National Affairs: The Marvel Child

Tegucigalpa, Honduras. Charles Augustus Lindbergh entered the reception hall. The crowd of stiffly dressed, excited diplomats caught their breaths as President Miguel Paz Barahona motioned him to the presidential chair. The U. S. youth, unsurprised, sat gravely down. Speeches. Hondurans coined for him a new nickname, “The Marvel Child.” He was presented with a wafer thin watch hidden inside a U. S. $20 gold piece. In the street an unidentified citizen rushed excitedly through his escort, seized him firmly; lifted him high; screaming “The greatest man on earth.” Wnen native maidens rushed forward at Toncontin Field the U. S. youth hopped hurriedly into the cockpit of The Spirit of St. Louis, headed for Nicaragua.

Managua, Nicaragua. The good will landing of the air ambassador had been somewhat marred in the world’s eyes by the death of certain U. S. Marines who were bent on armed enforcement of U. S. decrees in Nicaragua. Col. Lindbergh detoured 30 miles to avoid the battleground. He dropped from the sky into a thunderstorm of welcome. A huge banner billowed out the words “Envoy of Peace and Good Will from Coolidge.” An excited restauranteur sprinkled champagne in the street over which he was to pass. National Holiday was declared. Speeches. Eight hundred native school children held a “sing song” for him in front of the U. S. Legation. He made one of his shortest speeches: “I thank you for the reception accorded me.” No references were made in the adjectivally enthusiastic press to the recent fatal fighting between natives and U. S. Marines.

San Jose, Costa Rica. For two weeks, grunting laborers worked at Sabana, normally a cattle pasture for the poorest farmers, smoothing it out for Col. Lindbergh’s landing wheels. A special stamp issue was prepared; the government decreed free railway rides for all who wished to welcome the flyer. President Ricardo Jiminez described him as “created expressly by the Supreme Power for marvelous flights . . . exalts the airplane and consecrates it anew.” He hovered over Sabana, swooped three times and circled; finally dropped a note that he could not land until police cleared the pasture. They did. The Spirit of St. Louis was trundled into a specially built barbed wire cage. Speeches. He attended the New Year’s Ball, postponed from Jan. 1 in his honor. By official decree the champagne tax was removed, slicing its price to $2.50 a bottle, guaranteeing one of the gayest nights in Costa Rican chronicles.

Panama. At Campo Lindbergh, the Spirit of St. ‘Louis circled overhead and slid to earth. A national holiday. Speeches. Sefiora Guilermo Garcia de Paredes, daughter of President Chiari, gave birth to a boy that morning. Sentiment recommended she name him after the famed guest from Northern skies.

Itinerary. Originally Col. Lindbergh intended flying from Panama back through air already traversed, over Yuca tan, across the sea to Cuba. He planned to lengthen the route to take a glimpse of South America; to make the trip safer by eliminating a wide sea jump. Bogota was, provisionally, his next stop beyond Panama. The long jump over the mountains was exceptionally dangerous; pressure was brought to bear on him by local aviation experts to forsake it. Col. Lindbergh was undecided. Should he disregard the danger and follow the proposed circle to Cuba the route planned was Panama; Bogota, Colombia; Caracas, Venezuela; over the sea and the Lesser Antilles to the Virgin Islands; Porto Rico; to Santo Domingo; to Port au Prince; to Havana. He plans to make his final port by Jan. 16, in time to add fullest measure of U. S. glamour to the celebration.