is covered with a network of lines carrying passengers between all
the big cities. Now it is up to us to create and develop passenger
lines that compare with our mail routes. For this we have natural
advantages in the great distances here that lend themselves to rapid
transportation by air. Moreover, we can make these long trips without
the inconvenience of passing over international boundaries.
“The question comes up, ‘Why has Europe got ahead of us in commercial
airlines?’ The reason is, of course, that the Governments over there
give subsidies. I don’t think we want any subsidies over here. Of
course, if we had them they would create passenger lines overnight, so
to speak, but in the long run the airlines, the distance they covered
and the routes would be controlled entirely by the subsidies.
“What we need now more than any other one thing is a series of airports
in every city and town throughout the United States. Given these
airports, in a very few years the nations of Europe would be looking
toward our passenger lines as they now look at our mail routes.”
Sunday was another full day. Under able guidance of the Chief
Executive, Lindbergh did the things every good American would expect
him to do. And, as one who has seen the lad at close range, we can
say that he did them gladly and with profound appreciation for the
privilege of doing them. After you come to know him you find out that’s
the kind he is.
He went to church with President and Mrs. Coolidge. Accompanied by
his mother he laid a wreath upon the tomb of the Unknown Soldier in
the great memorial amphitheatre in Arlington Cemetery. He drove to
Georgetown and visited the wounded soldiers at Walter Reed Hospital.
He attended a celebration in honor of the 150th anniversary of the
American flag, for which services were held on the steps of the Capitol
and presided over by Charles Evans Hughes.
It was at this last ceremony that Lindbergh received the Cross of
Honor. His response to the honor was brief and typically to the point.
He declared that credit for his flight should “not go to the pilot
alone but to American science and genius which had given years of study
to the advancement of aeronautics.”
“Some things should be taken into consideration in connection with our
flight that have not heretofore been given due weight. That is just
what made this flight possible. It was not the act of a single pilot.
It was the culmination of twenty years of aeronautical research and the
assembling together of all that was practicable and best in American
aviation. It represented American industry.
“In addition to this consideration should be given the scientific
researches that have been in progress for countless centuries. All of
this should have consideration in apportioning credit for the flight.
Credit should go not alone to the pilot, but to the other factors that
I have briefly enumerated. I thank you.”
This was the day well worthy of what Lindbergh had done and what he
stood for. And again, by the spiritual values it comprised, it struck
the inspirational note which had dominated almost everything the lad
has done or said from the moment of his landing at Le Bourget to the
moment of this writing.
Is it any wonder that the populace responded as it did?
V
NEW YORK
On Monday morning, June 13, Lindbergh rose at dawn and reached
the Mayflower Hotel at 6:45 A.M. for breakfast with the National
Aeronautical Association, which conferred a life membership upon him.
He reached Bolling Field outside Washington at about 7:30 A.M. Here
rose the only incident to mar his otherwise flawless happiness in
the welcome he had received. His plane refused to “mote.” It didn’t
actually rebel. But there was sufficient irregularity in its engine to
discourage him from risking delay when New York City was almost every
minute voicing its impatience that he hurry to the celebration awaiting
him there. A pursuit plane was quickly obtained from an army field and
he was soon in the air with his escort of more than a score of ships.
The course of the group led them over Baltimore, Wilmington and
Philadelphia. Eyewitnesses later reported that demonstrations took
place at every one of these places as the air cavalcade went by. Of
course those in the planes, thousands of feet in the air and deafened
by the roar of their motors, heard nothing of the bells and whistles
that saluted them as they passed.
Lindbergh arrived at Mitchel Field about noon. As he had flown in a
land plane and was to be met in the lower harbor by the mayor’s yacht,
he had to make a quick change to an amphibian. This ship happened
to be the _San Francisco_ which had but recently returned from her
“good-will” flight to South America.
She took-off from dry land and a few minutes later volplaned down to
the water just above the Narrows.
Here a sight met Lindbergh’s eyes that old harbor inhabitants declare
was absolutely without precedent in the marine annals of New York. Even
the famous Hudson-Fulton Exposition with its vast water parades and
maneuvers was exceeded.
In the sparkling sunshine of a perfect June morning was gathered half
a thousand vessels of every kind and description. Excursion boats,
yachts, tugs, motor boats, launches, fireboats, even dredges, formed
the spectacular array of shipping gathered to meet the man who had made
the proudest of surface craft, the ocean liner, a back number on the
sea.
A police launch swung up to the _San Francisco_ and took Lindbergh
aboard. He was brought to the _Macom_, yacht of the Mayor of New York,
amid a deafening chorus of whistles. Indeed, so great was the din that
conversation among the welcoming committees was quite impossible and
remained so throughout the hour’s voyage to the Battery.
As the _Macom_ moved forward the huge disorderly fleet of crowding
vessels swung into rough column behind her. Massive ocean going tugs
and fireboats clung close aboard to guard her from too curious craft
who sought to wedge their way in toward the yacht for a better look at
the bare-headed boy standing atop her pilot house.
As in Washington, the air was well filled with planes. Their motors’
roar lent a sort of solemn undertone to the shrieking chorus of
whistles and sirens.
There was an interview below decks. It was not very successful. The
whistles made too much noise and Lindbergh very properly refused to
discuss his “feelings”, which are meat and drink to the writing man.
It was estimated that 300,000 people were massed in the vicinity of
the Battery when the _Macom_ hove alongside. Lining the streets clear
to Central Park was a multitude that was variously estimated from
3,000,000 to 4,500,000. Scores of people were in their places before
eight A.M. on upper Fifth Avenue. Lindbergh did not pass them until
three P.M. Traffic was disrupted. Police control was strained to its
utmost.
As evidence of the almost unanimous turnout for the occasion, the
Police Department of the City issued special instructions to all
citizens about leaving their houses protected against thieves,
something that hadn’t been done for a generation.
When the cavalcade with Lindbergh leading started up Broadway there
came the famous New York “snow storm” consisting of a myriad paper
bits and confetti streamers floating downward from the skyscrapers.
Photographs do scant justice to the spectacle.
At the City Hall Mayor Walker expressed the city’s sentiments with a
felicity that deserves their record here. He spoke more informally than
most had spoken in Washington; by the same token he echoed through
his easily forgivable eloquence much that the inarticulate thousands
waiting without the lines would like to have said.
He struck right at the heart of things when he began:
“Let me dispense with any unnecessary official side or function,
Colonel, by telling you that if you have prepared yourself with any
letters of introduction to New York City they are not necessary.
“Everybody all over the world, in every language, has been telling
you and the world about yourself. You have been told time after time
where you were born, where you went to school, and that you have done
the supernatural thing of an air flight from New York to Paris. I am
satisfied that you have become convinced of it by this time.
“And it is not my purpose to reiterate any of the wonderful things
that have been so beautifully spoken and written about you and your
triumphal ride across the ocean. But while it has become almost
axiomatic, it sometimes seems prosaic to refer to you as a great
diplomat, because after your superhuman adventure, by your modesty,
by your grace, by your gentlemanly American conduct, you have left
no doubt of that. But the one thing that occurs to me that has been
overlooked in all the observations that have been made of you is that
you are a great grammarian, and that you have given added significance
and a deeper definition to the word ‘we.’
“We have heard, and we are familiar with, the editorial ‘we,’ but not
until you arrived in Paris did we learn of the aeronautical ‘we.’ Now
you have given to the world a flying pronoun.
“That ‘we’ that you used was perhaps the only word that would have
suited the occasion and the great accomplishment that was yours. That
all-inclusive word ‘we’ was quite right, because you were not all alone
in the solitude of the sky and the sea, because every American heart,
from the Atlantic to the Pacific, was beating for you. Every American,
every soul throughout the world, was riding with you in spirit, urging
you on and cheering you on to the great accomplishment that is yours.
“That ‘we’ was a vindication of the courage, of the intelligence, of
the confidence and the hopes of Nungesser and Coli, now only alive in
the prayers and the hearts of the people of the entire world. That ‘we’
that you coined was well used, because it gave an added significance
and additional emphasis to the greatest of any and all ranks, the word
of faith, and turned the hearts of all the people of the civilized
world to your glorious mother, whose spirit was your spirit, whose
confidence was your confidence, and whose pride was your pride; the
‘we’ that includes all that has made the entire world stand and gasp
at your great feat, and that ‘we’ also sent out to the world another
message and brought happiness to the people of America, and admiration
and additional popularity for America and Americans by all the peoples
of the European countries.
“Colonel Lindbergh, on this very platform are the diplomatic corps,
the diplomatic representatives of all the countries of the civilized
world; but before you and around you are the peoples themselves of
all the countries of the civilized world, foregathered in this city,
the greatest cosmopolitan institution in all the world; the peoples
who have come from the forty-eight States of the Union and from every
country of the civilized world; and here today, as Chief Magistrate of
this city, the world city, the gateway to America, the gateway through
which peoples from the world have come in the search for liberty and
freedom--and have found it--here today let it be written and let it be
observed that the Chief Magistrate of this great city, the son of an
immigrant, is here to welcome as the world’s greatest hero, another son
of an immigrant.
“What more need I call to your attention, in view of the busy life that
you have been leading and have the right to expect to lead? What more
can we say as we foregather in the streets of this old city? And today,
not by the words alone of the Mayor, or the beautifully written words
of a scroll, as you stand here I am sure you hear something even more
eloquent and glorious. You can hear the heart-beats of six millions of
people that live in this the City of New York. And the story they tell
is one of pride, is one of admiration for courage and intelligence;
is one that has been born out of and is predicated upon the fact that
as you went over the ocean you inscribed on the heavens themselves a
beautiful rainbow of hope and courage and confidence in mankind.
“Colonel Lindbergh, New York City is yours--I don’t give it to you;
you won it. New York not only wants me to tell you of the love and
appreciation that it has for your great venture, but is deeply and
profoundly grateful for the fact that again you have controverted all
the old rules and made new ones of your own, and kind of cast aside
temporarily even the weather prophets, and have given us a beautiful
day.
“So, just another word of the happiness, the distinction and the
pride which the City of New York has today to find you outside this
historical building, sitting side by side with your glorious mother,
happy to find you both here, that we might have the opportunity and a
close-up, to tell you that like the rest of the world--but because we
are so much of the world, even with a little greater enthusiasm than
you might find in any other place in the world--I congratulate you and
welcome you into the world city, that you may look the world in the
face.”
Mayor Walker pinned the Medal of Valor upon the lapel of Lindbergh’s
coat. Whereupon Lindbergh for the first time gave in some detail his
sense of the size of the welcome he had received:
“When I was preparing to leave New York, I was warned that if we landed
at Le Bourget we might receive a rather demonstrative reception. After
having an hour of Le Bourget I did not believe that anyone in New York
had the slightest conception of what we did receive. Again, at Brussels
and at London. At London thirteen hundred of the pride of Scotland Yard
were lost in the crowd at Croydon as though they had been dropped in
the middle of the ocean. With the exception of a few around the car and
around the plane, I never saw more than two at any one time.
[Illustration: © _Wide World Photos_
“THE SPIRIT OF ST. LOUIS” AFTER HER RETURN]
[Illustration: © _Wide World Photos_
MITCHEL FIELD, L. I.--AFTER THE FLIGHT TO WASHINGTON]
“At Washington I received a marvelous reception. But at New York I
believe that all four put together would be in about just the position
of those London bobbies.
“When I landed at Le Bourget I landed looking forward to the pleasure
of seeing Europe and the British Isles. I learned to speak of Europe
and the British Isles after I landed in London. I had been away from
America a little less than two days. I had been very interested in the
things I saw while passing over southern England and France, and I was
not in any hurry to get back home.
“By the time I had spent about a week in France and a short time in
Belgium and England, and had opened a few cables from the United
States, I found that I did not have much to say about how long I would
stay over there.”
Lindbergh paused for the laughter to subside. This point always tickled
people greatly.
“So I left Europe and the British Isles with the regret that I had been
unable to see either Europe or the British Isles. When I started up the
Potomac from the _Memphis_ I decided that I was not so sorry that I had
taken the Ambassador’s advice. After spending about an hour in New
York I know I am not.”
The parade now formed again and moved up Broadway, through Lafayette
Street, to Ninth and over to Fifth. At Madison Square it halted at the
Shaft of Eternal Light. The ceremony was touching and impressive. The
tall shaft topped by a crystal star, imprisoning light everlasting, was
a fitting memorial to the men who gave up their lives in the World War.
Lindbergh here laid a wreath in their memory.
Fifth Avenue had been packed with people since morning. It was now
mid-afternoon. As in Washington a wave of cheering marked the progress
of the car which held the city’s guest of honor.
At St. Patrick’s Cathedral he stopped, got out of his automobile and
met Cardinal Hayes.
In Central Park the official city welcome ended amid a gathering
estimated at above 300,000 people. Bands were playing and automobile
horns added to the din.
Governor Smith of New York was waiting there with his staff on a
specially built reviewing stand. He pinned on Lindbergh the State
Medal of Honor: adding again to the ever lengthening list of honors.
There was again an exchange of speeches met by salvos of applause. A
sky writer wrote “Hail Lindy” high in the air. Policemen wrestled with
swaying crowds. More than on the avenue it seemed as if the city were
concentrated for a Lindbergh it would never forget.
Near five the great demonstration came to an end. For a few hours the
center of attraction could escape to the refuge that had been prepared
for him and his mother in a private apartment. But this escape was
qualified by the fact that it took a large guard to hold in check the
many people who sought access to Lindbergh for one reason or another.
At 8:15 P.M. he rode out on Long Island to the beautiful estate
of Clarence Mackay, head of the Postal Telegraph Company. The
place had been transformed into a fairyland of colored Japanese
lanterns, fountains and illuminated shrubbery. Eighty of New York’s
most prominent people attended the dinner which was kingly in its
appointments. Later several hundred guests came in for dancing.
It would have seemed that this first terrific day might have exhausted
the ardor of the city’s welcome. But there followed a kaleidoscopic
week that was, if anything, more trying. Not only did Lindbergh move
amid a growing chorus of business offers, but his social engagements
jammed tighter and tighter as the hours passed. Moreover, his plane was
still in Washington, although he was scheduled to fly it to St. Louis
for the week-end.
The City of New York gave Lindbergh a dinner of some 4000 guests at
the Hotel Commodore. It was there that Mr. Hughes spoke the following
unique tribute:
“When a young man, slim and silent, can hop overnight to Paris and
then in the morning telephone his greetings to his mother in Detroit;
when millions throughout the length and breadth of this land and over
sea through the mysterious waves, which have been taught to obey our
command, can listen to the voice of the President of the United States
according honors for that achievement, honors which are but a faint
reflection of the affection and esteem cherished in the hearts of the
countryman of the West who distinguished America by that flight, then
indeed is the day that hath no bother; then is the most marvelous day
that this old earth has ever known.
“We measure heroes as we do ships by their displacement. Colonel
Lindbergh has displaced everything. His displacement is beyond all
calculation. He fills all our thought; he has displaced politics,
Governor Smith.
“For the time being, he has lifted us into the freer and upper air that
is his home. He has displaced everything that is petty; that is sordid;
that is vulgar. What is money in the presence of Charles A. Lindbergh?
“What is the pleasure of the idler in the presence of this supreme
victor of intelligence and industry? He has driven the sensation
mongers out of the temples of our thought. He has kindled anew the
fires on the eight ancient altars of that temple. Where are the stories
of crime, of divorce, of the triangles that are never equalateral? For
the moment we have forgotten. This is the happiest day, the happiest
day of all days for America, and as one mind she is now intent upon the
noblest and the best. America is picturing to herself youth with the
highest aims, with courage unsurpassed; science victorious. Last and
not least, motherhood, with her loveliest crown.
“We may have brought peoples together. This flight may have been the
messenger of good-will, but good-will for its beneficent effects
depends upon the character of those who cherish it.
“We are all better men and women because of this exhibition in this
flight of our young friend. Our boys and girls have before them a
stirring, inspiring vision of real manhood. What a wonderful thing it
is to live in a time when science and character join hands to lift up
humanity with a vision of its own dignity.
“There is again revealed to us, with a startling suddenness, the
inexhaustible resources of our national wealth. From an unspoiled home,
with its traditions of industry, of frugality and honor, steps swiftly
into our gaze this young man, showing us the unmeasured treasures in
our minds of American character.
“America is fortunate in her heroes; her soul feeds upon their deeds;
her imagination revels in their achievements. There are those who
would rob them of something of their lustre, but no one can debunk
Lindbergh, for there is no bunk about him. He represents to us,
fellow-Americans, all that we wish--a young American at his best.”
Only by reducing this record to catalog form could it possibly be
made to include a fully detailed description of Lindbergh’s four
amazing days in New York. Every night there was a banquet. Every
day there was a festive lunch. Not hundreds, but thousands attended
these entertainments; and at the speaker’s table there always sat
distinguished men whose names were household words among Americans.
Lindbergh spoke at every banquet. Recurrently he paid gracious thanks
to those who had helped make his visit such a gorgeous success; he
usually ended by speaking on behalf of aviation, the welfare of which
he never forgot even in the most crowded moments of his days.
The Merchants’ Association gave him a gigantic luncheon. The
Aeronautical Chamber of Commerce entertained him at a banquet that
filled to overflowing the famous ball room of the Waldorf.
On Wednesday night he gave an exhibition of his endurance that once
more reminded the world it was fêting no ordinary hero. After dining on
Rodman Wanamaker’s yacht and seeing a special performance of a light
opera, Lindbergh attended a charity benefit at one of the big theatres.
About 1:30 A.M. he escaped through a back door and hurried to Mitchel
field. Although still in his evening clothes he borrowed a helmet and
hopped off for Washington at 3:05 A.M. By 7:30 A.M. he was back in New
York with his own plane.
His last day was too crowded for him to take a nap after his sleepless
night. He went to Brooklyn where above a million people gave him
another moving welcome. He kept a public luncheon date. He attended
a large tea and reception at the Waldorf Hotel where Raymond Orteig
presented him with the $25,000 prize that had long stood for the first
flight from New York to Paris. At eight, a little tired but still as
fresh looking as ever, he followed Charles Schwab in speaking before a
massed aviation banquet that included many leading pilots of the world.
[Illustration: © _Wide World Photos_
ST. LOUIS’ WELCOME--LOOKING DOWN WASHINGTON AVENUE]
[Illustration: © _Wide World Photos_
MY MOTHER]
VI
ST. LOUIS
At 8:17 A.M., Friday June 17th, Lindbergh hopped off in his plane
for St. Louis. At Paterson he passed over the plant of the Wright
Aeronautical Corporation where had been built the motor that had taken
him across the Atlantic. At 11:16 he reached Columbus, Ohio. At Dayton
he was joined by an escort of thirty fast Army planes. They took-off
from the field where the old hangar of Orville and Wilbur Wright still
stands.
About 5 P.M. he approached St. Louis in a wet fog. He dropped lower
and circled the city. As at New York the sky was dotted with planes.
Streets and house tops were massed with people. As he landed at Lambert
Field a cordon of troops protected him from the eager crowds.
For the evening he managed to escape to the home of a friend where he
got a little much-needed rest, though reporters and business solicitors
still swarmed about him. Saturday morning came the huge city parade
with luncheon and banquet to follow. Sunday he gave an exhibition
flight over the old World’s Fair grounds. Not an hour, scarcely a
waking minute, was he free from demands upon his time and attention.
By this time his mail had exceeded the wildest imagination. It was
estimated that more than 2,000,000 letters and several hundred thousand
telegrams were sent him. He gave out the following statement:
“To the Press: As an air mail pilot I deeply appreciate the sentiment
which actuated my countrymen to welcome me home by ‘air mail,’ and
regret only that I have no way in which to acknowledge individually
every one of the tens of thousands of ‘air mail’ greetings I have
received, for my heart is in the ‘air mail’ service, and I would like
to help keep alive the air-consciousness of America which my good
fortune may have helped to awaken.”