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"Here at the Garden City Hotel less than a mile from Roosevelt Field,

"less than three-quarters of a mile from Roosevelt Field,

"everyone is waiting as they have been now for seven days and nights,

"waiting for the rain to stop.

"Rumors are flying, but the airplanes are not."

Phone that in, will you?

"Eight days ago, Captain Charles A. Lindbergh arrived here

"in his Spirit of St. Louis, ready to take off on the big hop."

"After making the final inspection of his plane, The Spirit of St. Louis,

"Lindy returned to his hotel room early this evening,

"telling reporters he had nothing to say.

"The air mail pilot went directly to his room on the second floor

"where he went to bed.

"His friend, Frank Mahoney of Ryan Aircraft,

"is stationed outside his door, guarding against any disturbance.

"The whole world is waiting breathlessly to learn the outcome of..."

Yes, Frank?

I'm sorry, Slim.

- That music wake you? - No.

- You're not sleeping yet? - No, not yet.

Can I get you anything? You want anything?

No.

It's 1:30. You better knock it off now.

All right, Frank.

"Rio Rita, life is sweeter."

Sweeter. Sweeter than what?

Come on now, go to sleep.

Cut your motor out. Let it rest now.

Maybe I should have spent the night in the hangar.

Maybe that's what's keeping me awake.

Maybe I should be with her out there on Roosevelt Field.

It's raining harder than ever.

Well, don't start worrying about the weather now.

If I take off at dawn, I'll be over the ocean at night.

Well, what's wrong with that?

I've flown hundreds of hours at night. I'm an air mail pilot.

St. Louis to Springfield to Peoria to Chicago.

And the ocean can't be any worse than snow and sleet and fog.

And I didn't have a plane like this one, either,

just an old beat up De Havilland

and no gas to spare

and no lights on the field.

Burt!

- Hello, Burt. - Hello, Slim.

- You all right? - I'm fine.

What have you got out of Peoria?

This feels like three letters and a postcard.

Let's have it.

All right, I think we better top her off.

Slim, don't you think you better put the mail on the train

- and lay over till it clears? - No, you get me a bucket of gas.

Slim, do you really think you ought to go on to Chicago?

Sure, some of this mail has to connect with the Transcontinental.

That's a mean-looking sky. I can smell snow.

Well, suppose you check. See if there's a red light out of Chicago.

Hello, Hochstetter? This is Burt.

Slim's down here, all right.

Any warning from Chicago?

Nothing?

You sure? All right.

- Nothing from Chicago, Slim. - Well, I guess it's still open, then.

- Handle the throttle for me, will you? - Yeah.

How long can you fly these old wrecks and stay alive?

The company ought to get you some real airplanes,

fix up the landing fields, set beacons out along the way.

Good idea. Want to lend us some money?

'Cause the bankers won't. They don't believe in commercial aviation.

What's the answer?

- Switch off? - Switch off.

- Contact. - Contact.

Get the wing, Burt!

That's good, Burt!

- Look out, Slim. - I will.

Peoria Airport. Burt speaking.

Yes, he... He's just taking off.

What?

Hold it, Slim! Hold it! Hold it!

Hold it! Hold it, Slim! Hold it!

There's a blizzard out of Chicago!

They couldn't get through because the lines are down!

Hold it!

- Aviator? - Yes, sir.

- Oh, air mail, huh? - That's right.

Well, flying kind of low, aren't you?

- Weather forced me down. - Oh, so now the sacks go on the train?

They went by mule for a while.

- How much for an air mail letter? - Sixteen cents.

Traveling two-cent style now. Any refund?

- No. - Well, it's a gyp. Not practical.

- We get through 99% of the time. - Not the way I read it.

Newspaper's full of "aero" -planes falling down.

Here. Crash up in New York. Two fellows burned up in it.

Bound to happen, too. Those things are too heavy.

Got to fall down. Nothing to hold them up.

Oh, this is the Fonck plane. Care if I look at this?

Oh, sure.

Well now, I'm asking you, what's holding them up?

- Air. - Air.

Oh, now, I may know nothing about airplanes,

but I do know about things that hold things up. It's my business.

- Oh, I see. - Schultz is the name. O.W. Schultz.

Atlas Suspender Company.

We hold up the pants of the Middle West.

- Have been for the last 75 years. - Is that so?

Now then, can you imagine any of our customers depending on air?

Pretty frightening thought, especially in this kind of weather.

- Here... - Oh, no, keep it.

Oh, thank you.

I think I ought to tell you, Mr. Schultz, I'm a belt man myself.

- Belt? - Yes, sir.

Why, that's sure death.

You keep strangling your gut, you'll get indigestion,

then you'll get appendicitis,

just when you're out in the backwoods somewhere and no doctor near,

so they have to fly in a doctor from the nearest town.

Airplane falls, a doctor gets killed and you, well, you die.

Well, I had my appendix out when I was in high school.

Well, anyway, what I'm trying to say

is the people nowadays are all bughouse.

Belts, air-eo-planes.

Those fellows wanted to fly to Paris, Paris, France, that is.

- It's all the way across the ocean. - Why not?

Well, it's bughouse, just plain bughouse.

They didn't even get 10 feet up.

How come?

Something just went wrong, Mr. Schultz.

Yes. I'll tell you what.

That plane needs more than just a little air to hold it up.

Something like a good pair of suspenders, that's what.

- Hiya, Slim. - Good morning, Louie.

- Good morning, Tall Man. - Jonesy, how are you?

What's for you?

Well, a couple of eggs, over. Toast, no butter.

- Ground loop two and hold the grease gun. - Coming right up.

Operator.

Hello? Get me the long distance operator.

- All right. - Somebody sick?

- Operator. Yes. - Hello, long distance?

I want to find out what it will stand me to call New York City, New York.

$5 for three minutes.

- Yes, sir. - Can I buy a minute and a half?

- No, sir. - Can't, huh? You sure?

- Yes, sir. - Oh, yeah.

All right, I'll go for the whole three.

Get me the Columbia Aircraft Corporation, Woolworth Building, New York City.

- One moment, please. - Yes, ma'am, I'll hold on.

What are you up to, Slim?

Don't worry about the money. Here.

- There you are. - You kind of throwing it around, ain't you?

I want to impress him.

People are always impressed when you call them long distance,

- especially in New York. - $5 worth of impressing?

- I want them to sell me an airplane. - Plane?

Yeah. It's built to fly nonstop a long ways.

Like, for instance, from here in St. Louis to New York.

As a matter of fact, it will fly much farther than that.

If I strip it of everything, add extra tanks,

I figure it will fly three times that far.

One, two, three.

- All the way to that knothole. - What's the knothole?

- Paris. - Paris?

- Operator. - Hello. Hello. Hello!

Is this Columbia Aircraft in New York?

Well, I'd like to speak to one of your officers, please.

Well, I don't care which one.

Maybe you'd better give me an executive officer.

- This is very important. - One moment, please.

Look, miss, I'm talking long distance, miss.

Will...

Shut the radio off, will you?

Hey, shut your face. He's talking long distance!

Hello?

Are you an executive officer?

You're the president!

Well, my name is Charles Lindbergh,

and I'm talking to you from St. Louis, Missouri.

And I represent a group of very prominent businessmen out here,

and we're organizing a New York to Paris flight

and we've been considering your Bellanca.

Oh, sure, sure.

We would expect to buy it, but could you quote us a price on it?

Now all I have to do is find a group of prominent businessmen

with $15,000, that's all.

I've never been much of a talker, I guess,

but for six weeks I've talked more than I ever have in my life.

Some said no, some said maybe, and that's about as far as I've gotten.

Now, Harry Knight, he's a flying student of mine,

has arranged for me to meet some people here in the State National Bank.

Slim.

Slim, this is Harold Bixby of the bank.

Harold's also president of the Chamber of Commerce.

- How do you do, Mr. Bixby? - Nice to know you, Mr. Lindbergh.

This is E. Lansing Ray, publisher of the St. Louis Globe-Democrat.

- How do you do, sir? - How do you do?

- You know Earl Thompson. - How do you do?

- Major Lambert. - Pleasure, Captain.

- Bill Robertson. - Oh, hello, Bill.

- Howdy, Slim. - Sit down, sir.

Thank you, sir.

Over here, Mr. Lindbergh.

- Have a cigar? - Yes, sir. Thank you.

Mr. Lindbergh, we've been going over your outline of the project.

And you say here on page one,

"In order to show the potentialities of flight,

"in order to dramatically demonstrate to the public

"the possibilities of commercial aviation..."

You say, " Aviation is no longer a new-born baby.

"It is in danger of becoming a dwarfed stepchild

"unless capital has enough foresight to..."

You better bite the end off, Slim.

Oh.

Then you say,

"If men of means and vision in St. Louis financed this flight,

"it would help to establish our city as a hub

"of the national airways of the future."

This all makes good sense, Mr. Lindbergh, and we certainly admire your spirit,

but is such a flight feasible? Can it be done?

- Well... - You understand, of course, Mr. Lindbergh,

that before we at the Globe-Democrat can lend our support,

we must make absolutely sure that we're not financing a suicide.

Well, the idea of suicide never crossed my mind,

except maybe when I took this cigar.

- I'm sorry, gentlemen. I don't smoke. - Mr. Lindbergh,

when you talk about this flight stimulating aviation,

in about 1921 a man went over Niagara Falls in a barrel.

I don't remember that this particularly stimulated barrel traffic anywhere.

Oh, but that was a stunt, Mr. Thompson.

Now, I don't propose to sit on a flagpole or swallow goldfish.

I'm not a stunt man. I'm a flyer.

You suggest here flying over the ocean in a land plane.

Wouldn't a sea plane be a surer bet?

If anything happened, you could always set it down on the water.

Yes, but the idea is not to set it down on the water.

The idea is to set it down on Le Bourget Field in Paris.

If we understand you correctly,

this Bellanca you want us to buy is a single wing?

Yes, sir. Less drag, more lift.

- And a single engine? - That's right, sir.

And it can be purchased for $15,000.

Now I have $2,000 of my own I'd like to put in.

You've got $2,070 to be exact. I know your account.

Well, I figure I'd better keep the $70 for that rainy day.

Good idea.

Now, I know $13,000 is a lot of money without any security,

but if we win the Orteig prize...

That's $25,000 for the first nonstop flight between New York and Paris.

So you can get your money back and then some.

Captain Lindbergh, if we should decide to finance this venture of yours,

it wouldn't be to make any money.

It would be done in the same kind of

spirit, isn't that what you called it, Harold?

Spirit.

The same kind of spirit that you yourself have...

- Well, you know what I mean. - Thank you, Major Lambert.

Mr. Lindbergh, I'm in the insurance business.

I'm interested in percentages.

Is a single-engine plane a good idea?

Wouldn't a three-engine plane be safer?

I mean, in case one of the engines conked out?

Well, of course, there's always the danger of an engine quitting,

but with three engines, you're just multiplying the danger by three.

You want to go it alone. No navigator, no co-pilot?

- Absolutely. - How long would the flight take?

Well, that depends on the winds. I would say around 40 hours.

Forty hours?

One man alone at the controls of an airplane for almost two days and nights?

Well, now, say I took a co-pilot or a navigator,

say the man weighed 150 pounds.

That's equal to the weight of enough gasoline to go 200 miles.

I'd take the 200 miles any day.

Captain Lindbergh, I've crossed the Atlantic quite a few times,

by boat, of course.

Most of the time, you can't see the end of your cigar.

Fog, fog, fog.

I'm used to it. In the air mail we have to fly through soup a lot of the time,

especially in winter. Gets to be thick as potato soup.

I wouldn't worry about Slim.

He can fly through any kind of soup and a main course and dessert, too.

Just as long as it's not an upside-down cake.

Well, gentlemen, I think I'd better... I thank you a lot for the time.

Mr. Lindbergh, have you got a name for this plane yet?

A name? No, sir, not yet.

How would this look, gentlemen?

I mean, if we went through with it.

The Spirit of St. Louis. I like that fine.

I mean, I'd like it if you went through with it.

Yeah, that'd look good on her when we landed in Paris.

Wouldn't look so good if you had to ditch her in the ocean.

I can make it across all right.

What makes you so sure you can make it?

Well, Mr. Bixby, when I was a kid and the smallest in my class,

I made up my mind that I was gonna be 6'3" tall.

And I made it, with a half an inch to spare.

I'm here to see the president of the corporation.

- Well, he's very busy. - Well, he's expecting me.

I come from St. Louis, Missouri.

I told him I'd come here directly as soon as I got into town.

- What is your name? - Yes. Here's my card.

Are you sure you're in the right office?

Yes, ma'am. I've called him several times long distance.

Wait.

This way, please.

Thank you.

How do you do, sir? I came right over from the station.

- I haven't checked into my hotel yet. - Yeah, what's this all about?

Well, sir, it's about the purchase of the Bellanca. You quoted us a price.

I quoted you a price, Mr. Schultz?

Yes, sir, you did.

Who's Mr. Schultz?

I guess you are. It says here, " O.W. Schultz.

"We hold up the pants of the Middle West."

Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I gave you the wrong card.

I'm Charles Lindbergh.

- Oh, Mr. Lindbergh of St. Louis. - Yes, sir. This...

- Well, sit down. - Thank you.

- Well, were you ready to do business? - I think so.

All the financing is arranged.

I have a cashier's check right here.

$15,000.

- I hope we can close the deal today. - I don't see why not.

- I'll have my lawyer draw up the papers. - Fine.

We're sort of anxious to get the airplane back to St. Louis

so we can start the necessary modifications, install the tanks.

We can take care of that right here in New York.

As to the flight, I haven't made up my mind yet who the pilot should be.

Oh, well, that's all right. We have the pilot.

- You do? - Oh, yes. Yes, sir.

Look, Mr. Lindbergh,

we're perfectly willing to sell you the plane,

but the choice of the pilot must be left to us, of course.

Well, you didn't mention anything about that before.

- I didn't think it needed mentioning. - Well, I think it did.

We just can't have anybody flying our plane over the ocean.

- Well, is the airplane for sale or isn't it? - Only with this condition.

You could have saved me a long train trip.

Just exactly who did you have in mind for the pilot?

- Me. - You?

"Chief Pilot, St. Louis-Chicago Air Mail."

Look, Mr. Lindbergh, I don't mean to belittle you,

but, after all, New York to Paris isn't like dropping off a mail bag

in Keokuk, Iowa...

Well, anybody want to buy a nice outfit for funerals?

- We're not dead yet, Slim. - They wouldn't sell the airplane,

like they told you over the phone.

Course you can go ahead with it if you want to.

Handle all the stuff from New York, pilot and everything.

Here, I think I'd better give you this before I wear it out.

We've been mulling it over, Slim. We don't want another pilot.

Let's get another plane.

There isn't another plane. Not for this job. Not for our budget.

- Why not have one built? - Built?

Do you know how long that would take?

There are a lot of other flyers planning this flight.

Byrd, Chamberlin, Wooster and Davis,

and those two Frenchmen, Nungesser and Coli.

They would all be way out ahead of us.

We've been checking on some aircraft factories.

There's an outfit in San Diego, California, the Ryan company.

- They say they can do it in 90 days or less. - Ryan? I never heard of them.

Well, they talk awful big in their telegram,

like they had a plant 10 miles long and 10,000 workmen.

Maybe they can do it.

Well, I wouldn't like to gamble with your money.

Suppose you went out there and looked them over.

Well, it just seems like throwing another $200 away, though.

Here's your ticket to San Diego.

Well, don't you think we ought to sit down

- and talk this thing out? - Well, you'd better talk fast,

because there's your train.

You mean, this is one for the... Well, I'd better get on.

So long, Slim.

I beg your pardon. Where are the executive offices?

Where are the what?

- I'm looking for the boss. - Oh, Mr. Mahoney.

The office shack is up there,

but that's him over there with the goggles.

Thank you.

- What kind of fish are those? - Sand dabs.

I've never seen those before.

- You from California? - No, sir.

It's a California fish.

- Smell good. - You hungry?

- I wouldn't mind. - Well, here.

- You do build airplanes here, don't you? - Bet your life.

High-wing monoplanes.

They use them on the mail runs up and down the coast.

Perfect record, too.

Things just a little bit quiet right now, huh?

Well, maybe that's because we build them too good.

Real tough planes. Stay up forever.

You looking for a job? You an airplane mechanic?

Oh, I have been.

Well, check around again. Looks like we'll be hiring pretty soon.

- I expect a rush order from St. Louis. - I see.

They want a special design with a 4,000-mile range.

Oh, no. Not too close.

Hey, Don! Come and get it!

This special design, are you equipped to handle anything like that?

You bet your life,

unless they want something fancy,

like a built-in shower or a crystal chandelier.

Well, I suppose not.

Oh, that's the guy that designs them. Donald Hall.

He's our chief engineer. He's the best in the business.

- Lemon or ketchup? - It doesn't matter.

When's the bigwig from St. Louis going to show up?

- Sometime today. - I've made some rough calculations.

Can't use the standard Ryan fuselage, not with that much gas.

Wing will have to be 10 feet lower to lift the load,

we'll have to beef up the landing gear.

Lot of problems.

- Can you build her in 90 days or less? - Bet your life.

Will she fly?

Sure. Bet your life.

I don't exactly like the way you fellows put that.

You see, I'm to be the pilot.

What? Who's he?

I don't know.

- Who are you? - I'm the bigwig from St. Louis.

Oh, for Pete's sake, Frank.

Finally we get a chance at a good order, and you make it fry fish.

Well, how was I to guess?

- I'm terribly sorry. - Well, what are we gonna do?

Well, suppose we eat the sand dabs and get to work.

Hey, Fred's working on the main gas tank now.

You sure you want it in front of the cockpit?

Slim's idea. It's a good one.

Well, if I crash land,

I just don't want to be sandwiched in between the engine and all that gas.

You'll be flying in a blind cockpit. You won't see where you're going.

Well, we got a window on each side, don't you remember?

Well, suppose you let us set this in the instrument panel.

It's a sort of a periscope.

It's just a couple of mirrors in a box. Old man Randolph designed it.

Help you look ahead. Might even help you landing.

- How much it weigh? - Nothing, a couple of pound.

- What do you think, Don? - I think we can stand it.

All right, put it in.

- How about the radio? - No, we've decided against it.

- No radio? - No.

Byrd, Chamberlin, Wooster and Davis, they're all taking radios.

Yes, but they have big planes. We can't afford the weight.

I suppose a sextant is all you need anyway.

No, no, we can't use a sextant.

You can't operate a sextant and fly an airplane at the same time.

- How you gonna navigate? - Dead reckoning.

I take up a compass heading of 65 degrees out of New York,

keep correcting the heading every 100 miles.

What happens over the water?

Over the water I keep watching the waves, see which direction the wind's blowing,

- allow for the drift... - And hope the Lord will do the rest.

No, I never bother the Lord. I'll do the rest.

Might need a little help up there, don't you think?

No, it will only get in the way.

Here are the details for the shock absorbers.

We'd better get going. We're way behind.

Wooster and Davis are ready for their test flights.

Maybe we started too late.

Well, let's keep plugging anyway.

Frank,

we said we could do the job in 90 days or less.

- Let's do it in less. - How much less?

- A lot less. - Look, we can only do so much.

Okay. Let me talk to the men downstairs.

I'll ask them to go on a 24-hour schedule.

There it is!

I understand they've had one of these J-5 whirlwinds on the test block

for as much as 150 consecutive hours.

Well, just 40 consecutive hours would be fine with me.

- Slim... - It's a shame to put it to work right away.

- We ought to hang it on a Christmas tree. - Yeah.

- Slim, have you seen the paper? - No. What's the matter?

Wooster and Davis. They're out of it.

They crack up?

Killed.

Testing with a full load of gas.

All right, men.

April 28th.

Sixty-three days from the afternoon Hall traced the Spirit's outline in the sand.

We hauled the Spirit out to Dutch Flats for her tests.

We're going to shove off this afternoon. We're going to St. Louis, New York,

and then we'll try for the big one.

We, that's me, the plane and you, too,

because, in a sense, we'll be flying the Atlantic together,

all of us. Thank you.

- Yeah! - Yeah!

Let's get a picture. Line up alongside the plane!

Short ones in front. Tall ones in back.

Slim, they want you on the phone.

Well, that will wait. Come on, get in the picture, here.

Well, it's the San Diego newspaper. I think you had better talk to them.

What do they want?

They want to know if you're going to change your plans now.

- Why should I change my plans now? - Because you...

- Look, you talk to them. - What?

- Lindbergh speaking. - Are you changing your plans?

No. My plans are to leave for St. Louis this afternoon.

- Have you heard? - Have I heard what?

We have an AP dispatch here from Paris.

Two French flyers by the name of Nungesser and Coli

took off for New York this morning.

- Nungesser and Coli? - Did you get that?

All right, I have that. Now go on.

What is your reaction

now that Nungesser and Coli are over the Atlantic?

I mean, will you go ahead with your flight just the same?

Well, I don't know.

Of course things look a little different now.

They're experienced flyers and I'm sure they'll make New York on schedule.

- So you plan to go ahead anyway? - Yes.

Thank you for the interview.

Thank you for calling.

It's the first time a plane loaded with that much gas actually got off the ground.

It's a marine design.

I read someplace that Nungesser and Coli

would drop the landing gear on the takeoff.

They'll set her down on the water right in New York Harbor.

Sorry, Slim. Looks like school's out.

Well, let's take the graduation picture anyway.

All right, everybody ready?

Now give me a big smile. Hold it.

Thank you. Now once more.

I shouldn't have gambled the organization's money.

Well, maybe we can sell the Spirit for enough to pay them back,

but I wouldn't like to sell her.

She's not for barnstorming

or taking up passengers on a dull Sunday afternoon.

Oh, we'll find something else, across the Pacific maybe.

Hello, Harry.

Welcome home, Slim. How long did it take you?

Well, 14 hours, 25 minutes.

- Nice work. Nice plane, too. - She sure loves to fly.

Bixby and the others are over in Louie's Shack

listening to the latest on Nungesser and Coli. Come on.

- They in New York now? - No.

- They landed? - No.

- They're overdue, aren't they? - About eight hours.

- Well, any reports? - A couple.

One that they crash-landed somewhere in Newfoundland.

Another that a British ship picked them up at sea.

Nobody really knows.

As the fortieth hour since their takeoff from Paris approached,

it became horrifyingly certain that somewhere out over the North Atlantic

a tragedy was being enacted.

- Hi, Slim. - Was it a lack of gasoline

which brought down the craft of the dauntless Frenchmen

or some other unlooked-for mishap?

A viation experts believe that ice forming on the wings

in the cold, rainy region east of Newfoundland

may have plunged Nungesser and Coli into the windswept sea.

Meanwhile at Roosevelt Field, Long Island, New York,

Clarence Chamberlin and Commander Byrd,

unshaken by the fate which has overtaken the French aces,

are going ahead with their own preparations.

As soon as they're ready, they will launch their planes

on the long mysterious air road to Paris,

which by now has claimed the lives of so many flyers.

There is also a bulletin from San Diego, California,

that an air mail pilot, Charles A. Lindbergh,

has left for New York to enter his plane in the transatlantic race.

- Well, how about some breakfast, Slim? - Okay.

Why don't we drive you into town?

You ought to get some rest. Then we ought to have a long talk.

A long talk? Well, hadn't I better go on to New York

- before Chamberlin and Byrd get away? - Byrd's still waiting.

Chamberlin's plane has been pinned down by a court injunction.

Well, that's a break for us.

I figure just about seven hours to New York. She really goes.

- Come on out. I'll show you the Spirit. - Sit down, Slim.

Well, don't you want to see where your money went?

What's the matter?

Let me ask you something, Slim.

Wouldn't you like to re-examine this whole idea?

- Well, what is there to re-examine? - The odds, Slim.

If somebody were to take out a policy on this flight,

you know what the odds would be.

But I like the odds or I never would have asked you to put up the money.

Forget about the money, Slim. Four men are dead, probably six by now.

We don't wanna add your name to that list.

Well, of course you have the right to call it off if you want to.

It's your baby, Slim. You make the decisions.

All we're trying to do is...

All you're trying to do is give me an easy out.

Well, thank you just the same.

It just doesn't look as if it can be done.

Maybe planes aren't up to it, not yet anyway.

- In 10 years, perhaps, but not now. - But it's got to be tried now!

Over and over again, until it is done! Can't you understand that?

Can't...

No, I guess it's hard for you to understand, isn't it?

You're not professional flyers,

and Nungesser and Coli would understand.

Only an hour left now.

Try... to sink in.

Oh, why doesn't Frank ask them to stop typing?

What are they writing now?

A week ago they didn't know I was alive,

and now they have me born in four different states.

Suddenly, I'm Lucky Charlie. I'm the Lone Eagle.

I'm the Flying Fool.

I hope the weather boys know what they're talking about.

Maybe it will clear.

Now don't start worrying about the weather again.

No, no, I won't take a toothbrush along. I'll buy one in Paris.

No razor, no extra shirt.

No unnecessary weight, even though it's just a pound.

It's a pound less to lift out of the mud on the runway.

Now if the rain would stop now...

Can we get up enough speed in that mud to go up and over?

Am I asking too much of her?

A little bit of steel and wood and canvas

to hoist 5,000 pounds high enough, soon enough?

Oh, go to sleep.

Soak your wrists in warm water. Count sheep.

Count the morning glories on the wall. Go to sleep.

"Dear Slim, you might put this St. Christopher in your flying suit.

"He helps wayfarers across bridgeless waters.

"Father Hussman."

Father Hussman.

Oh, you were such a bad flyer.

I gave you 20 lessons and you never learned anything.

You were the worst student I ever had.

All right, Father, now let's try another landing.

No, no. Don't turn yet, now, you're too high. Just level it out.

Pick the wing up. Pick the right... Where are you going?

Pick the wing up! All right, now fly straight and level.

You're diving, Father!

Pick the nose up. Fly right straight and level.

There we are.

Pick the right wing up. Pick the right wing up, Father!

No, you're diving again now. Pull the nose up!

You see those trees?

The trees, do you see them?

Well, not so bad, eh? I guess I'm getting the hang of it.

No, Father, you're not and you never will.

You've got no coordination, no feeling for the airplane.

- You're wasting your money. - I don't want to be a stunt flyer.

I just want to learn enough to be able to go up there once in a while.

Well, why? You wanna buzz your congregation?

I got a lot of reasons.

For instance, when I'm up there, I feel a bit closer to God.

I'd say you're closer to God when you're landing.

Nonsense! I can land fine!

I've got a special prayer for landings.

Don't you think you need a little more than that?

I also have a prayer for takeoffs,

for engine trouble, for rough air, all kinds of prayers.

Would you like to hear the one for landings? It's out of the Psalms.

No, thank you, Father.

Slim, don't you ever pray?

Well, I don't have to, I know how to land.

Let me ask you something.

How come I never see you around the church?

- You don't believe? - Well, yes, I believe.

I believe in an instrument panel, a pressure gauge, a compass,

things I can see and touch. I can't touch God.

You're not supposed to. He touches you.

Well, now, tell me, Father.

Now suppose you were up in this airplane all alone

and you stalled it and you fell into a spin.

You were dropping like a rock,

and you believe he'd help you out of it?

I can't say yes or no, but he'd know I was falling.

- What's the matter, Slim? It's not time yet. - Oh, it's close enough.

- Anything new from the field? - Nothing.

We have a car downstairs to drive you.

- Did you get any sleep? - I'm all right.

- You taking this suitcase? - I'm not gonna take anything, Frank.

Not even a toothbrush, just what I wear.

What about your money and the wristwatch and this St. Christopher?

Well, you put all that stuff away and keep it for me, will you?

Yeah, you bet your life.

- Slim, suppose... - Suppose what?

Nothing.

Oh, well, in that case, send the stuff to my mother.

She lives in Detroit.

Oh, you checking out, Mr. Lindbergh?

- Looks like. - I'll take care of the bill.

Was there any forwarding address if there's mail?

Well, general delivery, Paris, I guess.

- You better hold it for a few days. - Have you got the sandwiches ready?

Yes.

- Good luck, Mr. Lindbergh. - Thank you.

Open.

- Hey, Lindbergh! - Give us a minute, Charlie!

Will you be searching for Nungesser and Coli?

Hey, are you really hopping off...

- Two canteens of water. - Check.

- Log book. - Check.

- Charts. - Check.

- One knife. - Check.

- One seat cushion. - Check.

- One Armbrust cup. - Check.

- One hacksaw blade. - Check.

- Two flashlights. - Check.

- One box of ammonia ampoules. - Check.

- Two emergency flares. - Check.

I wish you'd let us put in a parachute, Slim.

Oh, it's too heavy. Twenty pounds, that's almost four gallons of gasoline.

- Any word from the other planes? - Not a peep from either camp.

I guess they're waiting for the sun to show.

What's the latest on the weather?

Just called the weather bureau. They think there's still a chance.

Well, call them again, will you?

I'd hate to wear my galoshes.

- Oh, too heavy. - Check.

How did she sound when you ran her up?

Checked both mags at 1650. Smooth as silk.

- Fine. - Three hundred gallons, Mr. Lindbergh.

That's good. We'll top her off when we get her out on the runway.

Want to see where I put the magnetic compass?

It's the best spot I could find for it. It'll swing less in rough air,

but you're gonna have to read it in a mirror.

I got that from the office, but it's not right.

No, no, it's too big, too heavy. What you need is a small pocket mirror.

Anybody got a little mirror, about two inches square?

Who's got a little mirror around here?

I have.

Will this do?

It's little, but it's not square.

Well, this will do fine.

How's that?

Well, how am I going to attach it? I can't screw it on.

Stick it on.

Okay.

What's it for?

Well, you see, this is the magnetic compass,

and we had no room to put it over there so he put it right above my head.

So in order to read it, I'll look into your mirror.

- Oh! - Are you sure you can spare it?

- Oh, it's nothing, just five-and-dime. - Well, I want to thank you, anyway.

- Would you let me sit in the driver's seat? - Sure. Sure, get in.

It's smaller than I thought.

- It's awfully bare. - I beg your pardon?

It's so bare.

Yes, I guess it is.

Well, when I get to Paris, I'll put in a rug and maybe some curtains.

You can't even see where you're going. Why don't you cut a hole here?

Oh, well, you couldn't do that. The gasoline would come out.

You see, there's 300 gallons of gasoline up here.

Well, don't you have to look ahead?

Well, I can look forward through this. This is a periscope.

- Like in a submarine, underwater? - Yes, that's right.

Except I hope I'm not going to have to use it that way, I...

- Well, what are all these for? - Well, all these lead to the five tanks.

Now, they're in the fuselage here and in the wing.

I can turn them on and off and control the flow of gasoline

and balance the airplane that way. Understand?

Not really.

I guess I'd better get out of your way.

How long have you been standing out there in the rain?

- All night. - You live in Long Island?

New York?

- Philadelphia. - You came all the way from Philadelphia?

I had to. You needed the mirror.

Just talked to Dr. Kimball at the Weather Bureau.

- He sounds very cautious. - How cautious?

Fog between the Cape and Newfoundland, lifting slowly.

Clearing all along the European coast.

It's the weather over the Atlantic that's got him worried.

He'd feel better if you waited until noon.

Yeah.

Slim, why don't you postpone it for another 24 hours?

You'd be sure about the weather then.

- Give you a chance to sleep some, too. - Yeah.

Except in another 24 hours,

I might be flying in Chamberlin's prop wash.

That's up to you, Slim.

Let's roll her out.

Clear it out, here. Come on. Move back, folks. Clear back.

I don't like the looks of that runway, Slim.

You think you can hold her straight through those washouts?

- Think you can lift her? - I can if I can get up enough speed.

I wish we'd tested her with this much weight

and under these conditions.

Frank, let's drive down the runway to where that stick is.

What's the matter, Slim?

I guess the wind blew away my takeoff marker.

- Is this the spot? - Yes, I measured it.

- Do you have a handkerchief? - Yeah.

Well, what happens if you don't get off the ground by here?

I'll cut the power.

Aren't you slicing it a little thin?

Can you roll her to a stop before you pile up against those trees?

Well, she'll slow down pretty quick in this mush.

Just don't try to lift her beyond the marker. The wind is wrong.

You'll never make it over those wires and trees.

I'll watch it.

Well, I'm not trying to tell you how to fly, Slim.

I know that, Frank.

- She's all topped off, 425 gallons. - Fine.

Don't forget your sandwiches, Slim. There's five of them.

Put them under the seat.

One hard-boiled egg on white, two roast beef and two ham on rye.

- I tried to get you some sand dabs. - No sand dabs, huh?

No sand dabs.

Frank, there's something I ought to tell you.

- I hope you won't get sore. - Of course not, Slim.

Well, those sand dabs of yours are just terrible.

The way you weld them with that acetylene flavor, the...

You ate them.

Well, I thought I'd better. I wanted the airplane on time.

Gas is on. Switch is off.

Contact.

Contact.

Off.

Off.

Contact.

Contact.

Hey, it's 30 revolutions low. It's 30 revolutions low.

- What do you make of it, damp air? - That's all. Nothing mechanical.

Well, I guess I might as well go.

Pull the chocks!

Cut it, Slim!

Two hours.

Almost 200 miles gone.

Got a light tail wind, that helps.

If we can hold this schedule,

in the 38th hour we'll land in Paris.

Well, where did you come from?

Where do you think you're going?

Go on. Go on, out.

Go on. You know the rules.

No co-pilots, no excess baggage.

Now don't make any trouble. This airplane's going all the way to Paris.

Just how much extra weight would you be, anyway?

I suppose that depends.

If you're sitting in a plane, that's extra weight.

But if you're flying around inside a flying plane,

would that add to the load?

Very interesting problem, isn't it?

Where are you?

Hey, get away from those sandwiches. We can't eat yet.

Have to switch tanks again.

I must do this every hour.

What's the matter, water scare you?

Oh, this isn't the real thing yet.

Still plenty of land ahead.

Nova Scotia, Newfoundland.

Only four hours gone and I'm exhausted.

No, no, it's not four hours. It's 28 hours since I've had any sleep.

Why did I let last night go to waste in that hotel room on Long Island?

I'd settle for just one hour in that bed right now.

No, no, 15 minutes.

Well, it wouldn't have to be a bed. I'd sleep on the floor.

I always could sleep any place anytime.

When I was a kid in Little Falls, Minnesota,

I'd sleep on the railroad tracks right beside the farm

waiting for the catfish to bite.

Or when I was a flying cadet at Brooks Field, Texas.

The days were too long, and the bunks were too short.

Or back in the barnstorming days, sleeping under the wing of my old Jenny

by a windmill that pumped sweet water out of a Kansas prairie.

I wasn't really asleep.

I was just practicing for when we get to Paris.

If we get to Paris.

Nova Scotia.

No, I won't have to turn back here.

It's as clear as the sun. Open sky.

Open sky to Newfoundland.

Six miles off course.

That's six miles after 200 miles of water.

If I held this margin of error,

how far off course would I be when I hit Ireland?

Let's see, it's 1,900 miles across the Atlantic.

So that would... I'd be 60 miles off at Ireland.

Well, I'll settle for that.

And nothing too wrong with this dead reckoning navigation,

except maybe the name.

Hey!

Hey!

I had a motorcycle once. Harley-Davidson, blue.

Won a couple races with her, too.

I had her for about a year and a half and then drove her down to Georgia.

Traded her in on an airplane.

You looking for something, son?

Are you the man to see about surplus army planes?

- Yeah, I sell them. - Well, I'm interested.

- Flyer? - Yes, sir.

Pilot friend of mine back in Nebraska,

he said you have some real good buys here.

Nebraska, eh? Sure, we got some Jennies pretty cheap.

That one's the best of the lot.

Don't look like much, engine's fine.

Just wind her up and take her off.

- How much? - $500. Cheap enough.

Well, what would you say to $400, and I'll throw in the motorcycle?

Wouldn't think much of that, son.

$450 and the motorcycle.

No, that's too steep for me.

Might go for $425.

$440. The gas tank's full.

All right.

All right, it's a deal.

- I'll just... - Now there's $400.

You want $20, $20. $40.

Ever flown a Jenny?

Oh, a plane's a plane. You fly one, you can fly them all.

Real hot pilot, eh?

Wanna pull her through for me?

Crank her, Pete.

Keep her nose down on the turns.

She's only got 90 horsepower.

Switch is off.

- Contact. - Contact.

Pete!

Now just a danged minute, you!

Hey!

- You plumb gone nutty in the head? - How's that?

- What are you trying to do? - I'm trying to get off the ground.

Well, that's a real fancy takeoff technique you got!

Well, the air's a little rough today.

Yeah, regular storm conditions.

Oh, don't worry. I'll get off this time.

Say, son, where have you been flying?

- Oh, around. - Around what?

Around Lincoln Field, Nebraska.

A very good flying instructor up there, he said I was his best student.

I'd hate to see the rest of the class.

Well, there wasn't any class. I was the only student.

That instructor, did he ever solo you?

No, not exactly. You see, he just has one airplane,

and he's afraid I'd crack it up, so now I'm gonna solo myself.

Look, son, here's your money back. You stick to riding that leaky motorcycle.

It's closer to the ground, son.

No, I bought the airplane, I'm gonna fly it.

- No, no. - Don't worry.

I'll practice a little more before heading west.

You better practice in that direction.

That's where the hospital is, and the undertaker!

No wind. Not a breath of air on those lakes.

What a strange wilderness.

Bad country for a forced landing.

6:00 p.m.

Eleven hours from New York.

A hundred miles from St. John's.

Then the North Atlantic.

Nungesser and Coli might have hit one of these peaks.

And if they did they'll never be found, not down there.

Fog.

One hour from St. John's and fog!

Well, maybe it's only a patch hanging to the mountains.

This is no patch.

This is the end of the flight if we can't find open sky.

I can't start out across 1,900 miles of sea without a checkpoint for the compass.

St. John's is the key bearing to Ireland.

Almost 7:00.

St. John's is down there.

Not too far ahead, if we're on course.

Now there might be a ceiling to this stuff.

Take a chance and let down?

That chart doesn't tell me how high the mountains are here.

How deep can I go without wrapping us around a peak?

Well, there's one way to find out.

St. John's!

Come on over here and look at this.

Nineteen hundred miles to Ireland.

No ships, no islands, all liquid.

You sure you don't want to get off here,

find yourself a nice garbage can down in St. John's?

Well, I don't blame you. So long.

Wind from the northwest, blowing about 30 miles an hour.

I'll angle 10 degrees north to compensate for drift.

This has got to be my last drift estimate until dawn.

Oil pressure, 59 and steady. Fuel pressure, 3.5 and steady.

Indicated air speed, 90 miles an hour. Altitude, 300 feet.

Oh, you'd better get her up higher, much higher. Play it safe.

If anything happened, you could cling to the sky a little longer.

You could still turn around, nurse her back close to land before you ditch.

If what happened?

"Why, folks, this machine here is completely safe

"and absolutely dependable. Thousands of flights without a mishap. "

Wasn't that the spiel you had, barnstorming the old Jenny?

All right, folks, who wants to be the first one up there?

Who wants to defy gravity, folks?

Who wants to see his farm like a bird sees it?

Who wants to kiss his girl in the clouds? How about that?

I tell you, folks,

this machine here is absolutely safe and completely dependable.

It's made thousands of flights without one single mishap!

Who here is gonna be the first to go in it?

Hey, dad! You, how about you?

How about 10 long minutes for $5?

No siree bob, not me.

I ain't going up in no crazy windmill.

I'll throw in a couple of loop-the-loops.

Yeah, turn her upside down and dump me out.

Impossible for you to fall out. The safety belt holds you in, dad.

What if the safety belt busted? Then what?

Then I'll give you my parachute,

and it'll float you down like a great, big umbrella.

Well, what if she didn't open up, the big umbrella? Then what?

I'm glad you brought it up, dad, because if anything like that happens,

you get double your money back!

And we didn't always travel alone.

Meet another gypsy in the sky. That's the way I met Bud Gurney.

Give him a wave,

invite him to dinner.

Guy I know in Abilene, Texas, is making up a circus.

How about the two of us latching on?

- A circus? - Yeah, a flying circus.

He's looking for stunt pilots, wing walkers, parachute jumpers.

I've done some jumping. No wing walking, though.

I'll teach you.

He'll guarantee us about eight weeks of county fair dates.

Ought to be pretty good money.

I sure could use the money.

That Jenny of mine needs a new set of tires, valve job, too.

Boy, will my old man ever have a fit

when he finds out I've joined up with a flying circus.

He keeps telling me I'm a bum.

My old man's in the construction business in Wichita, Kansas.

He wants me to come home and go to work for him.

Says I come from respectable people,

that he runs a respectable business

and that his only son is a bum.

So I'm a bum.

You come from "respectable people"?

Oh, my father was a lawyer in Minnesota,

and then he was in Congress for 10 years.

Congressman, huh?

That's not for me.

- You can't do it from a plane. - No.

- My old man says flying is for the birds. - Is that what he said?

And that if God meant us to fly,

he would have made our bones as hollow as our heads.

Maybe there is something wrong with us.

Well, maybe.

What is it?

What makes us go up there?

Oh...

You tell me.

Sixteenth hour.

Seventeen hundred miles back into yesterday, back to New York.

Here there's nothing, nothing but the sound of the engine.

It's turning 1,625 revolutions a minute.

That's more than 800 explosions every minute in every cylinder.

How many explosions in nine cylinders?

That's 7,000 a minute.

That's almost half a million an hour.

There's 20 hours to go,

ten million explosions.

Ten million blasts of white-hot flame

against red-hot metal before I land.

How can an engine stand such torture?

What if a cylinder cracks,

a valve stuck, a bearing burned out?

I only have to make it through this night.

Tomorrow will take care of itself.

What's this?

It looks like a great big white ship.

A ship with sails.

Oh, it can't be. A windjammer in 1927?

It looks like a ghost ship.

It isn't, though.

It's there.

What... Oh, it's an iceberg!

Of course, that's what it is.

Why, I never thought of icebergs. I should have been looking for them

this close to the Arctic Circle. And look at the size of it!

It's almost big enough to land on.

Hey, that's an idea, icebergs for landing fields.

Why, if it was flat enough I could just slip her right down

and cut the engine

and stop and go to sleep.

How long's it been now?

Forty hours, I guess.

Well, we'd never pass inspection today,

not at Brooks Field.

Do you see anything on my nose, Bibbs?

Yes, sir.

- Any idea what it is? - Oil, sir.

Well, Bibbs, what are we going to do about it?

What do you suggest, Bibbs?

- I suggest you wipe your nose, sir. - You do, eh?

All right, you men, I'll give it to you again!

Some of you seem to think that these airplanes are garbage cans.

You don't take care of them!

Love them, scrub them, shine them, keep them in shape!

A dirty airplane makes for a sloppy pilot,

and I'm not gonna have any sloppy pilots

graduating from this here field!

You!

You can't set that thing down here. Don't you know what this field is?

- This is Brooks Field, isn't it, sir? - It's an army field! So get out of here!

- I'm assigned here as a flying cadet, sir. - Oh, no.

I'm sorry, sir.

How do you think I feel?

I took my exams at Chanute Field in Illinois, sir.

Brittle, isn't she?

These papers say you're assigned here.

Okay, but I will not tolerate that filthy crate of yours at this air field!

Oh, she's really a very fine little machine, sir.

She flies like a dream and never let me down.

She's filthy! Get her outta here!

All she needs is a coat of paint and a few bolts, honest. She's...

Get her out.

Push her, pull her, tow her, but get her outta here.

Yes, sir.

I beg your pardon, sir, but you have a little something on your nose.

That does it! That does it!

I am a patient man,

but I'll give you exactly 30 seconds

to get that filthy crate of yours out of here.

If you ever bring that mess of junk back to this field,

I'll shoot you personally!

Eighteenth hour.

I've been flying for 18 hours.

Ice!

The Spirit can't fly with ice on her wings!

How long have we been icing?

It's grabbing on fast, and it's too fast.

Why didn't I catch this sooner?

Come on, now climb outta this stuff before we get too heavy.

You're stalling. You're stalling!

Now turn around. Get out of here.

Get back to warmer air.

There it is, ice smothering the carburetor. Burn it out.

Backfire it out! Blast the guts out of it!

Well, I can't hold her anymore. We're going in.

Rubber raft, air pump, flares, tank of water.

Where's my knife?

All right, now. Now turn around.

Get back on course.

Something wrong with the earth inductor compass.

It must be frozen up.

Magnetic.

Magnetic's all haywire.

What's happened to everything?

All right, let's fly by the stars.

Find the Big Dipper.

The stars are there, somewhere.

They've always been there.

Climb up and hold onto them.

The tiny fire point above the Dipper, the Polaris.

The main star of the northern pole. Guide on that.

Over my shoulder and we go south.

Ride it above the left wing tip

and our direction will be east again.

When it's faded, I can aim at the dawn.

And the earth inductor compass is steady again.

It's working again, so is the magnetic.

And I'm flying east.

But what does that mean?

I'm flying east, what does that mean?

I wonder how far I wandered off course last night?

Where am I?

I've got to find land, some land,

somewhere, before my gas is gone.

Now get busy. Get to work.

The sleep's crawling out of its box again, now put it back.

Keep the lid on.

Force yourself to think. Now, let's see now,

how far might Europe be?

It's the 25th hour

and St. John's

was 11 and one quarter hours from New York.

Now, I'm 25 hours from New York.

So 11 from 25.

Twice 11 is 22,

then 11 and 14 make 25.

Now, what do I want with 25? What was I gonna use that for?

Oh, I'll have to start all over again.

Now...

Oh, in a minute or two.

After my mind's clear.

Let's see.

In the afternoon...

I'll figure it all out this afternoon.

That's a seagull!

There's another one there, but...

Well, here? We're hours from land. How could...

Ships, then.

Gulls follow ships.

And if they get... If I could get a...

Look, there's something ahead there.

Those are fishing boats!

Which way to Ireland?

Which way to Ireland?

Why, why didn't he answer?

He could hear me. I've...

I've made myself heard from airplanes before.

Maybe he's never seen an airplane before.

Maybe he doesn't speak English.

Well, I'm not anywhere near Ireland or anywhere.

I might not be any...

I'm too far south.

There's land!

It is land!

It is land!

That's no phantom. That's earth.

That's green, living earth.

That's... No, no, wait a minute.

Now just a... Wait a minute here. That's not possible.

It's only the 28th hour.

But a tail wind would account for my being early, but how could I...

I've been off course.

It's earth all right,

but what earth? Where?

Where am I?

I could be anywhere from Iceland to the coast of Africa.

It could be Spain or Portugal.

It could be Dingle Bay.

That point to the north there.

The shape's right.

Those islands off to the right there,

that fits.

That lines up right.

It is!

It's Dingle Bay!

It's Ireland!

Hey!

Hey!

That's Plymouth, that's the Pilgrims' town.

Why, I flew over Plymouth Rock right outside Boston.

When did I do that?

Why, yesterday.

Well! A hundred and eighteen miles across the channel to Cherbourg.

A hundred and eighteen miles.

Well, what's a little channel? I've just flown across the Atlantic Ocean.

I'll add a little more power here.

Now let's have some lunch.

Frank Mahoney.

Coast of France.

There's Cherbourg.

Now, turn northeast along the coast, find the mouth of the Seine River.

There it is.

All right, I'll fly right up the river to Paris.

It's 98 miles, one more hour.

No, no, make it 58 minutes, 58 minutes.

Better wash my face, clean up a little.

Now just hold on for one more hour, yeah, one more hour.

Well, no, no, no, that's the wrong tank!

Switch to one with some gas in it!

There it is.

There it is!

Le Bourget.

Now where's Le Bourget?

I'm right in the heart of the city. It should be to the northeast.

Better check the map.

What's happening to me?

What's happening to me? My eyes, I can hardly see.

I've been flying this airplane for over 33 hours.

I haven't slept for three days. No, I can't let it catch up to me now.

There, that must be Le Bourget, must be.

What are all those lights?

I've got to be sure.

Well, there's only one way to find out.

I'll drop down. Now, careful, now. Careful.

I'm as low as I dare go.

Those lights, what are...

What are all these lights? Is it a carnival or a circus?

What are all these lights?

I'd better come in over the hangars.

Stop her short of the lights

and don't roll into the dark there. You don't know what's there.

Now quarter turn.

Quarter. Make the approach.

Pull a turn. Not yet.

Hold it now, hold it.

No, now you're in line. Now throttle back.

Don't stall it! Now don't... What's the matter?

What's the matter, have you forgotten how to land a plane?

You've got... I've got no feel. I can't feel the airplane.

What... No, you're diving.

You're diving. Pull upward, pull up. Gun it. Gun it. Now straighten out.

Straighten, you're too high. You're too fast. Slip it. Slip it.

More. More. Kick right rudder.

Kick, I'm... I'm going in.

I'm going to tear this up.

I'm...

What was your landing prayer, Father Hussman?

What, what did you say?

Oh, God, help me.

Lindbergh!

Lindbergh!

Lindbergh! Lindbergh!

Lindbergh! Lindbergh!

- They're tearing up my airplane! - Non, non, non.

- This way. - They are taking it to the hangar.

Lindbergh!

Lindbergh!

Lindbergh!

Lindbergh!

Lindbergh!

Lindbergh!

There were 200,000 people there that night

and when we came back home, there were four million people waiting.

English

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