By Walter Lunt
Next to his graduation picture in the 1965 Windonian, the Windham
High School yearbook, John Francis Mannette is portrayed as “high flying and free
falling,” a description that might bring to mind various personal
characteristics. The meaning, however, was quite literal.
As a rising senior in the summer of 1964, John nose-dived out
of a Cessna-180 3000 feet above North Windham; a static line deployed his
parachute and, to the fascination of open-mouthed spectators, drifted onto a
golf driving range adjacent to Route 302 (Don Rich Plaza today). The stunt
wasn’t entirely his idea.
John Mannette as shown in the 1965 Windham High School yearbook. COURTESY PHOTO, THE WINDONIAN 1965 |
On the day of the jump, there was no grand announcement about
what was going to happen in the golfing field. “But,” said Mannette, “there was
word-of-mouth, you know, it was a smaller town back then.”
Mannette said he and Libby drove to a small airfield in South
Portland where the Cessna and a pilot awaited to take them over North Windham.
The golf range had been selected as the drop spot; a friend, Teddy Riley, had
parked his convertible on the edge of the field, “I knew that car and it gave
me something to aim for on the landing.”
Libby continued to give Mannette advice and pointers during
the flight from South Portland. “I remember thinking,” said Mannette, “How the
hell did I ever get talked into this?”
The weather was good, but Libby, fearing wind might cause
Mannette’s fall to veer off course, called for two passes over North Windham.
On the first, flying over Sebago Lake toward the shopping district, Libby
dropped a streamer (ribbon strapped to a dowel) to test wind strength and
direction. It dropped into Little Sebago Lake; the cautionary maneuver had prevented
a potentially dangerous jump.
Mannette said that on the second approach toward North
Windham, “…the door on one side of the plane had been removed. I was standing,
one foot (inside the aircraft) and the other on the (wheel) fender outside the
plane; I was holding on to the wing struts, waiting for Libby to signal me that
it was time to jump.”
Asked what went through his mind when he finally took the
leap, Mannette said he remembers being struck by the sudden sensation of
silence. “Inside the plane was the noise of the engine, and rattling – then
after the jump, all of a sudden, everything was calm and dead silent.” That’s
what I remember most.”
“Also, looking down, there was only the ground – I could feel
the fall, but as the chute opened, it felt like somebody was picking me up. Now
my feet were below me. As I was drifting down it was quite beautiful. (The
experience) was intimidating, but actually quite fun.”
Mannette said he was initially worried about hitting the
ground in the right spot, “…but I was surprised at how well (the chute) could
be steered.”
He landed within feet of Teddy Riley’s convertible. A crowd
assembled, including his dad and other members of the family.
Mannette said there was never another
opportunity for him to soar out of an airplane, but that was okay because he’ll
always have the memory of that wonderous, unforgettable day in 1964.
Looking back, Mannette says, “When I drive through North
Windham today and pass that spot (where I landed) I always think about the
jump, and wonder ‘How the hell did I ever get talked into that.” <