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Situated outdoors in lower Manhattan's Hudson River Park, Trapeze School New York looks like a giant aluminum junglegym for grownups. Its takeoff platforms, 23 feet in the air, offer spectacular views of the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island -- which, Spear points out, can be a comforting distraction for novice daredevils who experience last-minute jitters.
Since the school opened in 2001, nearly 17,000 people have felt the thrill and exhilaration of flying through the air. Many return again and again. (Business is booming since Al Roker, Kelly Ripa and others have taken their turns on TV.)
Cannon and Spear have been teaching since the school's first days. Spear learned trapeze flying as a teenager, at a summer camp specializing in circus performing. When a friend told him about Trapeze School, he showed up on the second day, asking if more staff was needed. The answer was yes. Cannon, who was already on-board, trained him.
Classes run two hours, and that Thursday morning, the group had been working for nearly an hour and a half. Spear was holding the safety lines for a student swinging on the bar, while Cannon changed into tights and prepared to mount the ladder for the culminating "catch phase" of the class.
Suddenly a police officer appeared at the front gate. "Got any rope?" he called. "There's a guy in the river." His tone seemed more matter-of-fact than urgent. Cannon went to the equipment shed to grab a spool of rope, while Spear kept working.
"Forward drop!" he yelled to his student, who, on command, plunged two stories into the net below. As the young woman scrambled to her feet, Spear stopped the class and joined Cannon at the edge of the Hudson River, just 40 feet from the school.
They expected to toss a line to someone splashing around or hanging onto the retaining wall. Instead, looking into the murky water, they could barely make out a shadow.
"He's sinking!" yelled someone in the small crowd that had gathered. "He's under the water!" Police officers were busy tying the end of the rope to a guardrail, but no one else appeared to be taking any action.
"A lot of people seemed to expect somebody to do something," says Spear. The two trapeze instructors decided they were on deck. Cannon dived in first, and Spear, carrying the end of the rope, jumped right after him, wallet and cell phone still in his pocket, sneakers on his feet.
The water was lukewarm and choppy, so dirty down below that it was impossible to see anything. Cannon swam as deep as he could and came up empty. The victim was obviously sinking fast.
"We looked at each other," says Spear, "and knew, without saying it, that the next dive was it. We both went down."
This rescue mission was not unlike what the two men do together every day. "My extensive experience hurling myself to unimaginable heights and letting Paul catch me made it very easy to jump in the water with him," says Spear. "We've both tied knots and hung ropes on which the other's life depends."
At a depth of about ten feet, Cannon literally bumped into the drowning man. Groping clumsily, he managed to grab one wrist. In blue jeans and boots, the man was dead weight. And although Cannon was in great physical shape -- he's an expert mountaineer who recently summited Kilimanjaro -- he was rapidly running out of breath. Kicking as hard as he could, he struggled to push the victim to the surface.
Spear swam over with the rope and helped raise the man's head higher out of the water. His eyes were rolled back, and foam was coming out of his mouth. Certain he was dead, they strained to get the rope around his body. But the thin, lightweight cord used in trapeze-spotting was difficult to hold in the water, and they couldn't get enough slack to tug him out.
Noticing some students standing onshore, Spear yelled for someone to toss down a safety belt. He dived again and managed to get the belt around the man's waist and the rope through one of the buckles.
Finally, police were able to pull the victim from the Hudson. By the time Cannon and Spear climbed out of the water, 23-year-old James Kue was lying on his back receiving CPR from one of the trapeze students. Audra Alexander, a stay-at-home mom from Indiana, used to teach CPR, so she knew just what to do. After four cycles of chest compressions and breaths -- nearly two minutes -- the young man spit out a mouthful of water and started to breathe again.
Alexander rolled him over on his side into what's called recovery position -- arm up under his head and one knee bent. The rest of the students gathered around to shield him from the bright sunlight until an ambulance arrived.
A few days later, Spear and Cannon went to visit James Kue in Bellevue Hospital. Turns out he was visiting from Michigan and had been in New York for only a few days. He said he had no memory of even being in the water, and no clue how he wound up there. (According to the police report, no one is certain exactly what happened.)
"It was so amazing to see him with color in his cheeks, breathing," says Spear. He took Kue's hand and told him, "You got another chance. Now you can do anything."
At Christmas, Kue sent an e-mail to his rescuers, saying thanks, and announcing that he hopes to return to Manhattan one day for a good swing on the trapeze.
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