In a recent conversation with my distant cousin....
In a recent conversation with my distant cousin, Cecilia Henderson Wachter, she related a story to me that occurred in the late summer, 1925 when she was ten years old.
...grandmother invited the man in and gave him something to eat
She was one of 12 children who lived and played around the railroad tracks leading to a small airport near her home in Robertson, Missouri. One day, a man came walking down the tracks all dirty and sweaty. Since their house was the first house on Summit Avenue from the tracks he stopped at the house. They assumed he was a hobo and was stopping to ask for food and something to drink. That happened every once in a while. Her grandfather was sick in bed upstairs but her grandmother invited the man in and gave him something to eat. He talked and talked and eventually spent the night at their house. Even with 12 children, their parents and grand parents living in the house there was always room for more.
He was Charles Lindbergh
The next day, her father, Tully Henderson, drove the man to the airport. He was Charles Lindbergh. After that day she would see him around Robertson as he stopped by a store her brother owned and often flirted with her older sisters. At least, that’s her story.
By Terry Henderson, Florissant MO
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