Word: flyer
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1920-1929
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...Augustus Lindbergh settled himself in the Spirit of St. Louis in the blackness of the wee small hours. Farewells were called and the ship angled up into the night, circled, and shot out for home. Dirty fog shut down over all of the south-east by daylight, forcing the flyer to steer a compass course over a mist-blotted earth. Random reports of an airplane motor pounding through the fog were the only milestone of his progress. Three hours late at St. Louis, the country grew apprehensive for the punctual ambassador...
...dripping dusk the great flyer dropped at St. Louis to a squashy field, safe, fit, smiling. After 9,000 miles of spreading through Central and South America the glad tidings of U. S. good will toward men he was at rest at last in his home airport...
...from thick sleep, Col. Charles Augustus Lindbergh groped in the foggy Venezuelan morning. He twitched the Spirit of St. Louis upwards and sideways, seeking an opening in the mists and mountain peaks. He found a rift and streaked out over the Caribbean. For 100 miles seeing no land the flyer contemplated the two tinges of blue sky and bluer sea. Once he dipped to scoot cheerily close to the steamer Amsterdam. Once he scuttled through a sudden rain squall. Land notched the horizon far ahead. From there he flew over nearly nine hundred miles of "Islands in the Lesser Antilles...
From the Lesser to the Greater Antilles the flyer took the tiniest hop of his trip. San Juan, Porto Rico was only 90 miles away. Col. Lindbergh doubled the distance by flying out of his way in a sharp arc to give natives of St. Croix Island a glimpse of him in passing. At San Juan he had three notable experiences. The first was an orderly and properly policed landing. The propensities of crowds on three continents to smash police lines wherever formed around a Lindbergh terminal was checked in Porto Rico. Six hundred native police, local militia...
Last week a wandering boy came home and for his welcome went to jail. Bert Acosta, bold, black haired flyer who sat beside Commander Byrd in his flight to France, snuggled his plane too close to his native Naugatuck, and was the first man booked in Connecticut police stations for violating the aviation law which prohibits flying below 2,000 feet over population centres. Acosta plead guilty, apologized, went to jail. Meanwhile sheriffs hurried up from New Jersey to complicate his chancery. Warrants were out for his arrest. The Splitdorf Electric Co. complained that Acosta owed $4,445 for electrical...