be deterred. He lied to the Hardins and told them that he was considering buying one of their parachutes and this would be the test. The Hardins finally agreed and Lindbergh, on his very first parachute jump, pulled off the double jump stunt. Although eventually Lindbergh did in fact acquire a Hardin parachute, it was not purchased from them but rather acquired as a settlement from Ray Page in payment for flying time owed to Lindbergh.
Shortly after, Lindbergh left the factory and went on a barnstorming tour with an excellent flyer named "Shorty" Lynch. Lynch took Lindbergh along as an assistant since he could wing walk and make parachute jumps from the plane. The publicity posters billed "Daredevil Lindbergh." The tour was successful, ending in October, and Lindbergh spent the next several months visiting first with his mother and then with his father on the farm in Little Falls.
In early 1923 Lindbergh read that the Army was selling surplus "Jennies," a nick name for the Curtis JN4D, a biplane used to train pilots during the First World War. It was slow but reliable. With his father's assistance in the form of a loan guarantee, he raised enough money to buy one from Souther Field, Georgia, for five hundred dollars.
Lindbergh still had not soloed, and, since this was before pilot's licenses were required, no one asked him whether he was a pilot. Why else would he buy one?
Never having previously flown in a Jenny, he almost crashed on his first attempt to take off. An unknown pilot who had been watching, got in the plane and helped familiarize him with it. He spent the next week or so at Souther field, living alone by his new plane and practicing flying solo in the daylight. He finally left to begin a career of flying, determined to make his living from it.
Lindbergh headed into the central part of the country, setting down in farmers' fields, and offering rides wherever he could gather a crowd. He flew to Little Falls and landed on the family farm. He helped his father campaign for office by taking him up to distribute leaflets from the air. It was his father's first ride in an airplane.
His second one was not very successful. Lindbergh had taken off and was barely fifty feet in the air when the plane dove and crashed. Lindbergh's father bloodied his face and broke his glasses. The crash also damaged the plane. Lindbergh also gave his mother her first airplane ride during his barnstorming days. She seemed to enjoy being a passenger and later accompanied him on several of his mail routes.
While Lindbergh could earn up to $250.00 at one stop if the crowds were there, making a career from barnstorming was becoming more difficult as the market became flooded. Although many pilots began undercutting the unwritten rule of five dollars per ride, Lindbergh refused to reduce his price.
His existence during this period was spartan and devoid of much human contact. Those interactions he did have were with strangers such as the people to whom he gave rides. He usually slept with his plane in farmers' fields, sleeping in the open, or under the plane in a bedroll. He had no friends to speak of and struck up no relationships with women. Clearly, Lindbergh was more at ease with the machinations of man, than he was with man himself.
Lindbergh foresaw the demise of the barnstormer and so paid particular attention to a stranger's suggestion that he should join the Army Air Corps. There, the stranger argued, he would further develop his piloting skills on more powerful machines cared for by Army mechanics.
He was attracted to the idea that the Army would broaden his skills as a pilot. Certainly they offered the most extensive training available on some of the most modern machines, and even with the regimentation inherent in military life, Lindbergh reasoned that it was his best opportunity. He wrote his letter of application, was interviewed at Fort Snelling, and took his entrance examination on January 1, 1924. He was accepted in February and told to report to Brooks Field in San Antonio, Texas on March 15, 1924.
Graduates of the year long Army Aviation Program, commissioned as second lieutenants were not required to serve a full three years. With two weeks notice they could resign and join the reserves. This also attracted Lindbergh. Flight training began in April and once again academics became an obstacle. He barely achieved a passing grade on his first examination. As a result, and perhaps for the first time in his life, he studied at night. He adapted much more quickly to the actual flying. Even though the Army had just installed left hand throttles in all their planes and Lindbergh had flown only right hand throttles, he showed great aptitude on the high powered military aircraft. By the end of June nearly half of his class of cadets had washed out.
Lindbergh did not adapt as easily to military life. He did not enjoy living in close quarters with others and he developed no personal relationships. To those who offended him, or with whom he especially did not get along, Lindbergh did not hesitate to direct cruel behaviors, often without regard for his own personal safety.
A sergeant who offended him by snoring loudly found a dead skunk in his pillow case. The stench was so overwhelming in the entire barracks as well as in his bedroll that he had to sleep outside for the next two weeks. That was apparently not enough for Lindbergh. The sergeant returned home one night to find that Lindbergh had disassembled his bed, repeatedly climbed to the roof of the barracks carrying its components, and there reassembled it. For a person who would hang from an airborne plane by his teeth, climbing to the roof was no obstacle at all.
However, Lindbergh could not take it as well as he could dish it out. When a group of five cadets attempted to throw him into a pond he became sullen and began plotting. Four of the five cadets soon found that all their underwear had been laced with itching powder, and the fifth, known to be deathly afraid of snakes, found himself in bed with one. He asked afterwards, "It wasn't venomous, was it?" Lindbergh reportedly replied, "Yes, but not fatally so."7
Lindbergh may have demonstrated superior flying skills during his Army training, and by graduation was actually second in his class, but he was not well liked. During his off hours, he continued to give lessons to students and rides to the public at a nearby commercial field.
While Lindbergh was enrolled in the Army Aviation Program his father died of an inoperable brain tumor.
Lindbergh requested a permanent U.S. Army commission. When he had not received a response by the time of his graduation, he decided to resign from active service and automatically became a member of the reserve corps. On March 25, 1925 he reentered civilian life.
Lindbergh began flying U.S. Mail as part of a fledgling effort being run out of St. Louis by two brothers named Robertson, who were exarmy air pilots from the war. Major Bill Robertson offered Lindbergh the position of chief pilot. During this time Lindbergh met up again with Bud Gurney who hired on with Phil Love and Thomas Nelson as the other pilots with the airline. This group pioneered the St. Louis to Chicago Air Mail route on a shoe string. The planes were old, and navigational and safety equipment was scarce. Only one flare was allowed per plane for night landings or bad weather.
Solitary as usual, Lindbergh put all his energies into the development of the mail route, and he openly resented it whenever the other pilots expressed interest in any outside activities. When Phil Love tried to talk on the telephone with his girlfriends, Lindbergh would make rude and loud noises in the background, finally causing Love to sneak away to make the calls. When Love returned from a date he would crawl into bed to find it filled with lizards, frogs or snakes. If he did not wake immediately when the alarm sounded, Lindbergh would rip back the covers and throw a bucket of ice water on him.
But the "joke" which had the most serious consequence, and displayed a sadistic bent on the part of Lindbergh very nearly cost Bud Gurney his life. Lindbergh did not smoke, drink coffee or liquor, nor did he socialize or dance with young women. He scoffed at those who did and derided them for their lack of "productivity." He claimed that he avoided these vices as he believed that they would impair his reflexes. He tried to force the other pilots to similarly refrain.
One night Bud Gurney
