Gentleman Jim And Niagara Falls - Part Seven

     I've heard there have been studies done on why people like to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel.  A scientist, whom I can't remember the name of, said that the atmosphere around the falls is charged with a high amount of negative ions which purifies the air and gives a sense of euphoria to anyone nearby.
     I can't tell you if any of that is true or not. But the day my Pa was taking his ride, there was a huge galvanizing excitability flowing throughout the crowd. People were there to watch another soul risk his or her life and it was electric.
     I thought it was kind of morbid.
     It's the same kind of curiosity that has plagued mankind ever since we were able to comprehend the finality of death. We are fascinated by it. I was hoping the prevailing attitude amongst the crowd was not the attitude of years gone by. Where spectators came to watch someone die.
     Back then, I was hoping the crowds came because they wanted to see death get cheated. They wanted a spectacular show of course, with the barrels crashing into rocks and bobbing up and down violently in the rapids. Maybe, just for a few moments, someone's barrel could stay under water a bit longer than was deemed survivable. And just when it looks like the worst scenario had just occurred, that's when the rider gets out of his barrel and walks away scot-free.
     That's what I wanted to see back in 1934. Not the actual death of a person, but for that person to cheat death at least this one time.
     The contest was a week-long event and when the day finally came for Pa to go down the Niagara River, he was listed as the tenth participant in The Great $15,000.00 Barrel Roll over Niagara Falls of 1934.
     Three people had already died, during their attempts, before Pa was even scheduled. One woman aborted her turn as soon as her barrel was pushed away from shore. Two others got out right away and were lucky enough to swim to Goat Island. Obviously exhausted from swimming so vigorously against the strong currents. But their narrow escape didn't matter to the crowd as they raucously booed them in unison.
     The most tragic was this fellow whose barrel must have hit the bottom of the basin at the end of the falls. Because, after it went under, it never came up again. The sponsors were hoping it was some kind of elaborate hoax so they refused to count him as one of the dead. They felt the prankster would show up eventually to get his name in the local newspaper. He never did.
     It wasn't until the fourth fatality did the promoters start to make a profit. As one roller died, a larger more lustful mass of death watchers filled the stands. So, it turned out I was terribly wrong about the kind of crowds which would come out to watch. Today I would compare them to the morbid families of the old wild west who would set up a picnic lunch in front of the gallows and watch as the hangman earned his money.
     It seemed all in attendance, from reporters, dignitaries, celebrities, to the average Joe waited with bated breath for a catastrophe, which would surely befall the next soul who put his or her life on the line for the prize money.
     The joy I say in people's eyes that day, there to watch someone die, it was horrible. I hated every last one of them.
     So by the time Pa was flowing down the river in a barrel the crowds were soaring off the charts.
     When it came time for my Pa to launch his barrel offshore, we had all gathered around. He hugged each member of his family, shook Jim's hand, then got inside and closed the lid. My father's last words to us before closing the lid were, "I don't want to see any of you at the finish line except for Jim. I want you all to remember me the way I was in life, not in death."
     We all held hands together and said a prayer together out loud. Then Jim, Ma, my brother John, and I all put our hands on the barrel and pushed. Pushing as hard as we could.
     Three of us stood along the watching as the barrel picked up speed. Floating away faster and faster while each second slowly passed. We watched until we lost sight of it.
     That's when we heard the roar of the crowd. They cheered and clamped, hooted and hollered, they acted as one.
Egging the barrel closer and closer to the edge of the falls.
     My family and I just stood there, holding onto one another. Listening to the sounds of the crowds to judge where Pa was on the river.
     We were scared. But nothing compared to the sheer terror I felt when the throngs of people became eerily silent. We all knew Pa was close to the edge.
     There was nothing but silence for a good 30 or more seconds when three or four ladies in attendance started belting out screams of terror. I let go of Ma and John, immediately running to the closet observation point. The people standing there were all pushing and shoving each other back and forth, trying to get a glimpse down to the basin of the falls and see if the barrel survived, let alone my father.
     I shoved, squeezed, and clawed my way through to the rail which held back the crowds from falling over the rocky cliffs. I stared down into the basin and saw nothing. The water vapor was so thick that morning that no one could see a thing. I had to run over to Prospect Point so I could get down to the lower level where the rescue boat would be bringing back my Pa and his barrel if either survived.
     Earlier, after we had pushed Pa's barrel away from shore, Jim immediately headed towards Prospect Point. He had made arrangements to join the Captain of the small cutter used to rescue foolhardy individuals crazy enough to go over the falls. And at that moment, running as fast as I could and afraid as a little lost girl in the woods, I did think Pa was one of those damn fools.
     I was thinking, how could he put his life on the line like that? Ma, Johnny, and I were going to be left alone. We had no direction as a family without him. I never thought about it before but our daily lives evolved around his. If he was dead, where would I turn to for strength, security, and hope for my future? How would I go through life without his guidance?
     Of course, all those questions were answered months later. On the day I said yes to Gentleman Jim's proposal of marriage. But on that morning, as I ran as fast as I could, with my chest pounding and my legs cramping, that thought never occurred to me. There was only this vision of Pa, lying on the ground, as a soaked dead corpse.
     I couldn't help thinking, why would Pa do this to me? I was blaming him for the pain I felt inside. I was selfishly thinking of how his death would affect me. I was frightened about how my world would change. I wanted that day to go away and everything put back to the way it was. Before I ever knew about Niagara Falls.

This is,

Wondering How This Is Going To End

Jim Hauenstein,

And,

“For even the most dehumanized modern fantasies depend on some older and simpler figure; the adventures may be mad, but the adventurer must be sane.”
- G.K. Chesterton -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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