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British editors first buried the Lindbergh story briefly on inside pages. As soon as they caught the drift of U. S. opinion, they promoted it to front pages, began editorially looking down their noses at the U. S. "The shock millions of Americans received when they read the news of Lindbergh's departure," pontificated the London Daily Herald, "is comparable only to what would occur in Britain should the Prince of Wales announce he was no longer secure in his own country."
Berlin's Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung led off the German chorus with: "We as Germans are unable to conceive that a civilized nation. . . ."
Jibed Madrid's Sol: "Nowhere have the police and judicial organizations given more manifest proof of impotence than in the U. S." Paris' Jour informed its readers that U. S. law "has proved insufficient to protect against gangsters men whose glory shines upon their country."
Only European observer to pipe another tune was Columnist George de la Fouchardiere of Paris' Oeuvre: "It reminds one somewhat of the frog who dived into the pond to avoid getting wet in the rain. . . . Our gangster industry is extremely flourishing. . . . Nor are children any more secure here than in the U. S. ... It may be that citizens of the U. S. are in some measure worthy descendants of convicts deported from England, but inhabitants of old Europe are also worthy descendants of the heroic bandits of the Middle Ages."
Author, Producer, Patriot, As every limelight-lover knows, any great public sensation may be readily capitalized for some personal publicity. Last week mellow Author Christopher Morley got his name in the papers by remarking over the radio: "We have seen only a few days ago, in a crowning humiliation, an example of publicity's cruel power. People can be killed with photographs as surely as with guns."
In an open letter to the New York Times, Producer Winthrop Ames pledged himself never again to buy a newspaper which revealed Colonel Lindbergh's whereabouts without his permission, asked: "Who will join me in this pledge?"
Dr. John F. ("Jafsie") Condon sent the Times a long screed which spoke of "the anguish of Mrs. Anne Morrow Lindbergh, in the throes of blessed motherhood," called the kidnapping of "our beloved 'Eaglet' " the "greatest and most disastrous case of all times, excepting the Crucifixion of the devine Son of Man," and reached its climax in: "Yes, but the ashes of the darling baby, victim of a fiend urged by greed of gain, and seeking pleasure, are mute witnesses of the Crime, while within every American's breast there is a beating of the heart, tolling the death-knell of every gangster, while the Stars and Stripes fly from every staff and masthead."