WE

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Charles Lindbergh was an heroic pop-culture icon, the first of his kind in the age of electronic media

The voyage from New York to Paris had been a difficult flight. “WE” (as Lindbergh always jointly referred to the plane and himself) had battled a fierce line of mid-Atlantic storms, fog, and icing. At times WE had flown as low as ten feet above the wave tops to get beneath the weather. WE had gotten lost more than once, but somehow WE had managed to find its track. No doubt, Lindbergh was glad to see a fellow American in the crowd at Le Bourget --- reporter William Shirer, who rescued him from the exultant mob. The French military finally had to be called in to protect The Spirit of St. Louis from souvenir hunters. 

 

WE at night over the Atlantic

Lindbergh was immediately world-famous. It seemed that nobody could get enough of him. The U.S. Army Air Corps promoted him to Captain and awarded him the Distinguished Flying Cross (based on his reserve status as a Lieutenant) within hours after news of his exploit reached the right ears in Washington. Congress voted him the Congressional Medal of Honor in a unique exercise of its powers:

WE crossing the French coast

For displaying heroic courage and skill as a navigator, at the risk of his life, by his nonstop flight in his airplane, the "Spirit of St. Louis", from New York City to Paris, France, 20–21 May 1927, by which Capt. Lindbergh not only achieved the greatest individual triumph of any American citizen but demonstrated that travel across the ocean by aircraft was possible.

 

The United States Congress voted him a Medal of Honor despite the fact that he had done nothing in combat and was only a reserve lieutenant with the Air Corps

Lindbergh also received the Congressional Gold Medal, the Langley Gold Medal,  the Hubbard Medal, the Daniel Guggenheim Medal, the Wright Brothers Memorial Trophy, and the Pulitzer Prize for his memoir WE.   He was named an Honorary Eagle Scout by the Boy Scouts of America, who also awarded him the Silver Buffalo Award.

France made him a Commander of the Legion of Honor. Belgium made him a Knight of the Order of Leopold. The United Kingdom granted him both the Air Force Cross and the Official Royal Air Force Museum Medal.

The Fédération Aéronautique Internationale awarded him their Gold Medal, and the  International Civil Aviation Organization gave him their Edward Warner Award. He was the first American to win the Harmon Trophy.

Lindbergh receives the seemingly unwinnable Orteig Prize from publisher Robert Orteig

Later, and with great controversy, he was awarded the Grand Cross of the Order of the German Eagle by Adolf Hitler, in conjunction with Lindbergh’s close friend, Henry Ford. 

After a quick tour of the major cities in France, and a fast hop across the English Channel, WE returned to the United States aboard the battlecruiser U.S.S. Memphis.  When Lindbergh and the plane arrived back at the Brooklyn Navy Yard he was escorted by a full Navy task force, several squadrons of planes, and the dirigible U.S.S. Los Angeles (ZR-3).

"WE", Lindbergh's biography / travelogue was rushed into print just a few weeks after his return to America in June 1927. Although largely ghostwritten, Lindbergh had contributed much to the tone of the book, which became an instant best seller. By New Year's 1928 it had sold 700,000 copies

A few cynics grumped, “People are behaving as though Lindbergh had walked on water, not flown over it," but the wave of adulation for the handsome young aviator seemed unbreakable. He was interviewed by most major periodicals and some minor ones. Time magazine named Lindbergh their first Man of The Year for 1928. He was offered lecture tours, professorships, seats on Boards of Directors, Presidencies of airlines, and every kind of emolument. 

Lindbergh, “America’s Air Ambassador,” was feted and lionized throughout the world for his exploit

Lindbergh turned them all down, and went back to delivering air mail for a brief time. Among philatelists, “Lindbergh” franked mail is among the most coveted material they can acquire. Lindbergh just wanted to fly.

His second tenure as an airmail pilot lasted only a few weeks. Lindbergh was introduced into Society by Harry Guggenheim. Harry was the son of Daniel Guggenheim, a major exponent of early aviation, and the nephew of Benjamin Guggenheim, who had died aboard the Titanic. The Guggenheims were prominent in smelting and mining and the arts and sciences. Although Jewish, Harry Guggenheim had attended Yale, and was an accepted member of Yale’s Old Boy Network. 

Harry Guggenheim sponsored Lindbergh’s 82 city U.S. and extensive Latin American tours. He also introduced him to Dwight Morrow, the Vice-President of J.P. Morgan. Morrow’s daughter, Anne, quickly became engaged to Lindbergh. 

Harry Guggenheim and Charles Lindbergh. Through Guggenheim, Lindbergh met his wife and his future employer, Juan Trippe

Another seminal introduction made by Harry Guggenheim was to Juan Trippe. Trippe, who had Old Money but not a vast amount of it, had been assigned to Yale’s Sheffield College when he entered school there. Sheffield, or “Sheff” as it was called, was the only one of Yale University’s component colleges “not to have compulsory chapel” and was where Yale’s few Jews, Muslims, Hindus, scholarship students, and odd men out were assigned. Juan ended up there in part because of his eyebrow-raising first name. The other students called him “Wang.”

Trippe, who was in the midst of forming Pan Am, eventually made Lindbergh the one offer he could not refuse --- to fly. 

Juan Trippe (who often wore tropical suits) clowning with Charles Lindbergh. The two men were close, but their relationship grew more distant as their attitudes toward "Mr. Roosevelt's War" diverged

The truth was that everyone wanted Lindbergh to fly for them. What they didn’t want was for Lindbergh to crash and die for them. Everyone in aviation knew that Lindbergh had kicked in the barn door --- flying was going to be different from now on, an accepted part of everyday life. If Lindbergh was killed in some freak accident, most feared they would be blamed and ruined, and aviation in general would take a massive step backward --- perhaps an irrevocable step. So they tried to cage the Lone Eagle. 

Trippe, with his characteristic combination of dash and cynicism, read the crystal ball differently. He knew that there was some risk that Lindbergh might be hurt or killed while flying --- that is always a risk when one takes flight, even today. But Trippe calculated that “Lucky Lindy” was too much of a pilot to die in a prosaic air accident. The odds were better than average that he’d be fine. And if Lindbergh was going to die flying, Juan Trippe would make sure that his end would be worthy of him. He’d be a hero all over again. And Juan Trippe would make sure that Pan Am would be the instrument and the beneficiary of Lindbergh’s heroism.

He offered Lindbergh the usual package at first --- a seat on the Board, stock, and an impressive fee for consulting with Pan Am. Lindbergh almost shrugged Trippe off. The money was good, the stock options intriguing, but it was more of the same.

Lindbergh immediately taught Anne to fly. Together, on behalf of Pan American Airways, they explored much of the still-uncharted world by air

But wait ---

Trippe wanted Lindbergh to fly for Pan Am. And not just fly. To survey new aerial routes over wilderness areas all around the world. Lindbergh jumped at it. He was already a hero in most people’s eyes. Now he could be an Explorer.   

Lindbergh’s first flight for Pan Am was his honeymoon flight. It took place in September 1929. Anne Morrow Lindbergh was his navigator, radio operator, and backup pilot. His passengers were Juan and Betty Trippe. The foursome flew down to Dutch Guiana on a Pan Am S-38. At one point, a thrilled Lindbergh climbed outside of the fuselage with a camera and began snapping pictures at 1,500 feet. 

Such daring marked the next few years. Together with Anne, he flew the length of the American landmass several times in floatplanes and seaplanes and flying boats of all descriptions. 

Anne Morrow Lindbergh standing on the wing of their Sirius floatplane somewhere in the world. Anne demanded a canopy on the open two-seater, so that she could talk to Charles without shouting over wind and engine noise. Canopies soon became standard equipment on small planes

Sometimes they were accompanied by Juan Trippe. The two men developed a routine. Lindbergh would shake hands with the various VIPs and Heads of State they met, introduce them to his pretty and charming wife, and then appear before adoring crowds. While Charles got all the accolades, Juan would close business deals. Most political functionaries were thrilled to give Trippe whatever he wanted. After all, he was not just anybody. He was Lindbergh’s friend. 

Anne and Charles also crossed the northern Pacific, visiting Japan and Russia and China, and ending their voyage at Macao. Other survey flights took them across northern Europe and into Asia. Most of Pan American’s routes were first flown by the Lindberghs. 

A stylized world map of Pan Am's "Clipper" routes, most of which were mapped out by Charles and Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Lindbergh’s thoughts were also solicited for aircraft design. He pressed for the development of land planes and airport infrastructures. Flying boats were huge and impressive to the eye he argued, but they were expensive to maintain, far more frail than they looked, and had poor load-to-tare (cargo versus deadweight) ratios. Even with Commercial Air Mail Contracts (CAMs) at the top rate of $2.00 per mile, Pan Am could barely make a profit carrying only eight or twelve passengers per flight.  Flying boats, Lindbergh maintained, were strictly of an era, a temporary expedient until larger capacity planes with bigger engines were built.  

Lindbergh was also Pan Am’s first Chief Pilot, and Trippe made sure the world knew it. People began to fly Pan Am just on the odd chance that “Lucky Lindy” would be at the controls. Sometimes he was. 

He was not an infallible pilot. After a particularly rough water landing, Lindbergh apologized to Igor Sikorsky for any damage to his plane --- and Sikorsky apologized for not designing a better one. 

In 1932, Lindbergh and his family were the victims of a terrible crime. His and Anne’s 20 month old son, Charles, Jr. was abducted from their home, and later found murdered. In what was described as “The Crime of The Century,” a German immigrant, Bruno Richard Hauptmann was convicted and executed in the electric chair for the child’s death. Questions about Hauptmann’s actual guilt remain unanswered.  The public, its sympathy at a fever pitch, mourned along with the family.

The Lindbergh Baby Kidnapping was the O.J. Simpson Trial of its day. The world held its breath until the child was found dead.  In the subsequent trial, Bruno Richard Hauptmann, the accused, was all but railroaded into the electric chair. Most people did and do believe he had a part in the kidnapping and slaying, but whether he worked alone is questionable and his motives have never been understood. Note the investigator --- Colonel H. Norman Schwarzkopf --- "Stormin' Norman"'s father