In the late 70s, well before cell phones and the internet, there was what I can only describe as a unique creative spirit entity in skydiving who seemed to travel around the country injecting sparks of new ideas into different open-minded people in the sport. It was a time when skydiving was going through a golden age of change. Not only in equipment but how we interacted in this 3-dimensional playground. This creative spirit would park itself at different drop-zones across the country for a period of time to plant new seeds of thought into the intuition of some.. Where ever out-of-the-box thinking was accepted it would reside for some time. Seattle to Kansas to Michigan to Florida to Arizona, from Southern California to Northern California. It moved where ever it found a fertile group of out-of-the-box thinkers willing to explore new concepts. In the mid to late 70s, most skydiving activities were based around building round star formations at different speeds and of different sizes. But during this time a spark of the spirits energy flared up in Seattle with a group of jumpers who not known by their given names. It was a tight knit group whos daily activities revolved around eachother. This created a collective of minds who could relate the visions of the spirit. A band of freefalling disciples who were willing to take on the challenge of the new concepts. The visions brought forth an understanding that there was more to freefall than just building round stars. This particular group started building formations, creating and exploring a new expression into the sport.

Most of these folks as well as others who jumped in the Northern parts of the country would, like most creatures of the air, migrate to warmer weather, during the cold, cloudy winter months. A favorite winter place of the congregation was a desert drop-zone known as the Gulch in Casa Grande Arizona. In this desert skydiving community, rules were very lax about many aspects. Opening altitudes were chosen more by where the spot was than how high you were,.and getting back inside the triangle between the runways before opening was a priority. During this period canopies were mostly round so there was a different mindset concerning these values. So when these out-of-the-box thinkers with names like Hod, Captian Smooth, Sport Ern, Skratch, Dave Death, BJ, Bullet Bob, and others came together it created a collective mindset that was enriched by the spirits energy. A new language to communicate these new concepts began to develop. New words like Bi-pole, donut, in-n-out, diamond, wedge, floaters, etc… emerged. A very misunderstood phrase “Sport Death” which was originally intended to point out situations that were dangerous and could be fatal, later became a more morbid path of expression and the original intention faded. With this new language came the modernization of older practices as well. Even the count down for exit evolved from counting down from 5 to go, was radically shortened to “Ready, Set, Go”. 

This nick-named band of free thinkers formed a group called The United States Freefall Exhibition Team introducing these new concepts in a Movie you can still see on YouTube called “Wings“. Spreading this new way of expressing yourself in freefall advanced from just word of mouth to the big screen to be witnessed across the world. These Big evolutionary changes emerging from the desert then moved out across the land during the summer when it was too hot to stay in the south. These enlightened ones spread out to the Northern latitudes sowing the seeds of evolution. Skydiving for them was the career and jobs were just a way to save up enough money to travel to the new nesting ground of the Spirit, set up camp, find new jobs, and continue with their studies. 

As said earlier the Spirit wasn’t just inspiring freefall, it pushed forward the gear evolution as well. Piggyback container systems with throw-out pilot chutes as well as high performances parachutes like the piglet, and paradactyl became the new high-tech advancements but were soon overtaken as square parachutes that have become the norm today.

The Seattle area in 75 was a summertime proving ground for new ideas. I was a fledgling gypsy at that time. Just being able to be around to witness some of the innovations as they happened expanded the horizons. I got to watch the first 8 man donut that started with a bi-pole center with two four-man donuts on opposite sides. Two grips were dropped in the center with a grip switch allowed it to fold out into the 8 man donut. Another stepping stone to where things are today. At this same time in history, the record formation size was a round star of 26. It was planned to be a 25 man star but someone snuck on one of the helicopters and got in to make it 26. It stayed the record for some time until, during an Easter boogie in Zephyrhills the first 50-way formation was built, 5 ten-way wedges connected in the middle was completed on the very first try. As a side note out of 50 people on the dive along with one cameraman, everyone on the load except one person was jumping a square parachute. That one person on a round was me. 

 Like anything in the human experience once it has been observed it pushes the realm of possibility forward. Later that same day a second 50way with an entirely different group was built. Shortly after there was a call from California claiming that they had built a 50-way formation. Much to the delight of Z-hills manage,r Jim Hooper, he was able to tell them it was good to hear but we had actually built two 50 ways that same day. There was a bit of East Coast West Coast rivalry at the time. Later in the day. just for fun, we went up and built a 30-way formation, 3 ten-way wedges. When just the day before the record was a 26man round star, just like that, we did a 30 way just for fun. So the spirit’s visions were expanding allowing more people to feel the freedom to express new ideas and inject them into the culture.

One of the places the spirit spent quality time was a northern California Drop-zone in the Valley of Pope. Pope Valley had magical weather. The weather could be foggy all over Northern California except for a small strip of blue that would be created over the Valley of Pope. Foggy in the morning but as the valley warmed up it would slowly burn away and the valley would appear thru the white canvas of fog like a painting a little at a time. The drop-zone Aircraft of choice was the DC-3 and not just one but two. There was also a small door Twin Beech D-18 and a Red white and blue Cessna 182. All operating out of a short small asphalt runway just wide enough for the width of the main gear of the DC-3’s to fit. It was the mid to late 70s at which time all the new skydiving innovations were coming out of Pope Valley. A lot of us Gypsies migrated there to bask in the energy and continue our studies. Many of us had regular jobs during the week and then on Friday evening make the journey twisting our way through the canyons of the Calistoga mountains opening up into the Valley of Pope. I worked at the Altitude shop in Vallejo along with my friend and roommate Kim Danboise, we had a place on a hill overlooking San Francisco bay that we named the Valejo Hilton. Eventually, Jeff Barbani made his way up from Elsinore and rented some floor space in the living room from us. The three of us decided that we were the Not-Quite-Ready-for-Disco brothers cuz, well, we weren’t. A couple of years went by and at one point Kim decided to move back to Oregon and Jeff left to find a place closer to work in Napa. I eventually moved in with Jeff in an apartment that was a converted root cellar under an old house in the historical part of Napa. A very small place we called the Subterranean dwelling. I’m 5’11” and if I stood real tall my head just touched the ceiling. So what does the subterranean dwelling have to do with anything? Well, it still concerns the spirit. See Jeff, when he first moved in, had to go buy a refrigerator for the subterranean dwelling. He shopped around until a particular fridge caught his eye. The Name on the front of the door was Crosley Shelvador. Now when Crosley moved in he appeared to be like any other refrigerator with a freezer in the top, a light inside that when it got dim indicated a defrosting was called for. Crosleys distinct personality soon became apparent. Every now and then, just to get our attention, he would just open his door. We would be in another room and hear a thud, when we went to investigate the noise there would be Crosley wide open. Sometimes when he felt like it, he would shock the hell out of me when I grabbed the handle to open the door. He never did shock Jeff, just me. So here is the part that relates to the spirit. Seems the spirit of creativity decided to channel itself thru Crosley. Jeff had a bunch of magnet men that he had put on the front of Crosley so, during the week, we could visualize new formations and transitions. But sometime on Friday, while we were at work, a new random and unique formation would arrange itself on the door of Crosley. When Jeff got home from work he would write it down and we would take it out to Pope Valley that weekend to put it in the air. Jeff ended up getting a reputation for having his head in a glue bag, how else could he come up with all these strange dives. But he never took credit for these formations as being of his own creation. He would always give credit to Crosley. 

“Who’s Crosley??” they would ask. 

To which we would reply “He’s our refrigerator” as if we were talking about a third roommate, which we were.

When Pope Valley finally closed the spirit seemed to go on vacation for a while. People scattered to the wind so to speak. I moved up to Oregon looking for a job. I ended up finding one on a computer companies’ paint line. I was living out of my truck, a 61 dodge panel van called the Crystal Cruiser, parked inside a friend’s barn. Existing as cheaply as I could so I could save up for team practice. Jeff and his new girlfriend lived with Crosley for another year before Jeff and I migrated down south to Florida for team practice with the 8Way team Mirror Image. I got there first, Jeff and his girlfriend arrived a few days later. When Jeff drove into the Z-hills drop-zone I half expected him to have Crosley with him. As the story goes when Jeff finally moved out of the subterranean dwelling he walked around one more time to see if he had forgotten anything. Lastly, he went to Crosley opening the door to see if he had left anything inside. “Well buddy,” he said as he pulled open the door “I gotta go, you take care and thanks” but as the door opened the light inside dimly flickered on, which sounds normal but was impossible, as Jeff had disconnected the faulty wiring to his light a year before. The light wasn’t hooked up to anything. 

 “OH CROSLEY!!!” Jeff exclaimed wide-eyed. It was as if Crosley didn’t want to be left behind. To anyone else, he was just an inanimate refrigerator but to us, he was the roommate that channeled the spirit during that creative period of time in the evolution of skydiving in the Valley of Pope.