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The Flying Wallendas - What Makes Them Fly?


What do sky divers, brain surgeons, and tightrope walkers have in common? They engage in pursuits incomprehensible to one man, and unremarkable to another. But there are numerous sky divers and surgeons, and very few high wire performers.

 

What makes a sane man step onto a half inch wire and pace 180 feet in the air? Ask Tino Wallenda, grandson of Karl Wallenda, patriarch of the foremost high wire troupe on Earth. I did, and I’m just beginning to learn.

I was vacationing at The Colony Beach & Tennis Resort on Longboat Key off Sarasota, Florida. Thanks to John Ringling, Sarasota is the circus capital of the world. He made this Gulf Coast town the winter home of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus.

Location of The Colony Beach & Tennis Resort, Longboat Key, Florida. Courtesy of The Colony Beach & Tennis ResortA circus performance is a Thanksgiving tradition at The Colony. And not just a token performance, the best talent in the world. The highlight of this one was to be a tightrope walk by Tino Wallenda from a cement pier in the ocean to the top of a six-story building.

Before his performance, we sat down and talked. Tino’s eyes are dark and penetrating. His air is one of quiet confidence. His words are well chosen.

He was born in Sarasota, the grandson of the greatest high wire artist of all time, and now he is leader of a family that began in circus in the eighteenth century or earlier. Records go back seven generations.

I watched him prepare for the walk. He did everything himself, from anchoring the wire to the pier to securing it to the building. He attends to every detail.

"You’re a hands on person," I said.

"My life is on the line," he replied. "Perhaps when my son is older, I will let him do it, and I can walk around looking more important than I am."

He described the mental stance he assumes when performing. "Your atmosphere is on that wire. You are comfortable where you are. It’s a controlled environment. We don’t practice on a high wire, but on one no higher than this table. When you take it to another level you’re just changing the surroundings."

"You are called The Flying Wallendas," I said. "What does it feel like…to fly?"

"Nothing extraordinary," he said. "I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t for the people cheering below."

Tino Wallenda begins his high wire beach walk on Longboat Key, Florida. © by James PriestThe strange thing is that—like everyone else—he fears heights, yet has no fear of walking on the high wire. "Put me on the wire," he said, "and I know where I am. We never practice falling because we were taught that the idea is not to fall."

The Wallendas always work without a net. There’s a story behind that. John Ringling saw Tino’s grandfather and his troupe performing in Cuba, and invited them to join The Greatest Show On Earth. They did and debuted at Madison Square Garden in 1928. But before they went on, they discovered that their net had been lost in shipping. They went on without it. They received a 15-minute standing ovation, longer than any circus act before or since. Karl also felt that a net provided a false sense of security. That might lead to a lapse in concentration and a mistake. For the last 70 years, the troupe has performed without a net.

Does the high wire get into your blood? Indeed. For several generations, every member of the family has been a high wire performer, though some have gone on to other pursuits. Tino’s four children all want to follow in their father’s footsteps. His oldest daughter is currently working with him in the seven-person pyramid. "Unlike many kids," he said, "they have a vision of what they want to do for the rest of their lives."

According to Karl, "Being on the tightrope is living; everything else is waiting." In her book, Delilah Wallenda said, "I walk the wire because it’s in my blood."

Always looking for a greater challenge, Karl invented the seven-person pyramid. Four people are on the wire, two are supported on their shoulders, and a seventh is in a chair on top. Of course, this is executed without a net.

 

The Wallendas have known adversity. In 1944 they were on the wire when the greatest tragedy in circus history occurred, the Hartford Fire, in which 168 people are said to have died. Being on the wire, they were farther from the exits than anyone else, but managed to escape. In South America they were performing the pyramid when an earthquake struck, but they got down unscathed. While performing the pyramid in Fort Worth, Texas, the lights in the arena went out. When they came back on the troupe was continuing its march across the wire.

The Wallendas have known calamity. The Great Pyramid was performed successfully from 1948 to 1962. Then disaster struck at the State Fair Coliseum in Detroit. The lead man faltered and the pyramid collapsed. A girl was in a chair at the top. As she fell, Karl caught her and held onto her. Three men fell to the ground. After a mat had been deployed below, Karl let the girl drop. She sustained a concussion but survived. Two of the men were killed and the other was paralyzed from the waist down. Except for rare circumstances, the pyramid has not been reenacted—until recently.

Four Wallendas have died in high wire accidents this century, and two more in other circus acts. In 1978, even Karl, the patriarch and motivator, fell to his death walking between buildings in San Juan, Puerto Rico, at the age of 73.

Tino, Karl’s first grandchild and protege, is a proud and thoughtful man. He bristles at the idea that jokes are made about the Wallendas, and that the family is associated with failure. In his mind, it was up to him to exonerate the family name. For five years he considered recreating the pyramid—but not just anywhere—at the site where it had collapsed. Some family members did not support him, feeling that it was too dangerous. Nonetheless, in March, 1998, he did it—at the State Fair Coliseum in Detroit.

Afterwards Tino smiled inwardly and sent a quiet greeting to his grandfather. Karl smiled back. Together they had exorcised an old demon. When Tino told me about it, satisfaction and vindication were on his face. "His desire was for me to continue in his footsteps," he said. "I have."

Tino’s a brave man. Not because he walks the high wire, but because he came back to do something that had previously ended in tragedy.

The Colony Beach & Tennis Resort, Longboat Key, Florida. Courtesy of The Colony Beach & Tennis ResortOn a shimmering, sunny afternoon, the circus began at The Colony Resort. After the other acts, the ringmaster announced the culminating event, the high wire beach walk by Tino Wallenda. Dressed in a crimson costume, he picked up his balancing pole, stepped onto the wire, and began to walk. His wife was there, and his daughters, directing the assistants handling the guide wires. And Tino strolled, step by step, almost casually, from the cement pier to the top of a six-story building. Oh, and one more thing. When almost at the top, he stopped and did a headstand—on the wire.

Well, different strokes for different folks. Sasha, another performer, is part of the seven-person pyramid. I talked with him also. Twenty years ago his wife made him quit the circus and get a real job. But with subway rides and regular hours—believe it or not—he couldn’t handle the stress. He gave it up after six months and went back to the circus. Is walking the high wire stressful? Not a bit, he said.

It’s hard for me to comprehend leaving a perfectly good cement pier to walk to the top of a building on a half inch wire. Yet courage, accomplishment, perfection, determination, grit, and exoneration of the family name are things I can understand.

But something funny happened to me. After listening to Tino, thinking about the family’s history, and standing by the pier watching him do his thing, I got caught up in it. His confidence is so overwhelming that—as he ascended the wire one step at a time—I almost wanted to do it myself.

Just don’t ask me to do the headstand.

For More Information

The Colony Beach & Tennis Resort
1620 Gulf of Mexico Drive
Longboat Key, FL 34228-3499
(941) 383-6464, Fax (941) 383-7549
(800) 282-1138
http://www.colonybeachresort.com

Copyright ©1999 by James D. Priest

Always looking for a greater challenge, Karl invented the seven-person pyramid. Four people are on the wire, two are supported on their shoulders, and a seventh is in a chair on top. Of course, this is executed without a net.

The Wallendas have known adversity. In 1944 they were on the wire when the greatest tragedy in circus history occurred, the Hartford Fire, in which 168 people are said to have died. Being on the wire, they were farther from the exits than anyone else, but managed to escape. In South America they were performing the pyramid when an earthquake struck, but they got down unscathed. While performing the pyramid in Fort Worth, Texas, the lights in the arena went out. When they came back on the troupe was continuing its march across the wire.

The Wallendas have known calamity. The Great Pyramid was performed successfully from 1948 to 1962. Then disaster struck at the State Fair Coliseum in Detroit. The lead man faltered and the pyramid collapsed. A girl was in a chair at the top. As she fell, Karl caught her and held onto her. Three men fell to the ground. After a mat had been deployed below, Karl let the girl drop. She sustained a concussion but survived. Two of the men were killed and the other was paralyzed from the waist down. Except for rare circumstances, the pyramid has not been reenacted—until recently.

Four Wallendas have died in high wire accidents this century, and two more in other circus acts. In 1978, even Karl, the patriarch and motivator, fell to his death walking between buildings in San Juan, Puerto Rico, at the age of 73.

Tino, Karl’s first grandchild and protege, is a proud and thoughtful man. He bristles at the idea that jokes are made about the Wallendas, and that the family is associated with failure. In his mind, it was up to him to exonerate the family name. For five years he considered recreating the pyramid—but not just anywhere—at the site where it had collapsed. Some family members did not support him, feeling that it was too dangerous. Nonetheless, in March, 1998, he did it—at the State Fair Coliseum in Detroit.

Afterwards Tino smiled inwardly and sent a quiet greeting to his grandfather. Karl smiled back. Together they had exorcised an old demon. When Tino told me about it, satisfaction and vindication were on his face. "His desire was for me to continue in his footsteps," he said. "I have."

Tino’s a brave man. Not because he walks the high wire, but because he came back to do something that had previously ended in tragedy.

The Colony Beach & Tennis Resort, Longboat Key, Florida. Courtesy of The Colony Beach & Tennis ResortOn a shimmering, sunny afternoon, the circus began at The Colony Resort. After the other acts, the ringmaster announced the culminating event, the high wire beach walk by Tino Wallenda. Dressed in a crimson costume, he picked up his balancing pole, stepped onto the wire, and began to walk. His wife was there, and his daughters, directing the assistants handling the guide wires. And Tino strolled, step by step, almost casually, from the cement pier to the top of a six-story building. Oh, and one more thing. When almost at the top, he stopped and did a headstand—on the wire.

Well, different strokes for different folks. Sasha, another performer, is part of the seven-person pyramid. I talked with him also. Twenty years ago his wife made him quit the circus and get a real job. But with subway rides and regular hours—believe it or not—he couldn’t handle the stress. He gave it up after six months and went back to the circus. Is walking the high wire stressful? Not a bit, he said.

It’s hard for me to comprehend leaving a perfectly good cement pier to walk to the top of a building on a half inch wire. Yet courage, accomplishment, perfection, determination, grit, and exoneration of the family name are things I can understand.

But something funny happened to me. After listening to Tino, thinking about the family’s history, and standing by the pier watching him do his thing, I got caught up in it. His confidence is so overwhelming that—as he ascended the wire one step at a time—I almost wanted to do it myself.

Just don’t ask me to do the headstand.

For More Information

The Colony Beach & Tennis Resort
1620 Gulf of Mexico Drive
Longboat Key, FL 34228-3499
(941) 383-6464, Fax (941) 383-7549
(800) 282-1138
http://www.colonybeachresort.com

Copyright ©1999 by James D. Priest