David Hamilton’s forthcoming book The Enigmatic Aviator: Charles Lindbergh Revisited finds earlier parallels with current events and looks at the ever-changing verdict on Lindbergh.
Here, the author considers American isolationism in the context of his new book.
Charles Lindbergh shown receiving the Distinguished Flying Cross from President Calvin Coolidge in June 1927.
The American Founding Fathers counseled that the nation should ‘avoid foreign entanglements’, and President Trump's recent hesitation in support of Ukraine brings back memories of earlier similar debates. In the 1930s, the mood in Congress and the country was that American involvement in World War I had been a mistake and had not only failed to make the world ‘safe for democracy,’ but too many lives had been lost or damaged. But by 1940, President Roosevelt started to try to convince America to get involved in the new war in Europe. Public opinion was divided, and although there was majority support for giving help of some kind to beleaguered Britain, the polls were against putting ‘boots on the ground’. Leading the opposition to such deeper involvement was the America First Committee (AFC), the most significant grassroots movement ever in America, and they preferred the term ‘anti-intervention’, which did not suggest total withdrawal from the rest of the world. The AFC had the most support in the Midwest, while FDR and his hawks in the cabinet had the backing of the anglophile East Coast. The AFC had bipartisan political support and was joined by writers and historians. Eventually, their star speaker at the regular nationwide rallies was the American aviator hero Charles Lindbergh (1902-1974). After his famous solo flight to Paris from New York in 1927, he had retained a remarkable mystique since he coupled his success in the world of commercial aviation with a policy of avoiding the still-intrusive press, particularly the tabloids, by using the European royalty’s strategy of ‘never complain never explain.’ He traveled widely in Britain, France, Germany, and Russia and proudly showed their military planes; it was his confidential reports via the Berlin American embassy back to G2 intelligence in Washington on the Luftwaffe strength that eventually convinced President Roosevelt in 1938 to order a rapid expansion of the American Air Corps. From 1939, Lindbergh added his voice to the anti-intervention movement, starting with historically based, closely argued radio broadcasts and then speeches at the large AFC rallies later. His emergence was doubly uncomfortable for FDR. He not only feared Lindbergh’s contribution to the debate but knew that his close connection to the Republican Party (including marrying Mexican ambassador Dwight Morrow’s daughter) meant he could be a formable populist political opponent should he run for president, as many had urged. In response, FDR and his inner cabinet, aided by compliant congressmen and friendly columnists, mounted an unpleasant campaign against Lindbergh, and, rarely debating the issues he raised, they preferred an ad hominemattack. His travels in Germany and interest in the Luftwaffe made him vulnerable, and the jibes included but were not limited to, claiming he was a Nazi, a fifth columnist, an antisemite, a quisling, and even, mysteriously, a fellow traveler.
World War Two
It is often said that Lindbergh and the AFC lost the intervention argument to FDR, but instead, Pearl Harbor brought abrupt closure to the still evenly balanced debate. Thereafter, during the War, Lindbergh worked in the commercial aviation sector and then flew 50 distinguished missions with the Marines in the Pacific. After FDR’s death, the unpleasantness of the intervention debate was admitted and regretted (‘there was a war going on’), and some private apologies reached Lindbergh. Even the FBI was contrite. FDR had brought them in to investigate Lindbergh, even using illegal wiretaps. Still, when J. Edgar Hoover closed their huge file on him, he added a summary saying that ‘none of the earlier allegations had any substance.’
Lindbergh was welcomed back into the post-war military world. As a Cold War warrior, he worked with the atomic bomb air squadrons and served on crucial ballistic missile planning committees. From the mid-1950s, he successfully took up many conservation issues. Now a national icon again, but a reclusive one, his book on the Paris flight and the book sold well. From Truman’s administration onwards, he was in favor of the White House, and the Kennedys sought the Lindbergh’s company, invitations which the couple occasionally accepted. Now, on the White House’s social A-list, Nixon also puts him on important conservation committees. When he died in 1974, President Ford expressed national sympathy. Later, Reagan’s addresses to young people often invoked Lindbergh as a role model.
Lindbergh disparaged
But by the end of the century, something changed, and his place in history became uncertain. This was not the result of new scholarly work or an adverse biography. All the post-war literature had been favorable to him, including Berg’s thorough Pulitzer Prize-winning biography of 1998, which cleared him of any Nazi leanings or antisemitism.[1] The damage to Lindbergh instead came from historical fiction. The basis of Philip Roth’s best-selling novel The Plot Against America 2004 was the well-worn ‘what if’ fictional trope that Hitler won the European war. Lindbergh, elected as US president, aligns with him and acts against the Jews. Roth's usual disclaimer was that his story was not to be taken seriously, but it was. Historical fiction can be entertaining if the sales are low and the author obscure, but the inventions can be dangerous in the hands of a distinguished author. An HBO television series of the same name based on the book followed in 2020, and it often felt like a documentary. Serious-minded reviewers of the television series took the opportunity to reflect widely on fascism and antisemitism, with Lindbergh still featured as a central figure. The mood at the time was ‘wonkish,’ looking again at figures of the past and seeking feet of clay or swollen heads, or both. When others sought any justification for Roth’s allegations, they returned and found the smears and insults directed at Lindbergh during the intervention debate. The old 1940-1941 jibes were revisited, and, yielding to presentism, to the dreary list was added the charge of ‘white supremacist,’ which at the time had escaped even Lindbergh’s most vocal opponents. Evidence for all the old labels was lacking, and to prove them, corners were cut even by serious historians, leading to a regrettable number of mangled or false quotations. The most vivid tampering with the historical record was misusing a newspaper picture taken at an AFC rally in 1941. It shows Lindbergh and the platform party with arms raised, and the caption at the time noted that they were loyally saluting the flag. The gesture at that time was the so-called Bellamy salute which was soon officially discouraged and changed in 1942 to the present hand-on-heart version because of its similarity to the Nazi salute. Washington’s Smithsonian Institution was now revisiting Lindbergh, and although they had proudly used Lindbergh’s plane Spirit of St Louis as their star exhibit since 1928, they had now deserted him. An article in their Smithsonian Magazine, after denigrating the AFC, described Lindbergh as ‘patently a bigot’ and used the image suggesting a Nazi salute.[2] The Minnesota Historical Society, also with long-standing links to the Lindbergh heritage, also turned to him and answered inquiries about Lindbergh by directing them mainly to the Roth novel and the television program based on it. They also recommended a shrill new book on Lindbergh subtitled ‘America’s Most Infamous Pilot.’. Lindbergh had not been ‘infamous’ until 2004.
The 100th anniversary of Lindbergh's classic flight will be with us soon in 2027. The damage done by Roth’s mischievous historical fiction should be met instead with good evidence-based history, restoring the story of this talented man.
David Hamilton is a retired Scottish transplant surgeon. His interest in Lindbergh came from the aviator’s laboratory work as a volunteer in Nobel Prize-winner transplant surgeon Carrel’s laboratory in New York.[3] His forthcoming book is The Enigmatic Aviator: Charles Lindbergh.
[1] A. Scott Berg, Lindbergh (New York, 1998).
[2] Meilan Solly ‘The True History Behind ‘The Plot Against America’’
Smithsonian Magazine, 16 March 2020.
[3] David Hamilton, The First Transplant Surgeon (World Scientific, 2017).