On June 27, 1934, one hundred and twenty members of the Forth Calvary, from Fort Meade, gathered at the Stratobowl in the Black Hills National Forest. There they would witness the beginning of the space age, and the first of more than a dozen balloons that would be sent towards the heavens from inside the Black Hills.
The first among these missions were the Explorer Expeditions. Three flights would eventually be attempted, but only two would make it off the ground, with the balloon for the second mission exploding before being able to launch. But it all started with Explorer I
It Started with Radiation
In 1896, Henri Becquerel would set into motion a series of events that eventually led to those 120 soldiers from Fort Meade gathering at the Stratobowl, and decades later, a man setting foot on the moon. And it all began with an accident.
After having experimented with uranium and photographic plates during the previous months, believing that the uranium salts needed sunlight to emit a radiation similar to the newly discovered x-rays, Henri placed his uranium and plates into a drawer, and waited until the weather in Paris would once again cooperate.
For some reason, on March 1, 1896, Henri would retrieve those photographic plates from his desk drawer, develop them, and to his surprise, found that they had fogged up. This would lead him to the discovery that uranium emitted radiation. Two years later, Marie Curie coined the term “radioactivity.”
From there, the race was on to learn more about radiation. By the 1920s, United States scientists were looking for ways to pierce the boundaries of space, in order to study cosmic rays and potentially unlock the secrets of the atom. Balloons would become the ideal tool for the job.
While unmanned balloons would be sent to heights of 50,000 feet in the 1920s, it wasn’t until May 27, 1931, that manned flights were realized. Auguste Piccard, of Switzerland, would board a free-flying balloon and soar up to the altitude of 9.81 miles. A few months later, in the first sealed gondola used for such a flight, he broke the ten-mile barrier, and proved that higher flights were possible.
National Geographic Society
Others would quickly follow Auguste, with Russia staging two stratospheric expeditions, one in 1933 and the other in 1934. The Chicago’s World Fair would even get in on the action in 1933.
Not wanting to be left behind, United States Army Air Corps Captain Albert W. Stevens, in 1933, began pushing for a stratospheric expedition of their own. The Army would eventually approve, but no funding would be provided.
So close to getting the expeditions of the ground, Albert turned to the National Geographic Society, who would front most of the financial support. Other organizations would also invest in the endeavor, including the United Aircraft and Transport Corporation, Eastman Kodak Research Laboratory, Fairchild Aviation Corporation, and the Sperry Gyroscope Company.
In the April 1934 issue of The National Geographic Magazine, the mission, officially titled “The National Geographic-Army Air Corps Stratosphere Expedition,” was announced. However, most would know the mission as Explorer, as it was much less of a mouth full.
Work began quickly on creating the balloon and gondola that would send three men, and a full-size laboratory worth of instruments to the edge of space. Dow Chemical Company, using “Dowmetal,” would be tasked with creating the gondola, while the Goodyear-Zeppelin Company assembled the balloon, which required 2.5 acres of cotton fabric.
As the equipment was being assembled, a suitable launch area also needed to be located. It had to be sheltered, to protect the balloon as it was being filled, as well as be near a relatively flat and clear area where the gondola could eventually land. That search would take them into the Black Hills.
Stratobowl
Having learned that a search was on for a launch area for the Explorer balloon, the Rapid City Chamber of Commerce reached out to the Army Air Corps. They would arrive in town in March of 1934, and that was nearly it.
The site they were shown was the Halley Airport, which simply wasn’t an option. But luckily, Ben Rush, the then chairman of the Pennington County commissioners, had been trying to find a suitable location himself. What the Explorer expedition needed was a large hole in the ground, and Ben knew where he could find one.
Eleven miles south of town, near the Bonanza Bar Mine, was a perfect site. Convincing the Civilian Conservation Corps camp at Rockerville to help, a trail was cut through to the rim of the Stratobowl, or what would become known as such.
Persuading the location committee to stay just a little while longer, and check out his location, he was able to get them to venture out into the Black Hills. When the head of the site committee looked down into the site, he exclaimed, “God made that spot for a stratosphere flight.”
But there were conditions. The Rapid City Chamber of Commerce would have to make the arrangements not only to lease the land, but also to build a road, suitable for heavily loaded trucks, down to the site. All the business aspects, including the offices, sheds, workrooms, etc., would also have to be arranged locally.
Citizens of Rapid City and the surrounding area quickly set off to raise the funds needed, as well as get the bowl ready for launch. Over the course of the launches, hundreds of people from South Dakota would offer a helping hand, and more than 19 thousand dollars were raised. By July 9, 1934, all the preparations had been made. Everyone was ready for a flight, but now they just had to wait for the weather to cooperate.
Explorer I Takes to the Sky
On July 27, 1934, conditions were finally ready for the Explorer I balloon to launch. Troops from the Fourth Cavalry would remove the mammoth balloon from its packing crate and lay it out on a carpet of sawdust which had been laid on the ground to cushion and protect the balloon. As dusk approached, a ring of spotlights around the launch site were turned on, as work would continue throughout the night, and into the early morning.
Over the course of 6 hours, 1,500 canisters of hydrogen would be used to fill the balloon, which was fully inflated around 2 a.m. Once it was filled, the gondola was wheeled out, and during the next 3 hours, it would be attached to the balloon.
Finally, at 5:45 in the morning, Explorer I was launched. The three-man crew, Major William E. Kepner, pilot, Captain Orvil A. Anderson, co-pilot, and Captain Albert W. Stevens, scientific observer, would begin the ascent to a final altitude of 11.5 miles.
At about 1 p.m., after nearly 7 hours of flight, the crew reached 60,613 feet. They had been actively gathering data and transmitting it back to the ground. But that would calm to a screeching halt.
Hearing a clattering on top of the gondola, the three crewmates looked out to discover that a rip had developed in the base of the balloon. Despite the situation, Stevens and Anderson continued taking measurements. Kepner waited by, with his hand on the lever that would release the emergency parachute.
Descent
Once the Explorer Balloon started to descend, it did so quickly. In 45 minutes, it would fall around 20,000 feet. The crew could hear the balloon fabric continue to tear as they were inside the gondola, and after another half hour, they had fallen another 20,000 feet.
At that point, they decided it was time to attach their emergency parachutes to their harnesses. Upon opening the hatch of the gondola, the entire bottom of the bag dropped out. The quick descent before was nothing, as the balloon itself was more like a parachute, that only slightly slowed their fall towards earth.
Throughout this entire process, the crew remained in radio contact with the ground, allowing them to share the drama that was unfurling with audiences around the world. At around 5,000 feet, the three crewmates began escaping from the gondola. Anderson would be the first to jump, but just as he made it out, the balloon exploded, sending the gondola plummeting to earth.
Stevens would be the next to attempt to get out. Twice, he would be blown back into the gondola by windblasts. Finally, Kepner pushed Stevens out, and followed behind. Being the last one out, Kepner was barely able to open his parachute before the gondola crashed into the ground with a sickening thud.
All three would eventually land safely, even though they were shaken. It wouldn’t be long though until they were swarmed by people who had been chasing behind the balloon in their cars.
At first, it was feared that the mission would be a total loss, but shortly they would discover that while some data was lost, there was a lot that could be salvaged. And luckily, the balloon, gondola, and instruments were heavily insured. This would allow for another expedition, and the Army and National Geographic Society quickly began planning for another flight.