Lindbergh's grandson carries family banner — sky-high

When Erik Lindbergh first learned to fly, it was without a plane.

At age 12, the Kitsap County resident was a skilled gymnast, arcing through space in moves that were fine enough to win a state championship.

Then he fell to earth.

By age 21, Lindbergh suffered from rheumatoid arthritis so severe, he could only hobble about. His strong, graceful frame was crippled, and his life filled with pain.

That Lindbergh, now 37, is like his much-younger self again — and more — is a story of pluck and luck and good science.

It's the same combination that sent his grandfather, Charles Lindbergh, flying across the Atlantic from New York to Paris exactly 75 years ago today.

And it's a formula Erik Lindbergh had very much in mind when he piloted the New Spirit of St. Louis to a successful re-creation of that solo journey earlier this month.

The legacy descends from Charles and his wife, author Anne Morrow Lindbergh.

"It's the way my grandparents lived their lives; pushing the envelope to a point — not being reckless, but pushing the envelope in a careful way," says Erik Lindbergh.

"First physically with flying, then mentally with words, and then spiritually with their desire to balance technological advances with preservation of the environment."

Tonight at 9, the History Channel airs the two-hour documentary, "Lindbergh Flies Again."

The program weaves archival footage and eyewitness accounts of that first flight with moment-by-moment coverage of Erik Lindbergh's accomplishment, from training to touchdown on the same Le Bourget airfield where "Lucky Lindy" landed in 1927.

The original 33½-hour trip dazzled the world's imagination while making airplane travel suddenly seem real. As aviation experts in the documentary stress, it was the outcome of tireless research and careful planning — and some breaks from the weather.

Obviously, the new, 17-hour flight cannot compare with the old for sheer excitement, though the makers of "Lindbergh Flies Again" try hard (sometimes too hard) to make it so.

The real drama is a quieter, personal sort that lies beneath the surface sweep of history. Looking at the lives of Charles and Erik Lindbergh, viewers discover a tightly bound web of family values that have persisted more than a century.

There is the belief in technology. Charles Lindbergh was the first modern aviator, studying navigation and meteorology and engineering and putting all that knowledge into his effort.

Erik Lindbergh's physical life was reinstated by two scientific breakthroughs. First, he had his ruined knees replaced by titanium ones. Then he became an early user of Seattle-based Immunex's arthritis-treatment drug called Enbrel.

Today, he is a pilot and flight instructor as well as a wood sculptor and furniture maker.

Technology also is a pervasive feature of Erik Lindbergh's flight. The somewhat-sluggish documentary outlines the devices and gear designed to help make things safer, from the customized Lancair Columbia 300 he pilots to a global-positioning system to a liferaft with pop-up tent.

But just as Charles and Anne Morrow Lindbergh believed technology must be tempered by quality-of-life considerations, so does their grandson.

The money Erik Lindbergh raised through sponsors for his flight went to beneficiaries that fit this philosophy. Foremost is The Lindbergh Foundation, awarding grants and an annual prize to scientific work that takes environmental preservation into account. He is its president.

The X Prize Foundation is another beneficiary. Based at the St. Louis Science Center, which also acted as mission control during Lindbergh's flight, it offers a $10 million prize to the first team that flies to space in a privately built aircraft.

"My grandfather's flight opened up flight for the rest of us," says Erik Lindbergh.

"With space, the technology has been around for 30 years, and why isn't it more available? Because it's the province of big government and big corporations."

On a more personal note, Lindbergh also raised money for the Seattle chapter of the National Arthritis Foundation.

In "Lindbergh Flies Again," the parallels between Lindbergh and his grandfather are so neatly presented, it seems as if the Lindbergh name has been an effortless inheritance and the most natural thing in the world was for Erik to become a pilot and spokesman.

Such was not the case. Erik Lindbergh is the son of Jon Lindbergh, the second son of Charles and Anne. Their first child was kidnapped for ransom in 1932 and later found dead in one of the 20th century's most widely covered crimes.

The tragedy made the Lindberghs intensely private and protective. Only after his illness, says Erik Lindbergh, did he emerge from his family's reclusive lifestyle and take on the public mantle of philanthropy and education.

"As I came out and started having another chance at life physically, a lot of the burden of fame and notoriety faded away," he says. "I realized I was lucky to have a second chance — I didn't know if I'd have a third one. "

Kay McFadden may be reached at kmcfadden@seattletimes.com or 206-382-8888.