Lindbergh Does It! To Paris in 33 1/2 Hours; Flies 1,000 Miles Through Snow and Sleet; Cheering French Carry Him Off Field

Crowd Roars Thunderous Welcome

Breaks Through Lines of Soldiers and Police and Surging to Plane Lifts Weary Flier from His Cockpit

Aviators Save Him From Frenzied Mob of 100,000

Paris Boulevards Ring With Celebration After Day and Night Watch -- American Flag Is Called for and Wildly Acclaimed

May 22, 1927 By EDWIN L. JAMES—Special Cable to The New York Times

Paris, May 21 -- Lindbergh did it. Twenty minutes after 10 o'clock tonight suddenly and softly there slipped out of the darkness a gray-white airplane as 25,000 pairs of eyes strained toward it. At 10:24 the Spirit of St. Louis landed and lines of soldiers, ranks of policemen and stout steel fences went down before a mad rush as irresistible as the tides of ocean.

"Well, I made it," smiled Lindbergh, as the little white monoplane came to a halt in the middle of the field and the first vanguard reached the plane. Lindbergh made a move to jump out. Twenty hands reached for him and lifted him out as if he were a baby. Several thousands in a minute were around the plane. Thousands more broke the barriers of iron, rails round the field, cheering wildly.

Lifted From His Cockpit

As he was lifted to the ground Lindbergh was [text unreadable] with his hair unkempt, he looked completely worn out. He had strength enough, however, to smile, and waved his hand to the crowd. Soldiers with fixed bayonets were unable to keep back the crowd.

United States Ambassador Herrick was among the first to welcome and congratulate the hero.

A New York Times man was one of the first to reach the machine after its graceful descent to the field. Those first to arrive at the plane had a picture that will live in their minds for the rest of their lives. His cap off, his famous locks falling in disarray around his eyes, "Lucky Lindy" sat peering out over the rim of the little cockpit of his machine.

Dramatic Scene at the Field

It was high drama. Picture the scene. Almost if not quite 100,000 people were massed on the east side of Le Bourget air field. Some of them had been there six and seven hours.

Suddenly a message spread like lightning, the aviator had been seen over Cherbourg. However, remembering the messages telling of Captain Nungesser's flight, the crowd was skeptical.

"One chance in a thousand!" "Oh, he cannot do it without navigating instruments!" "It's a pity, because he was a brave boy." Pessimism had spread over the great throng by 10 o'clock.

The stars came out and a chill wind blew.

Watchers Are Twice Disappointed

Suddenly the field lights flooded [text unreadable] glares onto the landing ground and there came the roar of an airplane's motor. The crowd was still, then began to cheer, but two minutes later the landing glares went dark for the searchlight had identified the plane and it was not Captain Lindbergh's.

Stamping their feet in the cold, the crowd waited patiently. It seemed quite apparent that nearly every one was willing to wait all night, hoping against hope.

Suddenly- it was 10:16 exactly- another motor roared over the heads of the crowd. In the sky one caught a glimpse of a white gray plane, and for an instant heard the sound of one. Then it dimmed , and the idea spread that it was yet another disappointment.

Again landing lights glared and almost by the time they had flooded the field the gray-white plane had lighted on the far side nearly half a mile from the crowd. It seemed to stop almost as it hit the ground, so gently did it land.

And then occurred a scene which almost passed description. Two companies of soldiers with fixed bayonets and the Le Bourget field police, reinforced by Paris agents, had held the crowd in good order. But as the lights showed the plane landing, much as if a picture had been thrown on a moving picture screen, there was a mad rush.

Soldiers and Police Swept Aside

The movement of humanity swept over soldiers and by policemen and there was the wild sight of thousands of men and women rushing madly across half a mile of the not too even ground. Soldiers and police tried for one small moment to stem the tide, then they joined it, rushing as madly as anyone else toward the aviator and his plane.

The first people to reach the plane were two workmen of the aviation field and half a dozen Frenchmen.

"Cette fois, ca va!" they cried. (This time it's done.)

Captain Lindbergh answered: "Well, I made it."

An instant later he was on the shoulders of half a dozen persons who tried to bear him from the field. The crowd crushed about the aviator and his progress was halted until a squad of soldiers with fixed bayonets cleared a way for him.

It was two French aviators- Major Pierre Weiss and Sergeant de Troyer -- who rescued Captain Lindbergh from the frenzied mob. When it seemed that the excited French men and women would overwhelm the frail figure which was being carried on the shoulders of a half dozen men, the two aviators rushed up with a Renault car and hastily snatching Lindy from the crowd, sped across the field to the commandant's office.

Then followed an almost cruel rush to get near the airman. Women were thrown down and a number trampled badly. The doors of the small building were closed, but the windows were forced by enthusiasts, who were promptly ejected by soldiers.

Five Minutes of Cheering for Nungesser

Spurred on by reports spread in Paris of the approach of the aviator, other thousands began to arrive from the capital. The police estimate that within half an hour after Captain Lindbergh landed there were probably 100,000 storming the little building to get a sight of the idol of the evening.

Suddenly he appeared at a window, waving his helmet. It was then that, amid cheers for him, came five minutes of cheering for Captain Nungesser.

While the gallant aviator was resting in the Aviators' Club part of the crowd turned toward his airplane. It had landed in the pink of condition. Before the police could intervene the spectators turned souvenir mad, had stripped the plane of everything which could be taken off, and some were even cutting pieces of linen from the wings when a squad of soldiers with fixed bayonets quickly surrounded the Spirit of St. Louis and guarded it while mechanics wheeled into a shed, but only after it had been considerably marred.

While the crowd was waiting, Captain Lindbergh was taken away from the field about midnight, to seek a well-earned repose.

The thing that Captain Lindbergh emphasized more than anything else to the American committee which welcomed him and later to newspapermen, was that he felt no special strain.

"I could have gone one-half again as much," he said with conviction.

Excited Crowds Block Paris Traffic

Not since the armistice of 1918 has Paris witnessed a downright demonstration of popular enthusiasm and excitement equal to that displayed by the throngs flocking to the boulevards for news of the American flier, whose personality has captured the hearts of the Parisian Multitude.

Thirty thousand people had gathered at the Place de Opera and the Square de Havre, near St. Lazare station, where illuminated advertising signs flashed bulletins on the progress of the flier. In front of the office of the Paris Matin in the Boulevard Poissonniere the crowds quickly filled the streets, so that extra police details had the greatest difficulty in keeping the traffic moving in two narrow files between the mobs which repeatedly choked the entire street.

From the moment when the last evening editions appeared, at 6:30 o'clock, until shortly after 9 there was a curious reaction, due to the fact that news seemed to be at a standstill. The throngs waited, hushed and silent, for confirmation.

It was a tense period when the thought in every mind was that they were witnessing a repetition of the deception which two weeks ago turned victory into mourning for the French aviators Nungesser and Coli. Suppose the news flashed from the Empress of France that the American flier was seen off the coast of Ireland proved false, as deceiving as the word flashed that Nungesser's White Bird had been sighted off Nova Scotia.

Wait Tensely for News

During a long, tense period no confirmation came. The people stood quietly, but the strain was becoming almost unbearable, permeating through the crowd. Pessimistic phrases were repeated. "It's too much to think it possible." "They shouldn't have let him go." "All alone, he has no chance if he should be overcome with exhaustion."

To these comments the inevitable reply was, "Don't give up hope. There's still time."

All this showed the French throng was unanimously eager for the American's safety and straining every wish for his ultimate victory.

A French woman dressed in mourning and sitting in a big limousine was seen wiping her eyes when the bulletins failed to flash confirmation that Lindbergh's plane had been sighted off Ireland. A woman selling papers near-by brushed her own tears aside exclaiming:

"You're right to feel so, madame. In such things there is no nationality -- he's some mother's son."

Something of the same despair which the crowds evinced two weeks ago spread as an unconfirmed rumor was circulated that Lindbergh had been forced down. Soon after 9 o'clock this was turned to a cheering, shouting pandemonium when Le Matin posted a bulletin announcing that the Lindbergh plane had been sighted over Cherbourg.

Crowd Delirious With Joy

The crowd applauded and surged into the street, halting traffic in a series of delirious manifestations which lasted for ten minutes with cries of "Vive Lindbergh," "Vive l'Americain." The news was followed by a general rush for taxicabs and subway stations, thousands being seized simultaneously with the idea of going to Le Bourget to witness the arrival of the victorious airman.

All roads leading toward the air field were jammed with traffic, though thousands still clung to their places before the boulevard bulletin boards. Other throngs moved toward the Etoile, lining ways of access to the hotel where it had been announced the American's rooms were reserved, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the international hero, the first to make Paris from New York by air, as he passed in triumph from the airdrome.

Landing Excited Crowd to Frenzy

Ovation after ovation followed the news of Lindbergh's startling progress through France, the crowds steadily augmenting until they filled the entire block. The throng was estimated at 15,000 people. After Cherbourg word was flashed that the plane had traversed Louvirs, then the outskirts of Paris.

In a perfect frenzy the huge crowd hailed the announcement that Lindbergh had landed at Le Bourget. Straw hats sailed in the air, handkerchiefs fluttered and a roar of cheers and clapping spread through the throng and was carried along down the boulevards, where the crowds seated in the cafe terraces rushed into the streets and joined in the demonstration. The cheering was renewed again and again.

Stars and Stripes Wildly Applauded

From the tops of motorbuses, stopped in the traffic, joyful figures demonstrated their glee, the police abandoning their efforts to restrain the throng and joining in the general elation.

From the first recheering of "Vive l'Americain" rolled up a mighty shout, "The flags," the same cry which two weeks ago gave rise to the false rumor of an anti-American demonstration, when it was falsely reported that a mob demanded the removal of the American flag from the Matin office.

"Vive l'Americain" the Cry

For several minutes this cry was renewed until the proprietor of a motion picture house unfurled a little American flag, which was greeted with cheer upon cheer and which became the mightiest pro-American demonstration seen in France since the days of the war, when, as the Yankee troops landed, three large American flags beside the French Tricolor hung from Le Matin's window in the glare of searchlights.

There could be no mistaking the sincerity of these cheers which were prolonged as a Frenchman in the crowd rushed up to the American demonstrators, wringing their hands in congratulations.

Extra papers telling the tale of the American's triumph in bulletin form sold as fast as the newsmen could distribute them.

The throng slowly dispersed in a general procession toward Montmartre, where many hundreds were to spend the remainder of the night in a celebration.

Flier's Navigation Called Uncanny

What appealed to the French aviators as the uncanny part of Captain Lindbergh's performance was his lack of navigating instruments. Old and experienced airmen, in conversations during their wait for him said he had one chance in a thousand because, while he might head in a given compass direction in leaving America, the winds might put him many hundreds of miles out of his path.

Guesses were made that he might land in Spain, in Portugal, in Northern Africa or in Ireland or even Norway. But the flier landed at Le Bourget as simply as you please and as accurately as if he had half a dozen navigators aboard.

Traffic to Le Bourget in Record Jam

When the news of Captain Lindbergh's arrival reached Paris tens of thousands of people started for Le Bourget Field. They met the crowds starting to come home and there ensued the worst traffic tangle the French Capital has had. The police estimate that 12,000 automobiles became involved in the tangle and many of the cars did not get back to the city until after 3 o'clock this morning.

For two hours there was a hopeless mix-up with no movement in any direction. The emergency traffic police brought from Paris worked nearly all night in straightening out the mess.

French papers estimated that at midnight 150,000 people were trying to get to or from Le Bourget and there were frequent exhibitions of temper which acted as a great contrast to the enthusiastic joy which greeted the arrival of the American hero.

Soon after Lindbergh landed an employe of the Bourse telegraph office arrived with more than 700 cablegrams for him, but the employe was unable to get within half a mile of the addressee.

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