Daredevils, lunatics, call them what you will; there’s one thing that unites those folks who attempted the tightrope-walking or barrel-riding stunts…an irrepressible urge to stand out from the crowd. Niagara Falls was their stage, and they intended to fill the show with rapturous applause, even if it meant bringing the curtain down for the final time.
~ Karl Fabricius
~ Karl Fabricius
Niagara Falls is an iconic landmark and natural wonder, one that I've wanted to see for a while. This past weekend I had the chance to visit for the first time. While the falls are a draw in and of themselves, there was also a bubble of joy in my heart that I carried quietly through the weekend because of Niagara'a significance in the history of wire walking and also its association with the storybook Mirette on the High Wire—the book that started it all.
People are generally more familiar with the Niagara barrel stunts of the 20th century than the wire walkers of the 19th, but in their time the wire daredevil performances were every bit as popular—possibly more so because they were legal (advertisable and marketable) spectacles.
Niagara was a popular summer resort for the wealthy; whole families with servants in tow would “summer” at the luxury hotels lining Niagara gorge. For the wire performances, the bridge and grandstands were full of men in top hats, women with parasols, and little girls clinging to the skirts of their nurses; bands on both sides of the rivers added accompaniment, and once safely across, the performer might be driven in a carriage with four horses up to one of the hotels for refreshment before making the return trip.
At least eight wire walkers performed crossings of the Niagara gorge between 1859 and 1896. Never content with simply crossing safely the 1,000+ foot span nearly 200 feet over rocks and torrents, these performers added headstands, somersaults, sprinted across in 2 minutes, cooked themselves breakfast, did laundry in an old fashioned wash tub, climbed down to the Maid of the Mist and then back up, pushed wheelbarrows, walked blindfolded, and wore baskets instead of shoes.
Incredibly, in the history of the Niagara wire-walkers, there was only ever one fatality and it was an after-hours fatality at that: crossing in the dark, drunk, wearing street shoes, with no known spectators made Stephen Peer’s demise almost anti-climactic. By the time Niagara officials banned unauthorized stunting in 1884 and began refusing authorization in 1896, the crowds coming to view the wire-walkers were dwindling. The wire-walkers with their daring and drive had perhaps done their job too well: the crowds pretty well assumed a successful crossing and no longer watched with bated breath (or aggressively bet on the outcome).
Two years ago, after a 116 year hiatus, the Falls were once again graced by the presence of a wire-walker. Nik Wallenda, heir of a five-generation wire walking legacy, received approval—after several years of petitions and negotiations—to string his wire across the Niagara. It was a momentous comeback, especially because, for the first time ever, a wire-walker would be walking over the Horseshoe Falls rather than “merely” across the gorge just downstream from the falls. It would also be one of the longest walks in the region: 1,800 feet, topping previous records by 300 feet.
The dark of night made for a stunning contrast with the illuminated mist and falling water of his crossing. I'm certain the crowds lining the gorge were every bit as breathless as those that had come to see Blondin.
When I first read the children’s storybook Mirette on the High Wire and fell in love with wire walking, I didn't have any actual experience with wire walking and frankly believed that the reputed accomplishments of the fictional mentor wire-walker Bellini were just that—fictional tall-tale feats attributed to a purely fictional character. Well, doesn't crossing Niagara AND stopping in the middle to cook an omelet sound a bit far fetched?
You can imagine how delighted I was when I discovered that the exploits of the fictional Bellini were based on the actual accomplishments of Jean Francois Gravalet, known as "Blondin," one of the greats in wire-walking history and the first to cross the Niagara gorge. Then just recently as I prepared for my trip (by researching lesser-known Niagara wire walkers specifically), I was elated to discover that there actually had been a Niagara wire-walker who went by the name of Bellini. My childhood fantasy was actually history—or at least solidly based in history.
With its storybook associations and rich non-fictional heritage of wire walking, Niagara was a wonderful place to visit. I passed a plaque marking the site of the old suspension bridge next to which many of the old-time wire walkers stretched their cables. I stood on Terrapin Point on Goat Island where Nik Wallenda began his walk. While viewing the grand spectacle of the falls, my eyes would often wander to scan the gorge, imagining a wire stretched taut across. Looking at the dizzying drops and rushing water and imagining what it might be like walking in the midst of the nothingness above made my stomach churn in miniature imitation of the water below.
An important stop for me on the trip was the monument to Nik Wallenda’s crossing, complete with a section of the actual wire he used. After only a glimpse of the monument's unveiling in an online news article, I immediately wondered if the boulder was climbable, if the wire mounting was appropriately weight bearing, and if I’d get arrested for desecrating a monument—because of course I wanted to walk where Nik Wallenda walked.
A picture of Wallenda balancing on top of his monument found a bit later in my internet surfing was the clincher, resolving at least two of my three concerns, and so on a sunny Monday morning I tried it out myself with the sunlit mists of the falls behind me as I stood on a wire that had crossed through those very mists supporting a lone man across the chasm.
To stand where great men have stood and remember their accomplishments is a rewarding experience for the ambitious. Having seen the falls, I better understood why wire-walkers were drawn to this location; I also understood the desire to stand out on this beautiful natural stage. I wanted my turn balancing with grand curtains of falling water as my backdrop, and I'm always craving a balance challenge. Highwires may be banned, but handrails are plentiful, so this second ambition was also fairly easy to fulfill…I just had to choose a rail not on the edge of the gorge.
A gorgeous sunset, a beautiful backdrop, and a balance challenge, it was a perfect moment.
 |
| Henry Bellini with Niagara in the background |
 |
| Maria Spelterini, the only female Niagara wirewalker, pictured here with peach baskets on her feet |
Incredibly, in the history of the Niagara wire-walkers, there was only ever one fatality and it was an after-hours fatality at that: crossing in the dark, drunk, wearing street shoes, with no known spectators made Stephen Peer’s demise almost anti-climactic. By the time Niagara officials banned unauthorized stunting in 1884 and began refusing authorization in 1896, the crowds coming to view the wire-walkers were dwindling. The wire-walkers with their daring and drive had perhaps done their job too well: the crowds pretty well assumed a successful crossing and no longer watched with bated breath (or aggressively bet on the outcome).
Two years ago, after a 116 year hiatus, the Falls were once again graced by the presence of a wire-walker. Nik Wallenda, heir of a five-generation wire walking legacy, received approval—after several years of petitions and negotiations—to string his wire across the Niagara. It was a momentous comeback, especially because, for the first time ever, a wire-walker would be walking over the Horseshoe Falls rather than “merely” across the gorge just downstream from the falls. It would also be one of the longest walks in the region: 1,800 feet, topping previous records by 300 feet.
The dark of night made for a stunning contrast with the illuminated mist and falling water of his crossing. I'm certain the crowds lining the gorge were every bit as breathless as those that had come to see Blondin.
When I first read the children’s storybook Mirette on the High Wire and fell in love with wire walking, I didn't have any actual experience with wire walking and frankly believed that the reputed accomplishments of the fictional mentor wire-walker Bellini were just that—fictional tall-tale feats attributed to a purely fictional character. Well, doesn't crossing Niagara AND stopping in the middle to cook an omelet sound a bit far fetched?
 |
| Illustration from Mirette on the Highwire |
You can imagine how delighted I was when I discovered that the exploits of the fictional Bellini were based on the actual accomplishments of Jean Francois Gravalet, known as "Blondin," one of the greats in wire-walking history and the first to cross the Niagara gorge. Then just recently as I prepared for my trip (by researching lesser-known Niagara wire walkers specifically), I was elated to discover that there actually had been a Niagara wire-walker who went by the name of Bellini. My childhood fantasy was actually history—or at least solidly based in history.
With its storybook associations and rich non-fictional heritage of wire walking, Niagara was a wonderful place to visit. I passed a plaque marking the site of the old suspension bridge next to which many of the old-time wire walkers stretched their cables. I stood on Terrapin Point on Goat Island where Nik Wallenda began his walk. While viewing the grand spectacle of the falls, my eyes would often wander to scan the gorge, imagining a wire stretched taut across. Looking at the dizzying drops and rushing water and imagining what it might be like walking in the midst of the nothingness above made my stomach churn in miniature imitation of the water below.
An important stop for me on the trip was the monument to Nik Wallenda’s crossing, complete with a section of the actual wire he used. After only a glimpse of the monument's unveiling in an online news article, I immediately wondered if the boulder was climbable, if the wire mounting was appropriately weight bearing, and if I’d get arrested for desecrating a monument—because of course I wanted to walk where Nik Wallenda walked.
A picture of Wallenda balancing on top of his monument found a bit later in my internet surfing was the clincher, resolving at least two of my three concerns, and so on a sunny Monday morning I tried it out myself with the sunlit mists of the falls behind me as I stood on a wire that had crossed through those very mists supporting a lone man across the chasm.
To stand where great men have stood and remember their accomplishments is a rewarding experience for the ambitious. Having seen the falls, I better understood why wire-walkers were drawn to this location; I also understood the desire to stand out on this beautiful natural stage. I wanted my turn balancing with grand curtains of falling water as my backdrop, and I'm always craving a balance challenge. Highwires may be banned, but handrails are plentiful, so this second ambition was also fairly easy to fulfill…I just had to choose a rail not on the edge of the gorge.
A gorgeous sunset, a beautiful backdrop, and a balance challenge, it was a perfect moment.
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