Mike the Kiternaut

AT THE anchor end of what is possibly the longest kite string in the world is a gentle Cleveland man who has mastered the art of flying 50 kites at a time, all from the same master string.

What compulsions inspire the mass kite flying program evade even the flyer, Michael Weletyk of 12306 Watterson Avenue S. E. But he does know that cares soar aloft with his kites as he conducts his vicarious ventures in the upper reaches. Weletyk has never been off the ground in anything.

When the pull of many kites creates tension of the master nylon string, there is often a strange and intermittent humming sound, like errant radio signals from a distant planet.

"Ah," sighs Weletyk, "the angels are singing again."

But flying kites today, especially when they are in groups and go up to 10,000 feet, involves problems that would have frustrated Benjamin Franklin. When a major kite flying session is about to start he must call the Federal Aviation Agency, the branch of government charged with safe flying practices and parceling out of air space. They in turn must notify airports of the kite hazard and identify the area of danger to pilots. Regular string wouldn't be a problem, but Weletyk's braided, 510-pound test nylon would be, especially to small craft.

When many kites are angled off the main string, the pull is too great to handle. So he has the main string wound on a big wheel with handles so he can let it out or reel it in.

"They'd take me up with them if I didn't have something heavy to control the pull."

The first kites are sent up on light but strong monofilament fishing line with successive kites being anchored to progressively heavier string or cord until at last the strong main string takes over.

The Weletyks, Mike and Magdalena, came to America from Germany in 1950. He was born in the Ukraine but was conscripted for forced labor in the German coal mines during the war.

"At first we had Sundays off," he recalls. "Then they told us we would have to work on Sundays, too."

After the war he was a policeman in a displaced persons camp. Here he met Magdalena, who worked as a cook for his superior.

AFTER a few unpleasant months in New York they came to Cleveland when a friend found them an apartment and promised to help Weletyk find a job. They now have three children: John Michael, 4, Elizabeth, 12, and Elenore, 16.

The kite flying started only three years ago when he sent one up for the amusement of John Michael, then only a baby. Something about it intrigued him and he was off on a bigger-and-better kite flying system.

Major flights were originally from the roof of the four-family apartment house where they live. Colorful formations of kites went so high they were often lost in the clouds. Here his first heavy control wheel is still mounted although it has been superseded by a newer and fancier one which he can trans­port on a trailer to rural "flight fields."

Weletyk's prowess with kites has inspired considerable interest at the Dracco Division of the Fuller Co., where he works. Fellow employees in the shop worked on their lunch hours to help build the portable control wheel and the company donated pieces of outmoded equipment.

"Without them I'd still be grounded."

One Monday morning, after scores of his colorful kites had been prominent in the sky all weekend, he came to work to find a large sign hanging from the plant crane. It said, "Welcome back, Mike the kiternaut."

In the Orient kite flying is considered a major hobby. In Japan, for instance, kite flyers will duel, the kite strings being coated with abrasive materials and the kite edges laced with razor blades. The object is to cut down the opponent's kite.

"That type of kite flying doesn't appeal to me," Weletyk observed. "All I want is to feel the pull of the high winds which we still don't know much about. There's really no limit. Someday, when conditions are just right, I'm going to get them up into the jet stream. Then the angels will really be singing."