"Mishap"

The reporters at Valbuena Field, Mexico City, knew that a colossal story was coming their way--in fact, well nigh into their laps. They could see it clearly in the air, for there was the Travel-Air cabin monoplane City of Wichita, in which could only be Col. Charles Augustus Lindbergh and his fiancee, Anne Spencer Morrow. It was apparent, from the gestures of the figure at the cabin window and from the naked axle on the right-hand side of the landing gear, that the Colonel had lost a wheel. It was a story with a hundred possible endings, any of them momentous. The reporters waited for the one that happened.

Somersault. Col. Lindbergh circled above the field several times, making preparations. Exactly what went on in the cabin is not known. But the windows were put down to avoid flying glass, and Col. Lindbergh undoubtedly packed cushions around Miss Morrow. According to one plausible report, he said to her: "When we land, we'll overturn. Don't be afraid."

On touching the ground, the plane ran along, neatly balanced on its one wheel, for a few seconds. Then the wheelless axle struck the sun-baked earth; the plane dragged 30 yards, suddenly flopped over on its back.

Col. Lindbergh's right shoulder, dislocated five years ago in a parachute jump, was redislocated. Miss Morrow, though badly shaken, was uninjured.

"Augustus." Col. Lindbergh said: "It was a mishap, not an accident." Miss Morrow, perhaps without realizing it, gave out a long-sought-after titbit of news when she said: "Augustus will speak for me."

Cotter Pin. The cause of the accident was narrowed down to a cotter pin, which one of the mechanics at Valbuena Field had forgotten to replace after greasing the landing wheels that morning. The wheel, Col. Lindbergh said, fell off after a stop for luncheon.

Army Cure. Early next morning, Col. Lindbergh and Miss Morrow climbed into small yellow biplane, made three short flights. Col. Lindbergh handled the plane deftly with his left hand.

Again the press whooped for heroism but the hero and all other airmen knew that he had merely taken the cure prescribed by the U. S. Army Air Service--that a pilot who has cracked-up must make another flight at the first possible moment, to restore self-confidence. There was no need, however, for Miss Morrow to take the cure--except to be sporting and to do aviation a great and good turn.

Three Inches. A few days later, Aviatrix Amelia Earhart, who is tabloided as "Lady Lindy," did a somersault in the mud at Curtiss Field, Long Island, while attempting to land her plane. This received space averaging three inches in the same newspaper which had made the Lindbergh-Morrow flop story-of-the-day.