In an era when politicians and pop stars have followings that reach into the millions (and this is seen as a normal part of American culture), it’s hard to imagine a time before adoring the famous was a staple of our collective lives. But until May 20, 1927, and the fame of aviator Charles Lindbergh spread from coast to coast and across the western world, the ‘cult of personality’ was an unknown phrase in the American vocabulary.
Lindbergh was born in 1902 in Michigan and raised on a small farm. His father was a politician who served in congress between 1907 and 1917. Lindbergh was a fan of flying from childhood and quit college after two years to become a stunt flyer. In 1924, he joined the army and graduated a year later as an expert flyer admired by his peers and superiors alike. Three years later he would complete the first successful solo flight between New York and Paris in the now famous ‘Spirit of St. Louis.’
Deciding to call his plane ‘the Spirit of St. Louis’ was Lindbergh’s way of saying thank you to the people in Missouri who had financed the plane and his flight. Lindbergh took only the bare necessities on the flight with him: a razor, letters of introduction, and a passport.
The flight was a total of 3, 610 miles taking off from Roosevelt Field in New York and landing at Le Bourget airport in Paris, France. This was not the first time the flight had been attempted. It was the first time it had been accomplished without fatalities or pain. Six pilots had lost their lives and three had been seriously injured attempting the solo flight between continents.
The decision to fly this particular route was obviously not unique to Lindbergh. In fact, there was a monetary reward of $25,000 known as the ‘Raymond Orteig Prize’ for completing the flight. Orteig was a French hotelier living in New York and he first offered the prize for the first solo flight between New York and Paris in 1919.
It took eight years for the Orteig prize to be awarded, but the 25 year old American certainly deserved his check. Lindbergh did not sleep, eat or leave his seat for the 33.5 hours it took to cross the Atlantic. A crowd of 100,000 met him in Paris when he landed. Leaving the cockpit and addressing the Parisian crowd, this historic flyer simply stated: “I’m Charles A. Lindbergh.”
And indeed he was. ‘Lucky Lindy,’ the ‘Lone Eagle,’ a.k.a. Mr. Lindbergh was an overnight success, capturing headlines across the west and being named Time magazine’s man of the year. The president himself sent a plane to Paris to pick up Lindbergh and bring home the American hero. An American icon, comparable to such figures as Davy Crockett and General Washington, Lindbergh offered inspiration to man, woman and child alike just when America was in need of a little inspiration.
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1927 was a year of political scandal, mobsters and devastating weather. Lindbergh was not the first aviator to complete amazing feats; indeed both the Wright brothers and the long lost Amelia Earhart had already made headlines. But May of 1927 was a disappointing time for Americans and Lindbergh offered inspiration, adventure and hope for a people looking for something or someone to believe in. The Spirit of St. Louis was a symbol of the American spirit and remains as testament to all one determined individual can achieve. |
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Tags: 1927, Amelia Earhart, Aviation, Charles Lindbergh, cult of personality, Davy Crockett, Earhart, George Washington, Le Bourget airport, Lone Eagle, Lucky Lindy, May 20, New York, New York to Paris, Orteig, Paris, Raymond Orteig Prize, Roosevelt Field airport, Spirit of St. Louis, Time Magazine Man of the Year, Washington

We’ve all heard the longstanding tales of alligators running rampant in the sewers of New York City. The logic goes that baby gators were purchased as pets, either in local pet stores or by tourists vacationing in Florida. After quickly outgrowing the confines of their owners’ apartments, they were flushed down toilets and into the sewer system, where they soon bred and infested the labyrinthine network of pipes tunnels beneath Manhattan.
The sewer component first entered into the myth three years later, after a gang of teenage boys spotted a moving shape beneath them as they shoveled snow into an open manhole cover near the Harlem River. Using a makeshift lasso, they were able to snag the animal’s neck and haul it to surface – where they quickly realized they caught a live alligator. The gator lunged and, in response, the boys beat it to death with their shovels. After dragging the carcass to nearby garage, it was determined that the beast weighed 125 pounds and measured some seven-and-a-half feet in length.
When no gators turned up, May decided to take a look for himself. Upon visiting an undisclosed location somewhere in the five boroughs, he stumbled upon a so-called “colony” of the creatures – which measured roughly two feet apiece — living in the sewers’ shallow waters. Highly distressed by his discovery, May claimed that he had all of the animals exterminated, though no corroborating account as ever emerged to verify his story.





