Free The Spirit of ST Louis by Charles A. Lindbergh Page A
Authors: Charles A. Lindbergh
everything ready to pack.
"Here's your party."
Within a minute—that's fast work. Another girl's voice comes on.
"Wright Aeronautical."
"I'd like to speak to one of your officers, please," I tell her, trying to hide all trace of excitement in my voice.
"What officer do you want?" she asks.
"Which executive officer?" Her voice is insistent, and a little annoyed now. Somehow I've got to break through this.
"I am calling on long distance from St. Louis, Missouri. I want to talk to one of the Wright Corporation's executive officers—on business." I say it slowly and firmly to impress her. Apparently it does.
"Hold on a minute, please."
The next voice is a man's.
"I'm calling from St. Louis," I repeat. "My name is Charles Lindbergh. I represent a group of men here who are interested in buying a plane for the New York-to-Paris flight. I’d like to talk to you about the Bellanca, and I want to get me information about your engines. When would it be convenient for you to see me in Paterson?"
"Did you say you're calling from St. Louis, Missouri?" the officer asks.
"That's right."
He's impressed, as I thought he'd be. My phone-call money is well spent.
"We'll be glad to see you any day," he says. "Just let me now when you get to New York, and we'll set the hour."
II
NEW YORK
NOVEMBER, 1926
IT'S FOURTEEN YEARS since I've been in New York. I was a child then, and I don't remember much about it. I stand in the great, columned entrance of the Pennsylvania Station and look up and down Seventh Avenue. I've checked my suitcase. I'm going to walk around the city before I look for a hotel. Tomorrow morning I'll make an appointment with the Wright Aeronautical Corporation. I wonder if I'll have to take a ferry across the Hudson, or if I can get a train direct to Paterson, New Jersey.
2
The Wright factory has all the appearances of a successful business organization. As I step in through the door I feel that my new hat, overcoat, and tailored suit are paying off. The girl at the desk glances at my card, and smiles. Yes, she's been told to expect me. So far, so good. I am exactly one minute ahead of my appointment.
"Won't you leave your hat and coat in the corner?" She motions toward a well-filled rack, and calls a number on her phone. "Captain Lindbergh is here," I hear her saying to someone on the wire.
"This way, please."
The girl leads me down a corridor to a room near the end. An executive rises from his desk in greeting.
"You've just come from St. Louis, Captain?"
"I arrived in New York yesterday," I tell him.
"I understand you're interested in the Wright-Bellanca," he says. "Sit down, won't you?"
"Yes, sir. I'd like to have all the information you can give me about the Bellanca. We're also interested in Whirlwind engines."
"I can get all the data you want on Whirlwind engines, but at the moment we can't quote a price on the Bellanca. We're negotiating to sell both the plane and manufacturing rights to the Huff-Daland Company. You see, the Wright Corporation never intended to manufacture aircraft. We built the Bellanca to show how a Whirlwind could perform in a modern plane -- it was really a demonstration of our engine. Of course if the deal doesn't go through, we may still be interested in selling the plane. But don't you think a three-engined ship would be better for a flight across the ocean?"
The multiengine problem again! I didn't expect it from the Wright people.
"Not necessarily," I say. "It seems to me there are a number of advantages to a plane with one engine. How often does a Whirlwind fail in flight?"
The executive laughs. "You've got me there. We think our engines are pretty good. We haven't got exact figures, but they seem to be averaging about nine thousand hours to a failure -- Still, we don't believe in taking chances, and you're better off with three than with one."
"How soon do you think you'll know whether the Bellanca is for sale?" I ask.
"You'd better talk to
"Here's your party."
Within a minute—that's fast work. Another girl's voice comes on.
"Wright Aeronautical."
"I'd like to speak to one of your officers, please," I tell her, trying to hide all trace of excitement in my voice.
"What officer do you want?" she asks.
"Which executive officer?" Her voice is insistent, and a little annoyed now. Somehow I've got to break through this.
"I am calling on long distance from St. Louis, Missouri. I want to talk to one of the Wright Corporation's executive officers—on business." I say it slowly and firmly to impress her. Apparently it does.
"Hold on a minute, please."
The next voice is a man's.
"I'm calling from St. Louis," I repeat. "My name is Charles Lindbergh. I represent a group of men here who are interested in buying a plane for the New York-to-Paris flight. I’d like to talk to you about the Bellanca, and I want to get me information about your engines. When would it be convenient for you to see me in Paterson?"
"Did you say you're calling from St. Louis, Missouri?" the officer asks.
"That's right."
He's impressed, as I thought he'd be. My phone-call money is well spent.
"We'll be glad to see you any day," he says. "Just let me now when you get to New York, and we'll set the hour."
II
NEW YORK
NOVEMBER, 1926
IT'S FOURTEEN YEARS since I've been in New York. I was a child then, and I don't remember much about it. I stand in the great, columned entrance of the Pennsylvania Station and look up and down Seventh Avenue. I've checked my suitcase. I'm going to walk around the city before I look for a hotel. Tomorrow morning I'll make an appointment with the Wright Aeronautical Corporation. I wonder if I'll have to take a ferry across the Hudson, or if I can get a train direct to Paterson, New Jersey.
2
The Wright factory has all the appearances of a successful business organization. As I step in through the door I feel that my new hat, overcoat, and tailored suit are paying off. The girl at the desk glances at my card, and smiles. Yes, she's been told to expect me. So far, so good. I am exactly one minute ahead of my appointment.
"Won't you leave your hat and coat in the corner?" She motions toward a well-filled rack, and calls a number on her phone. "Captain Lindbergh is here," I hear her saying to someone on the wire.
"This way, please."
The girl leads me down a corridor to a room near the end. An executive rises from his desk in greeting.
"You've just come from St. Louis, Captain?"
"I arrived in New York yesterday," I tell him.
"I understand you're interested in the Wright-Bellanca," he says. "Sit down, won't you?"
"Yes, sir. I'd like to have all the information you can give me about the Bellanca. We're also interested in Whirlwind engines."
"I can get all the data you want on Whirlwind engines, but at the moment we can't quote a price on the Bellanca. We're negotiating to sell both the plane and manufacturing rights to the Huff-Daland Company. You see, the Wright Corporation never intended to manufacture aircraft. We built the Bellanca to show how a Whirlwind could perform in a modern plane -- it was really a demonstration of our engine. Of course if the deal doesn't go through, we may still be interested in selling the plane. But don't you think a three-engined ship would be better for a flight across the ocean?"
The multiengine problem again! I didn't expect it from the Wright people.
"Not necessarily," I say. "It seems to me there are a number of advantages to a plane with one engine. How often does a Whirlwind fail in flight?"
The executive laughs. "You've got me there. We think our engines are pretty good. We haven't got exact figures, but they seem to be averaging about nine thousand hours to a failure -- Still, we don't believe in taking chances, and you're better off with three than with one."
"How soon do you think you'll know whether the Bellanca is for sale?" I ask.
"You'd better talk to
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