Some 1.5 million balloons, ready for liftoff, under nets tied to scaffolding built for Cleveland's 1986 Balloonfest in Public Square. (At least half of the scaffolding was built with permission granted by a city permit!) Dave Andersen/The Plain Dealer

I wrote a piece last week about Cleveland’s 1986 Balloonfest as an examination of journalism, but the unexpected result was a stream of fond memories and civic pride from people who were there.

That makes me wonder even more how Cleveland let its great day get turned into something ugly. 

Quick reminder: On Sept. 27, 1986, well-organized volunteers coordinated by the United Way successfully launched 1.5 million balloons into the sky, breaking a record set the previous December in California. A huge crowd – the biggest in Public Square in four decades -- witnessed it. The day had some setbacks, with a storm pushing many of those balloons back to earth, causing car accidents and impeding a Coast Guard search for two fisherman who likely had drowned hours earlier.

In recent years, though, the narrative on Balloonfest changed, with no end of outsiders creating web articles and mini-documentaries with wildly exaggerated descriptions of the mishaps, describing the balloon launch as a disaster and, even, saying it killed the fishermen, which is absurd.

In my column last week, I said my impression after looking at all of the coverage is that the stories in 1986 likely had it right. Balloonfest was a good day for Cleveland, enjoyed by proud masses. Now that I’ve heard from so many people who were there, I’m sure of it.

A youth group supervisor at the Community of St. Malachi remembers taking teenagers to the staging area to inflate the balloons – at 2 a.m. The United Way hoped Balloonfest would engage youth and get them interested in volunteering. It did, with many making the same middle-of-the-night journey to help. The supervisor remembers some teens inhaling the helium, and entertaining the other volunteers with their resulting high-pitched voices. 

“I feel that most people were there to break a Guinness Record, a once in a lifetime experience, and were volunteering for a good cause, The United Way. We all accomplished what we set out to do by producing 1.5 million balloons to claim the record, which sadly has been removed from the record book.” She signed herself as “Proud Guinness Record Breaker,”

A Key Club advisor at Mayfield High School had similar memories:

“With many others, we volunteered to inflate the balloons and tie them and release them to be caught in the net above us.  It was a very festive event as we were helping United Way. I remember our fingers being taped as they got sore from tying all of those balloons. “ 

I heard from Dave Marburger, The Plain Dealer’s longtime lawyer until he retired from Baker Hostettler. He was at his law office the day of Balloonfest and remembers, “It was an inspiring and delightful event.”

Said another: “It was It was a pride day for Cleveland and northern Ohio… 

 Any criticism which ignores all the work that went into the project and the sense of community it fostered is shallow work… It takes vision, a dream, and a lot of perseverance to pull it together. That is the true story.” 

And another: “My husband was a firefighter and I was a registered nurse and we enjoyed riding our comfortable motorcycle in those days. We thought about the balloon fest and decided taking the bike would be a good way to go there and park it in some obscure place and see this event. My biggest memory is the crush of all the people. We live in the suburbs and seldom went downtown to the Public Square. It was exciting when the balloons launched .”

Still another: “I attended that event with my 6-year-old daughter, sister and husband. We were so excited and felt the energy from the crowd, and it is a memory that I will never forget!”

One of my favorites came from the construction manager at Terminal Tower. He said he received a panicked call asking him to rush to City Hall to get a building permit for the Public Square scaffolding where overhead nets were to be attached, to contain the inflated balloons until launch. The United Way engineers had not sought Building Department approval.

“I recall scurrying around to get the plans from their engineers, quickly completing the application and trying to make that day’s plan review session. All the plan examiners gave me a strange smile as I hurried in before their meeting ended. They knew the scaffolding was already going up and that their permission hadn’t been given for the enclosure. I still recall the chairman’s first comment. ‘This wouldn’t be for the scaffolding that’s already halfway completed on Public Square, would it?”

The discussion was unusual because the city had never considered an installation potentially being lifted off of a foundation by helium. The planners approved it, though, and the construction manager thinks he still has the permit in his mementoes. He considers it his contribution to a Guinness World Record.

Some who wrote said the changing narrative – from day of pride to day of shame – is a typical Cleveland story. Guinness listed the record for one year, in 1988, before killing the category. People told me they could not imagine Guinness killing the category if a city like New York had the record, but outsiders disrespect Cleveland.

Said one: “As witness to this standing in the Square with my wife, Patricia (regrettably now gone eleven years) holding our baby daughter, Marian, I have long mused how much maligned this event has been portrayed. In truth it was a happy and memorable event that Is unforgettable and cherished in my memory. Thanks for reclaiming the truth!”

Reclaiming the truth. That’s what we should do, in a big way. 

And one writer had the perfect idea to do it.

We can’t recreate the balloon launch. People might not have been aware of the environmental ramifications of launches in 1986, but we are now. That’s why no city is likely to break the record set in Cleveland.

But what if Cleveland commemorated that day with a balloon launch of another kind – hot air?

What if Cleveland decided to stick a thumb in the eye of everyone who ever disrespected it by reminding the world that for one day in 1986, this community was on top of the world. Clevelanders got together to do something no one had done before or likely will do again, with imagery that put the town on an international stage.

We could invite hot air balloon pilots from near and far to gather here, to lift off en masse into the skies and celebrate Balloonfest anew. Maybe we could close the runway at Burke Lakefront as the launching point, to remember when Balloonfest helium balloons shut the runway down. 

(Quick caveat: I’m not a hot air balloon expert. So, if the airstream likely would take hot air balloons north from Burke, dooming them to water landings and giving new fodder to those nasty documentary filmmakers, then this would be a very bad idea. Surely, though, we could find a workable launching ground somewhere in the region.)

We might also demand that Guinness relist its abolished categories and show Cleveland’s record, with the clear message that the organization will not entertain or recognize attempts to break it. Let’s not hide history. It happened. Guinness certified it. Why pretend it did not?

I wasn’t in Cleveland in 1986, but I heard from a lot of proud people who were. It’s time to bring that pride back.

To hell with anyone who says different..

I’m at cquinn@cleveland.com. 

Thanks for reading. (No column next week. I'm off. Enjoy July 4th!)