Charles 'Slim' Lindbergh struggles to finance and design an airplane that will make his New York to Paris flight the first solo transatlantic crossing.
Biography of Charles Lindbergh from his days of precarious mail runs in aviation's infancy to his design of a small transatlantic plane and the vicissitudes of its takeoff and epochal flight from New York to Paris in 1927.—Paul Emmons <[email protected]>
A Hollywood version of Charles Lindbergh's 1927 transatlantic solo flight from New to Paris. Lindbergh had been a flier in the Army Air Corps and subsequently flew in air shows and delivering the mail by air. He had the $25,000 Orteig prize in his sights as a means of paying for the flight. He travels to California and works with Ryan Aircraft to build a brand new airplane specifically designed for the solo trip. He departed in the early hours of May 20, 1927 arriving at Paris Le Bourget airfield just over 33 hours later and thus making aviation history.—garykmcd
Charles Lindbergh's historic, epic solo trans-Atlantic flight in 1927, the first ever solo crossing of the Atlantic in an airplane. We see how Lindbergh set about organising financiers for his flight, purchasing, designing and building the plane, test flights, (through news on other fliers) the potential fates awaiting him and the flight itself, especially the hardships he had to endure and how he overcame them. We also see, though flashbacks, his earlier life - how he learnt to fly and his first few jobs in aviation.—grantss
On the night before his epic solo flight across the Atlantic, Charles Lindbergh () lies awake in his hotel bed, worrying about his chances. Will he have enough fuel? Will he even be able to take off? Rain falls outside his window, dimming the chances for an early start. Time is short, and Lindbergh knows he must make his attempt soon, because there are others trying to make the same flight.
Tossing and turning, he thinks back to the events that led him here. Once, flying airmail for the Army, his plane failed in a Midwest blizzard, and after bailing out, he had to find his way through the dark and take a train to his destination. Lindbergh was no stranger to the dangers of flight, but his faith in its capabilities was unshakable, and a dream formed in his mind: he wanted to do something remarkable, something that would show people what airplanes could really do.
Back at his home base in St. Louis, he calls a New York aircraft builder to get a quote on a special plane. One that can make a very long distance flight: New York to Paris, non-stop. Lindbergh next sets out to raise the money needed to buy it, and manages to get several St. Louis businessmen interested. They like the idea, and they see its value, but aren't sure about Lindbergh's chances. Is he really sure he can do this? He convinces them that he can, and the name "The Spirit of St. Louis" is coined for the project.
Lindbergh travels to New York to purchase the special plane, but the deal falls through and he returns home, discouraged. Another possible builder is found however, and Lindbergh is off to California to see the small Ryan Aircraft Co. He locates the sleepy little factory and finds the firm's president Frank Mahoney () frying fish with a torch. Amused, Lindbergh makes the deal, and they all get to work. In a few weeks, a little silver plane has taken shape, and Lindbergh takes it up for testing. Satisfied, he heads back to St. Louis, but learns that another team has taken off from Paris and is trying to make it to New York. It seems as if Lindbergh is too late.
Landing in St. Louis, he finds that the Frenchmen never arrived. Their attempt has failed, and they're probably dead. Against further misgivings from his backers, Lindbergh pushes on to New York to make his attempt but finds the weather has turned bad, and he's delayed days waiting for the rain to clear. So now he waits, laying in a hotel bed, unable to sleep.
Finally giving up, he rises and prepares to leave. The weather forecast is improving, and Lindbergh wants to get away at the earliest possible moment. Frank Mahoney has come to help him, and together they drive out to the muddy airfield in the predawn dark, prepare the plane, and get ready to leave. A crowd of spectators has gathered to see Lindbergh, and they all walk out to the runway to watch. A marker has been placed down the runway to mark the point where Lindbergh must become airborne if he is to clear the trees at the end of the runway. The engine is fired, Lindbergh climbs into the cockpit, nervously shakes hands with Mahoney, and says "Well, I might as well go."
Gunning the engine, the ground crew struggle to push the fully loaded plane forward through the mud. Slowly picking up speed, Lindbergh fights to keep going straight, and the ground crew fall back; he's on his own now. Bouncing and sloshing through the mud, the plane struggles to get into the air, but can't get enough speed. The marker flashes past but he's still not airborne, and when it seems far too late Lindbergh manages to lift sluggishly into the air. Scraping the treetops, he avoids an almost certain crash and clears the field. Lindbergh is finally on his way.
Soon he is able to relax and settle into his routine, monitoring fuel and checking the map. However, after only a few hours he's exhausted, realizing he'd wasted last night in that bed. Now he faces a 30-hour-plus flight, all of this day and night and probably most of tomorrow. Fighting off drowsiness he continues to reminisce about the past, recalling other adventures: barnstorming, flying with an aerial circus, giving hair-raising flying lessons to a priest who had absolutely no talent for flight at all. As the day passes he flies along the coast of Newfoundland, reaching St. Johns before dark, and setting out over the trackless expanse of the North Atlantic.
Fighting off sleep, he forces himself to stay awake through the night, but fails to notice that ice is building up on his wings; a deadly situation.The plane shudders and begins to lose altitude, shaking Lindbergh awake. Unable to keep the plane flying, he prepares to ditch, but as he skims the waves, the warmer air near the surface melts the ice, shearing it off. Given a second chance, Lindbergh struggles on.
As dawn comes, a bleary-eyed Lindbergh searches out over the waves for any signs of land. Having gone off course during the fight against the ice, he had no real idea of where he is. Hours pass. Deliriously tired, he sees white specks in the distance, and flying closer finds that they are seagulls. It's an encouraging sign. Next he spots a fishing boat and flies circles around it, cutting his engine and yelling at the astonished fisherman, "Which way to Ireland?" Getting no reply, Lindbergh flies on.
Finally, he spots green shapes rising out of the sea, and these form into rocks and hills as he draws closer. Where is he? Iceland? North Africa? Checking the map, he is overjoyed to find that it is indeed the coast of Ireland, and he's very nearly on course after all. Waving happily to people as he finally passes over green land again, he turns southeast toward France.
Passing over the French coast as night falls again, he follows the Seine River toward Paris, reaching the City of Light well after dark. Having pushed himself beyond all endurance, he is desperate to land, to get back on the ground again. The lights are confusing, and he's got to find the airport; he can't feel anything, and can't control the airplane any longer. Coming in at what he can only hope is the right direction, his wheels finally touch the ground of France. Coasting to a stop at the dark end of the airfield, he manages to reach up and cut the engine off, ending his flight. Lindbergh has done it.
He is amazed to find a massive crowd rushing towards him. He's pulled from the plane by ecstatic Parisians, who give him a hero's welcome and carry him off on their shoulders. Charles A. Lindbergh has become the biggest hero of his time.
