When Russia first told an incredulous world of its plan to establish a transpolar airline to the U. S., it announced that its No. 1 flyer, Sigismund Levanevsky, would make the first trip (TIME, June 14 et seq.). Instead, this bootblack's son who is often called "the Soviet Lindbergh" was left behind at the last minute and Valeri Chkalov took his place. When the second successful junket was made month later by three other Soviet airmen, Flyer Levanevsky began to be mentioned in dispatches as in jail and scheduled for execution in one of...
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