The Balloonist of Pike Street
A Seattle mother's secret training regimen culminates in a daring, successful parachute jump into the frigid waters of Lake Washington.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
The balloon ascension and parachute jump by Mme. Leland at Leschi Park on Sunday was declared by those who witnessed it to have been a wonderful feat. If those people had known it was the first trial of a Seattle woman they would have been thunderstruck. Such is the case, however, and the correct name of the daring woman is Mrs. Jennie Ashman. She came to this city about six months ago with her husband and two children from Michigan. They took rooms on Pike street, where they were living last Sunday. It has always been the desire of Mrs. Ashman to make a balloon ascension, this idea probably having its origin through a family acquaintance, a professional aeronaut. For a week before the grand feat, Mrs. Ashman practiced by jumping off her house on Pike street with the parachute. Everything went all right and she had no fear as to the success of her dangerous undertaking. Moreover, she showed her wisdom by keeping her plans to herself. Sunday morning she appeared as usual, not in the least nervous, but evidently anticipating with pleasure the coming event. She dressed her children, a boy and girl, sent them to Sunday school and then went to the lake herself. The balloon went up until it reached a point higher by far than any other artist had ascended before she let go and shot down into the cold waters of Lake Washington.
“For a week before the grand feat, Mrs. Ashman practiced by jumping off her house on Pike street with the parachute.”
A century before the Leschi area became a gentrified waterfront destination, it served as a stage for turn-of-the-century spectacle and daring. Mrs. Ashman's story reflects the era's fascination with 'aeronauts'—performers who risked their lives in primitive flying machines—long before modern safety standards took hold of the skies.
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