Crowd Roars Thunderous Welcome

                Breaks Through Lines of Soldiers and Police and Surging to Plane Lifts
                Weary Flier from His Cockpit

                Aviators Save Him From Frenzied Mob of 100,000

                Paris Boulevards Ring With Celebration After Day and Night Watch --
                American Flag Is Called for and Wildly Acclaimed
 

                By EDWIN L. JAMES

                Special Cable to The New York Times

                 Paris, May 21 -- Lindbergh did it. Twenty minutes after 10 o'clock tonight suddenly
                and softly there slipped out of the darkness a gray-white airplane as 25,000 pairs of eyes
                strained toward it. At 10:24 the Spirit of St. Louis landed and lines of soldiers, ranks of policemen
                and stout steel fences went down before a mad rush as irresistible as the tides of ocean.

                "Well, I made it," smiled Lindbergh, as the little white monoplane came to a halt in the middle of
                the field and the first vanguard reached the plane. Lindbergh made a move to jump out. Twenty
                hands reached for him and lifted him out as if he were a baby. Several thousands in a minute were
                around the plane. Thousands more broke the barriers of iron, rails round the field, cheering wildly.

                Lifted From His Cockpit

                As he was lifted to the ground Lindbergh was [text unreadable] with his hair unkempt, he looked
                completely worn out. He had strength enough, however, to smile, and waved his hand to the
                crowd. Soldiers with fixed bayonets were unable to keep back the crowd.

                United States Ambassador Herrick was among the first to welcome and congratulate the hero.

                A New York Times man was one of the first to reach the machine after its graceful descent to the
                field. Those first to arrive at the plane had a picture that will live in their minds for the rest of
                their lives. His cap off, his famous locks falling in disarray around his eyes, "Lucky Lindy" sat
                peering out over the rim of the little cockpit of his machine.

                Dramatic Scene at the Field

                It was high drama. Picture the scene. Almost if not quite 100,000 people
                were massed on the east side of Le Bourget air field. Some of them had been
                there six and seven hours.

                Suddenly a message spread like lightning, the aviator had been seen over
                Cherbourg. However, remembering the messages telling of Captain
                Nungesser's flight, the crowd was skeptical.

                "One chance in a thousand!" "Oh, he cannot do it without navigating
                instruments!" "It's a pity, because he was a brave boy." Pessimism had spread
                over the great throng by 10 o'clock.

                The stars came out and a chill wind blew.

                Watchers Are Twice Disappointed

                Suddenly the field lights flooded [text unreadable] glares onto the landing
                ground and there came the roar of an airplane's motor. The crowd was still,
                then began to cheer, but two minutes later the landing glares went dark for the
                searchlight had identified the plane and it was not Captain Lindbergh's.

                Stamping their feet in the cold, the crowd waited patiently. It seemed quite
                apparent that nearly every one was willing to wait all night, hoping against
                hope.

                Suddenly- it was 10:16 exactly- another motor roared over the heads of the
                crowd. In the sky one caught a glimpse of a white gray plane, and for an
                instant heard the sound of one. Then it dimmed , and the idea spread that it
                was yet another disappointment.

                Again landing lights glared and almost by the time they had flooded the field
                the gray-white plane had lighted on the far side nearly half a mile from the
                crowd. It seemed to stop almost as it hit the ground, so gently did it land.

                And then occurred a scene which almost passed description. Two companies
                of soldiers with fixed bayonets and the Le Bourget field police, reinforced by
                Paris agents, had held the crowd in good order. But as the lights showed the
                plane landing, much as if a picture had been thrown on a moving picture
                screen, there was a mad rush.

                Soldiers and Police Swept Aside

                The movement of humanity swept over soldiers and by policemen and there
                was the wild sight of thousands of men and women rushing madly across half
                a mile of the not too even ground. Soldiers and police tried for one small
                moment to stem the tide, then they joined it, rushing as madly as anyone else
                toward the aviator and his plane.

                The first people to reach the plane were two workmen of the aviation field
                and half a dozen Frenchmen.

                "Cette fois, ca va!" they cried. (This time it's done.)

                Captain Lindbergh answered:

                "Well, I made it."

                An instant later he was on the shoulders of half a dozen persons who tried to
                bear him from the field. The crowd crushed about the aviator and his progress
                was halted until a squad of soldiers with fixed bayonets cleared a way for him.

                It was two French aviators- Major Pierre Weiss and Sergeant de Troyer --
                who rescued Captain Lindbergh from the frenzied mob. When it seemed that
                the excited French men and women would overwhelm the frail figure which
                was being carried on the shoulders of a half dozen men, the two aviators
                rushed up with a Renault car and hastily snatching Lindy from the crowd,
                sped across the field to the commandant's office.

                Then followed an almost cruel rush to get near the airman. Women were
                thrown down and a number trampled badly. The doors of the small building
                were closed, but the windows were forced by enthusiasts, who were
                promptly ejected by soldiers.

                Five Minutes of Cheering for Nungesser

                Spurred on by reports spread in Paris of the approach of the aviator, other
                thousands began to arrive from the capital. The police estimate that within half
                an hour after Captain Lindbergh landed there were probably 100,000
                storming the little building to get a sight of the idol of the evening.

                Suddenly he appeared at a window, waving his helmet. It was then that, amid
                cheers for him, came five minutes of cheering for Captain Nungesser.

                While the gallant aviator was resting in the Aviators' Club part of the crowd
                turned toward his airplane. It had landed in the pink of condition. Before the
                police could intervene the spectators turned souvenir mad, had stripped the
                plane of everything which could be taken off, and some were even cutting
                pieces of linen from the wings when a squad of soldiers with fixed bayonets
                quickly surrounded the Spirit of St. Louis and guarded it while mechanics
                wheeled into a shed, but only after it had been considerably marred.

                While the crowd was waiting, Captain Lindbergh was taken away from the
                field about midnight, to seek a well-earned repose.

                The thing that Captain Lindbergh emphasized more than anything else to the
                American committee which welcomed him and later to newspapermen, was
                that he felt no special strain.

                "I could have gone one-half again as much," he said with conviction.

                Excited Crowds Block Paris Traffic

                Not since the armistice of 1918 has Paris witnessed a downright
                demonstration of popular enthusiasm and excitement equal to that displayed
                by the throngs flocking to the boulevards for news of the American flier,
                whose personality has captured the hearts of the Parisian Multitude.

                Thirty thousand people had gathered at the Place de Opera and the Square
                de Havre, near St. Lazare station, where illuminated advertising signs flashed
                bulletins on the progress of the flier. In front of the office of the Paris Matin in
                the Boulevard Poissonniere the crowds quickly filled the streets, so that extra
                police details had the greatest difficulty in keeping the traffic moving in two
                narrow files between the mobs which repeatedly choked the entire street.

                From the moment when the last evening editions appeared, at 6:30 o'clock,
                until shortly after 9 there was a curious reaction, due to the fact that news
                seemed to be at a standstill. The throngs waited, hushed and silent, for
                confirmation.

                It was a tense period when the thought in every mind was that they were
                witnessing a repetition of the deception which two weeks ago turned victory
                into mourning for the French aviators Nungesser and Coli. Suppose the news
                flashed from the Empress of France that the American flier was seen off the
                coast of Ireland proved false, as deceiving as the word flashed that
                Nungesser's White Bird had been sighted off Nova Scotia.

                Wait Tensely for News

                During a long, tense period no confirmation came. The people stood quietly,
                but the strain was becoming almost unbearable, permeating through the
                crowd. Pessimistic phrases were repeated. "It's too much to think it possible."
                "They shouldn't have let him go." "All alone, he has no chance if he should be
                overcome with exhaustion."

                To these comments the inevitable reply was, "Don't give up hope. There's still
                time."

                All this showed the French throng was unanimously eager for the American's
                safety and straining every wish for his ultimate victory.

                A French woman dressed in mourning and sitting in a big limousine was seen
                wiping her eyes when the bulletins failed to flash confirmation that Lindbergh's
                plane had been sighted off Ireland. A woman selling papers near-by brushed
                her own tears aside exclaiming:

                "You're right to feel so, madame. In such things there is no nationality -- he's
                some mother's son."

                Something of the same despair which the crowds evinced two weeks ago
                spread as an unconfirmed rumor was circulated that Lindbergh had been
                forced down. Soon after 9 o'clock this was turned to a cheering, shouting
                pandemonium when Le Matin posted a bulletin announcing that the Lindbergh
                plane had been sighted over Cherbourg.

                Crowd Delirious With Joy

                The crowd applauded and surged into the street, halting traffic in a series of
                delirious manifestations which lasted for ten minutes with cries of "Vive
                Lindbergh," "Vive l'Americain." The news was followed by a general rush for
                taxicabs and subway stations, thousands being seized simultaneously with the
                idea of going to Le Bourget to witness the arrival of the victorious airman.

                All roads leading toward the air field were jammed with traffic, though
                thousands still clung to their places before the boulevard bulletin boards.
                Other throngs moved toward the Etoile, lining ways of access to the hotel
                where it had been announced the American's rooms were reserved, in the
                hope of catching a glimpse of the international hero, the first to make Paris
                from New York by air, as he passed in triumph from the airdrome.

                Landing Excited Crowd to Frenzy

                Ovation after ovation followed the news of Lindbergh's startling progress
                through France, the crowds steadily augmenting until they filled the entire
                block. The throng was estimated at 15,000 people. After Cherbourg word
                was flashed that the plane had traversed Louvirs, then the outskirts of Paris.

                In a perfect frenzy the huge crowd hailed the announcement that Lindbergh
                had landed at Le Bourget. Straw hats sailed in the air, handkerchiefs fluttered
                and a roar of cheers and clapping spread through the throng and was carried
                along down the boulevards, where the crowds seated in the cafe terraces
                rushed into the streets and joined in the demonstration. The cheering was
                renewed again and again.

                Stars and Stripes Wildly Applauded

                From the tops of motorbuses, stopped in the traffic, joyful figures
                demonstrated their glee, the police abandoning their efforts to restrain the
                throng and joining in the general elation.

                From the first recheering of "Vive l'Americain" rolled up a mighty shout, "The
                flags," the same cry which two weeks ago gave rise to the false rumor of an
                anti-American demonstration, when it was falsely reported that a mob
                demanded the removal of the American flag from the Matin office.

                "Vive l'Americain" the Cry

                For several minutes this cry was renewed until the proprietor of a motion
                picture house unfurled a little American flag, which was greeted with cheer
                upon cheer and which became the mightiest pro-American demonstration
                seen in France since the days of the war, when, as the Yankee troops landed,
                three large American flags beside the French Tricolor hung from Le Matin's
                window in the glare of searchlights.

                There could be no mistaking the sincerity of these cheers which were
                prolonged as a Frenchman in the crowd rushed up to the American
                demonstrators, wringing their hands in congratulations.

                Extra papers telling the tale of the American's triumph in bulletin form sold as
                fast as the newsmen could distribute them.

                The throng slowly dispersed in a general procession toward Montmartre,
                where many hundreds were to spend the remainder of the night in a
                celebration.

                Flier's Navigation Called Uncanny

                What appealed to the French aviators as the uncanny part of Captain
                Lindbergh's performance was his lack of navigating instruments. Old and
                experienced airmen, in conversations during their wait for him said he had one
                chance in a thousand because, while he might head in a given compass
                direction in leaving America, the winds might put him many hundreds of miles
                out of his path.

                Guesses were made that he might land in Spain, in Portugal, in Northern
                Africa or in Ireland or even Norway. But the flier landed at Le Bourget as
                simply as you please and as accurately as if he had half a dozen navigators
                aboard.

                Traffic to Le Bourget in Record Jam

                When the news of Captain Lindbergh's arrival reached Paris tens of
                thousands of people started for Le Bourget Field. They met the crowds
                starting to come home and there ensued the worst traffic tangle the French
                Capital has had. The police estimate that 12,000 automobiles became
                involved in the tangle and many of the cars did not get back to the city until
                after 3 o'clock this morning.

                For two hours there was a hopeless mix-up with no movement in any
                direction. The emergency traffic police brought from Paris worked nearly all
                night in straightening out the mess.

                French papers estimated that at midnight 150,000 people were trying to get
                to or from Le Bourget and there were frequent exhibitions of temper which
                acted as a great contrast to the enthusiastic joy which greeted the arrival of
                the American hero.

                Soon after Lindbergh landed an employe of the Bourse telegraph office
                arrived with more than 700 cablegrams for him, but the employe was unable
                to get within half a mile of the addressee.