Lindbergh, Charles A. Extraordinary autograph letter signed, 9 April 1970....

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Lindbergh, Charles A. Extraordinary autograph letter signed, 9 April 1970. Extraordinary autograph letter signed ("Charles (A. Lindbergh)"), 9 pages (8.5 x 11 in.; 216 x 279 mm.), on front of separate leaves, Hong Kong, 9 April 1970, written to Alden Whitman of The New York Times. Slight discoloration on edges of blue onionskin paper; otherwise, in fine condition. Charles Lindbergh writes of rocketry pioneer Robert Goddard and the success of the Apollo Program. "Following the landing of Armstrong and Aldrin on the moon, President Nixon invited me to accompany him in his helicopter to the aircraft carrier from which we could (we hoped) view the splashdown. I would love to have done this - to have the personal contact with Nixon, to be with the Navy (which I always enjoy), and most of all to see the successful ending of one of the greatest of human accomplishments." Lindbergh writes in part: I am sorry about the lateness of this reply to your March 16th letter. I cancelled a trip to Europe and pushed about everything aside to complete the last details in connection with my "Wartime Journal" manuscript...Alden, I am most appreciative of your suggestions about writing a profile for the Times, but that is really just what I would rather not take part in. It is one thing to publish an account of my life and activities of a quarter century ago, and quite another to publish one that would be contemporary. I like to live my contemporary life privately and quietly - not "in the public eye." In this connection, I do not want to even approach again the experiences I encountered following my flight to Paris in 1927. My conservation activities have resulted in more publicity in the last two or three years than I have had, I think, in the previous fifteen or twenty. I have done things in encouraging conservation support that I had decided never to do again...I now want to cut down on publicity rather than to increase it...Of course personal publicity has a value. I understand that, and I have tried to use it constructively in years past. But the value varies with time and circumstance. What is advantageous in one framework is disadvantageous in another. One of my major problems lies in moving back and forth between frameworks. The publicity of our modern civilization isn't like a dress-suit that you can take off and leave behind when you want to go on safari. It tends to stay with you even when you change your frameworks; and like a dress suit on safari, it's a difficult thing to handle. Fundamentally, I like to observe rather than to be observed; and I find that observing and being observed don't walk very far together. To me, observation and the awareness that comes from it are more important than any values that can result from a publicized life...Alden, maybe you can understand my position better through the following example: (I would be quite embarrassed to have this come out in print, so to that extent I must ask you to hold it in confidence.) Having worked with Robert Goddard, many years ago, in getting his rocket research-and-development project accepted and financed, I have of course maintained an active interest in the progress of missile and space activities. This was not difficult in relation to military developments, since they were highly classified. I was able to work in military fields with little concern about excessive personal publicity. When a civil space agency was first considered, I was offered an opportunity to take part in its organization. One of the reasons why I declined lay in the fact that a civil space agency would not, and should not be operated under conditions of military secrecy. I realized that I could not take a major part without being again exposed to a high degree of personal publicity...Naturally, I was fascinated by the Apollo program, and naturally this program became the focus of world attention. Through the courtesy of the astronauts, who practically took my wife and me into their families and profession, we were able to watch the launching of Apollos 8 an 11 effectively and quietly. We had a wonderful time on the Cape. Following the landing of Armstrong and Aldrin on the moon, President Nixon invited me to accompany him in his helicopter to the aircraft carrier from which we could (we hoped) view the splashdown. I would love to have done this - to have the personal contact with Nixon, to be with the Navy (which I always enjoy), and most of all to see the successful ending of one of the greatest of human accomplishments. But it was obvious that being with President Nixon to receive Apollo 11 astronauts, after man's first landing on the moon, would involve me in probably the greatest concentration of publicity in world history. I had visions of 1927 days, when I couldn't walk through the streets of a city without being recognized and followed - sometimes by a crowd. Having gone to great effort for more than a quarter century to get, and keep, reasonably well out of the "public eye," I concluded that it would be best to decline the president's invitation...I have written in such length to show you that I am not declining lightly your suggestion of a profile in the Times. I really deeply appreciate it, and from the standpoint of friendship I wish very much I felt able to accept. I would thoroughly enjoy again working with you. I want to thank you again for the article you wrote about my forthcoming wartime journals. Both Anne [Morrow Lindbergh] and I were impressed and delighted when we read it...I feel that in addition to the excellent writing it was a great gesture of friendship. With deep appreciation and best wishes, Charles (A. Lindbergh) I hope that someday we can be together on another Philippine expedition. His extraordinary 1927 flight was just the beginning of Lindbergh's long and prolific career. For nearly fifty years, he devoted much time and effort to numerous projects related to aviation, space exploration, and later, to conservation and the environment. In 1928, just two years after American physicist and rocketry pioneer Robert Goddard launched his first liquid-fueled rocket, Lindbergh helped the still little-known professor secure a Guggenheim grant to build a testing site near Roswell, New Mexico, a venture clearly recalled more than four decades later in this letter. It was Goddard who laid the groundwork for such important achievements as NASA's Apollo program, whose 20 July 1969 moon landing proved an historic milestone and brought American astronauts Neil Armstrong and Edwin "Buzz" Aldrin instant fame. Also significant are Lindbergh's conservation efforts, the result of a 1964 trip to Africa. For his remaining ten years, Lindbergh campaigned against the use of supersonic planes as major polluters and fought for the preservation of endangered species and the environment. His trips to the Philippines helped persuade its government to protect and maintain the primitive Tasaday tribe. He capped off a literary career with the 1970 publication of his Wartime Journals. Despite these achievements, Lindebergh remained to the end a private man, somewhat aloof and loathe to exploit a well-deserved reputation.