1985 News Abstracts
ORLANDO MAGAZINE, Orlando, FL, January 1985:
Cover & p. 78-82 -

ADVENTURE
---------

JOE KITTINGER FACES UP TO HIS ULTIMATE EXPLOIT

You'll never believe it, but he swears it's next after the daring
Pacific crossing he'll attempt this fall.  Here are exclusive details.

by Todd Persons

For a middle-aged man who's just finished scaling half of his own
personal Mt. Everest, Joe Kittinger is hardly out of breath.

        As you look at him, ruddy-faced, rusty-haired, blue eyes
twinkling, sitting behind the chewed-up desk in a tiny office above a
hangar of vintage airplanes, you might guess Joe Kittinger was an old,
fl-by-the-seat-of-your pants barnstormer, used to dodging trees and
nipping weather vanes off barns. The handlebar mustache is a possible
giveaway.

        But what you can't see is a calculating, scientific mind at
work, carefully planning his next venture in the adventure business.

        Almost everyone knows Joe Kittinger recently set a number of
world's records during his epic solo balloon flight across the
Atlantic from Caribou, Maine, to southern Italy. It was the longest
solo balloon flight in history (3,547 miles) and the first solo flight
across the Atlantic.

        For most of us "adventurers" who consider the intermediate
slope on some hill in North Carolina as the ultimate challenge, what
Kittinger accomplished in the Atlantic flight, and all the adventures
before in his exciting lifetime would be enough drama and thrills to
fill an album of an entire family of Walter Mittys.

        Yet, here he is, planning his next assault at the summit, even
before the ink is warm on a National Geographic exclusive (due out
in February) on the Atlantic flight.

        We thought we'd eavesdrop on his planning.

        In this Orlando Magazine exclusive, Kittinger reveals for the
first time detailed plans for an attempt, in October or November 1985,
to become the first person to solo across the Pacific in a balloon. He
also discusses for the first time climbing to the balloonist's summit,
a flight around the world.

        Man has dreamed about it. Jules Verne has written about, and
David Niven has acted out the fantasy, but until Kittinger talks about
it, fantasy it somehow remains . . .

        But first, there is a broad, dangerous Pacific to navigate.
How will Kittinger go about it?

        "Like I have on other adventures," the Orlando native says
matter-of-factly, "by relying on a combination of the right equipment,
the right team, the right training and a little bit of luck."

        Luck? Isn't luck for adventurers like Indiana Jones?

        "I mean the kind of luck that allowed me to land on my foot
(he broke it) instead of my head when I fell out of the balloon as we
landed in Italy at the end of the Atlantic flight," Kittinger grinned.
"We leave as little to chance as possible."

        That's one reason plans for the Pacific flight are already
under way. The passage from the Orient to the East Coast of the United
States, or farther, is more difficult than the Atlantic flight and the
preparations must begin now.

        Here are some of the striking differences between the
Atlantic and the Pacific flights:

        * He flew the Atlantic in 3 1/2 days. The flight covered a
record-breaking 3,547 miles. The Pacific flight will last at least
five to seven days, and will be stretched to about 9,000 miles.

        * The retired Air Force colonel and test pilot "drifted" from
the Maine Coast to Europe at altitudes of up to 18,000 feet and at
speeds which reached 70 mph. On the Pacific flight, he will reach
30,000 feet, up into the powerful jet stream which will sweep him from
Asia across the Pacific up into the Aleutians and down across Canada
and the U.S. at speeds up to 200 miles per hour.

        * Temperatures on the trip across the Atlantic dipped to a
chilly 20 degrees below zero. He had battery-warmed socks and mittens
and layered clothing to keep his body heat from dissipating. On the
Pacific crossing, temperatures are expected to plunge to minus 50
degrees, requiring much more elaborate heat-trapping gear. (He is
considering using an electrically heated suit as well as other layered
clothing.)

        * The"Rosie O'Grady's Balloon of Peace" Joe Kittinger flew
contained 101,400 cubic feet of helium.  The Pacific balloon, still
unnamed, will be six or seven times larger, and may be constructed of
fabric or plastic. Joe is not yet sure which.

        * On the Atlantic flight, he breathed oxygen for about half
the voyage.  On the Pacific crossing, he'll be on oxygen almost all of
the flight, increasing the fatigue factor and limiting mobility.

        * The Atlantic flight sailed high above the politics of the
world, linking two friendly continents.  On the Pacific flight, he
must be careful to avoid Soviet airspace. "They (the Soviets) have no
hesitancy to shoot down a 747 full of people. It wouldn't bother them a
bit to shoot down a single balloonist," is his candid opinion.

        * The Atlantic flight cost S300,000, covered mostly by
sponsors and by promotional efforts still under way. He is hammering
out a budget for the Pacific hop, but knows it will cost more.

        "We will get three or four corporate sponsors who want the
exposure," he said, adding that this time he wants to give Orlandoans
a chance to "come invest in the adventure."

        He's not ready to go out collecting individual contributions
from the public, but thinks it would give those who did contribute a
sense of actually "being there" on his historic cruise on the air
currents.

        "We plan working with the city of Orlando to have the place
where we launch named a sister city to Orlando," he said. "It will
be a wonderful, sharing opportunity in a history-making event."

        The sister city may well be some where on the coast of The Peoples
Republic of China. That vast nation is Kittinger's first choice as the
perfect launch site next Fall.

        The irony of the location is obvious. He is outspokenly
anti-communist, and avidly pro-American. He was shot down in combat
during the Vietnam War and held captive in Hanoi for nearly a year.

        IF COMPLEX negotiations between Kittinger's team, the U.S.
State Department and China can't be worked out, South Korea will be
the next choice for a launch and finally Japan.

        A 10-member crew of professionals, many of them involved in
the Atlantic launch, will have been recruited for the Pacific
flight. Headed by flight director Ken Hargrove, they will include Bob
Rice, weather services; Dave Sipple, engineer; Sherry Reed, crew chief,
and Jim Mitchell, public affairs.

        And, of course, Joe Kittinger mentor and boss Bob Snow of
Church Street Station, whom the balloonist calls "a great adventurer
and a great man," will be involved in all aspects of the flight.

        Even though many aspects of the Pacific flight will be altered
from the Atlantic venture, he says he will have a scientific answer
to meet every challenge.

        The gondola will be larger for the Pacific flight, but there
will actually be less room for him to maneuver because of the added
equipment.

        "We might well build the gondola right here in Orlando," he
said.

        Part of the extra bulk of the unit (it will weigh about 10,000
pounds compared to 6,700 for the Atlantic) will be in radio and
navigational equipment, extra batteries and more ballast.

        He says he is considering using a new electrical power source
rather than more of the 24 Die-hard batteries he had when he crossed
the Atlantic. He also may make use of satellites for communication
between himself and the headquarters of his fixed and chase crews.

        Once aloft from Asia, the huge, helium-filled balloon will
quickly carry him up into the nightmarishly cold air of the Northern
Pacific.  While the winds pull him west to east at hurricane velocity,
he will have little feeling of motion; only of the bitter, incessant
cold.

        "I know an awful lot about cold," he says matter-of-factly. "I
did a whole series of tests back in my research days when I went down
to 110 degrees below zero in about 100 simulated flights. I'm used to
it."

        What type of special training will he need to do to keep up
with the severe rigors of the prolonged cold and fatigue from up to a
week without sleep?

        Joe Kittinger's regime appears to be deceptively simple. "I
ride a bike about an hour a day and play racquetball a couple of
times a week. And as far as sleep is concerned, I learned during the
service when I would work around the clock that 10 minutes of sleep
every couple of hours will really rejuvenate you pretty fast."

        He said he also has an alarm device on board which will go
off if he goes below a certain altitude.

        He said that on the Pacific crossing, he will be busy with
equipment most of the time, and will spend as much time as he can
doing his work kneeling or lying on the bottom of the gondola to
preserve his precious energy.

        One of the constants on an adventure filled with unknowns will
be the giant river of wind which will suck Kittinger and his aircraft
up into its powerful grasp shortly after he lifts off from the coast.
At that altitude, there are only two wind speeds, strong and stronger.
They sweep from west to east in the Northern Hemisphere, and east to
west in the Southern.

        Kittinger's course will be the same as that of thousands of
crudely made, but dangerously effective rice paper balloons carrying
bombs, launched during World War II. The Japanese balloons attacked
our shores in a way few were aware.

        "The military kept such a tight lid on news of the bombs,"
he said, "that when the Japanese heard no press accounts on the impact
of the devices, they got discouraged and stopped sending them over."

        Kittinger's Pacific balloon won't be just a helpless cork
bobbing on a flood of wind.  He hopes to use a state-of-the-art
navigation and communication system, perhaps utilizing satellite
transmissions to his bases in Bedford, Mass., and the Orient.

        Food should be less of a problem on this flight. At least this
joyful gourmet hopes so.

        "Warm food and liquids are going to be very important on the
Pacific flight," he said, remembering when his food stove failed to
work on the Atlantic adventure, forcing him to eat cold food almost
until he got to Maxim's in Paris.

        The crew is also considering an exotic type of electrical
generation such as a hydrogen system.  Otherwise, it will be back to
more Diehards.

        Once over the hump of the forbidding dead volcanos in the
Aleutian Chain southwest of Alaska, Kittinger's craft should sweep
down the west coast of Canada and enter the continent somewhere near
Washington or Oregon. Then it will be across the U.S., a path he
and other balloonists have taken on cross-country flights which
just a few years ago seemed like the absolute frontier of ballooning.


        WHERE ON the East Coast of the Americas will he land?

        His response was a shocker.

        "If things are going well when we reach the (East) Coast, we
might keep on going."

        On across the Atlantic again?

        "Across the Atlantic. Wouldn't that be something? It would
be about 12,000 or more miles and might take a total of 10 days, but
if the conditions are right, we can do it. Nevertheless, we will go as
far as we can, just like on the Atlantic flight. That was one of three
objectives. The others were to make the first solo flight across the
Pacific and to set six or eight world's records."

        The almost casual statement from this man who says he doesn't
like to take risks generated the obvious question: Is the next giant
step for a balloonist-adventurer a flight around the world?

        "We're working on an around-the-world flight at the same time
we're preparing for the Pacific flight," he acknowledged.

        Balloon technology may be the major factor which could prevent
Joe Kittinger and his trained crew from attempting the globe-girdling
voyage sooner.

        It would not take 80 days to make Verne's fiction a reality;
more like 10 or 12. There would have to be a pressurized gondola and
that would cost considerably more than even the Pacific rig. The
balloon would sail high above the jet stream, close to the edge of
space.

        It would be a tough haul, but Joe Kittinger says it can and
will be done, probably by him.

        Would that be the summit of his Everest?

        "It would, but there are other mountains to climb as well,
other adventures, " said the man who holds the record for a free-fall
parachute jump (102,000 feet) and is ready to leap toward any new
horizon as long as he can be the first to do it.

        "A polar solo flight is something else we're looking at," he
said. One reason for the flight would be to clear the name of a Swede
named Andre who, in 1896, died while trying to balloon across the
North Pole.

        "He had a dream that he could do it. In 1960, I did a study of
wind currents in various times of year at the North Pole, and the
answer is 'yes' it could be done, and I would like to do that too. I'd
like to show the world that Andre was right."

        Joe Kittinger frequently refers to his unusual activities as
"the adventure business" and we asked him about the business aspect of
adventuring. Can you make money at it?

        "I never made much," he admits.

        What about the promotions that cling to any major event such
as his? Are they a fact of life?

        "The Atlantic flight was promoted by a man (Gaetan Croteau)
from Canada.  His dream of adventure was to make money off of my flight.
I hope he does, but I'm not involved in that aspect of it."

        Some of the promotional material carried on the flight had to
be tossed overboard to lighten the load in those last hours as the
Balloon of Peace lost what little lift remained and finally jolted
into a tree during a thunderstorm.

        How does Joe Kittinger go about attracting sponsors for the
next expensive adventure?

        "It's tough to find a sponsor to do these things. That's one
of the reasons perhaps that a solo flight across the Pacific has not
been attempted before.

        "A lot of people have the dream to do it, but they have no
credibility.  After the Atlantic flight, I've got some credibility. I'm
going to be looking for three or four sponsors to back our attempt."

        What would be in it for a sponsor?

        "Publicity,, public awareness of their product. It could be
AT&T, Ford, Campbell Soup. I'm hoping for three to four major
sponsors, and while the community contributions won't be that much,
their dollars will be significant because they will all feel they're
flying with me."

        Kittinger said sponsors won't bring him any personal wealth.

        "I wouldn't mind making money on adventuring," he said. "Maybe
someday, I'll write a book."

        Hearing him talk about sitting still long enough to write a
book caused us both to chuckle, and somehow the conversation turned to
the inevitable; retirement, the danger of what he does and about the
odds of his continuing on unscathed.

        "I've never done anything in my life," he said, "either in the
research, testing or the adventure business that I wasn't sure I was
gonna make it.  When I do something, I've thought out every option,
with damned good assurance I'm gonna make it. I enjoy life. "

        Joe Kittinger just smiles at the thought of retirement.

        "I may slow down and write my book, or maybe learn to play
golf or something like that," he says without enthusiasm.

        Would he enjoy stepping through that threshold of space which
he and a handful of other test pilots have touched?

        "Of course I would," he said without hesitation. "I'm a
trained professional aviator.  I could do a lot more than just fill a
seat on the Space Shuttle.  I'm ready to go any time."

        While he is waiting and planning for his next brush with
space, he is in the air each day, as manager and chief pilot for
Snow's own air force, The Rosie O'Gradv's Flying Circus. He hauls
banners across the Orlando sky, and does skywriting for his boss
advertising Church Street Station.

        He has nothing but good things to say about Mr. Snow, himself
an accomplished pilot and balloonist.

        "I work for a man and in an environment which gives me time to
work on these types of projects. I'm his conscience. I do the things
he'd like to do but doesn't have time to do. He's got the knowledge
like I do, but not the opportunity like he gives me. It's a grand
relationship that we have.

        "A man who would come here and go down to Church Street and
build anything takes a lot of courage.  What Bob Snow did was to start
with $1,500 and a dream in Pensacola, and look what he's got."

        Is that the adventuring spirit in all of us Joe Kittinger was
talking about; whether we cling to the clouds in a balloon or take a
business risk here on earth?

        "That's right. I admire a person with fortitude and vision.
He doesn't have to fly in a balloon.  He can take those very real,
calculated chances right here and still be an adventurer. There's luck
involved in everything, but you gotta realize the smarter you are, the
less luck there is."

        The rain from a coastal storm beat against the side of the
Flying Circus hangar as the interview wound down into small talk.

        "Not a good day for flying," Joe Kittinger mused, shaking his
head. He shifted his weight in the chair, looking a bit caged in this
tiny office on a non-flying day.

        Did he feel as out of place in this type of office environment
as he appeared?

        It was a lead-in Kittinger couldn't resist.

        Waving his hand toward the sullen clouds, the chairman of the
board of the adventuring business said, "My real office is the sky."


Picture captions:

Ruddy-faced, rusty-haired Joe Kittinger looks like a fly-by-the-seat-
of-your-pants barnstormer. (Photo by Bob Eginton)

Kittinger works as manager and chief pilot for Bob Snow's own air
force, Rosie O'Grady's Flying Circus, above. He flies a 1975 Grumman
Ag-Cat, right.  Balloonists Kathy and Steve Adams, opposite page,
check out balloons with Kittinger in the Church Street hangar at
Orlando Executive Airport. (Photos by Bob Eginton and Peter Burg)


ORLANDO MAGAZINE, Orlando, FL, date unknown?:
p. 83-85 -

BUSINESS
---------

Hey, who's that bad dude up there?

Writer, who holds world's record for fear of flying, meets everyone's
 hero to get an exclusive, inside-the-hangar report on Circus' antics

by RANDY NOLES

My first flight in a small airplane, like a bad Mexican meal,
tormented me for weeks. It happened during my newspapering days, when
I was forced to fly from Orlando to Milton - a tiny Cracker community
in Florida's panhandle - to cover a state championship high school
football game.

        Never an aficionado of high places, I had nonetheless learned
to barely tolerate flights in massive commercial jets. But en route to
Milton, hurtling through rough skies in a contraption not much larger
than my car, I was prepared to face death.

        But death did not come. I survived the flight. I was not a
pretty sight, perhaps, as a chuckling pilot pried my fingers from the
arm rest and deposited me on the runway. But I did survive to fly
another day.

        After regaining my senses, I did some thinking about courage.
We all have definitions of bravery, shaped by our personal fears,
prejudices and experiences. I recalled reading somewhere that boxer
Joe Frazier - who thought nothing of swapping punches with the likes of
Ali and Norton- was terrified of water. The way Joe saw it, anyone who
had the guts to dive headfirst into all that wet stuff was someone
worthy of respect, of awe.

        To Joe Frazier, heavyweight champion of the world, Mark Spitz
was one bad dude.

        In my book, Joe Kittinger is one bad dude. Here's a guy who
not only pilots just about anything that can get airborne, he
also jumps out of the damn things. My idea of a risky journey is
driving across town. But when Joe Kittinger gets a bit antsy, he's
liable to fly to Europe. In a balloon.  Alone.  And that's if he
doesn't feel like taxing himself.

        This story is actually about Rosie O' Grady's Flying Circus,
the aerial advertising division of Bob Snow's spectacular downtown
Orlando entertainment complex, Church Street Station. But you can't
write about the Flying Circus without dwelling on Joe - a bona fide
local hero who might have been created by Steven Spielberg.  Or by Bob
Snow, the daredevil entrepreneur whose fascination with flight made
the Flying Circus a reality.

        They're quite a pair, all right.  Bob Snow, the flamboyant
financier who saved downtown Orlando from terminal blight.  And Joe
Kittinger, the rugged, red-haired barnstormer who re-wrote the record
books with his aerial antics.

Among Joe's current records:

        * Highest parachute jump (102,800 feet), 1960.

        * Longest parachute freefall (4 min., 36 sec.), 1960.

        * First man to exceed the speed of sound without an aircraft
   or space vehicle (714 mph during freefall), 1960.

        * Longest distance flown in a 1,000 cubic meter helium
   balloon (2001 miles in 72 hours), 1983.

        * Longest distance flown in a 3,000 cubic meter helium balloon
   (3,544 miles in 84 hours), 1984.

        That final record was set when Joe became the first person to
fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean in a balloon - attracting
international press coverage and prompting a hero's reception back
home in Central Florida.

        But prior to becoming a hero for his peacetime flights of
fancy, Joe was a war hero. During his military career (1949- 1978),
Joe was a fighter pilot, an experimental test pilot and a squadron
commander. In 1972, during his third combat tour, Joe was shot down in
an F-4 near Hanoi and was a prisoner of war there until his release
the following year.  He's received the Silver Star, Legion of Merit,
Distinguished Flying Cross, Bronze Star, Purple Heart and dozens of
other military and civilian honors.

        Now, he's vice president for flight operations at Church
Street Station - with primary responsibility for the Flying Circus. The
aerial advertising operation is headquartered in a sort of time warp,
neatly disguised by a yellow metal hangar at the Orlando Executive
Airport.

        Inside, it looks like a set from a 1940s Bogart movie, with
old airplanes parked wing-to-wing, antique airplane parts scattered
here and there, air show posters, clippings and cartoons on the walls,
and a couple of Church Street Station's antique limousines parked in a
rear corner.

        Joe Kittinger greeted me with his familiar mustachioed grin
and firm handshake. He had just returned from a flight where he towed
a 300 foot-long Church Street Station banner around Central Florida.

        "Yes, I sure love what I'm doing," Joe said as we strolled
amidst the splendor of immaculately maintained old aircraft. "All my
life, I've wanted to do exactly what I'm doing now. And I'm very proud
of what we do here. Obviously Mr. Snow is, too, or we wouldn't be
here."

        The Flying Circus has five airplanes and seven balloons.
(Commercial balloon flights are offered to the adventurous at heart.)
The airplanes are piloted by Joe, Bob Favreau, Rick Thompson, and The
Man himself, Bob Snow, who is an accomplished pilot and skywriter in
his own right. They tow banners and compose aerial advertising
messages in billowing white smoke.  The Rosie's fliers have become an
Orlando institution, an icon, like the Eola Park fountain.

        So, although we locals may take them for granted, Kittinger
and company are part of an elite group of aerial artists numbering
perhaps a dozen in the entire country.  And some skywriters are now
fudging a bit - using computerized radio signals to produce digital
letters.

        Not the guys at the Flying Circus. They do their thing in old
Stearman and Ag-Cat biplanes, or a single-wing T-6. The smoke is
produced by pouring an oil solution into a tank on the side of the
planes. The oil feeds into the exhaust pipe, producing 1,600 degree
vapor which, when exposed to chilly air at 12,000 feet, pours out in
rich, white streams. On a calm day, the streams can hold together for
an hour or more.

        Some Rosie's pilots carry the printed message into the cockpit
with them, using a map to show the shortest distance between strokes.
But that's as technical as these guys get. Successfully spelling out a
message - or drawing a smiley face - is totally dependent on the skill of
the pilot. Or of two pilots, since a pair of planes sometimes works in
tandem.

        I asked Joe to walk me through the hangar and tell me about the
airplanes. He was happy to oblige.

        First, he pointed out the two Grumman Ag-Cats, resplendent in
Rosie's blue and cream checkerboard pattern.  I was surprised to find
that the Ag-Cats, which were originally designed to be crop dusters,
were only about 10 years old. The design hasn't changed much over the
years, so a relatively new airplane still has an antique look that Bob
Snow prefers.

        The Ag-Cats are used for skywriting and towing banners.

        "We bought these planes, at great expense, because Bob decided
he wanted even bigger banners than our other planes could tow," Joe
said. "Also Disney wanted us to be quieter when we flew over the theme
park, so we did it to oblige them."

        Then there's a 1941 Stearman Boeing, originally used as a
primary trainer in World War II. It's a bi-wing airplane, also painted
in a checkerboard pattern, but with a rich crimson substituted for the
blue. It's primarily used for pulling banners. "This is the first
airplane Bob Snow owned," Joe told me.

        A North American AT-6, vintage 1943, is also in the Rosie's
stable and is used mostly for skywriting.  It was also used as a
trainer in World War II. "This one's been modified for skywriting,"Joe
said.  "We can skywrite up to 18,000 feet in the AT-6."

        But my personal favorite of the Rosie's fleet was a striking
1943 Beech craft Staggerwing.  I'm a big fan of automobiles from the
1940s, and this aircraft is reminiscent of those classic cars, with
its bold, sweeping lines.

        Joe says the deep crimson Beechcraft "is a real showstopper
wherever we go."  It's easy to see why. The plane was the Lear Jet of
its day, capable of doing 180 miles per hour. And its luxury
appointments, like Rolls Royce leather seats, made the plane a
favorite of wealthy "jet setters" of the era.

        It's still a favorite of Bob Snow's. He uses the plane for
business jaunts and to fly VIPs.

        "Sure, it takes a lot of TLC to keep these planes going," Joe
said. "But we have the craftsmen here who know how to do it."

        Joe said he had no idea how much it costs to maintain the
Flying Circus. And, like many forms of advertising, it's difficult to
determine with much accuracy how much of Church Street Station's
business is generated by aerial promotion.

        But one thing Joe is sure of. He's having a good time.

        "Having Bob Snow for a friend has allowed me to do an awful
lot of things," he said. "I couldn't have done it without him."

        Then Joe thought for a minute, and his face lit up.

        "Hey, how about a ride?" he asked.

        I told him thanks, but I'd have to think about it. After all,
Joe Kittinger may be a hero, but he isn't invincible.

        Or is he?


Photo captions:

Joe Kittinger, daredevil and hometown hero, runs Rosie O'Grady's
Flying Circus- Bob Snow's aerial advertising division. "I've always
wanted to be doing exactly what I'm doing right now," Joe says of his
occupation. (Photo by Bill Thomson)

Many of today's automobiles have more complex looking dashboards
than the control panels of Rosie's classic air planes. But Flying
Circus pilots specialize in handling these aviation classics. (Photo
by Bill Thomson)

Joe Kittinger gets ready to crank up a Grumman Ag-Cat for a leisurely
afternoon of banner-towing across Central Florida's skies. The Ag-Cat
is one of five vintage airplanes headquartered in the Rosie O'Grady's
Flying Circus hangar (inset), located at the Orlando Executive
Airport. But these aren't museum pieces. (Photos by Bill Thomson)


Sources:

ORLANDO MAGAZINE
Undated


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