Gentleman Jim And Niagara Falls - The Final Chapter

     Just before I reached the Prospect Point observation area, a roar and a universal cheer waved over me from the thousands of onlookers watching as my Pa became a hero. A hero for just for just one day for them, but my hero for a lifetime.
     People were clapping and everyone had big smiles on their faces. I could hear the onlookers talking about how daring and my Pa was. How his barrel roll will go down in history as one of the best of all time. Of course the event was held for only that one year of 1934, but he was it's hero.
     I stopped running. Bent over and put my hands on my knees to take a few deep breaths. I lifted up one leg at a time so my knees would almost touch my chest to ease the cramping. The crowd was still clapping, cheering, and smiling.
     It took me awhile but I finally let go and started crying. I was so happy. My father had rode his barrel over Niagara Falls and lived. I was so proud.
    After my nerves calmed down enough so I could relax and I could gather my wits about me, I made my way to the lower level. Some folks were already coming up the stairs as I was going down. I guess they weren't interested in hearing what my Pa had to say about his ride after he was brought back to shore.
     The promoters had set up a podium with a microphone that was hooked up to loud speakers and the event was also being broadcast on coast to coast live radio. I found Jim waiting near the pier where the rescue clipper would dock. He said he never made it down in time to hop aboard the ship. He told me he missed the barrel going over the falls but did see it come out of the mist, floating on top of the water. Just as Pa had predicted.
     While the rescue boat was on its way to retrieve the barrel, Pa had somehow leveled it upright and popped the top hatch, waving vigorously to the crowd. "Your dad is putting on quite a show," Jim said.
     I could see he was playing to the crowd by having the rescue ship tow him into shore slowly while still in the barrel. He waved to the cheering crowd, then cup both hands over his head, shaking them back and forth, then waving again. A routine he kept up until he was almost alongside the pier.
     Jim and I made our way over to the pier and with a flash of his Merchant Marine credentials we were able to walk down to greet my Pa. Once passed the guards, Jim gabbed my hand without looking at me, as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world. At first I wanted to pull away from him thinking how forward he was being, but his warm hand melted away my inhibitions and I came in closer to him, grabbing his upper arm with my free hand. We walked the rest of the way like that and I've been holding him the same way ever since.
     The boat did a quick u-turn before it could hit the pier. As it did, the crew released the tow lines, pulling long enough to give Pa's barrel enough momentum to float in.
     An over zealous dock worker yelled to my Pa, telling him to watch out as he tossed a grappling hook with a rope attached so he could pull him in.
     My Pa tried to wave him off, yelling frantically, "Stop! Don't!"
     It was too late. The young man must have been good at his job because he threw that hook perfectly into the barrel without hitting my father and yanked as hard as he could so the hook would grab hold of something inside.
     It did, It hooked onto one of the bladders Pa had installed inside the barrel to hold his secret gas. These bladders were his secret ballast which he predicted would keep him afloat better that the buoyancy of the barrel itself. The secret gas leaked when the bladder was punctured, but no one knew because the gas was as clear as air. Nobody had an angle to see inside the barrel, so nobody knew what the grapple had hooked. The young man pulled Pa and his barrel to the pier, secured it, and helped my father out. He then showed him which way to the podium where he could say a few words to his adoring fans.
     Once there, the mayor of Niagara Falls spoke into the mike asking everyone to quiet down so they all could hear what Pa had to say.
     My father looked at the mayor, shook his head yes for a gesture of thank you, and panned the crowd with his eyes for almost a minute. Strangely, he looked worried.
     I know he wasn't afraid to speak in front of a crowd. I've seen him do it on a few occasions before. Something must be wrong.
     That's when the mayor egged him on to say something. So my Pa said, "Hello ladies and gentlemen." The crowd roared with laughter. I too must admit that Jim and I started laughing. It was so unexpected.
     The secret gas my father was using in his barrel was helium. Helium has less density than the air we breath which causes it to rise high into the sky. Making it the perfect gas for balloon lovers everywhere. So Pa figured, water is denser than air and if he filled the bladders in his barrel with helium, his craft would rise to the surface faster, keeping it upright longer.
     When the dock worker latched the barrel with his hook, he punctured a hole in one of the bladders. My father had to breathe in all the escaping helium while he waited to be secured to the pier. When Pa began to speak, his voice was three octaves higher than normal!
     That is the other quality that helium has. It affects your vocal cords so you sound like you're squeaking out your words when you speak instead of the normal pitch your voice has. So those four squeaked words were broadcast live, coast to coast. And they were the only four he got to say. It was just too funny to let him speak anymore.
     The first words words heard around the country from my Pa's mouth were a higher pitch than the cartoon character Betty Boop. He never could live that down. All around Little Pigsty, North Carolina, he was known from then on as Squeaky Clean Lynskey.
     Well, this article is over the word count that Look Magazine gave me as their preferred length. So to summarize, Pa was the last one that year of 1934 to go over Niagara Falls and survive. Two more brave souls died that year trying to duplicate Pa's feat. After a ceremonial diner and presentation in late January of 1935, the promoters announced the event was canceled.
     At the dinner Pa received his prize money and a plaque showing the Niagara Falls. Jim proposed to me that evening and I said yes.
     And as they say, the rest is history.

This is,

Channeling Through Me,

Murray,

So She Could Tell Her Story

Jim Hauenstein

And,

“Hope is a helium balloon.”
- Sharon Weil -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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