ENORMOUS CROWDS CHEER LINDBERGH.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18208, 15 July 1927, Page 5

ENORMOUS CROWDS CHEER LINDBERGH.

FAMOUS AIRMAN BESIEGED AT CROYDON—- “ PROMISE NOT TO MOB HIM.”

(Special to the “ Star.”LONDON, May 30. Captain Lindbergh, the hero of the New York to Paris flight, arrived at | Croydon Aerodrome in his famous j machine. “The Spirit of St. Louis,” at J 0 o clock last evening—having ended a j brief but splendid visit to Brussels at 1 half-past three. He was greeted with j the sound of about 150,000 British ■ cheers. J For Lindbergh himself the welcome was perhaps too enthusiastic. The crowds lining the aerodrome broke j their ranks and swarmed into the centre. The airman made two attempts

to land, and did not come down until the police had coaxed the crowds back | “That sure wanted some beating.’’ i he said as he was escorted with difficulty into the Customs House. Paris Beaten. “This is worse than I had at Paris!” A tall, boyish-looking young man, in a brown leather flying-coat half-torn from his broad shoulders, with a wisp of brown hair fluttering before his j deadly' pale face, stood on the parapet of the Control Tower at the Croydon Aerodrome and dropped the words through a megaphone down on to a hoarsely shouting, wildly cheering, madly gesticulating host of men and women that surged below like an engulfing torrent. lie was Captain Charles Lindbergh, the American who flew from New York to Paris alone, and the vast crowds beneath him were most of the 150.000 people who had come to see him land after his flight from Brussels, and from whose frantic enthusiasm he had just escaped as by a miracle. Waves of Cheers. Their cheers leaped up at him like buffeting waves. The crowd roared tumultuous greetings at him that he could not hear for the din of them. They sang—or, rather, bellowed —“For ho’s a jolly good fellow!”: they threw their hats and handkerchiefs and walk-ing-sticks up to him, and in scores and hundreds they tried to scale the surrounding buildings in the hope of reaching him and shaking his hand. The youth who had flown night and day from New York to Paris stoed there, still pallid from his almost herculean fight to elude their overwhelming hands. A burly figure suddenly loomed beside him on the parapet and waved a commanding arm. It was Commander Perrin, secretary of the Royal Aero Club. he jerked the megaphone to liis lips and took a deep breath. “Be British!” he boomed. ■“ Be British, and give the man a chance.” Still the human ocean down below heaved and shouted. “Give the man a chance, I say! Commander Perrin boomed on. “ Captain Lindbergh has had a trying flight over to-day—and do you grudge him a cup of tea ? “ No—but bring him down! ” roared the crowds. “ Will you promise not to mob him if I do? ” Commander Perrin asked. "Of course we will," came bade ft him in a giant’s voice. Commander Perrin signalled to Captain Lindbergh to follow him and he began to descend the steep ladder to the ground, where a solid bastion of hot and panting policemen stood waiting to attempt to shield the airman. Captain Lindbergh was half-way down when he saw the crowds begin- ( ning to roll like a colossal breaker to- ; wards him, sweeping policemen like j reeds before them.

Running the Gauntlet. Then for the first time since his ae.ro- j plane, “The Spirit of St Louis," had come to earth there, he seemed to j sense some humour in the tremendous welcome that had been given him. He smiled—slowly, wearily—and | shook his head, while he clung to the metal rails of the ladder. “ Say,” lie drawled, shaking his head to Commander Perrin, “ I’m not coming down just yet awhile! ” Making a superhuman effort the police— those who were able to gather at the spot—linked hands and, pleading passionately for “ fair play;” succeeded in pushing the people back inch by inch down the narrow way between the Customs shed and the wire- j less room until there was a little room > for Lindbergh to pass. “ Quick, Now’s your chance. Follow me! ” shouted Commander Perrin, whirling his arms propeller-fas hi on in front of him. Lindbergh smiled, then set his teeth, and making a few more steps downwards, jumped from the height of the remaining half-dozen, and rushed in the wake of officials to a closed car a few vards away in which the American Ambassador and Sir Samuel lloare, the Minister for Air, and Lady lloare were already seated. Away at Last. Then the voices of police officers could be heard—“ Make way, there ! ” Then they pushed and heaved, making j a clearing just sufficiently wide for the i car to pass. Inch by inch, foot by foot, [ the car gained way, the people moving j aside almost from under its very . wheels. And so, a full hour and a ! quarter after his landing, Lindbergh was free, and on his way to the residence of the American Ambassador, 14, Princes Gate, SAW DRAMATIC START. raw YORK, May 29. Captain Charles E. Lindbergh, the modern young Loch invar, who Inst week Hew mysteriously out of the West, has actually started unaccompanied, even by his kitten mascot, for Paris. America is breathless with excitement over his nonchalant audacity. It refers to him .variously as “ The Kid Flier ” and “ The Flying Fool,” and is to-day praying for his success. Nothing could have been seemingly

1 more casual than his final decision to j fly. He had been sightseeing in New York all day yesterday and arrived shortly before midnight at his hotel in ! Garden City, Long Island. He went to 1 bed leaving word that he was to be | called at two o’clock. i “ I Guess I'll Go." I He rose at that hour remarking, “It j looks good. I guess I’ll go.” ! lie donned his flying clothes and mo- ! tored to the Curtiss flying field, where ! he arrived at 2.45 am. As if by magic word of his impending departure had spread, with the result that 800 motor-cars and several thousand spectators had assembled in the Curtiss and Roosevelt fields. It started to rain. Heavy mist arose. The moon vainly tried to dodge the encircling clouds. But the weather reports declared that though fog hung over Newfoundland, a south-west wind was expected to blow it away, and that over the Atlantic conditions were good. From steamers far out at sea were flashed confirmation of this report, the day being described as clear with a gentle south-west wind and with a ris ing barometer. So the work of filling “The Spirit of St Louis.” as Captain Lindbergh has named his aeroplane, with 450 gallons of petrol went on. The process lasted for more than three hours. Other Aspirants. First Mr Chamberlain, whose own aeroplane, Columbia, is anchored by litigation, then Mr Anthony Fokker, and finally Commander Byrd, another Atlantic flying aspirant, looked in upon the youthful airman, wishing him luck. ! At six o'clock Commander Byrd, in his America, went aloft. The crowd grew wild with excitement, mistakenly thinking that he also was about to attempt a Transatlantic flight. Five aeroplanes with camera men also soared into the air, but all came down again. _ At 7 a.m. “The Spirit of St Louis” I was loaded with 450 gallons of petrol. An ambulance trundled on to the field, so did a truck containing fire extinguishers. Mr Carl F. Shorey. secretary of the contest committee, sealed a barograph and affixed it to Captain Lindbergh’s aeroplane. If he lands en route the barograph will tell its tale. At 7.40 Captain Lindbergh stowed the last, of his provisions—“a couple of sandwiches and two bottles of water,” he jokingly explained. With a wishbone in his pocket for luck he climbed into the wicker chair in the little cockpit. The motor droned for ten minutes. Commander Byrd ran to the runway and shouted, “ Gcod luck, old man! I’ll see you in Paris.” Captain Lindbergh grinned in reply. The blocks were knocked from the wheels. The aeroplane started slowly and heavily. With its weight of 51501 b it sank into the soft muddy turf. With characteristic daring Captain Lindbergh was reversing customary practice, as the runway is planned for a take-off from east to west, which, if the ’plane fails to rise, allows it to 1 taxi calmly into Curtiss Field.

» But he taxied from west to east, ■ facing a certain crash into telegraph poles and buildings if the machine refused to rise. His speed increased. “The Spirit of St Louis ” lunged, swayed and staggered into the air a 1 few feet and then went down again ' solidly into the mud. Again it rose. Again it sank into the mud. . With no space to spare, it rose the third time ten feet higher. Captain Lindbergh just cleared the telegraph poles and flew away towards his unknown fate. Slowly, heaving a sigh of relief, the crowd dispersed and the ambulance and the fire extinguishers were moved from the scene. Five camera ’planes shot after Captain Lindbergh into the mist. One of them followed him beyond the tip of Long Island. It returned, reporting that the “Kid Flier” was exceeding 1(H) miles an hour, a remarkable speed considering his load. The report added: "His motor was hitting perfectlv when he left us." Commander Byrd, as his young rival disappeared, said : “I think the chances are 3 to 1 in his favour. He has, of course, ability and nerve. He has got more than enough petrol and his weather outlook is good.”