Nearly every guide standing before Galata Tower tells the same story: in the seventeenth century, Hezarfen Ahmed Çelebi leapt from the top of the tower with wings he had made himself, crossed the Bosphorus, and landed in Üsküdar. The tale is so beloved that asking whether it is true can feel almost improper. Still, let us be honest: it is a legend.

The problem of a single source

The known source of this account is the Seyahatname of Evliya Çelebi, the great seventeenth-century traveler. Evliya is an invaluable witness to everyday life in Istanbul; the passages in which he describes Galata still bring the neighborhood as it was four centuries ago vividly to life. Yet the Seyahatname is not a history book in the modern sense: the traveler recounts what he saw and what he heard with equal enthusiasm, and is at times prone to exaggeration.

Because there is no independent second record of the flight, historians approach the event with caution. Some believe the story may be rooted in a real attempt—perhaps an early glider flight or a slope-soaring experiment—that grew grander over time; others consider it wholly literary.

So why is it so beloved?

Because good stories can say something even without being verified. The legend of Hezarfen reveals how seventeenth-century Istanbul imagined itself: a city curious about science, bold enough to experiment, and admiring of the “hezarfen”—a person of a thousand arts, rich in many talents. In the same century, the same tower was indeed used as an observatory by the chief astronomer Takiyüddin Efendi. The tower’s connection with science, then, is not merely legendary.

There is also the allure of geography: Galata Tower is one of the rare places from which both sides of the city can be seen at once. Anyone looking out from there wonders, if only for a second, what it would be like to cross to the other side. Perhaps that is the story’s true source—the view itself.

As you look at the tower

Galata Tower can be seen from many of Meroddi’s rooms and terraces. The next time you look at it, consider this: over seven centuries, this stone cylinder has been a watchtower, a prison, an observatory, a fire lookout—and, according to legend, it even sent a man flying.

Which parts are true does not diminish the pleasure of the story.

Note: The flight account in this article is a legend based on Evliya Çelebi’s Seyahatname and remains debated among historians.