Lindbergh's McCook connection

In the early 1920s, a young, beanpole of a man used to fly into McCook, out of Bird City, Kan. -- as an aerial barnstormer. The fellow was Charles Lindbergh. Ray Search, an early McCook aviation buff, told of flying with Lindbergh (whom Ray only knew as "Slim") during one stopover in McCook while Lindbergh was on a barnstorming trip to various Southwestern Nebraska towns.

Lindbergh was born in Detroit, Mich., in 1902. His father was a Swedish immigrant who gained much notoriety when, as a U.S. Congressman from Minnesota, he steadfastly opposed United States entry in World War I. His mother was a high school teacher from Detroit. However, Charles's parents divorced with he was just seven years old, and Charles and his mother moved around a good deal after the divorce.

Theirs was a rather nomadic life, and a lonely one for Charles. He attended more than a dozen schools before graduating from Little Falls High School (Minnesota) in 1918.

After high school, young Lindbergh enrolled in an engineering program at the University of Wisconsin. He was a good student, but dropped out of college before graduating, in 1922.

He had always been interested in airplanes, though he had never flown in one, or even touched an airplane. He made his way to Lincoln, Neb., to enroll in the flying school operated by the Nebraska Aviation Corp. Lindbergh took his flight training from the school's instructor, Ira Biffle in a Lincoln-Standard "Tourabout" biplane. He passed his preliminary flight test, but was not allowed to "solo" because he could not afford to buy the insurance for his solo flight (the school had but one plane, and felt it could not risk a crash with a novice pilot).

It was at this time that Lindbergh joined a flying circus, billing himself as "Daredevil" Lindbergh, and thrilled crowds in Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming and Montana, with feats of daring, such as wing walking and parachute jumps.

At the end of one year, Lindbergh had saved enough money to buy a surplus World War I biplane (a Curtis JN-4 "Jenny"), for $500. Lindbergh used the plane for extensive barnstorming trips, out of Bird City, Kan. (Note: Lindbergh spent about a year in the Bird City area, using the Lyman ranch as his home base. Mildred Lyman, the daughter of the family, later worked at the McCook Temple and Fox Theaters with Ray Search. She told about her friend, Lindy, and how her brothers would help him with maintenance and repairs on the "Jenny," just for the chance to take a ride in his plane.

Lindbergh fashioned and installed a periscope for the Jenny, which he used to check the tail section of the plane, without turning in his seat. It made flying in the front seat of the Jenny uncomfortable, as one tended to hit his head on the contraption, according to Ray Search. But it was effective and Lindbergh had one like it built into the "Spirit of St. Louis," when he made his flight across the Atlantic in 1927.

Lindbergh became an early-day mail pilot, and quite a daring one at that. He made an early nighttime flight, which was much publicized, and survived several minor crashes, and made the needed repairs on the plane himself. He laid out one of the first mail routes, between St. Louis and Chicago and became the chief pilot on that route. (In the years after his trans-Atlantic flight Lindbergh became a leading spokesman for air mail routes, in the United States and in Latin American countries.)

As early as 1919, Raymond Orteig, the hotel millionaire from New York, had offered a $25,000 prize for the first person to make the non-stop flight across the Atlantic, from New York to Paris. There were a good number of well-known aviators who tried for that prize -- The French fighter ace, Rene Fonck crashed on take-off, killing his two crew members. Two US Navy fliers also were killed on take-off. Two French war heroes departed, but were lost at sea and never heard from again. U.S. Admiral Byrd, of Arctic fame actually made the crossing, but was forced to crash-land his high wing, tri-motor Fokker F-VII on the coast of Normandy.

Although six well-known aviators had lost their lives attempting the Atlantic crossing, the $25,000 prize was still unclaimed in 1927. $25,000 was a lot of money in that day, and the glory that would come with such a triumph kept people vying for the prize.

Lindbergh was a relative unknown and a definite "dark-horse" in that race. Lindbergh had the $15,000 backing of two St. Louis businessmen (hence the name "Spirit of St. Louis), plus $2,000 of his own money invested in the plane). The plane that Lindy and his friends chose was a fabric-covered, single engine, single-seat monoplane built by the Ryan Aeronautic Co. of San Diego. The flight Lindbergh made from San Diego to New York's Roosevelt Field in the "Spirit of St. Louis" constituted his test flight for the plane.

At 8 a.m., on May 20th, 1927 Lindbergh began his historic flight. Carrying 450 gallons of fuel and very little else (Lindbergh took just 5 sandwiches for food), the plane was really a flying fuel tank. Grossly overloaded, slowed by a muddy field, the "Spirit of St. Louis" barely cleared the telephone lines at the end of the runway on takeoff.

Lindbergh's flight, covering 3,600 miles in 33 hours, was hampered by heavy fog and sleet during much of the flight. Sometimes he flew a mere 10 feet over the ocean waves. He flew blind for stretches of time, other times relying on the star navigation and dead reckoning to keep on his course.

Still, he landed at Paris' Le Bourget Airfield at 10 p.m. the next day, to a crowd of 150,000 excited fans -- and instant, lifelong world fame.

For a time, Lindbergh's plane and person were in danger from his adoring fans. Before they could do real damage five French airmen whisked Lindy and his plane into the safety of an empty hanger, and then on to meet the President of France.

From that moment on, Lindbergh was a celebrity everywhere he went. He was heralded in France, then England. He and his plane returned to the United States aboard a U.S. Navy Cruiser, where a gigantic ticker-tape parade awaited him in New York City.

It is difficult to overstate the impact that Lindbergh's flight had on the aviation industry. During the last months of 1927, applications for pilot's licenses increased three-fold, registered aircraft quadrupled, and by 1929 airline passengers had increased by 3,000 percent. Lindbergh became an expert proponent of everything pertaining to airplanes.

Suddenly, everyone wanted to fly. There was a rush to build more planes.

Lindbergh visited McCook one more time -- sort of. On his triumphal tour of the United States to receive accolades and promote aviation, "The Lone Eagle's" route included a segment from Omaha to Denver. Original plans did not include McCook or Bird City, but, according to the McCook Gazette of Aug. 31, 1927, Lindbergh altered his route to include both McCook and Bird City.

Though the visit was not formally announced, there were hundreds of McCookites lining downtown Main Street for a glimpse of America's favorite son.

Lindbergh did not land in McCook (or Bird City), but made several passes over McCook (at treetop height). On one pass, over downtown, he dropped a small linen bag, attached to an orange streamer, which contained a message from the pilot.

In the message Lindy said he was sorry that his tight schedule prevented him from landing, and he thanked people for coming out and for their support of him and aviation generally. People were mostly pleased. The flight somehow connected them with a piece of history.

Source: McCook Gazette, Charles Lindbergh, an American Aviator, "We," by Chas. Lindbergh