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1907 March 6 Wednesday. at Baddeck 27 [[strikethrough]]28[[/strikethrough]]

Tribune New York 13 Jan 1907

Strange Voyages in the Air
Tragedies and Romances That Have Resulted From the Exciting Sport of Ballooning
By W. R. C. LATSON

[[two images on left and right ends of newspaper, with "LIFE" and "DEATH" on them respectively]]

PERHAPS the most fascinating feature of ballooning is its uncertainty. The balloonist may have a perfectly safe ascension, the balloon rising from the ground so gradually that he cannot tell the exact moment of his departure. He may have thereafter a delightful sail through the air, with no suggestion of jar or shock. He may then descend to the earth as gently and safely as he rose from it.
Just such a voyage as this was made by my friend, Dr. Julian P. Thomas, from Pittsfield, Massachusetts, recently. The start was made without the slightest hitch; the car, containing Dr. Thomas, Mrs. Thomas, and Charles Levee (the aëronaut in charge), rose gradually and gracefully into the air, and sailed slowly upward and away, until it was lost to sight in the clouds. After a sail of about sixty miles, which, as Mrs. Thomas said afterward, was "perfectly fascinating," an uneventful descent was made at about eleven o'clock in the evening. This was an ideal balloon voyage.
Such ascensions as this are often more frequent than most people imagine; for in spite of the fact that the history of ballooning is replete with adventures, hair breadth escapes, and tragedies, ballooning is not, on the whole, an unsafe sport. The vast majority of ascensions are without accident or misadventure. On the other hand, however, there may occur, in spite of the highest degree of skill and prudence on the part of the balloonist, anyone of a thousand casualties which may add excitement, danger, or even tragedy to the voyage.
To make a safe and successful ascension several things are necessary. The wind must be light. There must be sufficient space on all sides of the point from which the ascension is made; so that, should the balloon rise slowly, it will not be in danger of being carried by the wind against some obstruction, such as a tall building, a high chimney, or the face of a cliff.

Knocked Against the Building
THIS reminds me of a clever young aëronaut who had his arm broken because his balloon carried too much ballast at the start. On being released the [[cut off]]

crowd to witness the ascension, and Coxwell, rather than disappoint them, decided to make the attempt.
He therefore entered the car and signaled to the thirty or more workmen who were holding it to let go, and his balloon shot upward. After a few minutes, however, the balloon settled down to an altitude of about seventy feet. The wind caught it, and the daring aëronaut realized for the first time the desperate chance he had taken. Within a few minutes of the start the balloon, entirely at the mercy of the gale, was carried straight toward the North Tower. Coxwell, realizing his danger, threw out ballast with desperate haste, and managed to lighten his balloon sufficiently to clear the obstruction. In a few minutes he had disappeared from the sight of the spectators.
"The car," says Coxwell in his memoirs, "was apparently trailing behind the balloon with a pendulous swing, which is not often seen. In less than two minutes we entered the lower clouds, passing through them quickly. We noticed that their tops, which are usually of wide, rounded conformation, were torn to shreds and caps of vapor. Above, there was a wild looking stratum of another order. We could hear, as we hastened on, the hum of the West End of London. But we were bowling along, having little time to look around us, though some extra sand bags were turned to good account by making a bed of them at the bottom of the car, which we occupied in anticipation of rough handling."

A Dangerous Landing
PRESENTLY a heavy rain began to fall, and Coxwell, who saw before him an open space, decided to attempt a landing. After a number of efforts, he succeeded in dropping his grapnel in front of a hedge row. The balloon, which was at the time traveling at the rate of twenty miles an hour, pulled up with a tremendous shock.
"We were at this time," says Coxwell, "suspended like a kite. It was not so much the quantity of gas that kept us up as the hollow surface of the loose silk, which acted like a falling kite. The obvious game of skill consisted in not letting out too much gas to make the balloon pitch heavily with a thud that would have been unpleasant, but to jockey our final touch in a gradual manner, and yet do it as quickly as possible, for fear of the machine getting adrift; since, under the peculiar circumstances in which we were placed, it would inevitably have fallen with a crashing blow, which might have proved fatal."
After much difficulty, a safe landing was effected in this case. The incident illustrates, however, some of the many risks to which balloonists are liable.
On another occasion the same aëronaut, with several companions, found himself high in the air in the midst of a heavy thunder storm. This experience he describes as follows: "We were carried into the midst of gathering clouds, which began to flash [[cut off]]

der storm. There were indications before we left the earth as to what might be expected. The lower current seemed, all at once, to take a forward direction, and as we rose by a gentle whirling current we entered the vortex of a highly charged cloud. We had to prove by absolute experience whether the balloon was insulated and a nonconductor."
The experience, as might well be imagined, was exciting and alarming in the extreme. At every crash of the thunder the balloon was wildly tossed and whirled from side to side. With every flash of lightning it seemed as if the gas bag must be struck, which would mean an explosion absolutely certain to be fatal. But by some strange chance the balloon and its occupants escaped injury. As Coxwell says, "Beyond a drenching, no untoward incident occurred during a voyage lasting in all three quarters of an hour."
In connection with Coxwell's name I am reminded of another of his many voyages, in which there was an unusual element of peril, a panic stricken crowd of passengers. The ascension was made from Belfast, Ireland, in a large balloon known as the Research, carrying twelve passengers. The day was unfavorable, but, rather than disappoint the would be air travelers and the large crowd which had assembled, Coxwell determined to attempt the ascension.
After a short but exciting trip it was decided to attempt a descent. Before beginning operations to descend Coxwell gave clear directions to the passengers as to their duty under the circumstances. They were in any event to keep their seats; but must prepare themselves for some heavy shocks when the balloon struck the earth. Above all, they were to leave the car one by one; and, after alighting, they were to be sure to keep their hold upon the car so as to prevent its being carried away.

Frenzy of the Passengers
ONE of the passengers on this perilous voyage, a Mr. Runge, gives a graphic account of his appalling experience. He says that the passengers had become excited, then alarmed, and finally panic [[cut off]]

Transcription Notes:
The word "imaging" in the transcription of the first column should be edited to "imagine" ("Such ascensions as this are often more frequent than most people imagine...").