“Are you ready, Cleveland?”
With those words echoing from a public address system, the residents of Cleveland, Ohio, craned their necks to the sky. It was September 27, 1986, and thousands of them were gathered in the city’s Public Square near Terminal Tower to witness a spectacle that was set to make history. Accompanied by mimes, clowns, and the comic strip character Ziggy, roughly 1.5 million balloons, each engorged with helium, were released into the air. The multicolored blob rose higher and higher, blotting out clouds and the skyline from view.
The stunt was the crescendo of Balloonfest, an event meant to raise money for charity and put Cleveland on the map with a Guinness World Record-worthy attempt at the largest number of balloons ever released. Ever since, locals have wondered whether the narrative that grew around the day—which led to car accidents, airport interruption, and complicated a Coast Guard search—was unfair. Depending on your vantage point, Balloonfest ’86 was either a triumph or a tragedy.
Flight Plans
By 1986, Cleveland was in need of some positive press. The city had become notorious for a series of misfortunes in the 1970s, from a dwindling population—roughly a quarter of its residents moved elsewhere—to mob violence to water pollution and factory closures. In the parlance of the news media, it could use a “feel good” story.
The answer came in the form of the United Way. The charity’s Greater Cleveland chapter was looking to launch its promotional campaign for donations. Marketing director Dr. George Fraser had just seen a balloon launch at Disneyland in Anaheim, California, the previous year in which 1.2 million balloons were released to celebrate the park’s 30th anniversary. Fraser thought the United Way could do something similar to raise awareness for the group as well as promote an overall philanthropic attitude among Cleveland residents.
The United Way enlisted Treb Heining, owner of BalloonArt by Treb, a California firm that specialized in balloon art and balloon releases on a massive scale. In addition to the Disneyland launch, Heining had organized events for the Super Bowl and the Olympics. The goal was to virtually double the Disneyland launch and send 2 million balloons into the sky, securing a Guinness World Record in the process. The ambition mirrored the United Way’s goal of doubling donation contributions.
“I had thought the Anaheim record would stand for a while, but when I got a call from United Way here, I was excited about what they were proposing,” Heining said in 1986. “For years I talked about releasing one million balloons simultaneously, and everyone said it was impossible. It was like breaking the sound barrier—we have definitely proved it is possible.”
Even with Heining’s experience, the logistics of this were considerable. Heining’s company needed five tanker trucks filled with 700,000 cubic feet of helium as well as what Heining dubbed a “balloon platoon” to inflate the 9-inch balloons. Volunteers came from area high schools, with thousands of students filling them—at a rate of three per minute per person—and then releasing them into a special “balloon box” that kept the inflatables captive until their release. The “box” was more a building, standing over three stories tall, supported by scaffolding, and capped by mesh.
On September 27, Cleveland residents congregated at Public Square for the spectacle, which came at a cost of roughly $500,000 that was defrayed in some measure by fundraising and corporate sponsorships. The city had made it a festival, with entertainers and even Uncle Sam on stilts wading through the crowd. Nearby, teens worked on assembling what the city hoped would be the world’s largest burrito. The balloon count, though down to about 1.5 million, was still enough to secure a Guinness record.
While the balloons could be corralled, the weather was a different matter. A cold front with rain was moving in, prompting discussions of postponing the launch until much later in the day. In the end, though, organizers opted to move it up by about 15 minutes, sending the balloons aloft at 1:50 pm. It took roughly 30 minutes for all 1,429,643 balloons to go airborne—like a “helium mountain” rising into the sky, as one reporter observed.
It took roughly an hour before the 10-car pile-up occurred.
Forecast: Balloons
In an effort to get ahead of inclement weather, organizers had created another problem. Normally, the helium balloons would have kept rising. But with cold weather and rain intercepting their ascension, they were rapidly pushed back down to Earth. Wind gusts of up to 43 mph then moved them along.
The effect of a city blanketed by 1.5 million inflated balloons was considerable. At 2:21 p.m., the non-commercial Burke Lakefront Airport was so besieged by balloons on their runway that they made the decision to close it for 30 minutes until the asphalt could be cleared. On streets, balloons forced drivers to swerve out of the way; some cars stopped so parents could dart out and scoop up some for their children. On the busy westbound Shoreway, the balloons were cited as the catalyst for a 10-car pile-up, though no injuries were reported.
Had the balloons stopped there, Balloonfest would likely have retained some degree of nostalgia. But they soon became associated with more serious episodes. A woman in nearby Geauga County who owned Arabian horses alleged the balloons had so startled them that they grew panicked and one was injured. She later sued for damages; the parties settled.
The biggest blunder came as the balloons settled on Lake Erie, where two fishermen, Raymond Broderick and Bernard Sulzer, had been the evening prior to the event. They did not return home that night, prompting family to notify authorities. Their boat was soon found empty near a breakwall with its engine missing, possibly capsized due to the storm.
The Coast Guard began a search prior to the balloon launch. A Coast Guard spokesman told the Plain Dealer that the balloons made it extremely difficult to spot anyone who might be in the water—helicopter pilots compared it to flying through an asteroid field.
Broderick’s body was found roughly a week later; Sulzer’s washed ashore a short time after that. Both were believed to have drowned after their vessel encountered choppy waters from volatile weather, and almost certainly well prior to the launching of the balloons. Still, the idea of two fisherman disappearing in proximity to the event fed into a belief the balloons had somehow led to their deaths.
Taken together, these mishaps enveloped Balloonfest 1986. Years later, retrospectives—including from the city’s Plain Dealer newspaper—depicted a wayward promotion that led to disaster. A Plain Dealer editor named Chris Quinn argued in 2023 that coverage of the event had traditionally been hyperbolic and was instead a milestone moment for the city of Cleveland, earning a Guinness World Record and besting Disneyland.
“To say that Balloonfest killed the fishermen is ridiculous,” Quinn wrote. “To paint Balloonfest as a horror or disaster is, too. Yes there were highway collisions, but none appear serious. Yes, the airport closed for 30 minutes, but we’re talking about Burke Lakefront, not Cleveland Hopkins. How big of a deal is Burke Lakefront closing for 30 minutes? It’s been closed regularly for entire weekends for air shows or car races.”
While Balloonfest wasn’t the fiasco it's sometimes portrayed as being, Cleveland never repeated the event. Concerns over environmental consequences—balloons can be ingested by wildlife—have led to an overall decline in balloon launches, with some states even banning them outright. As for the Guinness record: It was eventually scrapped, but not before Cleveland’s achievement was bested by Disney. In 1994, the company organized the release of 1,592,744 balloons to promote the animated film Aladdin. No traffic accidents were reported.
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