74,000 Up

Last year, after months of ballyhoo, the stratosphere balloon of the U. S. Army Air Corps and the National Geographic Society climbed erratically skyward, failed to make a new record, finally smashed dramatically but dismally to smithereens (TIME, Aug. 6, 1934). Last summer, after months more of ballyhoo, their second balloon popped before it got off the ground (TIME, July 22). Last week, after no ballyhoo at all, the same patched-up balloon finally set the record on which Captains Albert W. Stevens and Orvil A. Anderson had set their hearts.

Thickly frosted in the frigid air of Moonlight Valley, S. Dak., start of the two previous failures, the great rubbery bag grew like a mushroom in the night as 300 soldiers labored beneath floodlights to pump in 300,000 cu. ft. of helium. By dawn all was ready. The balloonists climbed aboard, shouted: "Up, balloon!" Released, it floated gently away, cleared the rim of the woodsy valley, drifted out of sight as the 20,000 chilled spectators trekked back to Rapid City. Six hours later, Capt. Stevens radioed that Explorer II had touched 74,000 ft., well above both the accepted record of 61,237 ft., made in 1933 by Lieut. Commander Settle and Major Fordney and the unofficial Russian mark of 72,000 ft. Then, well pleased, the balloonists turned back to earth, bumped to a stop near White Lake, S. Dak., four hours later.

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