Pre-WWII Canadian skydiving story

[pchapman 261]

Here's a little story about someone's sport parachuting experiences, largely before WWII.
I wrote it back in 1993 for a Canadian skydiving magazine, and have edited it slightly, although I left in a lot of the local references. I figured it was worth adding to the dz.com collection. The early equipment, techniques, and certification standards are particularly interesting.

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A couple of years ago I made a presentation about our sport, as speaker of the month for a chapter of the Recreational Aircraft Association. When I asked the audience who had skydived before, I expected a couple people to have made a jump. One man, Cam Warne, said that he had made 50 jumps. When he said that he had made them from 1938 to 1952, I knew I'd want to talk to him after the meeting was over.

In the records of parachuting history, some subjects are more written about than others. Parachuting for sport is relatively neglected until the post WW II era, with it's stories about first World Championship in 1951, Jacques Istel, the sleeved canopy, and so on. While the organizations that eventually became the Canadian Sport Parachuting Association were formed post war, sport jumping did exist in Canada before the war.

Most of this article is based on Cam's recollections. A 1938 Toronto Star article and a 1985 Canadian Aviation Historical Society article on airfields in Toronto were additional sources.

Cam Warne made his first jump in 1938, well within northern Toronto at the NE corner of Wilson Avenue and Dufferin Street. [At the time it was open fields north of the city; now it is well within the city of 2.5 million.] The de Havilland aircraft company had a field to the northwest. Eventually both sites would be covered by today's Downsview airport [only used by Bombardier's de Havilland division, and by a military reserve helicopter squadron]. Jumps were also made at Barker field, somewhat further south.

An experienced jumper by the name of George Bennett had been instructing in a number of cities, and at this time was in Toronto. I don't think his work was entirely a private venture, for government sponsored flying clubs and the Irvin company may have been in some way involved.

Ground school was held in rented space with a long hallway, to allow packing the round canopies. It took a couple evenings per week for four weeks to complete the course, which included packing Irvin chutes according to the manufacturer's manual. One test of packing ability hasn't changed, as the instructor would tangle up a canopy for the student to sort out. On a windy day, canopies were taken outside to practice collapsing them.

Thirty four students completed ground school in the spring of 1938. For Cam and four others, the big day was May 15. They wore a standard Irvin pilots' seat pack, containing a 24' canopy, with the harness adapted to take another 24 footer in a lap pack. The lap pack was like a chest pack but with the pack mounted lower. Boots, coveralls, and a padded leather helmet completed the student's gear.

Plane and pilot came from the main tenant at the airfield, the Toronto Flying Club. An instructor took each student in turn up to 2000' to 2500' in an open cockpit, two seat de Havilland Gypsy Moth biplane. The spectacle of parachute descents drew nearly 1000 spectators that day, reported a newspaper. The student climbed from the front cockpit onto the lower wing, put his left hand on the ripcord to avoid mid air fumbling and panic, jumped at the pilot's signal to go, counted to three, and pulled. All of Cam's jumps would be freefall. Static lines for civilian students only became popular after the war, during which static lined paratroop chutes had been refined. After the jolt of a canopy first, unreefed deployment, the student was left under an unsteerable, unstable, 24' silk canopy.

Very rough landings are what we expect to hear from the early days of parachuting, but it was common during Cam's time to avoid this by simply deploying both parachutes. The reserve, with no pilot chute, would be hand deployed after the main was open. While two rounds won't downplane, they may still move significantly apart and speed the descent. By pulling the risers on the "inside" (nearest the other canopy), the canopies could be kept side by side. The reserve, no different in design from the main, was treated as just another canopy to be packed or deployed by the student. Experienced jumpers might still use the two canopy technique, or save a pack job and land the main alone.

Those who continued jumping at Downsview called themselves the Canadian Parachute Club, with experienced jumper and pilot Ray Chesney as president. By passing the hat among the crowd that would assemble whenever parachutists leaped, the club was able to reduce their costs. The equipment shared among the club members was just one full set of gear, with two 24' canopies. Jump aircraft were usually two place flying school aircraft such as the Moth or Piper Cub, although larger planes were arranged for group demos.

Based on having completed the rigging-intensive ground school course, and made one jump, Cam received a certificate stating that he was qualified to pack, service and jump all Irvin parachutes. Cam also became an instructor, the certificate for which could be received after six jumps in total.
[Let's repeat that: One jump to get off student status, and six jumps to become an instructor.]

Some of the sillier descents by jumpers at Downsview included carrying a dog or rooster as passenger, and one person did trapeze artist stunts after opening the canopy, such as hanging on by a mouthpiece alone. (As for early tandem human jumps, I've seen a photo of such a jump done under a large round canopy in France in 1937.) Cam's lowest jump was from 800', made that low to get him into a tight landing field.

Club members made downwind landings if possible, which didn't affect the ground speed of chutes that were unsteerable other than by sideslipping. Downwind landings better allowed the jumper to see what he would hit and eased preparation for a landing roll. When using two canopies out, landings could be stood up. Despite the hard openings of what were in effect pilots' emergency parachutes, terminal velocity openings were made. If a hop and pop wasn't planned, a typical jump might start at 5000 6000', freefalling down to normal opening height, which was eyeballed since an altimeter was never carried.

Some rigs used were actual emergency bailout rigs, that hadn't been modified for a reserve attachment. In that case a reserve could be worn on a separate harness, or occasionally not bothered with at all.

A couple types of chair chutes had been built at the time (and can be found in Vol. 1 of Poynter's Parchute Manual), designed to be hidden in the passenger chairs of airplanes and quickly donned in an emergency. One pilot who had such a chute for his Howard airplane wanted to see how well it functioned, so Cam test jumped it without a reserve. Pictures of such rigs show relatively conventional shoulder straps with a chest buckle, and a seat sling not unlike some 1960's military gear. But instead of having leg straps to prevent coming out of the sling, it had only a seatbelt like strap to cross both legs.

Cam was among a half dozen parachutists making demo jumps in 1939, for three evenings during the Canadian National Exhibition. The only large obstruction free area near the Exhibition was Lake Ontario, dictating water jumps. In place of smoke grenades, flour was released from leggings closed with a drawstring. The group jumped without reserve canopies, as they had trouble enough getting hold of even one parachute for each of their "large" group of parachutists. For water landings, jumpers might deliberately set themselves swinging before impact, so that the canopy would be less likely to settle on top of them in the water. One evening the pick up boats were recalled because of approaching bad weather. The jumpers, already airborne without radios, could not be contacted. Private boats eventually fished the abandoned jumpers out of the water.

With World War II came a demand for parachutists, who were valued for their packing skills. The Canadian Parachute Club disbanded and many members dispersed to the rigging lofts of military flying schools to train new personnel

From 1946 to 1952, Cam jumped with a group at the Oshawa airfield, east of Toronto. War surplus parachutes were cheap, and an airplane could be rented from the flying club. Aircraft ownership wasn't common for what were true clubs in the early days.

One demo water jump near North Bay [about 200 miles north of Toronto] was a high one from 9000', exiting from the back seat of a Harvard military trainer. Freefall technique was primitive, and Cam was unlucky to enter the dreaded flat spin. Deploying immediately has always been the basic way out. Cam pulled high, ending up safely under canopy at 6000', but with a wind driving him further offshore. Again co ordination with the pick up crew failed. The crew continued to relax on the beach, beer in hand, without noticing the canopy up high. A pilot elsewhere on shore saw the parachute and jumped into the nearest vehicle, a Piper Cub on floats. As the pilot had never flown a floatplane before, he taxied it the entire way to retrieve the parachutist.

Cam had his share of minor incidents, but only one small injury, a twisted ankle, and one malfunction. The mal was in '39 while jumping an Irvin rig with a 28' main and 22' reserve. Stability in freefall and for opening weren't a great concern. Parachutes, after all, were designed for pilots who were expected to bail out, and then pull in any orientation. This time the pilot chute wrapped on his foot, horseshoeing the main. The reserve was tossed out and deployed cleanly, the horseshoe was cleared, and the descent was made under both chutes.

Cam's wife picked a poor day to watch him jump one time at Oshawa. After a normal main deployment Cam tossed out the reserve. The mass of fabric didn't billow upwards as usual. It dropped down between his legs, and began to inflate behind him, with lines caught on the metal frame of the seat pack main container. Cam was suspended horizontally by the two canopies. As a belly flop landing was unappealing, Cam struggled to clear the mess. Having done so, he looked up and was surprised by the sight of apparently only one canopy. He then realized what had happened: the reserve had managed to inflate itself within the main canopy, the two canopies nesting neatly together. Scenes like that didn't impress his non aviating wife, leading Cam to give up jumping in 1952.

[Cam went on to recreational flying and homebuilt aircraft, and did a lot of video production work for the EAA Oshkosh aviation convention.]

Peter Chapman

[wmw999 2,120]

That's awesome. Thanks for posting it.

Wendy W.

There is nothing more dangerous than breaking a basic safety rule and getting away with it. It removes fear of the consequences and builds false confidence. (tbrown)

[riggerrob 558]

Great story!
Thanks for sharing.

[zoobrothertom 5]

Thanks for the history!

____________________________________
I'm back in the USA!!

[fallfast69 2]

Thanks! I just love reading about the old days. Skydiving took guts back then...

Jon