A well written and engrossing account of lindbergh's life. Turns out The flight, the kidnapping & the "nazi" incident barely scratch the surface. Especially enjoyed the conservation and medical information ( )

A long (too long!) and detailed (too detailed!) story of the life of Charles Lindbergh, the young man who, unlike anyone else at the time, decided the best way to fly the Atlantic was alone in a one-engine airplane. It was an amazing feat of courage and certainly deserves the world acclaim afforded the man. But it’s also a cautionary tale of the dark underbelly of celebrity.

After a good, well-researched and written review of the youth and forces that made Lindbergh Lindbergh, the author tells the story of his famous flight—including interesting detail on the design of The Spirit of Saint Louis, and how Lindbergh came to settle on that aircraft and that design. All this is done in relatively efficient space and prose.

The strength of the book is Berg’s construction of the picture of celebrity (more on this in a bit) and the impact that had on the Lindberghs’ lives. This celebrity was the proximate cause of the Lindbergh’s oldest son being abducted and killed, a murder that captured the world’s attention and loaded the Lindberghs with a supercharged level of unwanted attention. Berg tells this story well, including detailed descriptions of the evidence behind Bruno Hauptmann’s conviction and subsequent execution. Though still controversial, the author, in my view, believes the right man was convicted of the crime.

These stories are the most compelling and famous parts of Lindbergh’s life and Berg spends the appropriate amount of time telling them. Unfortunately, when the reader finishes them, there are still hundreds of pages of story left. These pages are used primarily in three ways: first the telling the story of LIndbergh’s “America First” isolationism and opposition to American involvement in World War II in the months prior to Pearl Harbor. While this is an important part of Lindbergh’s story, it is told in too much detail and the book begins to plod.

The second major section of “the rest of the story” is Lindbergh’s post-war involvement in ecological and environmental issues, and at this point, this reader began to encourage the book to get to the finish line (and caused him to begin to read that way—just skimming for the general picture). It was presented in far too much detail. Especially after nearly four hundred pages already told, another hundred about this part of Lindbergh’s life was plodding and long.

The third portion of the latter part of Lindbergh’s life, mixed in with the telling of the remainder of these stories, was the estrangement in the Lindbergh’s relationship and Anne’s apparent unfaithfulness to the marriage. This story was muted, as if he felt he needed to include it to tell the whole story, but he didn’t want to reveal all. The partly-told story left Anne’s personality and life less defined and the author avoided completely the impact those days had on Lindbergh or the marriage as a whole (which did last “‘til death did them part.”)

One lesson any reader can’t help but learn from the book is the caustic effects celebrity has on a life. Lindbergh flew into Paris happy that he’d made it—and lived—but entirely unaware of how his short flight would effect permanent change on his and Anne’s lives. The world couldn’t get enough of his time, attention, presence and thought. It intruded into their lives in unhealthy, then ugly ways as it led to the kidnapping and murder of their son. It’s a cautionary tale for anyone seeking celebrity (which Lindbergh clearly did not). But it’s also a cautionary tale for the rest of us. In our thirst for information and contact with the rich and famous, we risk making their lives miserable. It does them no favors, and it surely offers no benefit to the rest of us, either. We ought to consider that next time we pick up a copy of “People” Magazine at the supermarket checkout stand. ( )

From the moment Charles Lindbergh watched the Aeronautical Trials at Fort Meyer in June of 1912, he was hooked on planes and flying. Watching the maneuvers sparked his young mind's imagination. Fast forward fifteen years and May 21st, 1927 is a date for the record books. It is the date Charles Lindbergh became the first person to fly his plane, the Spirit of St. Louis, nonstop between America and Europe.
As an aside, I think it's fantastic that Lindbergh made the Spirit of St. Louis trip in 33 hours, 30 minutes and 30 seconds. That's one for the numerophiles. From that moment on Lindbergh became a global sensation. Like a folk hero, dozens of songs and poetry were written for and about him. A dance was created in his name. People wrote books and plays about his achievement and clamored to have a piece of his fame for their very own. For men and women alike, touching him was like experiencing nirvana. To talk to him was like seeing the face of God. He was that famous.
But Charles Lindbergh was not just a pilot. Flying aside, he became interested in finding a way to transplant body organs safely. He became interested in Anne Morrow, enough to marry her and have a son. Thus began Lindbergh's second bout with unwanted notoriety. When his first born son was kidnapped and killed the entire world was rapt with the horrific drama. Every update had people sitting on the edge of their seats. How could this happen to a famous colonel? When the tragedy had come to its terrible conclusion Lindbergh wanted to give up all aspects of aviation. It all led to publicity. The fame and notoriety got to be too much. Then came the Louise Brooks-like slide into scandal. The world was positioned for another Great War and this time Lindbergh was making headlines for all the wrong reasons. He had been enamored with the Germans for their ingenuity for a long time, but siding with them at this tumultuous time was the absolute wrong move. Berg's biography of Lindbergh is thorough and compelling through the good, the bad and the ugly. ( )

Living minutes from Lindbergh Boulevard and Lambert field, I simply wanted an introduction to the man beyond bare facts, and that's what I got. Turns out his St. Louis roots weren't as deep as I thought, beyond his having been based here at the time of the 1927 flight, but as I learned, he rarely settled in one spot for long. I learned a lot of things, such as his helping to develop the artificial heart, his deservedly controversial wartime views, his early support of the development of rocketry, and his extensive conservation work, among other things. But the chapter narrating the first Atlantic solo flight is by far the highlight. It also gives perspective on the emergence of contemporary celebrity culture.

The figure I sympathized with the most, however, was Anne, ever in his shadow. I really felt for her loneliness, her struggle to assert her identity and mount her own career, all of which comes through keenly because of her skill as a diarist. ( )

The subject of media attention throughout his life, Charles Lindbergh is a man whose legacy has been much defined by the images he left in the public imagination: his flight to Paris, the kidnapping and death of his son, his support of isolationism before the Second World War. Yet such events were only part of Lindbergh's astonishingly varied life, one that A. Scott Berg recounts in all its diversity.

Benefiting from access to Lindbergh's enormous collection personal papers (the consequence, Berg notes, of his desire to avoid distortions of his life), Berg provides a thorough account of his many activities, including his involvement in medical research and his support for environmental causes. His examination of the pilot's personal life is especially insightful; Lindbergh's wife Anne receives almost as much attention as her husband does, and Berg's account of their marriage is one of the great strengths of this book.

Yet there are many problems with the book. On occasion, Berg burdens the reader with details, clogging the text with irrelevant information about the minutiae of his subject's life (what his purpose was in detailing the layout of each place where the transient Lindbergh family lived escapes me). Moreover, he falls victim to a classic biographer's problem. Having immersed himself in Lindbergh's life, he views all of the events of the times through it, often overstating his contribution to them. Lindbergh comes across, for example, as the single greatest influence on the development of commercial aviation, yet were his ideas really that unique? And was Lindbergh really so dominant a media figure that his departure for Europe in 1935 launched a countrywide discussion on "the dismal state of the nation"? Berg's lack of critical analysis leaves such interpretations open to question.

Such flaws aside, Berg has written a good, sympathetic account of Lindbergh's life. Though readers will question some of the author's conclusions, this book will probably remain the standard work on the great aviator for decades to come. ( )