Chapter II

Well, I fly back over to London. By this time I have done so much flying that if I was in the Army I would be like Colonel Mitchell. I would be thrown out for not staying on the ground more. When I got to the Embassy there was a bunch of about ten young American Bolsheviki’s signing up their passports. They had come from various colleges over home and were going to Russia by boat; a couple of girls among them, and two gentlemen who’s ancestors come from below the Mason and Dixon Line. So if you hear of your washwoman or cook advocating: “Is I am a communist? I ain’t nothing else but. I believes in everything dividing up. Says which?” Well, you will then realize that communism has penetrated the black belt.

These two boys may turn out to be the Lenin and Trotzky of Birmingham. They will have every Crap shooter on Octavus Roy Cohen’s beat sharing his winnings with the losers. We may see the time when your Gin will be everybody’s gin. They were going up by boat. I don’t want any more boat than is absolutely necessary at any time. So I was going in by Airship. I had been aviating so much around Europe that to go anywhere on a train seems too much like walking to me.

I left London one morning about 9:30. Flew over some of the prettiest country before striking out across the Channel. Looked over the edge of the plane all the way across the Channel, watching crowds of American Women swimming it. One old Lady was a great Grandmother and she had three generations of daughters swimming it with her. You could see crowds of men standing on the shore waiting for a smooth sea to cross it in a boat.

One woman of Irish and Jewish parentage, but who had become a naturalized American last year, was swimming over and back without touching. Another American woman of Peruvian parentage on both her Father and Mother’s side was training on the shore at Dover at Pole vaulting--she was going to jump the Channel. There was two or three Ladies of recent American Citizenship who were on the plane with us; but we come down when we reached the beach and their husbands made them get out and swim across--told them they would meet them on the other side. One of the Ladies said she couldent do that; she had tried it before and dident make it, and she knew that she couldent do it. She was right away accused of being masculine, when in reality it was discovered that she was an offspring of generations of pure American stock.

The funniest sight of all I saw looking over that day was one old lady swimming in and towing her husband over on her back. There was one traffic cop out in the middle--well, what you would call a copess. She was just treading water and playing around out there, directing the other swimmers. Every few days somebody would row out and leave her some provisions. She was of Eskimo parentage, but when we took over Alaska she was in that deal and become an American.

The English customs authorities have to be very careful. When the first American contingent came to land--Miss Ederle--they held her for an hour till they could go through every pocket of her bathing suit, looking for Cigars, Cigarettes, Spiritious liquors and perfumes. A girl the other day got away pretty lucky. When she got about a mile from shore she dropped the smuggled goods and then swam back out there the next day and dived down and got them. The English authorities are pretty particular that way; it’s hard for swimmers to smuggle in much. One woman did get over with a safe. She had it hid in her bathing cap.

This swimming has not only called for a new definition in the Dictionary describing which is the weaker sex but it has brought on a great deal more than that. It has demonstrated just how close together England and France are, and that’s what’s hurting them. Neither one of them wants to be close to each other. If we could have given some kind of demonstration that would have proved that they were really further apart in mileage than they are, why, both Nations would have hailed it as a God-given discovery. But this bringing them closer together has got them more sore at America than ever. We can do more things that get us in wrong unintentionally than any Nation in the world. So it looks like the next war between France and England will be fought in bathing suits. The way women are showing up men swimmers, it’s not monkey glands men need, but fish glands.

Well, after we had waved good-by to the swimmers, why, we turned up along the coast of France and Belgium and landed at Ostend. That’s a regular junction point of Airships. They hollered: “Change planes for Cologne, Vienna, Paris, Constantinople and all points south! This plane goes to Rotterdam, Amsterdam. Change there for Berlin, Warsaw and Copenhagen.” It reminded me of the old Frisco depot in Monett, Missouri, when we used to pull in there after shipping cattle to St. Louis to Strahorn, Hutton and Evans. You remember the train splits three ways. One goes to Kansas, one to Arkansas; and the same one goes right on down through Oklahoma, to Claremore, the principal stop.

Well, there at Ostend they had--and do at all these airship places--a regular little Harvey eating house, where you can go in and wrestle with the food and the language. Planes was dropping and going out from everywheres. We had about twenty minutes, and I crawled back in this old Aerial Barge of ours and we breezed along on up the coast. It was mighty inspiring. We passed The Hague, looked over and saw the old Peace Palace, where they were going to meet to stop all wars. It’s turned into an ammunition factory and Army drill hall.

Flying over Holland in an Airship is the only real way to see it, ’cause if you are down on the level--and if you are in Holland you will be standing on the level--Holland’s highest point is eight feet six and a third inches above sea level. That is called the mountain region of Holland, that’s where they do their skiing and winter sports. Mind you, it’s the prettiest little country you ever saw in your life. Just look down and see those hundreds of canals and boats going along all of them. Your farm is not fenced off from your neighbor’s; there is just a canal between you and him. You either visit by boat or holler over. If your next-farm neighbor starts to walk over to you some night, he may get there, but he will arrive wet. There is no road-contracting graft in Holland, no road commissions. All roads come under the heading of Harbor and Dock Commissions. If there is a flivver in Holland, it has oars on it instead of wheels.

She sure is a pretty dairying Country. Those old big black cows with a white bandage around their stomachs don’t seem to mind at all. You don’t have to brand your cattle and your herd will never get mixed up with your neighbor’s unless they develop web feet or grow a rudder in place of a tail.

That windmill Gag that every Artist always pictures with Holland has been kinder exaggerated. Higgins, Texas, has got more Windmills than all Holland, and what I did see looked like they were sorter tired out; they wasent doing much; they just seemed to be like a lot of things all over Europe--they was just trying to get by on tradition. They wasent what I could call turning out 100 per cent production. I had always thought they were located by a little white house. Say, there is not a little white house in Holland. There’s not even a Big white house there. It’s the only country in the world where there is absolutely only one color, and a paint man would starve to death trying to sell any other. It’s a kind of red, or a dark bay. So don’t you believe Pictures any more. What makes everything look white is because it is so clean and neat and nice.

Looked for the old Kaiser out in the yard chopping wood some place, but everybody was burning coal that I could see. Guess the old Boy was setting in the house, brooding over making the wrong jump out of the King row.

Amsterdam was the next stop--changed planes for Berlin. Everybody got out and had a few Sandwiches and a couple of steins of Holland Gin. Into a German plane and out over Germany. Say, they was farming too. Little long strips of land laid out instead of having it all in one big field. They do that so they can rotate the crops on the different pieces. Forests, the most beautiful forests, all out in rows. Every time they cut down a tree it looks like they planted two in its place. Every time we cut one down, the fellow that cuts it down sets down to have a smoke and celebrate. He throws his cigarette away and burns up the rest of the forest.

We hit Berlin at 5:30 that afternoon. Just think! Left London at 9:30, had these stops, seen all these wonderful countries and was clear over in Berlin in time for a drive around the city and dinner. I was going to stop in Berlin on my way back out of Russia, so at two o’clock in the morning, or night, I left for Russia. You go to By Königsberg. Well, I had been in planes in the daytime, but driving away out there in a taxi alone and crawling into an airship in the night-time is no particular relief to a Comedian. This was a big German Junker. Not only had two engines and two propellers but three, one big one in front and two others as assistants.

Well, when a German outfit say they are going to leave at two o’clock, don’t you get there at one minute past two. If you do, you will just hear the propeller buzzing around up in the air. She was dark as we left. We had about twelve on board. She gets light pretty quick and early up there; and seeing the lights down the streets as we flew over the city and out across country, day soon begin to break and the fog and clouds in the low places made you think every minute you were flying right out over the ocean, and these clouds looked like big waves. There was a regular light line miles apart that was a big light revolving with different colors and no matter how dark, the pilot could see where he was going.

But she was light within less than a hour. They had a wireless or radio on there, getting weather conditions ahead of them. We got into Königsberg about eight o’clock, went in and had breakfast and come out, and there was a German Fokker. It was the one we were to make the long hop from there to Moscow in. It was piloted by the funniest looking old chuckleheaded, shave-haired Russian boy that dident look like he was over twenty. But say, Bub, that clown could sure rein that thing around and make it say Uncle and play dead and roll over. He was an Aviator.

It dident do my nerve any good when they pointed our plane out to me, for it had only one engine. You know, there is some confidence attached when you know there is a sort of bevy of engines, and if one goes wrong, why, some of the others will keep percolating. But I looked at this one and thought: “Sister, if you stop on us, we are just smeared over the landscape of Western Russia.”

A single Engine looks awful scarce after just emerging from one of those Pullman-looking layouts. She looked to me like she was naked.

Now a while ago I said that was the plane that we were going to Russia in. I was mistaken--that was the plane that I was going to Russia in, for I constituted Russia’s sole aerial immigration that day. Well, in one way, I am generous. If I am going to drop, I don’t want to have the pleasure all to myself; I want to share it with somebody. You never want company till danger comes--then you like to look around and see that somebody is sorter with you.

The plane really could seat about five passengers. There was just room for one, the Pilot, out in front; and the Mechanic was in the sort of a compartment with me. As I got in I commenced to think of all the jokes I had told about Russia. And then I remembered that people had remarked to me they dident know why I had been given a passport into Russia, when it was so hard to get one. Well, come to think of it, I dident either. Then I thought, “Mebbe they know about some of the jokes and this Aerial Cossack is about heading right off to Siberia with me.” I commenced to think what kind of an act I could do for my fellow exiles away off up there. I dident know a word of Russian, and this lad in the compartment with me, or the Pilot either, dident know a word of American--not even English.

This littlier plane seemed mighty small and jumpy to me. But this old Russian boy pulled the slack out of his reins, kinder clucked to her, and I want to tell you she left there right now.

We headed off for what the ticket said was to be Russia, but he could have been going toward South Africa as far as I could tell anything about it.

Now this is 8:30 in the morning, and--barring accidents--this same old wash boiler is scheduled to breeze into Moscow at 6:30 that same afternoon, with only one stop, and that was to be at Smolensk. I could tell the way he started out that no matter where he might be headed for, he was certainly going to do no loitering up in that air. He just give her her head, and dident seem to pull up for rivers, Railroad crossings or mountains. Sitting in there kinder give me time to think things over, or, as the novelist calls it, soliquizing: Just why was a bonehead like me breezing off into Russia, or off into anywhere else? What was the matter with the Verdigris bottoms down in old Rogers County, Oklahoma? Why, there I used to be scared to climb up as high as the barn loft unless they was a load of hay being pitched in. I could understand a man flying out of Russia, but not in there.

Well, we are just vaulting from cloud to cloud and the Country is looking mighty nice down below, but not good enough to fall on. I dident know where this Smolensk was, or what time we was supposed to get there. You know, I think that what worried me more than anything else was being somewhere and not being able to talk to anybody. I wouldent have minded having a wreck if I could just have asked him on the way down “How fast are we falling?” or any little casual remark, just so he would have got it. It wasent the height as much as it was keeping my mouth shut a whole day.

Then I dident know whether I would be any better off for talk after I did land there. You know, the thing that impressed me more away up there, away over in Russia, was this: Here I am, for no apparent reason, able to fly from London, England, to Moscow, Russia, in two days, part of it over a country that we laugh at and look on as backward and primitive; and here we have hundreds of business men in Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Chicago, New Orleans, Talala, and hundreds of Cities like those that want to get somewhere, mebbe on account of illness, or thousands of other reasons, and the best they can get there is just like their forefathers got two generations before them. We do more talking progress than we do progressing.

You should jump into an Airship in New York in the morning, go to a show in Denver that night and on to Los Angeles, with enough daylight to spare, the second day to see Mary Pickford’s home, buy a lot and cuss the climate before bedtime. Just think of being in something that would go by Chicago without having to stay over all day and change depots. Look at the lives it would save there, passing over where nobody could shoot you.

No, sir, air is the thing--get people used to getting up into it. The next war is going to be all in the air. Nobody ain’t going to hand you a pair of putties and a Helmet in the next war. They are going to slip a throttle of an airship into your hands and say, “Go aloft and see if you are lucky enough to come down of your own accord or will somebody have to bring you down.” It will be as big a disgrace ten years from now not to know how to run an airship as it is now not to know how to run a flivver. The day of the old General on the gray horse, standing up on a little mound, waving his sword telling the other boys where to go--that’s museum stuff. In the next war the guy that can grab him a single-seater and go up and lay behind a cloud and tell the boys where to go is the real coming general.

There will be a great change of public statues in a few years. The fellow standing there with an old Musket will have to share honor with the statue swung down from the clouds on wires, representing a fellow shooting through his propeller with a machine gun.

And I am mighty glad that Henry Ford took it up. Now you know that Ford wouldent leave the ground and take to the air unless things looked pretty good to him up there. What Borah is to Politics and fantastical things like that, why, Ford is to practical business needs. So keep one eye on that old Boy. He knows more than what a Ford car is made out of. I knew he had gone about as far as he could go on the ground unless you breed more people.

So if either party want an issue that you won’t have to be ashamed of, or stand astraddle of, why, shout Airships--commercial, Private, Government, Army, Navy; and even the air department can do with another one. Listen and America won’t have to sit all day in a day coach to get a hundred miles. And say, these trips over here cost you just about what they would by first-class fare on the trains when you consider sleepers and all. It’s not expensive traveling.