Os the placards of a traveling thrill show displayed, in bold letters, CAPTAIN EDDIE ALLEN PREMIER BALLOONIST. Later he provided New Englanders with fine seasonal flying and parachute exhibitions for some seventeen years at Berlin, Connecticut and Presque Isle, Maine.
Come 1974, at National Balloon Championships, Indianola, Iowa, the venerable Captain, age 78, soared skyward as colored streamers fluttered from his trapeze. His parachute drop, on that occasion, displayed a master's touch as he slipped the canopy to an easy, accurate setdown in an area laced with dangerous barbed wire fences.
The dean of balloonists received many laurels as will be indicated. One of them, the "Montgolfier Diploma", is recognized as the highest honor in ballooning and worthy of special mention. It memorializes the brothers Jacques Etienne and Joseph Michel Montgolfier, wealthy French papermakers, who launched a balloon filled with hot air in 1783. This distinguished citation came to Captain Eddie on September 5, 1975 at Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, during the 68th Annual General Conference of Federation Aeronautique Internationale (FAI).
The veteran balloonist, and wife Louise, motored to Ottawa with Mr. and Mrs. Robert (Mildred Allen) Stambach. As an efficient member of the ground crew, Mildred had been active in Flying Allen days when she certainly must have remained calm in times of tension. On the trip to Ottawa however she became quite nervous and, in confidence to her mother, expressed apprehension about her father's ability to respond verbally at the presentation ceremony. Louise reassured MillieCaptain Eddie had never, and she emphasized the word "never", been at a loss for words. How true! His speech, expressing gratitude and acceptance, received a heartwarming ovation. Furthermore he conversed easily with other honorees, including American Astronauts Gerald P. Carr, Edward G. Gibson, and William R. Pogue, the crew of Skylab 3.
At age 80 the lovable veteran of smoke filled balloon days, took off once more at Indianola. Unfortunately his parachute, possibly fatigued by long usage, ripped during descent. Captain Eddie sustained serious and painful injuries in the forceful landingbroken bones and rupture of internal organs requiring extensive surgery. Distressing disabilities were permanent and a severe handicap.
Captain Eddie had long been hailed as "The Grand Old Man of Ballooning". His congenial nature, his vast storehouse of flying knowledge cheerfully offered to advise and assist others, won him a host of friends, Edward Bostwick Allen never regarded balloon operations primarily as daredevil exhibitions but rather as a display of professional ability and technique. To him the ascensions were amazing demonstrations of man's ability to utilize natural forces for recreational and/or profitable purposes.
An extravagant party for the Grand Old Man came in 1983 on his 87th birthday. Festivities began during a rally at Darien Lake (N.Y.) and concluded at Batavia Downs, an elegant harness horse racing arena elaborately lighted for night activity. Captain Eddie certainly must have been thrilled that evening. Five beautiful modern balloons were inflated on the brightly illuminated infield. Then, suddenly, all electric lights were extinguished. Handlers ignited burners in the balloons and right there the celebrity guest could see the biggest, most colorful, birthday candles ever.
Astronaut David Griggs participated in these festivities. He became a friend, and admirer, of the honored balloonist. Not quite two years later, April 12-19, 1985, Griggs made his initial rocket flight aboard "Discovery". Unfortunately Captain Eddie had passed away October 9, 1984 at age 88. The veteran of hot air, smoke filled, balloon ascensions and that young crew member of a spitting rocket bound for outer space, were unable to enjoy the "bull session" on aerial navigation as they had planned.
Captain Eddie's honors: Life member of the Balloon Federation of America, Indianola, Iowa; Wingfoot Lighter Than Air Society, Akron, Ohio; Honorary President of Indianola Balloon, Inc. presented at Indianola, Iowa; Special Tribute to Eddie Allen, 1979, Wellsville, N.Y. Balloon Rally; Two Mile High Club, Charter Member, Columbus, Ohio; Festival Genesee 1979 Sterling Committee, May 26, 1979 which was proclaimed "Captain Eddie Allen Day" in commemoration of his outstanding contributions to the spirit of ballooning. Plaques awarded: Balloon Federation of America "Commemorating 100th Anniversary of the Flying Allens"; Dayton International Airport on the 75th anniversary of powered flight, "Honorary Balloonmeister" (Dayton Air Fair 1978).
Captain Eddie Allen, prior to his death, donated a balloon, two parachutes, trapeze bar, burner and compressor, to the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C. Because space is unavailable, it is now held in storage awaiting new construction which will permit display of important historical exhibits. A part of this Allen material, at the Smithsonian, specifically the parachute rope spreader hoops and trapeze bar, represent Comfort Allen's handiwork. The material from which they are made, that rock hard hickory wood, came from Morey's Woods on East Hillside at Dansville,(N.Y.).
In retrospect the first generation of airborne Allens passed through a stage of experimentation, of trial and error, of learning by doing, yet they avoided tragedy and lived to enjoy golden years. Comfort died at age 80, Ira 86, Martin 90.
The only untoward incident involving generation one occurred July 4, 1904 when a gust of wind slammed Mart against the side of an Avon (N.Y.) hotel at takeoff. He dropped to the ground unhurt but suffering from awkward embarrassment. Back home in Dansville, Warren "Speck" Allen (Sr.) overheard a remark, "These Allens will break their necks yet." Immediately this second generation Allen balloonist issued an invitation for "one and all" to be at Stony Brook Glen (now Stony Brook State Park) on "Sunday next". In 1904 the Pittsburg, Shawmut and Northern Railroad crossed that deep glen by way of a 700 ft. long bridge, 239 ft. above the stream bed.
Come Sunday a goodly crowd had assembled. Speck, wearing a derby hat, stood atop the railroad trestle. Then, with a wave of his arms and a shout "let `er go" he jumped clear and floated majestically, beneath his "string out" parachute, into the shallow water of Stony Brook. That derby hat was still in place. When asked "Why?" Speck replied, "Just to show folks the Allens can drop safe and sound and won't be breaking their necks yet!"
First flying representatives of the second generation were Will and Stephen, sons of Martin and Fannie Allen. Both had minor accidents in early trips aloft but continued ballooning in the far west. Steve's third ascension took place at Cheshire, near Canandaigua (N.Y.) in 1914. His balloon failed to rise more than 200 feet at which point the balloonist "cut-loose" then suffered minor leg injuries when his parachute could not open properly. Failure of the balloon to reach the usual 2000, or so, feet was blamed on trash fuel used to provide hot air. "There wasn't enough smoke to keep heat from leaking out through the cloth according to Mart." Their deaths came when they were young but from natural causes.
Other second generation Allens inaugurated an era of daring aerial gymnastics, nighttime flights with pyrotechnics, twin parachute drops. They accepted extreme risks each time up but suffered only minor hurts until Captain Eddie's distressing drop in 1976. Edgar "Red", upon retirement from ballooning, drew upon inbred Allen ingenuity to become an expert welder in his own shop. He maintained a Dansville residence until his death in May 1989 at age 92. Warren "Speck" Sr. enjoyed life to age 80.
In all Allen spectaculars it was inventiveness, dexterity, family tradition, that inspired pride and courage in the balloonists and in those near and dear to them. Nevertheless adversity always lingered nearby. Calamity could be only a fabric rip away, an equipment failure, a wayward wind gust perhaps. Some sixty years after Ira's initial flight, pain and sorrow visited the familygeneration three.
Gloria suffered fatal injuries at Blackstone, Virginia in 1937 when, upon release, her parachute ripped as it became snagged on equipment. In 1942 Joseph Freeling Allen, then age 15, accidentally detonated a bomb intended for use in the aerial cannon act. This happened in the basement at home in Batavia. He was killed instantly. Four years later Arlene, age 17, dropped on electric transmission lines near Bristol, Tennessee. Severe burns, received at the time, resulted in two years of suffering and caused her death. Understandably all Allen family members were grief stricken in each instance.
Another member of the third generation had firm roots in Dansville although residing elsewhere. Warren, Jr., who inherited his father's nickname "Speck", married a Dansville girl, Pearl Graves. Warren too began ballooning at an early age, probably induced by tradition developed through father and grandfather. Pearl joined him in flights until 1941. Warren followed her into retirement in 1946. Persistent urging, by a friend, persuaded him to make one more trip aloft at a July 4th observance near Salamanca (N.Y.). An equipment failure sent Warren "Speck" Jr. plunging to his death.
As has been noted the Allens made changes, from time to time, in the apparatus producing hot air as well as in chutes. Attempts to eliminate the smoke factor, by using propane, were abandoned when it became apparent the residue of combustion, carried in that smoke, was important because it sealed pores in the fabric. Allen balloons remained, and were referred to as, "smoke filled". Captain Eddie modified the parachute from "string out" type to permit packing in a bag. This, of course, delayed "pop open" and reduced the danger of snagging at "cut loose".
The new era of "modern" hot air balloons eventually provided a distinct plus. It attracted a fourth generation member of the Allen family, David, third of four sons born to Marg and Eddie. He certainly inherited his ancestors love of adventure, or as he expresses it, "a large dose of my family's wild Gypsy blood."
Dave first tried racing, then touring, astride motorcycles, covering some 150,000 miles in thirty-nine states. In 1986 he married Janet Weymuller. It was this beautiful young lady also endowed with the spirit of adventure, who first suggested a concentration of interest, and effort, in hot air balloon ride business. David abandoned a career as oil refinery technician to undertake training at Quakertown (PA.) for his commercial balloon license. Janet and Dave then became owners of a Balloon Works FireFly AX-8. Their company "Magical Mystery Flights" displays that new, brightly colored, balloon christened "Cloud Catcher", operating out of West Chester, Pennsylvania.
How proud grandfather, Captain Eddie, would have been to watch his grandson rise majestically into the blue sky. Certainly father Eddie has a revitalized interest in ballooning. His involvement is important for he assists "Magical Mystery Flights" as ground crew member, chase vehicle driver, and as super-qualified advisor.
In 1980-81 a group of people, led by Joseph G. Rauber, familiarized themselves with Dansville ` s important historical position in development of balloon exhibitions by the Allens. It seemed appropriate to these Dansvillians, that their valley sky be enlivened by the modern version of hot air craft. As a result, in 1982, they expanded Labor Day activity to include a balloon rally with Jackson Hose Company Oktoberfest. It attracted 19 participants. 1989 will mark the 7th annual event September 1-4. Perhaps, up there in the blue, modern flyers will encounter apparitions resembling those smokestained, often patched, hot air craft of the Allens. Could these be guided by the spirits of self-taught, pioneer performersComfort, Ira, Mart?
What about spectators? Those who develop old fashioned "cricks in the neck" will need someone to intercede in their behalf. Gottlob Bastian's liniment is not on the market for welcome relief to "humans and lame horses" as in the late 1 800s.
The Dansville Area Historical-Society Museum has on display a collection of Allen memorabilia. Included, among other items, are a hoop and bar parachute rigging, hand forged iron rings used on the balloon, a century old sewing machine which Allen brothers used to sew material for balloons and chutes, photos and posters. These items are gifts from Mr. and Mrs. Edgar "Red" Allen and daughter Caroline and from Mrs. George (Frances) Hill daughter of Ira Allen.
Wilfred J. Rauber, 82, is Honorary Historian, Town of North Dansville.