But this was no moment of laid back repose on a beach, balcony or some ocean pier.
Connor was in a plane trying to look out through frosted windows. He had been breathing pure oxygen since 30 minutes before they had taken off in Davis, Calif. It was to flush the nitrogen from his bloodstream so he wouldn’t get decompression sickness.
Soon, at 26,500 feet — with the plane travelling at 130 miles an hour and the outdoor temperature at minus-20 degrees — he would jump out and begin a two-minute freefall toward earth at nearly 200 miles an hour.
That’s right.
Larry Connor is at it again.
Earlier this year, the founder and managing general partner of the Connor Group real estate firm in Miami Twp., local philanthropist, sports adventurist and an ardent backer of Dayton Flyers basketball piloted the first, all-private mission (called Axiom 1) to the International Space Station.
Last year he made three dives to the deepest depths of the planet’s oceans — going down 35,856 feet in the Marianna Trench in the Western Pacific Ocean.
For decades he has raced cars, off-road vehicles, planes, climbed some of the world’s tallest mountains and white water rafted around the globe.
This time, he and the four U.S. Air Force Pararescue jumpers he joined attempted to set two world records with their HALO (high altitude, low opening) jumps, or, as they’re otherwise called, military free falls.
Think of those breathtaking, drop-from-the-sky scenes from James Bond in “Tomorrow Never Dies” or Tom Cruise in “Mission Impossible Fallout.”
Or there are the moments you’ve never seen: clandestine special forces drops into Laos during the Vietnam War, Afghanistan immediately after 9/11 or into Somalia to free hostages taken by pirates.
Though neither a silver screen nor a save-the-day venture, Connor’s HALO jump ended the same way as the others.
At low altitude — his at about 3,500 feet — his chute finally opened.
And he didn’t just do this once. Counting training and prelim efforts, he figured he made 21 jumps.
He did set one, soon to be officially verified world record. At 72 — though still acting 36 — he became the oldest person to complete a HALO jump.
The other world record eluded the group though they did complete the jump they wanted.
They were attempting to break the highest altitude formation record. Connor and two others jumped from the plane in unison, each holding onto the others’ arms. Then two more skydivers jumped behind them, chased down their free falling formation and managed to link arms for a brief five-person configuration.
They had an official judge certified by the Guinness book of world records on hand, but it was later discovered another group had completed the formation jump from 33,000 feet seven years earlier, though they did not register it with Guinness.
“So we’re going to go back in May and do it again — this time from 34,000 feet — and get the record,” Connor said. “We will not be deterred.”
Finding new challenges
HALO jumps were first developed in the 1960s for military use as a way of delivering personnel, equipment and supplies. To minimize risk, transport aircraft fly at a high altitude above surface-to-air missile engagement levels through enemy skies.
There are special challenges for jumpers. At high altitudes the partial pressure of oxygen in the earth’s atmosphere is low, and that can lead to hypoxia, a lack of oxygen getting to the body’s tissues.
At altitudes like the 34,000 feet Connor has planned for May, temperatures can be minus-50 degrees, and jumpers can experience frostbite unless properly protected.
Although he’d made a few skydiving attempts nearly 30 years ago, Connor knew little about the Pararescue special forces operators who make HALO jumps until he trained for the Ax-I mission to space.
“God forbid something went wrong and we had to issue a de-orbit and ended up with what NASA called an unsupported landing,” Connor said. “We could end up off the coast of Africa, and these guys would have been the ones who came and got us.
“As part of our training, they put is in a mock capsule and stuck us 10 miles off the Florida coast in the middle of the ocean. These guys came over in a C-130, bailed out the back with all their equipment, hit the ocean and came to us.”
The next thing Connor knew, he was being lifted 150 feet up into a waiting helicopter. He was impressed by the team, talked to CEO of the Florida-based company — Operator Solutions — and soon this latest project took root.
As for those thinking Connor is tempting the fates, he insists he is not:
“This is anything but a daredevil, risk-taking venture, because if it was, I wouldn’t do it. I think you can manage risks and that’s what we did here.”
But later in our conversation, Conner did admit that before he partnered with this company, he had looked at another: “But they had a guy killed last year … so that was not a good endorsement.”
The only trouble he had this time came in the landing.
“You don’t just drop down,” he said. “With these parachutes, you kind of swoop into a landing. And as you hit the ground, you kind of run it out.
“My problem was that I’d damaged my leg the week before. And this time, I caught my leg when I was trying to run it out and ripped my adductor (groin) muscle.
“It’s a pretty significant tear and it’s been painful, but I’m doing rehab every day now and I should be recovered in eight to 12 weeks.”
With that in mind, one of his close friends had one question:
“Was it worth it?’
Connor smiled: “I told him, ‘Absolutely!’”
‘I just think it’s a mindset’
Connor said someone else recently asked: “Why do you do this?”
His answer: “Why not? The first step is to believe there is a possibility you can do it.
“I think too many people set too many imposed limitations. They spend too much time talking about what they can’t do versus maybe what they could do.”
As for keeping age at bay Connor said: “I just think it’s a mindset. I chose not to think about it and I sure as hell don’t use it as an excuse. I think when you stop fully engaging in life is when you start to die.
“The way I look at it, I’m trying to live a lifetime every five years.”
And right now his life is pretty full. Along with his family and his business — which is expanding with another 22,000 square feet of office space, another aircraft hangar and another 35-40 jobs — his new school, The Greater Dayton School, opened this fall as the first private, non-religious school ever built in Ohio to exclusively teach under-resourced children.
It is holding classes for an initial 85 students at a temporary site on South Wilkinson Street in downtown Dayton until the new school, built at Deeds Point, is finished, likely in 14 months.
“I really believe this will be a groundbreaking endeavor where we show that when under-resourced kids are given a level playing field — when they’re given the necessary resources from a teacher perspective and a learning perspective — they can perform as well, if not better, than any other peer group.
“And I’ll literally bet any amount of money that, 10 years from now, this will be the model for what you can do in any community in America.”
As for himself, once he gets through his rehab, he will begin preparations for that world record HALO jump.
And then there’s a possibility that in a year or two he could pilot another, lengthier mission to the International Space Station.
But that’s in the future and before he left his office for his rehab, he wanted to talk about something more immediate:
Dayton Flyers basketball.
The season opens in two days and, as always, he has front row season tickets right behind the UD bench.
He knows the team well and there was a flicker of excitement in his voice when he offered:
“This could be a really good year. I’m looking forward to it.”
So much for sunsets. His was an anticipated sunrise.
Like he said: “The first step is to believe.”
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