Charles A. Lindbergh: A Legacy and an Enigma

Gabrielle Here:

January 13, 2017, Erica Vetsch shared a little about our amazing Minnesota Historical Society and the twenty-five sites that dot the map of our beautiful state. One of those sites is the Charles A. Lindbergh Historic Site in Little Falls, Minnesota.

I'm especially fond of this historic site because it sits right across the river from where I live in my hometown, and I spent ten years of my life working there as a site guide, an assistant site manager, and later as an interim manager.

Charles Lindbergh is one of the most fascinating men I've ever studied. On the surface, many people know him as the shy, handsome hero who made the first non-stop, transatlantic flight in his monoplane, The Spirit of St. Louis, in May 1927.

Others may know him as the father of the baby who was kidnapped and murdered on March 1, 1932. The horrible event became known as The Crime of the Century and an important law, known informally as the Lindbergh Law, was enacted from that event, which allows federal authorities to step in and pursue kidnappers once they cross state lines with their victim.

Some may be more familiar with Charles Lindbergh's wife, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, who wrote several books, her most famous being A Gift from the Sea. It continues to change women's live, over half a century after it was written.

And, yet, many others remember Charles A. Lindbergh for his stance on America's entry into WWII and his connection with Nazi Germany.

For a few, when they think of Charles Lindbergh, they think of his conservation work toward the end of his life, his design of the perfusion pump, which was the first apparatus to keep organs alive outside of the body, his work on the first rocket with Robert Goddard, and the routes he and Anne mapped out for air traffic, many of which are still used to this day.

Still others see Lindbergh as the father of illegitimate children in Germany, who came forward in 2003. DNA test proved their story was true, and they are now able to claim one of the most famous men in history as their father.

But, for me, I see Charles Lindbergh as a young boy, growing up on the banks of the Upper Mississippi River in Little Falls, Minnesota. A quiet, curious boy whose father was a lawyer and U.S. Congressman, and whose mother was a school teacher. He loved nothing better than working on the family farm until he left for college in 1920.

If you thought of any of those things, you'd know exactly who Charles Lindbergh was--yet, how many people really knew him? I spent ten years studying his life, reading his journals, letters, biography, and autobiographies--yet, I learned something new about him all the time.

He was a quiet, reserved man who was thrust into the world's spotlight as the first super-hero. He became the most famous person in the world in 1927, and despite his attempts to "retire" from his public life, he could never escape the fame. Very few people know what it was like to be Charles Lindbergh. He was hounded his entire life. Out of desperation and survival, he learned to keep things hidden, to shy away from reporters, and he drew into himself more and more.

There are points in his life that I admire--and others that I abhor. He was an American icon, a role-model for millions, yet he did unthinkable things throughout his life. He invented devises that saved lives, he was a pioneer for aviation, and he was tireless in his work for conservation efforts--yet, his respect for Nazi Germany is questionable, his marital affairs were deplorable, and his relationship with his wife and children was less than commendable.

Lindbergh is an American Legacy, and I applaud him for the great advancements he made. I even understand a few of the choices that shaped his life. But I still like to think of him best as the young man who made the transatlantic flight in 1927, or the child who roamed the woods of his family's property in Little Falls, before fame changed him forever.

He's also an enigma. A man hard to understand, who led a life that few will ever experience.

When I look at his life, I have to look at it through the lens of all these things. Not one individual moment, but the accumulation of seventy-two years of remarkable events that changed the world forever.

Gabrielle Meyer
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For the Love of History

Gabrielle Here:

I've always been fascinated with history, since the time I can remember. When I was little, and learned about the Civil War era, I begged my mother for a hoop skirt and gown. My sister and I repeatedly embarrassed our older brothers by parading about in our historical garb, with our horrible southern accents (I was born and raised in Minnesota, so you can about imagine how bad it sounded), when their friends were around.

As I grew older, I fell in love with historical fiction. For the space of a few hours, I could immerse myself in the times and places that so captured my imagination. No longer was I living and breathing the 1860's. After I discovered my love for books, I was a princess in a medieval fortress, a lady-in-waiting in Queen Victoria's court, a brave pioneer on the American Frontier, a gold-digger in the California hills, and a young woman coming of age in a charming turn-of-the century Midwestern town. The options were endless and I reveled in them.

Here I am sitting near the Lindbergh piano, portraying
Evangeline Lindbergh (Aviator Charles A. Lindbergh's
Mother) in a living history event at the
Lindbergh Historic Site.

I went on to work at a historic site, and later a county historical society. I delved deep into the history of my own hometown on the banks of the Mississippi River, and I swam with abandon. I sang with the voyageurs as they plied the lakes and rivers, I shot the rapids with Zebulon Pike on his search for the headwaters, I stood on the lookout with Chief Hole-in-the-Day as he watched the white men come into his region, I rejoiced and cried with the men and women who toiled to start my hometown, I balanced on the billions of logs as they floated downriver to the mills, and I waved toward the sky when Charles A. Lindbergh, our hometown boy, became a national hero and world-renown pilot. The stories of these brave men and women, many of them as common and ordinary as me, did extraordinary things with the time and resources they were given.

These people from the past began to speak to my heart, and I longed to tell their forgotten stories. People who lived, fought, and sometimes died so I could enjoy the "simple" luxuries of life. They harnessed the falls in the Mississippi for power to cut logs, mill grain, and ultimately produce electricity. They cleared, leveled, and paved roads so I can drive down the street with ease. They constructed bridges, so I can effortlessly traverse the wild Mississippi River several times a day. They hauled thousands of wagon loads of dirt to fill a massive ravine, so commerce could fill our downtown, and make life easier for all of us. They designed the courthouse, with its high tower, and built it from local, handmade brick, and did it all before modern technology produced skid steers and power tools. The list goes on and on.

As I discovered all these things, and began to share my love of history with those around me, I realized that most people think of history as dry and boring. To me, it's anything but boring! History is alive, it's active, it's dangerous and fierce. History allows us to look at the past from a place of safety and step into the shoes of the people who lived it out. It teaches us lessons on what to do and what not to do. It's full of wisdom, insight, and experience.

When I was in college, it became my deepest desire to tell the stories of the men and women forgotten by history. I don't want to retell the stories we all know so well; I wanted to resurrect the names and places of people that didn't make it into the textbooks. The stories I love telling are found in old letters, dusty journals, faded photographs, and yellowed newspapers. Their stories are like buried treasures, waiting to be discovered and unearthed, full of untold riches for those lucky enough to find them. 

One of those stories was told in my novel, A Family Arrangement, which released with Harlequin's Love Inspired Historical (LIH) line last December. A second came when Inherited: Unexpected Family released in September with LIH, and the third is found in The Gift of Twins, which releases this December with LIH. All of these stories are inspired by real people, places, and events in my hometown's history--and they are just a morsel of the stories I long tell.

Your Turn: What are some true stories you've heard about your hometown? What do you love about history? What's your favorite era? How were you first introduced to history?

Gabrielle Meyer lives in central Minnesota on the banks of the Mississippi River with her husband and four children. As an employee of the Minnesota Historical Society, she fell in love with the rich history of her state and enjoys writing fictional stories inspired by real people and events. Her next novel, The Gift of Twins, releases with Love Inspired Historical in December 2017.

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Lucky Lindy - A Legendary Life

by Carla Stewart

In 1927, two men of humble beginnings rose to fame that surpassed even that of an American President. One was Babe Ruth, New York Yankees slugger, who led his team to seven lifetime American League Championships and four World Series Championships. In 1927, he hit a career-high 60 home runs and is still considered by many as the greatest baseball player in history. 

Earlier that year, though, another man rose to the forefront in a different arena - the world of aviation. Charles A. Lindbergh was born in Minnesota, a shy and rather dreamy boy with an uneventful childhood. An only child, he grew up in a comfortable household but one that lacked warmth and affection. In college, he was on the fringe of most everything and classmates were hard-pressed to recall any anecdotes about him when later he became the most talked-about man in America. 

America was in a state of flux following the Great War, but aviation was an area that showed great promise on the changing face of society. Formal training was not required to be a pilot and war-surplus planes (Curtiss Jennies in particular) could be purchased for two hundred dollars or less. Barnstorming with aerial stunts such as wing-walking were a great past-time that captured people's fancy in small towns across the country, and especially in the mid-West. Lindbergh was one of those who was smitten from his first flight in 1922 at a flying school in Lincoln, Nebraska. He obtained a plane and began barnstorming. Two years later he took a job as an airmail pilot flying long hours on the Chicago to St. Louis route. It was then he began to dream of being the first man to fly across the Atlantic. A New York businessman had offered the $25,000 Orteig prize in 1919, and as yet no one had claimed it, but a growing number of contenders were hoping to be the first. Lindbergh knew he had to at least try.

Charles Lindbergh - Photo courtesy of Wiki Commons

Even so, at age twenty-five, Lindbergh wasn't considered a front runner for the coveted feat and indeed, several men before him perished while trying to make the dangerous crossing. Lindbergh, though, persuaded a group of businessmen to build him a plane. The Spirit of St. Louis was built to Lindbergh's specifications but a lot of it was guesswork. The wood and tubular steel frame was covered in pima cotton painted with six coats of aluminum-pigmented dope (a type of varnish that made the cotton shrink to fit tight over the frame). Once completed, it was little more than a flying gas tank. 

Photo courtesy of Wiki Commons

Storms and flooding across America in the spring of 1927 made people question whether it was a good idea to attempt the flight at all with the unusual weather patterns, but on May 20, a determined Lindbergh took off from Long Island while onlookers held their breaths as the Spirit of St. Louis rose shakily, then came back to earth with a bump. It rose and fell again, and with scarcely five hundred feet left of the runway, the plane still hugged the earth. On the third try, it lifted. Very few spectators that day thought there was a chance that Lindbergh would make it to Paris. 

Much has been made of the flight itself, and I've always loved the Jimmy Stewart movie The Spirit of St. Louis that shows the agony that Lindbergh went through as he charted his course, alone above a dark and swirling sea, lost much of the time. The thoughts that must have swarmed through his mind boggle mine, but miraculously, thirty three and one-half hours later, the Spirit of St. Louis landed at Le Bourget Field in Paris. Lindbergh's obscure life would never be the same after this monumental achievement. 

A replica of The Spirit of St. Louis - Missouri History Museum

Fast facts about the flight: 

• The plane was built in a mere two months and tested for less than a month before the triumphal flight. 
• A slight drizzle fell from the sky during the night before take-off and the runway was a muddy mess.
• The Spirit of St. Louis was sighted over Nova Scotia a few hours after take-off and not seen again until it arrived in Paris.
• 450 gallons of fuel were burned during the flight.
• The length of the flight was 3,600 miles. 
• The only items Lindbergh carried with him were five sandwiches, water, and his charts and maps. He didn't even have a change of clothes for when he arrived in France. 
• A crowd of 150,000 people met him at Le Bourget Field in Paris

Ticker-tape parades and thousands, if not millions of people welcomed him on his return to the States and on his Victory/Goodwill tour to cities across the country. He was the most sought-after man in America, if not the world, Newspapermen dubbed him "Lucky Lindy", a name he despised. He visited many cities in the following months all the while maintaining a reserve that was like the shy, bashful portrait of his childhood days. When asked why he attempted such a hazardous endeavor, Lindbergh said, "Life without risks is not worth living."

Medal of Honor bestowed on Lindbergh for his accomplishment. Photo courtesy of Wiki Commons.

Much has been written about Lindbergh and his eventful but sometimes tumultuous life after that glorious day in 1927. Two books that I enjoyed were One Summer: America, 1927 by Bill Bryson and The Aviator's Wife by Melanie Benjamin. Both were books which aided me in research for my own upcoming book, A Flying Affair, which begins a few weeks after Lindbergh's famous flight. I'll be talking more about that on this blog over the next few months and giving you a glimpse of this aviation pioneering time in history. 

Thanks for joining me today. I'd welcome your comments about your flying experiences or fascination with a particular era in history. What is the longest flight you've ever gone on? What risks have you taken in your life? Please share. 

Carla Stewart is the award-winning author of five novels. With a passion for times gone by, it is her desire to take readers back to that warm, familiar place in their hearts called “home.” Her newest release is The Hatmaker's Heart. In New York City’s Jazz Age, a naïve, but talented young hat designer must weigh the cost of success when the rekindled love with her childhood sweetheart is lost and her integrity in the cutthroat fashion world is tested. A Flying Affair releases this June. Daredevil Mittie Humphreys navigates her heart as well as the skies in this beguiling adventure of grit and determination during the rollicking Roaring Twenties. Learn more about Carla at www.carlastewart.com