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Charles Lindbergh — Part 9
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43 To avid publicity and pro 44 A few dayt before Hauptioacn was cx
eect Jon, they became eniies, they rented chas beaueifei 18-+oom home,
landing in England, 1935. “Long Barn’ sn Kent on outskirts of Le
LINDEERGH (continued)
Doctor may decide on a game of chess and che battle Tages al! morm-
ing. Sometimes he goes Sshing for che day, or potters abour in che
garden, or just loafs. Then will come a spell of cremendous acziviry
Suggests an interesting experiment. Together they work
through the day, stopping to eat only when Madame Carrel, the
disciplinarian of the howsebold, flies into a temper and says what
she chinks of all scientists. And sometimes they work through the
night—uatil Madate, finally desperate with worry, again takes 2
firm hand and chases the “two I:rrle boys'’ off ta bed) Madame
Carrel is the only one who can keep order in this household of gen-
ius, tempers, and temperament. Like her husband, she has become
deeply attached co Lindbergh, treats him Jike a child, and gets
away wich ic.
When Lindbergh—with little Jon in his arms “stepped off che
doerscon Imperter at Gladstooe Dock in Li verpool on December 1935,
anew life lay before him. The English Press had massed their crack
#eperters to cover bis landing, and ducing fis Gist day at a Liverpool
hotel, it looked as though England were going to be no berter than
aE eer came Our with some sharp edirorials demand-
ing ‘‘reasonable openness”’ fram the Lindberghs and threaten: gt
secrecy would only aggravate the situarion. Then the British
Broadcasting Company sent out the Colonel's plea for privacy. And
the gress lords decided char they would reach the U. §. 2 lesson. For
a week there was no mention in any paper of the family's wheee-
abours, and after that only small paragraphs from time to time.
The Lindbergis find peace lm Kamt
Early in 1936, after a visit te London and several weeks of house
hunting, the Colonel and Aone finally found the kind of a place they
were looking for. “Long Barn” it was called, in the little Kentish
village of Weald, four miles from the nearest town, yo miles from
London. The mellow, old, half-timbered house lay at the end of the
village on one of those English country roads that seem to lead from
howher to powhere. The barn for which the place was named had
been torn down years before and a skillfully antiqued, cheerful red-
brick wing pucin its place. In ‘'Long Barn’s’' 18 rooms was beauti-
fal old furniture, in che living room a huge freplace. A charming
English rose garden had been laid our. Round about were woods and
meadows. Here was the peace that the Lindberghs were looking for.
Lindbergh ar that time was more tacitum and reserved than ever.
The execution af Bruno Haupemann preyed on his mind, aa friends
moriced, aod ali the horrors of the past months were still fresh in his
memory. Aad he would unburden himself ro no one. Gradually,
by May 1936 the quict of the little village had begun co straighten
him out. He started errolling about, calling at the local post office
for his mail, and greeting the villagers with friendly “‘hello's."” No
one bothered him. The people of Weald were as little inquisitive as
they were iaformative. In che licele white church on Sundays, no
oac tuted to scare. The Wicar came to call, found Lindbergh very
pleasant.
With theexception of a motor trip to the Riviera, where che hide-
and-seck with the newsmen began all ovet again and chased them
back to England, che Lindberghs remained in obiiyvion uncil a Royal
invitation brought them to London—for dinner with King Edward
VII at St. James's Palace. Historically ic was a momeacous night,
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