"Perfect Control"

One fine Iowa morning last week a country doctor saw a strange thing in the sky. It looked like two clusters of white grapes, floating along with the wind, with something resembling a bathtub, a coffin or a sweatbox dangling below. The doctor was on a confinement case so he did not stop to gawp.

Some time later a farmer was milking his cows when a gaunt, pleasant man with flowing hair, wearing a damaged white suit, stepped into his barn and said, "Good morning!" This was Jean Piccard, stratosphere balloonist, twin brother of Balloonist Auguste Piccard. Once a chemist for Hercules Powder Co., Jean Piccard is now in the aeronautical engineering department of the University of Minnesota, usually manages _ to find advertisers who will pay for his flights. This particular morning he made a landing of sorts after a flight sponsored by the Rochester Kiwanis Club in a unique apparatus.

For months Prof. Piccard had been talking of stratosphere ascents in which the lifting power would be provided not by one big balloon but a cluster of small ones. It was his theory that with such an outfit he could keep on ascending until some of the balloons burst (because of the diminishing outside air pressure). Also, he could descend at will by putting several balloons out of commission with a pistol. He thought 2,000 four-foot rubber balloons would be enough for a record flight. Last week's ascent, using only 80 balloons, was in the nature of an experiment to test the efficacy of the method. Prof. Piccard took off from Rochester, Minn., ascended to 11,000 ft., came down six hours later no miles away, avoiding the Mississippi River but hitting a tree. He had three methods of releasing or destroying balloons: 1) scissors to cut the balloon cords; 2) explosives on the balloon cords; 3) a .22 calibre pistol. Before landing he used all three. Either the explosives or the gunfire set afire the balloons, which were inflated with hydrogen, and the balloonist barely managed to scramble down the tree before the gondola was enveloped in flames. Somewhat shaken but unhurt except for scratches and bruises, he sent a classic telegram to Mrs. Piccard, herself a stratosphere veteran: "Landed safely, Lansing, Iowa. Balloon under perfect control. All equipment burned up."

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