Larry Donovan’s Last Jump

Fifty years ago today, when Philippe Petit made his famous tightrope walk between the Twin Towers of the original World Trade Center, I find it probable that he didn’t do know that another act of daredeviltry had occurred on that calendar date — and failed tragically.

August 7, 1888 was the date when “Third Jumper” Larry Donovan (1862-88) leapt off London’s Hungerford Bridge, thus ending his life and career. To clarify, this wasn’t an intentional suicide. Bridge jumping was a sensation in the late 19th century. One hesitates to call it a fad or a craze, since few actually attempted such a thing or even witnessed it. But millions breathlessly read about it in the newspapers. The 1883 opening of the Brooklyn Bridge was the catalyst. The most famous of Donovan’s Brooklyn Bridge jumping predecessors was Steve Brodie, a character still known to NYC history buffs, though no one has ever been quite sure whether he did the things he said he did. But he was able to rather loudly dine out on his real or imagined exploits for years. The other jumper was Robert Emmet Odlum, who did indeed leap from the Brooklyn Bridge in 1885, and perished in the attempt. Donovan made history by being the first to make the jump, survive, and have the entire incident witnessed and documented by credible onlookers.

Donovan was an interesting figure whose personality was sort of a hybrid of the other two. Odlum had been a swimming instructor; high dives were a natural extension of what he already did. Brodie was a bar-room braggart, a kind of spiritual ancestor to Evel Knievel. Donovan however would likely have become something quite different from either of them if events had played out differently. The son of Irish immigrants and an aspiring poet, he was actually college bound when his father (a printer by trade) squandered the family’s tidy savings by self-publishing a book with the ironic title Common Sense Facts. Donovan was thus obliged by circumstances to become printer himself. He was a typesetter at the Police Gazette when he began his career as a jumper. But he also served in the National Guard and the NY Volunteer Life Saving Corps with a track record of five water rescues to his credit.

Inspired by Brodie’s widely celebrated feat, Donovan resolved to best it, and in a less ambiguous way. He privately “tested the waters”, by travelling to Pennsylvania to take a trial leap off a bridge spanning the Schuylkill River in August 1886. A few days later he made a 105 foot jump off the High Bridge, which connects the Bronx and Manhattan. His historic leap from the Brooklyn Bridge, in which he unmistakably outdid Brodie, occurred on August 28, 1886. Whereas Brodie’s jump (if it had actually happened) was from a height of 105 feet, Donovan’s was 143 feet, and performed in front of witnesses. In fact, it happened with the full backing of the Police Gazette, who paid him for his efforts, and sent reporters as well as life savers, stationed at the ready. Donovan very sensibly wore padding and weighted his feet so that he plop straight down and not hit the water at a lethal angle. Once having fallen, he could simply slip the shoes off until boats picked him up. Donovan’s jump was a success, though he was jailed afterwards.

Daredeviltry is a drug of course, and in any case Donovan had quit his day job, so it was necessary for him to keep going. In November, 1886 he plunged 190 feet from the Niagara Falls Suspension Bridge, a spectacular location, not far from where Blondin had crossed on a tightrope. Donovan injured himself on this occasion, and though it was witnessed, it didn’t earn money or result in the kind of publicity or offers he had been hoping for. He returned to New York City and took an engagement at the New York Museum (a Bowery dime museum) where he recounted his exploits to audiences.

In February, 1887 Donovan made his third successful jump, off of Philadelphia’s Chestnut Street Bridge, a mere 88 feet (I’m being facetious — I’m terrified of even the lowest swimming pool diving board). As always, Donovan was arrested for the stunt and spent several weeks in jail. When he emerged, he was slated to repeat the Brooklyn Bridge feat, with promises of much money and a huge audience. But his mother, fearing for his life, asked the police to stop it. They did, and he went back to jail. Thanks, mom! He went back to touring dime museums and variety theatres.

By June, 1887, Donovan was in London, where he immediately gained attention by leaping off the London Bridge. A week later, he was jailed for attempting to attain his ultimate objective, Bristol’s 250 foot Clifton Suspension Bridge. Once again in bad financial straits he sought unsuccessfully to get a job with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West (then on your in the U.K.) but settled for a job managing a sporting tavern. In October, 1887, he leapt off the 32 foot Waterloo Bridge, puny in comparison with some of his earlier stunts. On this occasion he was costumed as the comic strip character Ally Sloper. He filled the time after this by working as a Music Hall Chairman, and an emcee at boxing matches at the Royal Aquarium. In March, 1888, he claimed to have successfully accomplished the promised leap off the Clifton Bridge, but, as with Brodie’s Brooklyn Bridge jump, and was not adequately witnessed or recorded, and many, both then and now, denied that it had happened.

By now, Donovan was on a fast downward slide. Still working as a music hall emcee, he had taken to heavy drinking. He traveled to Bath to compete in a swimming race and was badly beaten. He professed to be taking up boxing. He had pawned his gold medal (given him by the Police Gazette after the Brooklyn Bridge jump) and was living in poverty conditions. After a drunken binge lasting several days, as well as an argumentative fist fight born of his boasting, on the night of August 7, 1888, on the spur of the moment, soused to the gills, Donovan bet his fellow bar patrons that he would jump off the Hungerford Bridge — at 31 feet, relatively low by his standards. On this occasion, there were no preparations, no life savers waiting in boats, no special clothes to make the fall smooth and straight and cushioned. He just jumped in. The official cause of death was drowning but it’s likely that he injured himself on the way down, hampering his ability to swim his way out of the rapid waters of the Thames. It is reported that when he didn’t come out of the water, the drunken rabble who was with him scrambled to the four winds. He died friendless and far from home. Wrecked, as it were, on Donovan’s Reef.