One Summer: America, 1927

“The 1920s was a great time for reading altogether—very possibly the peak decade for reading in American life. Soon it would be overtaken by the passive distractions of radio, but for the moment reading remained most people’s principal method for filling idle time.” 

Beyond the real-time entertainment of public spectacles, journalists with, in many cases, little regard for accuracy but a flare for drama sent coverage of events to an eager readership. People were fascinated by the news and read installments of events such as legal trials and the aviation race with interest. This particular form of disseminating information characterized the 1920s differently than any other decade. Previously, the United States had been much more rural, and there were fewer crowds and large cities to generate stories with large scopes. Journalists’ objectives were also far less concerned with entertainment above genuine reporting, which changed in the ’20s. There had been no such thing as popular culture celebrities or tabloids. As Bryson notes, after the 1920s, other forms of media interrupted the ubiquity of and reliance on reading.

“Charles was a shy, rather dreamy boy. He made so little impression on Little Falls that when journalists descended on the town in 1927 looking for anecdotes from his boyhood, none of his ex-schoolmates could think of any. Lindbergh himself in adulthood said that he has no memories at all of his daily life as a youngster.” 

Lindbergh’s background made him an unlikely candidate for public affection. He apparently had rather cold parents, moved around a lot as the son of a politician who had to split time in different states, and achieved little before he started flying planes. As the passage notes, people from his hometown in Minnesota barely remembered him from their youths. His seeming humility and wholesomeness would ultimately shape the image that Americans came to cherish after he successfully flew from New York to Paris, but that was the first time the young man really became impressionable to those around him. Considering the fame that Lindbergh achieved through aviation, the simplicity and mundanity of his background are considerable juxtapositions.

“That he was perhaps the only person between the two coasts bold enough to take to the air seems not to have occurred to him then or after.” 

The “he” in this passage refers to Charles Lindbergh as he flew through storms to reach New York (where he would depart for Paris as soon as possible). As Bryson explains the historical heroism of Lindbergh in 1927, he similarly depicts Lindbergh as a remarkable and almost mythical character. In this description, Lindbergh is a stoic, determined, unflappable character on his way to greatness. Perhaps Lindbergh was those things, but he likely possessed some emotions that would complicate the simplified image of a hero of technology and the skies for which Lindbergh has remained so famous. This simple characterization is not Bryson’s sole objective in writing about Lindbergh, however. The author notes idiosyncrasies and failures in Lindbergh’s personality and life, but the story of his career as a high-profile aviator is dramatic and sensationalized in the narrative of the book.

“This was an age that didn’t like practical concerns to get in the way of its musings. A writer in the popular Science and Invention magazine confidently forecast that people of all ages would soon be traveling—and briskly—on motorized roller skates, while Harvey W. Corbett, a prominent architect, predicted that skyscrapers would rise hundreds of stories into the clouds and that people living on the upper levels would get their meals by radio, without explaining exactly how he imagined that would work. Rodman Wanamaker, the department store magnate and financier of Richard Byrd’s flight, sponsored an exhibition in New York called the Titan City, which depicted a future world in which magnificent urban towers were connected by sleek aerial expressways while citizens were shot through glass tubes in pneumatic trains or glided regally from place to place on moving sidewalks. Whatever the future held, everyone agreed that it would be technologically advanced, American-led, and thrilling.” 

Bryson first personifies the historical moment and then offers these humorous examples of the types of innovations that people, even informed people in relevant fields, imagined coming into existence in the 1920s. It was an era of dreams, although some—like the cross-Atlantic flight—came to fruition, while others—the radio food—did not. Conceptions of what might be physically possible had expanded greatly since previous eras and would actually recede after the sobering Great Depression of the early 1930s. The great optimism and excitement was also distinctly American. The United States emerged from World War I and its early age of overseas imperialism as a leading world power, and the country was prosperous in a lot of measurable ways. Expensive, incredible technology was easy for people to imagine in these conditions.

“Concern was greatest for young women, who seemed everywhere to have abandoned themselves to sordid habits. They smoked, drank, rouged their shining faces, bobbed their hair (which is to say cut it short and even all the way around), and clad themselves in silken dresses of breathtaking skimpiness.” 

Popular culture in the 1920s went through some revolutionary changes, which created tension in American society. Social conservatives feared the transformations of youth culture. As this quotation indicates, a particular concern was for the perceived moral and sexual purity of women. Developing modern womanhood was very unlike the modest and subservient, idealized femininity of the pre-war period. This was also the period following the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment that gave women the right to vote. While the excitement of technological and social advances and captivating celebrities make the country seem wholly progressive and forward-looking, Bryson ensures the reader keeps in mind that rapid changes in society and culture can provoke generational, geographical, political, and other conflicts. These types of conflicts also characterized the 1920s in the United States.

“As Lindbergh covered the last leg from Cherbourg into Paris he had no idea that he was about to experience fame on a scale and intensity unlike any experienced by any human before.” 

The Western world’s reaction to Charles Lindbergh’s cross-Atlantic flight was unprecedented. The contexts of increasing globalization and steadily advancing communications and technologies (and interest in those technologies) meant that people around the world could track the news and join the celebration. In this quotation, Bryson asserts that the fame was greater and more intense than any other person’s ever. He doesn’t define fame, but this type of celebrity fame, eagerly reported in daily press, was of an entirely new age compared to many historical figures that might be considered famous in the more distant past (like emperors and monarchs, for example). The intensity that Bryson mentions included near-rioting when crowds could get close to Lindbergh. Reactions were frenzied and potentially dangerous. Bryson also notes here that it was unexpected for Lindbergh. According to the narrative, he certainly did not imagine the degree of interest that the public would take in him, nor did he always welcome the over-the-top attention and scrutiny.

“A kind of mania swept the nation. Proposals were put forward to exempt Lindbergh for life from paying taxes, to name a star or planet after him, to install him in the cabinet as permanent head of a new aviation department, and to make May 21 a national holiday. He was given a lifetime pass to all major league baseball games everywhere. In Minnesota a proposal was made to rename the state Lindberghia.” 

This passage gives a more detailed account of the types of attention Lindbergh received and what it meant to his many fans. These items reveal that people were not just entertained by Lindbergh, though entertainment was certainly an important component to his fame. Americans regarded him as an absolute American hero and made propositions to, in many ways, place him above the law with unique privileges. These examples all center on the US, but Bryson reveals in the larger chapter similar kinds of reactions from people outside the United States. It was a very rare moment in which an international audience so vehemently supported—rather than resented—a successful American.

“Ruth’s rise to fame could not have been more impeccably timed. It coincided precisely with the birth of tabloid newspapers, newsreel films, fan magazines, and radio—all vital cogs in the new celebrity culture—and his arrival in New York brought him into the throbbing heart of the media world. Newspapers began running a daily column titled ‘What Babe Ruth Did Today.’ When Babe Ruth had a bunion trimmed, it received national coverage.” 

In addition to Lindbergh, Babe Ruth represented an important type of early but enduring American celebrity: the star athlete. Ruth’s fame grew earlier than Lindbergh’s. By the early 1920s, Americans demonstrated the interest described in this passage. Whereas Lindbergh blazed into fame in a very short period, however, Ruth was a steady fixture for years. Bryson in this passage highlights the many intersecting factors that allowed such a character to exist and remain famous. The tools to disseminate information of interest had only recently come into existence, and they made this “new celebrity culture” possible. Many qualities of that celebrity culture exist in the 21st century as well. The American media tracks the personal lives of celebrities well outside of their fields of expertise or their professions.

“Not everyone was captivated by the new technology. Many believed that all the invisible energy flying through the air must be dangerous. One widespread belief was that birds found dead on the ground were there because they had been struck by radio waves. But on the whole people were enchanted.” 

Bryson’s discussion of radio technology exemplifies society’s complex reaction to such fast-changing facets of everyday life. Radio technology, so advanced and largely invisible, scared people because they couldn’t see or understand radio transmission. Despite that fear of the unknown, people were also very impressed with the breakthrough technology and enjoyed its convenience and entertainment. Newspapers at the time regularly perpetuated rumors and sensationalized stories, so outlandish ideas circulated with much more ease and alacrity than they did in previous eras.

“Nothing, however, was stranger than that it became the avowed policy of the United States government to poison a random assortment of citizens in an attempt to keep the rest of them sober.” 

The subject of this passage is Prohibition, the temporary legal ban on recreational alcohol usage in the United States during the 1920s. Bryson discusses the policy and its poor implementation throughout Chapter 12. The drama of an assertion that the government poisoned its own citizens, however, is a gripping and shocking detail of Prohibition that Bryson leads with for narrative effect. An example of an episode in which a citizen drank poisoned—“denatured”—alcohol and died opens the chapter about the larger context of Prohibition. This approach is typical in the book. Bryson leads with a surprising anecdote and then expands into a more analytical historical account.

“America, it seemed, had become a land of gods.” 

The American gods that Bryson refers to in this sentence are the aviators who made successful cross-Atlantic flights after so many other failed attempts. These accomplishments won over the world, and Bryson’s statement here reflects not necessarily his own valuation but those of the general observing public in 1927. It is also true, however, that Bryson until this point in the book has celebrated these men for their accomplishments and idiosyncrasies. Later in the book, Bryson revisits the heroism of Lindbergh, in particular, who had some shameful qualities. Likening men like Lindbergh to gods here and later exposing massive shortcomings and a fall in public adoration intensifies the drama of these character arcs. People are not simple enough to be entirely heroic or villainous.

“Whereas Warren G. Harding had charm but no brains, Coolidge had brains but little charm. He was the least affable, gregarious, metaphorically embraceable president of modern times. Yet America came to adore him. Though he would spend the 1920s doing as little as possible—that was essentially his declared policy as president—he set the mood in the nation in a way few other presidents have. If the 1920s was the age of anyone, it was the Age of Coolidge.” 

Bryson discusses many historical figures with extravagant lifestyles and large personalities, so it is ironic that the defining figure of the “Roaring Twenties” he identifies is Calvin Coolidge. Americans credited Coolidge with a lot of the prosperity of the 1920s, although he probably had little to do with its accumulation. In the section about Coolidge (Part 3), the man does very little in the way of action but seems to escape public scrutiny in a way that other famous men could not. Perhaps this is because Americans were inclined to like a leader during a time of general prosperity, and Coolidge was too quiet and removed to define his own image beyond broad strokes and endearing idiosyncrasies. His aloofness was part of what made him intriguing, and by not intervening in the many schemes Americans undertook in all areas of society during the 1920s, he allowed (and occasionally directly endorsed) entertaining pursuits that the general public followed.

“Installment buying filled American homes with gleaming products and its road with cars. It made America the consumer paradise it has remained ever since.” 

American consumerism developed rapidly in the 1920s, largely because of the massive expansion of the credit system that more or less persists today. Consumers did not have to buy a product up front at its full cost. Instead, they could accept payment plans and pay their dues over time and with some interest (additional payment above the cost of the product) that would generate money for investors and lenders higher up in the supply and distribution chains. Stretching out payment for expensive items had the intended impact of expanding markets to more consumers and creating a culture of consumerism with a new set of expectations and wider access. It is notable that Bryson calls the United States a “consumer paradise” without additional commentary. Certainly, Americans are still avid consumers and have access to a variety of goods at a variety of price points; there is both supply and demand for products. Many social commentators argue, however, against rampant consumerism because it creates so much debt and psychologically shapes people so significantly.

“Only one other prominent American of the period was so admired and honored by the Nazis (or so openly admired them in return): Charles Lindbergh.”

This sentence is a major turning point in the narrative of Charles Lindbergh in the book. The man referenced but not named directly in this quotation is Henry Ford. Ford and Lindbergh both had antisemitic views that they made public during their careers. This was the quality that the Nazis most admired. Bryson also adds parenthetically that both Ford and Lindbergh expressed reciprocal admiration for the Nazi regime. The reader does not get any further details in this moment, but the accusation of being a Nazi sympathizer is an enormous and shocking hint to drop in passing. The reader knows the Lindbergh story will end with a more thorough exposure of his bigotry because Bryson continuously flags that development.

“Artists’ illustrations, which the Ford company helpfully provided, showed a tranquil and idyllic community complete with paved streets and Ford cars, in defiance of the obvious fact that there would be nowhere beyond the very modest confines of the town for them to go. Henry Ford considered almost every detail of the undertaking. The clocks would be set to Michigan time, and Prohibition would be observed, even though it was not the law of Brazil. Whatever the cost, Fordlandia would be dedicated to American laws, culture, and values—an outpost of Protestant ideals in the middle of a hot, godless jungle.” 

Ford projected his ideals of American superiority onto his resource extraction colony project in Brazil. He was not only familiar with American ways of living but wholly dedicated to them. His product—Ford cars—was central to his image of the ideal American community, alongside Protestantism and all the social mores that shaped American society and politics. The strict adherence to American structures would contribute to the downfall of the Fordlandia project. The Brazilian landscape could not be forced into such a foreign organization without leading to crop failure and worker discomfort, even fatal danger. Ford’s superficial commitment to all things American and his belief that American ways were superior to all others blinded him from the adaptability he would have needed to make Fordlandia viable.

“Willard’s victory provided a crucial, if not laudable, milestone for boxing: it gave the sport a white heavyweight champion, a shamefully necessary prerequisite for its becoming a popular mainstream sport.”

The details about the athlete Jess Willard are less important than his symbolism. One of the most important qualities he possessed was his whiteness. Black boxers dominated heavyweight boxing around the turn of the 20th century. One of the most famous, Jack Johnson, had relationships with white women that made him a villain to a conservative white public. Many white observers insisted that boxing was barbaric and undignified when Black athletes won the highest titles in the sport. When white athletes could compete for those top prizes, boxing became more popular among white viewers who could pack stadiums in large numbers. Boxing’s reputation would not be entirely reforged by the prospect of white success, but its profitability and general popularity certainly were. It is worth noting that professional boxing was nearly unique in that it was not segregated by race. Still, Willard’s example highlights the racism within American boxing and sports in general.

“The widespread perception of Italians was that if they weren’t Fascists or Bolsheviks, they were anarchists or Communists, and if they weren’t those, they were involved in organized crime.”

Anti-immigrant sentiment, like other forms of bigotry, characterized white “native-born” American society in the 1920s. Bryson describes particulars of anti-Italian sentiment, like the belief that Italians were lazy and savage-like. Despite these stereotypes that cast Italians as thoroughly unsophisticated and stupid, Americans also feared they were operating largescale organized crime. There were series of bombings carried out by anarchists, Italian and otherwise, but it was, of course, not the majority of Italian-born residents endangering the public or targeting American public figures. Americans projected their disdain for politics within Italy (Benito Mussolini was already dictator there) onto immigrants from Italy living within the United States and assumed them all to be active political enemies of the American state, which many Americans adored.

“As Lindbergh was discovering, it was a lot more fun to get famous than to be famous.”

Bryson makes it clear that Lindbergh could never have anticipated the extent of his fame and the public’s adoration for him because no such celebrity had existed before. With fame, however, came exhaustion, the pressure of public expectations, and danger. As his tour wore on, Lindbergh became even less interactive with the public than the quiet, reserved man had initially been. He also had to contend with blind landings (he did not have forward visibility) onto runways swarming with crowds who might rush the plane before it came to a full stop, reaching for Lindbergh himself. The ultimate danger that fame would eventually impose on Lindbergh was the kidnapping and murder of his child in 1932 for ransom.

Though Lindbergh illustrated this new age of fame better than any other single figure, Bryson comments on fame in general throughout the book. Fame often intersected with notoriety. Scandal and crime could make people as famous as legal triumphs. Fame, however, often led to ruin because the financial elements of it were very hard to maintain and people overspent what they had earned in a particular moment of recognition and celebration—moments that tended to pass quickly and never be repeated. Fame on this scale also led to increased scrutiny, which could (as in the case of Lindbergh) quickly sway the public opinion. Adoration, even though it grew exhausting, was only the first step in the longer timeline of being famous.

“Moviegoers around the world suddenly found themselves exposed, often for the first time, to American voices, American vocabulary, American cadence and pronunciation and word order. Spanish conquistadores, Elizabethan courtiers, figures from the Bible were suddenly speaking in American voices—and not just occasionally but in film after film after film. The psychological effect of this, particularly on the young, can hardly be overstated. With American speech came American thoughts, American attitudes, American humor and sensibilities. Peacefully, by accident, and almost unnoticed, America had just taken over the world.” 

Overseas exposure to American film in this era was the beginning of an enduring trend. American media would forevermore permeate most of the globe. Even as many countries grew increasingly frustrated with and angry at the United States in this era, they consumed American media and became familiar with American celebrities, who also became famous overseas for their Hollywood performances. Bryson likens the dissemination of American movies to a cultural takeover. It might also be considered an effective possible venue for propaganda, as the American film industry could support certain types of stories and characters while censoring others.

“Protests broke out across the world—in Buenos Aires, Mexico City, Sydney, Berlin, Hamburg, Geneva, Leipzig, and Copenhagen. Many demonstrations turned violent.” 

The execution of Sacco and Vanzetti sent a current around the world that amplified anti-American sentiment. Earlier in the summer, many around the world had been enamored with American heroes like Charles Lindbergh and admired the technological innovations the country produced. That general feeling had interjected international envy and annoyance with the United States for emerging from World War I so prosperous and for adopting policies of isolationism (limited diplomacy and high import tariffs), while countries across Europe struggled to rebuild national identities and economies in the wake of war. This international frustration compounded when people across the world viewed the Sacco and Vanzetti executions as state-sponsored anti-immigrant violence reflective of corruption and prejudice within a country that was supposed to represent freedom, equality, and opportunity. By the end of the summer of 1927, resentment and anger characterized at least the European perception of the United States, while Americans themselves (especially white Americans) took great pride in their nation.

“The cumulative effect on people’s perceptions was profound. By the end of the summer, America was a nation ready to fly—quite a turnaround from four months earlier, when aviation for most people simply meant barnstormers at county fairs and the like, and the United States seemed unlikely ever to catch up with Europe. Whether Lindbergh knew it or not, his tour of America did far more to transform the future of aviation than his daring dash to Paris ever could.” 

The summer of 1927 was transformative for American aviation not just because of the stunts the famous aviators undertook, but because of the technological advancement it suggested would be possible in the years to come. Because technological innovation and aviation in particular were so important to Americans at the time, national progress in those areas was an enormous morale booster and provided Americans with a sense of self and pride defined by international leadership and success. Bryson suggests that one of the reasons Charles Lindbergh became as famous as he did was because he fueled people’s imaginations and gave them hope for continued American prosperity and triumph. This contribution was symbolic and steadily produced throughout his summer-long tour of the country. His solo flight across the Atlantic was a singular moment, but Bryson suggests that its impact was contained, which stands in contrast to the impact of his regular, shorter, safe domestic flights. People wanted to fly from city to city in the United States. Very few citizens had personal ambitions of becoming pilots and undertaking dangerous, long journeys.

“Eugenics was used to justify enforced deportations, the introduction of restrictive covenants on where people could live, the suspension of civil liberties, and the involuntary sterilization of tens of thousands of innocent people. It resulted in the severe curtailment of immigration and its virtual elimination from certain parts of the world.” 

Bryson discusses American bigotry directly in the final section of the book. In this quotation, he summarizes the impact of eugenics. American officials and academics justified measures to shape American gene pools or organize American society based on racist preferences and pseudoscience. As this quote demonstrates, the reach of eugenics was significant and impacted many demographics. Much of the damage was irreversible, even after eugenics fell out of favor when Americans observed the way Nazi Germany embraced the concept and used it to justify the systematic extermination of millions of people.

“Whatever else it was, it was one hell of a summer.” 

This is the last sentence of the book before the Epilogue. This quick characterization of the summer of 1927—the subject of Bryson’s relatively long study—is revealing in its word choice. The expression “one hell of a” carries a generally positive connotation. In the narrative, Bryson continually highlights the excitement and entertainment of historical events that unfolded between May and September 1927. “Hell” here, though, has a second meaning that matches the word’s denotation. By invoking Hell, Bryson alludes to the xenophobia that shaped American society. Bigotry led to targeted violence and was used to justify formal control over people’s lives. The 1920s overall were tumultuous, and Bryson spent over 400 pages illuminating some of the reasons why the era was so interesting. His final summary of events in this quotation acknowledges that there are many fair historical interpretations of it.