The Streator connection. My Dad, Robert H Dumke was a 82Nd Airborne paratrooper during WWII. He had come home from the war, married my Mom, Marylea Cavanaugh Dumke, started a family and a business (mostly because there were no jobs). The business was RH Dumke Greenhouse / Florist located at 1919 Champlain St in Ottawa, IL. I am the youngest of four children born in 1958. Before me came Twila (Yednock), Frank Dumke and Barb (Oslanzi). We always had a good time. In the evening Mom and Dad would have the radio on (mostly WGN) Mom and Dad would drink a Meister Brau or two. Mom would be working a cross word puzzle and we would just shoot the shit with who ever stopped by. Dad loved the big bands and sometimes he and I would dance if a song came on the radio that he liked, which was pretty often and not that we had much of a dance floor. One late evening two young guys showed up at the door. How they ever found the door is beyond me. It was dark out and we lived behind the green house, a treacherous place to walk in the dark. Their names were Ron Defenbaugh and David Olle. As Dad put it, “They were three sheets to the wind,”(which means drunk). They banged on the door and Dad flipped on the light in the greenhouse. I was about four years old but clearly remember what was said. “We hear you know how to jump out of airplanes”. (I had no comprehension of what a hero my Dad’s 82ND Airborne Unit had been) We want to learn how. Dad said “Well boys, we are not going to be doing any of that tonight” “But you come back tomorrow in the light of day and we can talk about it”. I think he thought he would never see them again. Sure enough they both were back the next day. This time they were sober and it was daylight. Thus, the beginning of “The Illinois Valley Parachute Club” Headquarters Streator, Illinois. My best recollection is that it was about 1962. Every weekend we spent at the Streator Airport and they would load into a Cessna that had the passenger door removed and they would make parachute jumps all day long. They even made a night jump at least on time. My sister Twila and brother Frank both jumped at the age of 16 years old. Heck my Mom even made 16 parachute jumps. A reporter from the Chicago Tribune put Streator on the map when they did an interview with Twila. Believe it or not, she was one of the first female Parachutist in the United States. There would be cars lined up on both sides of the road to the airport watching the exhibitions of the club. I have some great memories of that time in my life…..my sister at one point hit her chin exiting the door of the airplane, knocked her out, thank the lord she came to, regained control and landed fine. Dad was standing in the door to the airplane as the next jumper, and watched it all unfold. I know his heart skipped a couple beats that day. Another time the wind shifted, blowing her toward town. She also ended up with her parachute over some power lines and knocked out power to half of Streator. How she was not electrocuted was a miracle. Then there was Farmer Brown who had the farm….South of the Airport. If you got caught landing in his field, you would be arrested for trespass. Dad also had a couple of malfunctions. For what ever the reason, he dropped behind the horizon line before his chute opened. Everyone thought he had creamed in….they all drove to where they thought he had landed and out he comes with a shit eating grin on his face from the corn field…. Once he pulled his rip cord only to have a streamer. The pilot chute failed to pull the sleeve off the main chute. He watched it thinking it would open, then, decided to open the reserve, but he was afraid the reserve shock would open his main and they would tangle. So when he opened the reserve he held it in his arms trying to feed it out slowly (all while dropping like a bullet to the ground). He did open the reserve, and low and behold, his main also opened. He was successful in not letting the two chutes tangle…another miracle. Down he came with two chutes. I started kindergarten that year, guess what I drew every picture of. Yep, lots of parachutes and one with two parachutes. That one was my Dad! Can you imagine my Mother having to explain that one to my teacher. A tornado took out the airport in 1964 or 65. It pretty much ended the Illinois Valley Parachute Club. But it did not end the friendships with sport parachute enthusiasts. I was in fact growing up surrounded by hero’s and I did not even know it.
Posted on: Mon, 01 Sep 2014 13:12:50 +0000
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