“By the time I had spent about a week in France and a short time in Belgium and England, and had opened a few cables from the United States, I found that I did not have much to say about how long I would stay over there.”
Lindbergh paused for the laughter to subside. This point always tickled people greatly.
“So I left Europe and the British Isles with the regret that I had been unable to see either Europe or the British Isles. When I started up the Potomac from the Memphis I decided that I was not so sorry that I had taken the Ambassador’s advice. After spending about an hour in New York I know I am not.”
The parade now formed again and moved up Broadway, through Lafayette Street, to Ninth and over to Fifth. At Madison Square it halted at the Shaft of Eternal Light. The ceremony was touching and impressive. The tall shaft topped by a crystal star, imprisoning light everlasting, was a fitting memorial to the men who gave up their lives in the World War. Lindbergh here laid a wreath in their memory.
Fifth Avenue had been packed with people since morning. It was now mid-afternoon. As in Washington a wave of cheering marked the progress of the car which held the city’s guest of honor.
At St. Patrick’s Cathedral he stopped, got out of his automobile and met Cardinal Hayes.
In Central Park the official city welcome ended amid a gathering estimated at above 300,000 people. Bands were playing and automobile horns added to the din.
Governor Smith of New York was waiting there with his staff on a specially built reviewing stand. He pinned on Lindbergh the State Medal of Honor: adding again to the ever lengthening list of honors. There was again an exchange of speeches met by salvos of applause. A sky writer wrote “Hail Lindy” high in the air. Policemen wrestled with swaying crowds. More than on the avenue it seemed as if the city were concentrated for a Lindbergh it would never forget.
Near five the great demonstration came to an end. For a few hours the center of attraction could escape to the refuge that had been prepared for him and his mother in a private apartment. But this escape was qualified by the fact that it took a large guard to hold in check the many people who sought access to Lindbergh for one reason or another.
At 8:15 p.m. he rode out on Long Island to the beautiful estate of Clarence Mackay, head of the Postal Telegraph Company. The place had been transformed into a fairyland of colored Japanese lanterns, fountains and illuminated shrubbery. Eighty of New York’s most prominent people attended the dinner which was kingly in its appointments. Later several hundred guests came in for dancing.
It would have seemed that this first terrific day might have exhausted the ardor of the city’s welcome. But there followed a kaleidoscopic week that was, if anything, more trying. Not only did Lindbergh move amid a growing chorus of business offers, but his social engagements jammed tighter and tighter as the hours passed. Moreover, his plane was still in Washington, although he was scheduled to fly it to St. Louis for the weekend.
The City of New York gave Lindbergh a dinner of some 4,000 guests at the Hotel Commodore. It was there that Mr. Hughes spoke the following unique tribute:
“When a young man, slim and silent, can hop overnight to Paris and then in the morning telephone his greetings to his mother in Detroit; when millions throughout the length and breadth of this land and over sea through the mysterious waves, which have been taught to obey our command, can listen to the voice of the President of the United States according honors for that achievement, honors which are but a faint reflection of the affection and esteem cherished in the hearts of the countryman of the West who distinguished America by that flight, then indeed is the day that hath no bother; then is the most marvelous day that this old earth has ever known.
“We measure heroes as we do ships by their displacement. Colonel Lindbergh has displaced everything. His displacement is beyond all calculation. He fills all our thought; he has displaced politics, Governor Smith.
“For the time being, he has lifted us into the freer and upper air that is his home. He has displaced everything that is petty; that is sordid; that is vulgar. What is money in the presence of Charles A. Lindbergh?
“What is the pleasure of the idler in the presence of this supreme victor of intelligence and industry? He has driven the sensation mongers out of the temples of our thought. He has kindled anew the fires on the eight ancient altars of that temple. Where are the stories of crime, of divorce, of the triangles that are never equalateral? For the moment we have forgotten. This is the happiest day, the happiest day of all days for America, and as one mind she is now intent upon the noblest and the best. America is picturing to herself youth with the highest aims, with courage unsurpassed; science victorious. Last and not least, motherhood, with her loveliest crown.
“We may have brought peoples together. This flight may have been the messenger of goodwill, but goodwill for its beneficent effects depends upon the character of those who cherish it.
“We are all better men and women because of this exhibition in this flight of our young friend. Our boys and girls have before them a stirring, inspiring vision of real manhood. What a wonderful thing it is to live in a time when science and character join hands to lift up humanity with a vision of its own dignity.
“There is again revealed to us, with a startling suddenness, the inexhaustible resources of our national wealth. From an unspoiled home, with its traditions
