Dewey, Lindbergh

It may be true that heroes are made, not born. But it is a fact that many a hero has unmade himself.

Inhabitants of France, Belgium, England and the U. S., heaping glory, poetry and publicity upon 25-year-old Captain Charles Augustus Lindbergh, found him so natural and so tactful that they predicted he would never unmake his fame. Was not the same immortality predicted for 61-year-old Admiral George Dewey in 1898?

Dewey. Surely, it was a modest, a natural, a lovable, a well-pre-pared man who uttered the command : "You may fire when ready, Gridley." For seven days, the U. S. waited for authentic news of this man's victory. For 16 months, the U. S. waited for its idol to come home and receive in person his righteous adulation. Some say that his welcome was the beginning of the spectacle era in the U. S.a wood and plaster triumphal arch in Manhattan (reputed to be "a labor of love"), massed flag waving and horn blowing, loving cups, a sword of honor from President McKinley, so much handshaking that the idol's hand became painfully swollen.

Then Admiral Dewey began to make what the public called "mis-takes." When questioned about the home which popular subscription was building for him in Washington, he said that he wanted only a modest house with a small dining-room seating 18 persons. . . . At 62, he married and deeded the house to his wife. The public became as spiteful as a cast-off mistress. . . . The public was ready to jeer in 1900 when Admiral Dewey responded to pressure and naively announced that he was willing to run for President. Said he: "Since studying this subject, I am convinced that the office of the President is not such a very difficult one to fill. . . . Should I be chosen for this exalted position, I would execute the laws of Congress as faithfully as I have always executed the orders of my superiors. . . . I think I have said enough at this time, and possibly too much."

Admiral Dewey had not lost the modesty and sincerity of a hero; but the public had turned against him, had found him ridiculous. A typical newspaper headline cried: "Leaders Laugh at Poor Dewey." His boom died. He seldom appeared on front pages until his death. His wood and plaster triumphal arch rotted, was not replaced by marble as originally planned. Today, his Washington house is a dressmaking shop.

Lindbergh. It was a modest, a natural, a lovable, a well-prepared man whom Europe honored laet week, while the U. S. swelled with pride and prepared a homecoming. Unquestionably, Captain Lindbergh is a more stimulating hero than Admiral Dewey ever was. He conquered alone-with only his monoplane; he had no Gridley, no escorting fleet.

At Paris. President Gaston Dou-mergue pinned the cross of the Legion of Honor upon Captain Lindbergh, on the day of the modest remark: "It is much easier to fly from America to Europe than to fly from Europe to America."

The French Chamber of Deputies cheered with gusto when U. S. Ambassador Myron Timothy Herrick introduced Captain Lindbergh as "this new Ambassador of the United States, whom France has so warmly taken to her heart."*

Nearly 500,000 men, women and children lined the streets to see the ambassador-conqueror on his way to the city's official reception, on the day when Marshal Ferdinand Foch said to him: "Come right next to me and stand very straight, so that the whole world can see-that you are bigger than I am." Captain Lindbergh blushed, crouched.

He climbed into a French fighting plane, a 300-horsepower Nieuport; did loop-the-loops, head-spins, side-drifts, grapevines, fluttering-leaves over Paris, on the day he told French senators: "That [Atlantic] flight of mine has not done anything to advance the cause of civilization. Yet I am not unaware that it marks a date. . . ."

He arose at 6:30 a. m., worked on his own plane Spirit of St. Louis, at Le Bourget airport. Then he left the soil of France, circled the Eiffel Tower twice, flew low over the Arc de Triomphe, dropped a farewell message on the Place de la Concorde. It read: "Goodbye, dear Paris. Ten thousand thanks for your kindness to me."

At Brussels. Having arrived promptly and greeted Albert, King of the Belgians, with: "I have heard much of the famous soldier-king of the Belgians" Captain Lindbergh was decorated by his Majesty with the order of Chevalier of the Royal Order of Leopold. Next day, he flew to London.

At London. More than 100,000 people were waiting for Captain Lindbergh at the Croydon Aerodrome. They broke down police barriers, swarmed on the landing-field as soon as his plane was sighted. He swooped down looking for barren ground, saw none, returned skyward. On the second attempt, his plane touched ground, but was forced to rise again because hero-worshipers insisted on dogging his path. His third attempt was rewarded with a clear field. Before he could climb out of his plane, the sea of the mob surrounded him-bowling over women, leaving the official reception committee stranded in the distance. Finally, the police succeeded in roping off the Spirit of St. Louis, and Captain Lindbergh was carried by automobile to U. S. Ambassador Alanson B. Houghton and Sir Samuel Hoare, British Secretary for Air.

Poetry. The vision of a lone pilot in a grey bird (plane) over the yawning Atlantic caused many people to develop poetic ecstasy. The fruits of more than 200 inspirations reached the New York Times; the New York World reported 2% bushels of verse. But at Le Bourget, shortly after Captain Lindbergh landed a fortnight ago, there was a poet who squatted on the flying field to gain first-hand inspiration-like Francis Scott Key writing the Star Spangled Banner. The squatter was sleek Maurice Rostand, son of the late Edmond Rostand.* The results were disappointing, particularly when translated into English. An excerpt:

And it was a heart lost in the wind

Which braved aloft the salty breeze,

And you lost not a single instant, Son of Evangeline.

And you flew a day and a half

Above the sea, above the earth;

A day and half you did not sleep,

Not even a second.

Frenchmen wished that the father, instead of the son, could have been on the field at Le Bourget.

Darwin's Delight. Arthur Brisbane, Hearstling seer, certainly no poet, found other ways to comment on Captain Lindbergh's flight. One of the aviator's chief regrets was that he had not been able to see a whale. "It is too bad," said Mr. Brisbane, "for Lindbergh, flying low to study spouting whale; the whale studying Lindbergh with its tiny eyes would have been a sight to delight Darwin."

U. S. Honors. When Captain Lindbergh arrives in the U. S., he will find Barnum-scale welcomes wherever he goes-and U. S. railroad executives have offered him free transportation to any point. He will see his picture on U. S. Army recruiting billboards; his name in advertisements* for wrist watches, fountain pens, automobiles, what not. He will discover that the New York Daily News (tabloid) has distributed sepia photographs of him, "ready for framing," to its gum-chewing readers. He will see shopgirls wearing his features on their handbags, his monoplane models on their hats.

He will be asked to journey to the "Summer White House" in the Black Hills of South Dakota, so that President Coolidge may personally bestow upon him the Distinguished Flying Cross. When Congress convenes in December, he will probably be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor.

What to Do? Inhabitants of the U. S. have not been slow to outline Captain Lindbergh's future for him. James Joseph Tunney, fighter, suggests that he make a fortune in cinema or vaudeville, while the making is good. Following this course, Captain Lindbergh could easily put away a nest egg of $1,000,000 within a year. Will Rogers, funnyman and newspaper philosopher, suggests that the U. S. Government give him a life pension and a high position in the aviation service. Others believe that he should glorify the U. S. by new exploits, flights to Australia, to the South Pole, around the world.

Meanwhile, Captain Lindbergh is saying little, waiting until he returns to the U. S. to make his plans. He has, however, denied the report that he will soon attempt a flight to Australia. He may return to the air mail service. He may enter the airplane manufacturing business, perhaps in the Ryan Airlines, Inc., of San Diego, Calif., which-built his monoplane. Said Benjamin F. Mahoney, president of the Ryan company: "Lindbergh flies, but he keeps his feet on the ground."

*The New York Evening Graphic (Bernarr Macfadden's sheetlet) went so far as to suggest that President Coolidge appoint Captain Lindbergh ambassador-at-large to Europe.

*Unquestionably France's most brilliant poet-dramatist, author of Cyrano de Bergerac, L'Aiglon, Chantecler.

*Your chance to meet a glorious ad-venturer," sang out an advertisement of R. H. Macy's department store, Manhattan, last week. The "amazing young man" on exhibition was not, of course, Captain Lindbergh; but was Richard Halliburton, engaged in autographing his athletic travel-book, The Glorious Adventure (TIME, May 30).