Charles Russell Scrapbook Images

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One brilliant summer day in 1925 young “Lindy” Lindberg dropped down on Mr. Ford’s Airport for a social call. He parked his “Spirit of St. Louis” in a hangar and went out to see the town.
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Since the young man had taken it into his head to be born in Detroit the old home town was agog. Nothing was too good for the boy. They trotted out all welcoming signs. J.L. Hudson spread the largest American flag ever made across their front and matched it with a banner with the young man’s name blazoned across it. Fame was ever thus. (Note - this image was missing from the scrapbook.)
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Stand back folks – He’s coming. I wonder if he is nervous being convoyed by so many mounted police. Get back, lady – my neck isn’t quite as long as yours. Anyway this is a good ad for Frigidaire. Billboard advertising is a great racket.
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Well here he is. Gee I must be excited. I can’t hold this camera still. Must be like buck-fever. Hold still, darn ye or I’ll make Lindy fuzzy. There I told you – he looks as if he had just flashed across the line at the Indianapolis Speedway. Next time I’ll have a tripod before shooting history. Seeing this Lindy boy has sort of made me break out in an aviation rash. Hope it’s not catching.
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Oh – Oh. I was afraid of something like this. Alice has gone air-minded. Oh well – birthdays only come once a year and we must celebrate. But why fly, sez you. Well I don’t really know except that this is the lady’s first flight. Look out, Alice, that chapeau is about to take off.
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Why must men always put their hands in their pockets just to look nonchalant. I don’t look that way and it shows that my trousers could stand a date with the presser. Well – my hat’s safe. The pilot just switched off the engines of the Ford.
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This aviation bug is very virulent. It has been Ross Judson of Continental Motors and look what happened – a flying horse and it isn’t red either. A brand new Fokker trimotor transport for the execs to hold conferences in.
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Well what’s your excuse. Are you an exec.? Well – not yet but give me time. Anyway Lieut. Pond is to go to Ypsilanti to a attend a meet and take his pilot’s exam. and has asked me to go. Should I say no? No. So a pleasant ride was enjoyed by all who went even if Pond did try to make me sick with some vertical banks but the old Army training won out and I could thumb my nose at him.
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Well the old Fokker was a good old boat and travelled many miles in Continental service. It did much to sell the organization on the need for developing some commercial engines for aircraft.
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About twenty minutes from Selfridge Field to Ypsilanti and Pond gets us there without mishap. We drop into the little field and create quite a sensation. Pond goes to the exam and we look over the line of ships.
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They called this the “Flying Bathtub” but I think taking a Saturday scrub in it would be a problem. Fred Gould keeps a respectful distance from the business end.
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Richtoven used a triplane to knock down Alied planes but this guy went him one better. I’ll tell you now that the ship never was much good. Looks like a big box kite. Oh – well, designers must make something different. It is.
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And so it came to pass in the year 1928 the National Air Races were scheduled to be held at Mines Field, Los Angeles. The big wigs of Continental Motors decided to send representatives to this meet to learn everything possible regarding the popular size of motor for commercial aircraft. Because of my Army training I was selected as one to make the trip. The other was V.M. Smith the factory manager. V.M. was greatly interested in aviation and was eager to go as he had never been West.
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And so it was that V.M. with his grin and me with my Graflex were the team that entrained one day late in September for the Golden State. Never have I seen a man who could talk so volubly even to perfect strangers and get away with it. Must be a gift – or an affliction.
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The first day out of Chicago on the Union Pacific, V.M. strikes up first acquaintance. He was Charles Heddon, the fishing tackle magnate from Dowagiac. The other members of the quartet are George and George.
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When we got further along we stopped at the town of Milford where some of us craved fresh air. By this time our acquaintance had expanded considerably. Heddon and I are the big and the little. Pretty soft – Heddon goes to California every winter for several months. He has a son there in the Thunderbird Aircraft Company and had promised that we should meet when we get to Los Angeles.
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I can’t help it if this seems like a travelogue. I’ll get to the aircraft after while. You may not like mountains but we had to cross them so you had better take a look. This is a sample of the lumpy landscape we passed through. And there is still more.
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You may not believe it but we have now reached Salt Lake, Utah. No – I know it doesn’t look like very much but then I had to take what I could while the train was making miles per hour. The white salty shore of the Lake looked as if snow had come. It is an interesting but rather barren sight. Shucks – it’s nearly dinner time again and I suppose we will have to eat. I’m glad the Company is paying – not I.
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Well we are getting into the real rough spots in America. Believe it or not – this is Nevada. Just to prove it – see the silver mine hiding out just over the shoulder of the mountain.
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I guess I am the only one to admire mountain scenery. If I didn’t then I sure wasted a lot of good film. But when you are spanning so many miles going west this is what you see.
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Among our numerous fellow travellers was E.P. Warner, Asst. Secretary of Commerce in Charge of Aviation. He is a young likable fellow and we saw much of him at the Air Races during the following week. He is a great atudent of aviation and was a happy choice by the Administration. He posed with the Conductor of the train and is seen standing in the center of the picture.
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After climbing up and sliding down the Coast Ranges we at last pulled into Los Angeles and told the taxi driver “Take me to the Ambassador Hotel”. That hotel was a revelation. It stands far back from the street and is surrounded by beautiful and spacious grounds. It is the home of the famous Coconut Grove where the movie celebrities hold forth nightly.

One night we climbed into Tuxedos and went to the Grove for dinner. Coconut palms appear to grow right out of the floor, there are terraces for tables and the walls are painted to show Spanish buildings. Awnings hang out from them over the diners. On one side is a famous dance band and the dance floor is at the center. We were disappointed in not seeing Charlie Chaplin, Doug. Fairbanks and their ilk but the food was gorgeous – so we gorged.
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From our windows in our suite we had a wonderful view of the city. Around the hotel a small golf course is laid out for patrons. The large white house partially hidden by the date palm is the home of Gillette, the safety razor king.

The hotel was alive with the great and not so great in aviation. There I met Amelia Earhart, Capt. Frank Hawks, Major Allen formerly of the Army and now with Standard Oil. and many others.
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What is this? Fishing poles growing right in the Ambassador front yard? Well it is and it is honest-to-goodness bamboo, believe it or not. This is only a small part of the very interesting shrubbery and trees growing around this great hotel.