LINDBERGH BEFORE PARIS

Flight Journal, Feb 2004 by Meyer, Corky

Fond remembrances of "Slim" from Craig Isbell

CRAIG ISBELL WAS A TYPICAL YOUNG MAN who liked to hang around the Peoria, Illinois, airport while he was growing up. He earned money by selling tickets to barnstormer shows, washing aircraft and selling soda pop on Sundays at that airport. At an exorbitant rate of $50 per hour, he eventually took flying lessons and, on May 25, 1926, he soloed in a Curtiss JN4D WW I trainer having had only 3.5 hours of training. He met Charles Lindbergh while he was working at this airport.

He then came to Springfield, Illinois, and got a job with Robertson Airlines, lsbell became the manager of the Springfield airport and that's where I met him; I was 12 and sneaking into the hangars to get a closer look at the airplanes. He never threw my companions and me out; instead, he stayed with us and answered questions until we got our fill.

When I wanted to learn to fly in November 1937,1 couldn't pass the physical, so he lowered the rate from $7.50 dual after eight hours to $5 solo. He rode with me until I had spent the $150 that I had made teaching model-airplane building for the Park Service. He helped me to fully understand and believe in myself, so no physical problems kept me from flying. I then went on to complete all six courses of the Civilian Pilot Training Program and got my commercial, instructor, instrument and multi-engine ratings. Craig lsbell will be 100 years old in February 2004. Here are some of his reflections on his association with Charles Lindbergh.

Meeting Slim and Brande

In March 1926, I was in Peoria, Illinois, learning to fly at the Varney Aircraft Co. flying school on the Peoria Aero Club field about four miles north of downtown Peoria (near what is now Peoria Heights). The rectangular field stretched about 60 acres and was covered with a heavy blue-grass sod. A 160-square-foot hangar was located in its southeast corner. A low, rural telephone line ran from the hangar along the south boundary to the Knoxville paved road that formed the west boundary of the field.

On a warm morning early in March, Varney and several of us students were sitting in the shade under the wing of our Standard J-1 training plane when we heard an airplane approaching from the south. Visiting aircraft were rarities, so we all watched with interest as the Curtiss-OX-S-powered "Jenny" circled and landed. When it taxied up to a spot near us, the pilot and passenger got out. The pilot was a tall, slim, young man with sandy hair. he said, "Hi, I'm Slim Lindbergh," and turning to his passenger-also tall and slim but with dark hair and a tiny mustache-said, "This is Greg Brandewiede. We both work for Robertson Aircraft Company at St. Louis. They have a contract to fly the airmail from St. Louis to Chicago, via Springfield and Peoria. We are flying the route, picking out locations for emergency fields and beacon lights. We expect to start flying the mail in about a month."

Slim had us put some gas in the Jenny and after a little more conversation, he and "Brande" climbed into the airplane. The wind was light and from the south, so they taxied to the north end of the field and started to take off. The field had a pronounced upward slope to the south, so they were taking off uphill. By the time they reached the center of the field, it was obvious that they weren't going to make it, so Slim chopped the throttle. He taxied back to the north end and tried again, but again, he had the same results. He then taxied to the south boundary and started a takeoff to the north-downwind. We all watched as the Jenny rolled past the center of the field, still firmly on the ground, and as it got closer to the low fence at the north end of the field, someone said, "Get out the tools, boys; looks like we'll have a fence rebuilding job to do." But at the last second, the wheels left the ground and cleared the fence by inches.

Later that afternoon, Slim and Brande came back again for gas. I made a remark about their downwind takeoff and how we were betting they wouldn't make it. Brande turned to Slim and said, "Yeah, Slim; if you don't stop doing things like that, we'll be picking you up with a sponge and putting you in a bottle." Slim didn't answer, and it was apparent he didn't appreciate the wisecrack. Not too long after that, Slim gave me a picture of Brande sitting backward on a broad-beamed farm horse. Slim had written, "If lost, return to Robertson Aircraft Corp." and "Puzzle. Which is it?" with arrows pointing to "Brande" and "Horse" on the margins. Slim said, "Here, put this on your bulletin board so people can guess which is which." This was his way of getting even.

Resourcefulness

The first time that I can remember the evening flight to Chicago being canceled because of bad weather was sometime in May. It was a cold, rainy, foggy evening, and Slim had said that it was "pretty stinky" flying; he thought he might have to turn back before he got to Chicago. Sure enough, he returned after about 45 minutes and said that he'd have to put the mail on a train because the weather to the northeast was impossible.