by Chris Needels
At 12 years old from his family’s rooftop in Hawaii, he watched the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor. As a professional ballroom dancer, he got paid to perform at Jacqueline Kennedy’s engagement party. He socialized with the likes of author William F. Buckley, astronaut Michael Collins and Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor. He knew every word of "Hello, Dolly" by heart, as well as almost every other Broadway musical ever to make it to 42nd Street. But most importantly, William H. Ottley was one of us—a skydiver.
On December 1, 2005, the skydiving world lost an icon. Bill Ottley was arguably the best-known figure in the sport. There are skydivers with more jumps; there are skydivers with more medals; and there are skydivers who have been around longer. But no one has done more for the sport of skydiving and its participants in the United States. And as the outpouring of letters and messages following his death indicates, he had a very large following worldwide.
Bill wasn’t always a famous member of the skydiving community. His early life suggested he might have shied away from an activity comprised then of stunt jumpers, daredevils and pioneers living hand to mouth. His lineage was anything but deprived. He was born into the privileged class of New York, traveling the globe with his parents, attending the top private schools and ultimately graduating from Yale in 1950.
Even when he joined the working class, he remained under the strong influence of his family elders, staying close to his New York roots. At first, he went into the publishing business in New Jersey, then New York City. He soon moved on to public relations as director of religious affairs for the World’s Fair in the early ’60s.
But early in his business career, he also felt drawn toward aviation. He began flying at nearby Teterboro Airport in New Jersey, eventually earning his commercial and instrument ratings. He also became fascinated with sailplanes and hot air balloons, earning licenses in both. His attraction to air sports made it inevitable that he would want to try skydiving, particularly with the first American commercial skydiving center nearby at Orange, Massachusetts.
Fortunately for all of us, Bill decided to try skydiving in 1959. Perhaps the thrill of the sport enticed him or maybe a chance to demonstrate his independence from parental dominance. In all likelihood, a combination of the two led him to skydiving.
Not all his skydives went as planned. On his very first jump, under the supervision of Nate Pond, D- 69, he suffered the first of many broken bones. Alas, he had to return home from the drop zone with his tail between his legs—one of which was in a cast. And many jumps to follow were similarly inglorious, as reported by Lenny Potts, D-220, one of the skydiving pioneers who took Bill under his wing. But Lenny didn’t give up on him, and eventually, D-298 went to William H. Ottley.
Bill ultimately went on to make more than 5,000 jumps. He was an avid competitor, particularly in the prime days of style & accuracy, and earned his senior rigger rating. He also participated in demonstration jumps throughout the country, with perhaps the most memorable being Transpo ’72 at Dulles International Airport, where he managed to fill an Air Force C-130 with the best-known names in the skydiving business. More than 1.5 million spectators saw what skydiving was all about.
While Bill never became a world-class competitor, he attained at least one world record—in 1982 in Georgia, when he, Mike Furry, Terry Saunders and Mike Tomassini set the world record for largest canopy formation. But his real flair was for sport promotion and business, and every skydiver who came after him has benefited from it. Taking care of skydivers and promoting the sport became his passion and eventually his profession.
Taking the Helm
In 1965, Bill landed an aviation job as executive director of the National Pilots Association, in bad shape at the time. In short order, he turned the organization around, notching yet another business success. And he moved closer to combining his true love, skydiving, with making a living. Meanwhile, he also became more visible in the skydiving politics of the Parachute Club of America. By 1967, he had been elected to its board of directors. And by 1972, he had worked his way through the ranks to vice president.
As with NPA in 1965, PCA—now USPA—was having financial difficulties in 1978. It had three different executive directors from 1975 to 1978, and it had made a big move from a former brothel on Cannery Row in Monterey, California, to an imposing marble office building just three blocks from the White House in Washington, D.C. Bill already lived in D.C., knew the association inside and out and had the proven track record USPA needed.
For the next 14 years under Bill’s charge, USPA experienced its greatest growth in its now-60-year history, had the greatest increase in its financial bottom line and developed more membership programs than under the direction of any other chief staff executive. It isn’t possible to cover Bill’s accomplishments as executive director in a short space, but some standouts certainly deserve mention.
With his business acumen, Bill knew he needed to quickly find a lower-cost address for the headquarters. Being near the seat of federal power was one thing; being next door to it was neither necessary nor affordable. So he found a promising new area for associations across the Potomac in Old Town Alexandria. It proved to be a very sound investment, since the then-new building will now fund another new headquarters 50 miles south next to the National Skydiving Museum site in Fredericksburg, Virginia.
One of Bill’s true loves was recognizing the accomplishments of skydivers. He personally designed most of the current freefall and canopy awards, and he always insisted on recognizing every skydiver who attended the National Championships. In 1982, Bill had the famous Wilkinson Sword Company of Great Britain create two very impressive trophies to award to the winning 4-way and 8-way formation skydiving teams at world championships. Wilkinson and Bill created masterpieces, called the Ottley Swords, that consist of excalibur-type swords mounted on polished mahogany wooden plaques. The plaques bear brass plates with the engraved names of each winning team and its members.
A personal friend of Michael Collins, who flew to the moon with Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong in 1969 and had become the curator of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, Bill convinced Collins in 1976 to include a skydiving display at the museum. Among the dazzling array of aviation artifacts, such as Lindbergh’s Spirit of St. Louis, the SR-71 supersonic spy plane and the Gemini space capsule, the skydiving display featured a suspended-mannequin 4-way consisting of Jerry Bird, Mike Johnston, Dick Fortenberry and, of course, Bill Ottley.
An Unforgettable Presence
Bill will always be remembered for his contributions to skydiving as a USPA Board member and executive director and as our delegate and ambassador to the world skydiving community. But he will perhaps be best remembered for always being there for us with a jump story, greeting us with a big hug, receiving us as a gracious host at his Washington townhouse or just listening to us at the bar. His annual Christmas cards to his 3,000 closest friends were legendary, with Bill wearing a Santa Claus suit while undertaking some grand and glorious stunt. He had so many friends that he almost never needed a hotel room as he traveled around the world. Friends always wanted Bill to stay at their house.
If there was a skydiving event, he would be there. He never missed a National Championships until his final year. He served as head of delegation for 14 different U.S. Teams at world championships. He attended the earliest Golden Knights reunions in Fayetteville, North Carolina, and became one of the first honorary members, returning to the event every time he could. He never missed a USPA Board meeting, even when he served in no official capacity. And he almost always had an opinion. He was, after all, our wise counsel and self-proclaimed executive director emeritus.
After he left USPA, he devoted his efforts to his great dream—the National Skydiving Museum. Having formed a not-for-profit organization in 1972 to plant the seed, he dedicated himself and his resources to making it a reality in his final years. Though Bill is gone, his vision remains—a vision of presenting the dream of human flight through recognition of the people, equipment and events that have defined our sport.
There are endless Ottley stories, most of them priceless, some unflattering, usually hilarious and forever embellished. Parachutist could dedicate an entire issue to Ottley stories, either told by him or about him. We’ll save those for another day. Well, there was this one when he didn’t put the gear down on his Bonanza F-33A while coming into Raeford Airport in front of … well, nevermind.
Bill is survived by nephews Henry and James Ottley and niece Lisa McSwain.
Awards and Accomplishments
2005 National Aeronautic Association President’s Award for Distinguished Lifetime Service
1995 National Aeronautic Association Elder Salesman of the Year
1994 USPA Achievement Award
1994 FAI Air Sport Medal
1984 PIA Don Beck Memorial Achievement Award
by Chris Needels
At 12 years old from his family’s rooftop in Hawaii, he watched the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor. As a professional ballroom dancer, he got paid to perform at Jacqueline Kennedy’s engagement party. He socialized with the likes of author William F. Buckley, astronaut Michael Collins and Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor. He knew every word of "Hello, Dolly" by heart, as well as almost every other Broadway musical ever to make it to 42nd Street. But most importantly, William H. Ottley was one of us—a skydiver.
On December 1, 2005, the skydiving world lost an icon. Bill Ottley was arguably the best-known figure in the sport. There are skydivers with more jumps; there are skydivers with more medals; and there are skydivers who have been around longer. But no one has done more for the sport of skydiving and its participants in the United States. And as the outpouring of letters and messages following his death indicates, he had a very large following worldwide.
Bill wasn’t always a famous member of the skydiving community. His early life suggested he might have shied away from an activity comprised then of stunt jumpers, daredevils and pioneers living hand to mouth. His lineage was anything but deprived. He was born into the privileged class of New York, traveling the globe with his parents, attending the top private schools and ultimately graduating from Yale in 1950.
Even when he joined the working class, he remained under the strong influence of his family elders, staying close to his New York roots. At first, he went into the publishing business in New Jersey, then New York City. He soon moved on to public relations as director of religious affairs for the World’s Fair in the early ’60s.
But early in his business career, he also felt drawn toward aviation. He began flying at nearby Teterboro Airport in New Jersey, eventually earning his commercial and instrument ratings. He also became fascinated with sailplanes and hot air balloons, earning licenses in both. His attraction to air sports made it inevitable that he would want to try skydiving, particularly with the first American commercial skydiving center nearby at Orange, Massachusetts.
Fortunately for all of us, Bill decided to try skydiving in 1959. Perhaps the thrill of the sport enticed him or maybe a chance to demonstrate his independence from parental dominance. In all likelihood, a combination of the two led him to skydiving.
Not all his skydives went as planned. On his very first jump, under the supervision of Nate Pond, D- 69, he suffered the first of many broken bones. Alas, he had to return home from the drop zone with his tail between his legs—one of which was in a cast. And many jumps to follow were similarly inglorious, as reported by Lenny Potts, D-220, one of the skydiving pioneers who took Bill under his wing. But Lenny didn’t give up on him, and eventually, D-298 went to William H. Ottley.
Bill ultimately went on to make more than 5,000 jumps. He was an avid competitor, particularly in the prime days of style & accuracy, and earned his senior rigger rating. He also participated in demonstration jumps throughout the country, with perhaps the most memorable being Transpo ’72 at Dulles International Airport, where he managed to fill an Air Force C-130 with the best-known names in the skydiving business. More than 1.5 million spectators saw what skydiving was all about.
While Bill never became a world-class competitor, he attained at least one world record—in 1982 in Georgia, when he, Mike Furry, Terry Saunders and Mike Tomassini set the world record for largest canopy formation. But his real flair was for sport promotion and business, and every skydiver who came after him has benefited from it. Taking care of skydivers and promoting the sport became his passion and eventually his profession.
Taking the Helm
In 1965, Bill landed an aviation job as executive director of the National Pilots Association, in bad shape at the time. In short order, he turned the organization around, notching yet another business success. And he moved closer to combining his true love, skydiving, with making a living. Meanwhile, he also became more visible in the skydiving politics of the Parachute Club of America. By 1967, he had been elected to its board of directors. And by 1972, he had worked his way through the ranks to vice president.
As with NPA in 1965, PCA—now USPA—was having financial difficulties in 1978. It had three different executive directors from 1975 to 1978, and it had made a big move from a former brothel on Cannery Row in Monterey, California, to an imposing marble office building just three blocks from the White House in Washington, D.C. Bill already lived in D.C., knew the association inside and out and had the proven track record USPA needed.
For the next 14 years under Bill’s charge, USPA experienced its greatest growth in its now-60-year history, had the greatest increase in its financial bottom line and developed more membership programs than under the direction of any other chief staff executive. It isn’t possible to cover Bill’s accomplishments as executive director in a short space, but some standouts certainly deserve mention.
With his business acumen, Bill knew he needed to quickly find a lower-cost address for the headquarters. Being near the seat of federal power was one thing; being next door to it was neither necessary nor affordable. So he found a promising new area for associations across the Potomac in Old Town Alexandria. It proved to be a very sound investment, since the then-new building will now fund another new headquarters 50 miles south next to the National Skydiving Museum site in Fredericksburg, Virginia.
One of Bill’s true loves was recognizing the accomplishments of skydivers. He personally designed most of the current freefall and canopy awards, and he always insisted on recognizing every skydiver who attended the National Championships. In 1982, Bill had the famous Wilkinson Sword Company of Great Britain create two very impressive trophies to award to the winning 4-way and 8-way formation skydiving teams at world championships. Wilkinson and Bill created masterpieces, called the Ottley Swords, that consist of excalibur-type swords mounted on polished mahogany wooden plaques. The plaques bear brass plates with the engraved names of each winning team and its members.
A personal friend of Michael Collins, who flew to the moon with Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong in 1969 and had become the curator of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, Bill convinced Collins in 1976 to include a skydiving display at the museum. Among the dazzling array of aviation artifacts, such as Lindbergh’s Spirit of St. Louis, the SR-71 supersonic spy plane and the Gemini space capsule, the skydiving display featured a suspended-mannequin 4-way consisting of Jerry Bird, Mike Johnston, Dick Fortenberry and, of course, Bill Ottley.
An Unforgettable Presence
Bill will always be remembered for his contributions to skydiving as a USPA Board member and executive director and as our delegate and ambassador to the world skydiving community. But he will perhaps be best remembered for always being there for us with a jump story, greeting us with a big hug, receiving us as a gracious host at his Washington townhouse or just listening to us at the bar. His annual Christmas cards to his 3,000 closest friends were legendary, with Bill wearing a Santa Claus suit while undertaking some grand and glorious stunt. He had so many friends that he almost never needed a hotel room as he traveled around the world. Friends always wanted Bill to stay at their house.
If there was a skydiving event, he would be there. He never missed a National Championships until his final year. He served as head of delegation for 14 different U.S. Teams at world championships. He attended the earliest Golden Knights reunions in Fayetteville, North Carolina, and became one of the first honorary members, returning to the event every time he could. He never missed a USPA Board meeting, even when he served in no official capacity. And he almost always had an opinion. He was, after all, our wise counsel and self-proclaimed executive director emeritus.
After he left USPA, he devoted his efforts to his great dream—the National Skydiving Museum. Having formed a not-for-profit organization in 1972 to plant the seed, he dedicated himself and his resources to making it a reality in his final years. Though Bill is gone, his vision remains—a vision of presenting the dream of human flight through recognition of the people, equipment and events that have defined our sport.
There are endless Ottley stories, most of them priceless, some unflattering, usually hilarious and forever embellished. Parachutist could dedicate an entire issue to Ottley stories, either told by him or about him. We’ll save those for another day. Well, there was this one when he didn’t put the gear down on his Bonanza F-33A while coming into Raeford Airport in front of … well, nevermind.
Bill is survived by nephews Henry and James Ottley and niece Lisa McSwain.
Awards and Accomplishments
2005 National Aeronautic Association President’s Award for Distinguished Lifetime Service
1995 National Aeronautic Association Elder Salesman of the Year
1994 USPA Achievement Award
1994 FAI Air Sport Medal
1984 PIA Don Beck Memorial Achievement Award