New York, 4th of August.
I had to free myself.
Tomorrow, the Graf Zeppelin takes off
for a journey around the world.
I shall be on board.
The financier is William Randolph Hearst,
the newspaper king.
He was looking for one woman journalist
and I made sure he found me.
I shall write for him as if my life depended on it.
I had a bitter struggle for years,
scribbling for English women's magazines.
The latest weddings, smart cocktail parties.
This is my chance to write for a big, serious American paper.
For Hearst, it's a supreme opportunity to gain publicity and sell newspapers.
TYPEWRITER CLATTERS
What could provide better sales than a glamorous young thing like myself?
The excitement of the Graf Zeppelin's departure
has the whole city in its grip.
The journey will be in four stages.
From Lakehurst Airport in New York to Friedrichshafen in Germany.
Via Moscow, over Siberia to Tokyo.
Across the Pacific Ocean to Los Angeles and over the Midwest back to New York.
At the airport, men are working immensely hard to complete all the preparations.
70,000 cubic metres of gas is being injected into the Zeppelin.
2,040 pounds of food will be on board.
I love machinery.
The works of this giant airship are exquisite.
As perfect, as minute in their beauty
as those in my tiny platinum and diamond wristwatch.
This is the last day before take-off.
I buy a paper in the street.
The papers are full of the flight around the world.
Big headlines, the latest news.
Around lunchtime, I have a last meeting with Hearst.
He tells me my mission is to report on the journey from a woman's point of view.
Women are, after all, an important part of his paper's readership.
He says, "My lady, there is something special about you
"but you are a journalist with very little experience.
"So, you shall be working under the supervision of an experienced journalist,
"Karl von Wiegand."
I feel the blood drain from my face.
It is six months since Karl broke off our affair.
And I haven't seen him since.
I treat myself to a bench on the promenade.
To calm down and to look at the American women.
I met Karl on one of our working journeys.
It was love at first sight.
In his eyes I recognised my soul mate.
But Karl is a married man...
with a wife who is mentally ill.
It was his decision we should stop seeing each other.
He thought it was his duty to look after his wife.
Run out into Fifth Avenue like a headless chicken.
In record time spent hundreds of dollars buying last-minute things.
I buy a fantastic hat, three new dresses, gorgeous materials.
I even measured myself for a leather suit.
God knows what I'm about to experience... Or who with!
So, I must be prepared for everything.
I'm taking all my jewellery, plenty of gloves
and Chanel No. 5.
Hearst felt it was his duty to warn me.
We could crash in Siberia, far from help.
Die slowly, drown, burn.
His warnings only made me more determined.
New York, 7th August.
The last night.
I am all nerves.
Tonight, everyone will be at the Zeppelin ball.
Some people here are immensely rich.
Each family has its own aeroplane
and some of them - father, mother and daughter -
have three, like three cars, with pilots!
Getting drinks is no problem for them!
Through the crowd of dancers I see Karl.
For a moment, we look each other in the eyes.
He comes up to me.
Karl is cool,
he's distant.
He keeps it short.
Asks if I'm prepared.
That's all he says.
Then before I know it, he turns around and leaves the place.
I can't take any more of the party.
I want to walk,
for miles,
on my own legs, whilst I still have the chance.
'Thank you, Jack! It's a beautiful morning down here!
'And it's the day of the greatest aerial adventure in history!
'Crowds are gathering here at Lakehurst, New York,
'to take a last-minute glimpse of the beautiful Graf Zeppelin
'and they're here to watch the departure
'of her flight around the world.
'The band is playing out a stirring farewell!'
I arrive at the airport with my heavy suitcases only just in time.
I feel like Alice in Wonderland.
It's impossible to keep your eyes off this aerial colossus.
Lying in the hangar,
the airship reminds me of a huge pregnant creature,
ready to fulfil her promise.
Then German Commander Eckener comes in.
This whole expedition will be under his command.
He is the Zeppelin,
so closely has he identified himself with this giant airship.
The flight of the Graf Zeppelin around the world,
which we are about to start,
will be the fulfilment of our hopes regarding the airship, by air.
Auf wiedersehen.
When everything is ready,
I am suddenly pushed into the spotlights, next to Karl.
All right, Lady Hay, a few words, please.
I am looking forward to the trip very much indeed
and I realise what a great honour and a great privilege it is
to be the first woman to travel round the world by air.
We expect to have quite an exciting time
and experience many thrills.
Hooray! Thank you very much.
Unless one was shot to the moon,
a passenger to Mars
or climbed the unconquered Mount Everest,
I cannot conceive a greater thrill
than this trip around the world through air.
MORSE CODE BLEEPS
RADIO BROADCAST: Her silver radiance is dimmed to a dull slate
in the shadows of the clouds.
From under her sides twinkle the yellow cabin lights,
indicating where the 20 passengers are located.
And one of them is a woman.
Her name is Lady Grace Hay.
RADIO TRANSMISSION: Graf would appreciate weather reports
for vicinity of 40 degrees 12 northwest, 60 degrees 53 west,
720 miles east of New York, no fog, all is well. Over.
Graf, here is the weather report.
Clouds and showers, west wind moving to the northwest.
We wish you a good journey
and good luck. Over.
I'm still trembling all over.
The sensation of being airborne,
seeing everything fall away below us
and then the endless horizon,
that view from north to south, from east to west.
All around us the virgin sky.
I am filled with wonder.
All the passengers gather in the drawing room.
Tea and coffee is served,
sandwiches and a light snack.
All journalists from important agencies.
Some seem mightily interested in "the only woman"
and ask to be introduced.
Others stare unashamedly at me and follow me with their eyes.
I stare back at them, charmingly.
They don't know that I know the passenger list by heart.
Sir Hubert Wilkins, the doyen of explorers,
just back from Antarctica.
He mapped undiscovered land from a plane.
Heinz von Lichtenstein, German journalist.
His colleagues despise him but he has a huge readership.
Professor Karklin, the only Russian correspondent.
He will report from the airship when we are over Moscow.
Professor Fujiyosi, the Japanese scientist,
with us as far as Tokyo at the request of his government.
Very conspicuous, the American William Leeds,
the youngest and richest passenger,
the only one who could pay for his own ticket.
And then Karl.
I know he doesn't look like Hearst's star reporter.
But I have never met a journalist who looks at the world
in such an open, unprejudiced way as he does.
He is one of the most distinguished foreign correspondents in America,
and everybody on board looks up to him.
He offers me a chair.
It feels close,
sharing the same view again.
RADIO MESSAGE IN GERMAN
SPEAKS GERMAN
During the first hours above the ocean,
it is easy enough to spend the day simply sitting by the open window,
feeling the wind in my face,
observing the magical colours of the sea.
Everything is so well-organised.
The best wines at dinner,
a nice young steward who goes to an enormous trouble to look after us.
At tea time, we have an editorial meeting.
Karl and I make a division of tasks.
I shall write short daily travel impressions.
Karl will do a long article about European politics.
After Berlin,
he wants me to write a long piece about Russian politics.
I am alarmed, but keep a grip on myself.
I tell my neighbour that although I once had an interview with Mussolini
for a British ladies' magazine, I don't dare get close to Stalin.
Karl falls into one of his chilly silences.
"Look around," he says. "Get close to Karklin."
At twilight, fog and clouds come down low.
Commander Eckener keeps us under the clouds
until the darkness envelops us,
forcing us to go higher.
RADIO MESSAGE IN GERMAN
Oh, my word!
There it is -
an Arabian night's dream!
Karl stands in the doorway in the half-light.
He comes in, hands me my article with his corrections.
The moon shines clear.
Playful dashes of light fall on the mirror of the sea.
When I move towards him,
Karl holds up his hands like a wall between us.
"I am sorry, Grace," he says.
"Our relationship must remain purely professional."
He says good night.
After two days flying above the Atlantic, at 5.40 in the morning,
Captain Lehmann comes around calling out, "Land, land!"
The men on the bridge are wildly excited,
which brings us all out in greatest haste to see it.
RADIO BROADCAST: Yes, dear listeners,
so far the passengers have not experienced the slightest thrill.
They tackled their meals with good appetites.
Karl von Wiegand, correspondent on board,
said in his dispatch
that crossing the Atlantic from New York to Land's End
took the ship 44 hours with an average speed of 75 mph.
If the Zeppelin is able to maintain this speed,
she will arrive at a fully booked and crowded Friedrichshafen
by early afternoon.
It is wonderful to see people on the ground again.
Karl and I often used to go down to the sea.
We both love the scent of the sea breeze.
It was a lovely time then.
We delighted in each other.
He showed his warm, gentle side.
But we were never completely carefree.
There was always the shadow of Karl's wife, Inez.
I had only recently buried my husband.
Robert was 50 years older than me.
I met him through connections of my father's.
I thought he was a good match.
The marriage suffocated me.
God, how I longed for tenderness,
for closeness.
ACCORDION MUSIC
En route for Friedrichshafen, 11th August.
German Captain Lehmann comes by at regular intervals,
takes an interest in my welfare,
makes sure the steward takes good care of me.
He plays the accordion wonderfully.
I'm feminine enough to revel in small attentions.
MORSE CODE BLEEPS
We are flying over the remains of the war where our compatriots lie buried,
having died in the mass slaughter of a heroic struggle.
World leaders are still talking about the German reparations
that are to last for the next 59 years,
until 1989.
The discussions have become heated.
Europe is seen as a hotbed of conflict.
Opinions are divided.
Optimists like Leeds see a golden financial future.
Karklin is a rock-solid believer in the Communist utopia.
Karl takes no part in the discussions.
He's a man of few words.
What he has to say, he says in his articles.
We fly over Ypres and Verdun.
German crew members drop a wreath for their fallen compatriots.
The water of the Bodensee and the small town of Friedrichshafen
lie in the distance on the horizon.
"The Zeppelin is Germany's national showpiece," says Captain Lehmann.
The money to build it was raised by the German people.
The airship is a symbol of national unity.
"This is their airship," he says.
Their Zeppelin has come home.
BRASS BAND MUSIC
CROWD CHEERS
The people of Friedrichshafen are ecstatic, full of pride.
Their little town has become important,
thanks to the Zeppelin.
This great German achievement has restored their national pride.
"The Germans are not as happy as they look," says Lehmann.
The original plan was to fly from Friedrichshafen to Friedrichshafen.
Germany has no more money to spend,
so Hearst pays.
He owns the journey and flies from New York to New York.
The warm sun of August shines gently.
It's lovely to be in the park and to enjoy all the festivities.
Lehmann and I join some crew members
in the company of German girls.
Karl is with them.
The afternoon is bright and joyful.
We enjoy the moment completely, with childlike abandon.
I can't take my eyes off Karl.
I force myself to look away.
I sleep badly at night.
Too warm and stifled.
And dream that there are lots of snakes,
all chasing me, trying to bite me.
One big one comes after me, wants me to kiss it.
It is almost piteously aware of its repellent appearance,
and kind of shy.
And it knows I hate it.
I am frightened.
I beg and beg.
And it says that if I would only kiss it,
it would acquire a soul.
I'm in a dreadful fix.
For I see its fangs and fear it to be poisoned.
But I do let it touch my lips.
I wake up early, sweaty,
sicky and not well.
The morning of our departure,
there is a complete fuss about Commander Eckener.
In a talk he gave,
he said that the Graf Zeppelin is actually out of date
but that Germany is working on a technically more advanced airship.
Some of the passengers are highly agitated.
No wonder.
The most dangerous stage lies ahead of us.
We're not referring to Berlin or the plains of Poland,
but to the vast, desolate expanse of Russia and Siberia.
We have fuel for 150 hours to get us across 11,000 kilometres.
One of the passengers gives a radio interview full of self-importance.
"I must be very careful in view of the pledge of silence
"expected from me.
"I want to consult some fellow lawyers before I say anything."
Eckener addresses us.
He is honest and direct.
He has spoken to Stalin's staff.
Russia has opened her gates so that we may fly over her vastness.
This is an expedition!
Eckener will give his life for our safety.
Now we're heading for Berlin.
Everybody is happy to be on the move again and eager to see Berlin.
I find it hard to concentrate.
Political disagreements have melted away.
Everyone is singing, laughing and dancing,
looking like a bunch of idiots.
MORSE CODE BLEEPS
RADIO BROADCAST: In the last hour, the city has become thronged with people.
The traffic is chaotic,
businesses have shut down for the day.
People are standing on every flat roof.
Not everybody is celebrating the arrival of the Zeppelin.
Hundreds have assembled in the streets
to protest against the reparations.
SHOUTS IN GERMAN
CROWD SHOUT IN GERMAN
SHOUTING AND WHISTLING
EXPLOSION
GUNFIRE
Just passed the Polish frontier, 15th August.
The violence was horrible.
Commander Eckener looks worried, like all the Germans on board.
Deep down, I know I should write about it.
That it's important to take note of the present extremist violence.
I prefer to ignore it.
The crew have now warned us very seriously of what is coming
and put us all on a limited ration of water.
The men were advised not to bother
with shaving and washing from now on.
They make an exception for me.
Who wants to sit at a table with an unwashed woman?
I need to be alone for a bit,
to let all the experiences sink in.
I long for privacy but the walls here are paper-thin.
Tried to work all night on my article about Russian politics.
But everything I wrote I rejected, threw it away.
KNOCK AT DOOR
Karl comes in to collect my latest copy, to send it to Hearst.
I haven't written a word, the paper is still blank.
"For heaven's sake," he says.
"Do what you're good at.
"Write!"
Above Russia, 150 miles from Moscow, 16th August.
All my colleagues are busy writing.
Russia seems to inspire everyone.
I overcome my resistance and talk to Karklin.
He tells me that, in Moscow,
thousands of people are awaiting the Zeppelin.
He talks about this area,
a desolate territory where the revolution has never penetrated.
Collective farms are the way to bring the revolution
to the backward countryside.
I tell him that the stagnation of the revolution
seems an unquestionably positive matter.
The Bolshevik is distinctly annoyed.
MORSE CODE BLEEPS
The Pravda writes lyrically
about the blessings of Communism for the people.
The Russians expect that the revolution will spread to Germany
and then to the rest of Europe.
Below us lies a land that has sunk deep.
Suddenly, the airship makes a sharp turn to the north.
We all have to keep our balance.
Breathless moments pass.
Eckener has taken the unthinkable decision not to fly over Moscow.
A low-pressure area over the Caspian Sea
is creating contrary easterly winds.
It might be suicidal to waste eight or ten hours' fuel
merely to fly over Moscow.
Karklin storms into the wheelhouse, shouting at Eckener,
"This is an offence against Bolshevism and Stalin."
But there is little the Bolshevik can do.
Eckener stays calm.
The illegal Russian government is furious that we didn't go to Moscow.
They warn Eckener that,
if he wants a direct air route from Germany to Japan,
he should have stopped in Moscow.
They say that Russian airplanes were standing by to give us help.
In my opinion, Eckener was right
in not wanting to exchange information with the Soviets.
I am sick and tired of all the political talk in the drawing room.
Here in my cabin, I can get away from it.
KNOCK AT DOOR
Why does he keep coming to see me?
"Grace," he says,
"I would like to point out to you
"why Karklin is so hostile.
"Eckener is ignoring the Russian government
"to please America, Germany and Japan."
I tell him I'm not interested.
He says, "You would do well to confront reality for once."
I ask him, "What is the reality of this?"
I want to push him out of my cabin.
From crude gorgeousness to mysterious pastel depths.
From harsh jaggedness to the seduction of the intangible.
Falling night weaves a spell of romance
over the twilight-dimmed landscape.
Like a beautiful woman slowly and luxuriously decking herself with diamonds,
the mountains of Russia take on gleaming clusters
of sparkling lights as, one by one,
the tiny villages illuminate themselves against the darkness.
When I wake up, there is an entirely different landscape.
We look out at innumerable lakes and marshes
and the sinuous cold, black river Tunguska,
slithering 1,160 miles through endless forests,
where there is seldom a sign of human habitation.
I wrote Karl a letter last night.
I cancelled our collaboration in view of the incompatibility of our characters.
My decision is firm.
I shall continue as a one-man editorial staff.
This does feel wonderful.
The cook has found a stowaway in the storage area.
He's still a boy, no older than 16 -
on his way to Los Angeles to become a film star.
He's been given a hero's welcome.
Karl hasn't shown his face.
He's even had his dinner served in his cabin.
And I've informed him in a letter
that I claim the stowaway for my article.
He will do well to respect that.
30 hours above Siberia is exhausting.
The solitude feels poisonous.
There's a dark mood on board.
For much of the day, I lie in my eiderdown sleeping bag -
there's no other way to keep out the cold.
The Tunguska flows
into the northernmost ice lake of Siberia.
This must be Yakutsk,
a community of tens of thousands exiled by the tsarist regime -
criminals and political dissidents.
If you consider the distance we have travelled,
this place is a bleak wilderness of cold and isolation
from which nobody can ever escape.
The Stanovoy Range rises before us like a wall.
We assemble in the drawing room.
The inadequate map shows peaks of 3,400 feet,
but Eckener reckons we are facing peaks of 6,000 feet.
To prevent the airship smashing itself against the mountains,
it will have to rise to a height nobody considers possible.
The drawing room is jam-packed.
We go up in jerks.
Then, for a moment, we are stable.
Hundreds of litres of water are being discharged.
Then, with a jolt, we shoot up again.
I can't see anything.
And with every shock, I am pressed indecently close to those around me.
When I can stand no more, I wrestle myself free,
out of the drawing room, back to the wheelhouse.
I find myself next to Karl.
More water is discharged with a hard bang.
We shoot several metres up in the air and just clear the peaks.
The airship feels out of control.
We go up and up, higher and higher.
I catch Karl's eye.
We climb up through the clouds.
At last, through the gaps we see the West Pacific.
We have survived.
In the jubilation, Karl takes my hand.
"I'm sorry about my harsh words," he says.
"The thought that something might happen to you was the worst thing of all."
His eyes are soft and affectionate,
so I tell him it's all right.
Only because of the look in his eyes.
Only for that.
RADIO BROADCAST: This unprecedented air cruise,
as planned by the Hearst newspapers, has greatly impressed the Japanese.
Japan will never forget that moment when this wonderful airship
appeared in the blue sky above.
The Zeppelin has flown 6,600 miles
in a record time of 102 hours
and has arrived at Tokyo 22 hours earlier than expected.
RADIO BROADCAST: This brilliant success
of Germanic science and energy has shortened the distance
between the East and West to an extent hitherto unimagined.
It will have a tremendous effect on the development
of German air traffic with, we hope, great strengthening
of German-Japanese friendship.
Tokyo, 19th of August.
A continuous round of parties, receptions and interviews.
Hearst has instructed me to give as many interviews as possible.
Everywhere he goes, Eckener receives a hero's welcome.
CHEERS
Banzai!
CROWD CHEERS
Banzai! Banzai!
CROWD CHEERS Banzai!
CROWD CHEERS
Downstairs, in the hotel lobby,
the official festivities continue undiminished -
the banquet, the ball, the garden party.
Karl has excused himself,
he's too tired after the journey.
The hotel IS exquisite -
just like a temple.
After the hell of Siberia, this is a fairy tale.
The garden is full of flowers and ponds full of goldfish.
It's warm, thank heaven.
I'm feeling so starved of warmth.
I can't take my eyes off the geishas in the hotel.
The little girls who serve us, so delicate and refined.
Next to them, I feel so clumsy.
LIGHT TAPPING
Karl comes to my door.
He's wearing a light, white linen suit and looks very handsome.
He takes me by the arm.
We sneak out of the hotel.
As we wander through the streets, we talk about no matter what.
I feel a lot more myself again.
The warmth of the day has receded,
the air is soft and sultry.
I have put on my Eastern nightdress of black silk
embroidered with fierce green-eyed dragons,
with slippers to match.
Karl stands before me.
We say nothing.
I hesitate a moment,
then take his hand.
His fingers entwine gratefully with mine.
Hearst has sent me a warm, fatherly message.
He says that my articles are brilliant front-page material
and the sales are enormous.
I feel well, had a good night's sleep.
I'm full of energy and joyful expectation.
Karl looks happier than he has done for ages.
But then the steward appears,
holding a telegraph in his hand.
It's from Karl's wife, Inez.
My heart sinks.
She must have a sixth sense.
She announces that she'll be waiting for Karl
in the hotel in Los Angeles.
THUNDER RUMBLES
RADIO TRANSMISSION: Graf will appreciate
weather reports en route for 150 degrees east, 54 degrees north. Over.
RADIO TRANSMISSION: Graf, here is the weather report.
Clouds and showers. Very strong wind west, moving to the northwest.
Devastating storm expected, and typhoon.
Try to return to Japan. Over.
Thank you for your help.
We cannot turn around, the wind is sucking us in, there is no way back.
May God help us to get through.
MORSE CODE BEEPS
CLANGING
I see Karl fall, his glasses spinning across the floor,
groping helplessly around him.
It was too short for us.
The step between life and death is a small one.
I'm not afraid.
I'm NOT afraid.
RADIO BROADCAST: There are fears that a tragedy has taken place.
It appears that the Graf may be lost.
As far as is known, the airship ran into a storm.
Since that moment, radio contact has been broken.
RADIO BROADCAST: The Graf appears to have disappeared
in a storm above the Pacific.
BOY: Extra! Paper!
Morgen Post! Morgen Post!
We are still alive after all.
But I don't know if we shall ever see America again.
We were blown off course
and came to rest in a bay of a small unpopulated island.
It's clear that this distresses Eckener.
It is his heavy responsibility to get us away from here.
The crew tries to repair the damage.
A sort of no-man's-land.
All the urgency of the journey has melted away.
Around us is nothing but water.
A calm ocean -
serene and estranging.
RADIO BROADCAST: No one knows if those on board are still alive.
Search operations from Japan and America are underway.
We can only pray for the lives of Commander Eckener,
his passengers and his crew.
It's incredible that we have survived.
Just a few people slightly injured.
We take turns at keeping watch by the window day and night,
looking out for land.
We all realise we can do nothing.
Just keep calm,
hoping, waiting.
Everyone feels anxious...
..but not me.
RADIO MESSAGE: An airship, by all odds the Graf Zeppelin,
has flown over us, the Edward Luckenbach,
13 miles from Point Sur, Monterey County, at 8.40pm.
The drawing room has changed into a news room.
We bring the good news -
we are back and we have survived.
We are all in competition.
I am working like mad to finish my dispatch
whilst trying to be civil to people.
I want to be the first to go into the radio room.
RADIO BROADCAST: Here is Radio San Francisco.
The Graf Zeppelin has been found again after being missing
for two days, and is now flying over our city.
The Graf has managed to cross the great Pacific Ocean.
We set course for Los Angeles,
our last stop.
The Americans stand in their hundreds along the road,
they are delirious.
We are back in reality.
I am scared to death of coming face to face with Inez.
CROWD MURMURS
People are all around, grabbing at me.
A car whisks me away as soon as I arrive.
In my hand, there is a piece of paper
that appears to be a programme for the next few hours -
talks, receptions, interviews.
I'm exhausted when I get to this jam-packed hotel.
This crowd of merrymakers
consists of local politicians and businessmen.
They all want a piece of the pie.
I torment myself by waiting.
Karl is going to arrive with Inez.
When I see them dance affectionately,
so close...
I know it can't be. It cannot be.
I must move on.
I write him a letter.
"My dearest Karl..."
A letter of farewell.
"..I am ALWAYS thinking of you.
"I have never known a love so powerful.
"Do not forget the exquisite beauty of what we've shared...
"..I will always love you.
"Your Gracie."
MUSIC: Doin' The New Lowdown by Cab Calloway
One new passenger has come onboard, GD Godfrey, stockbroker.
He wants to be the first man to deal in shares on board an airship.
There is a feverish atmosphere since Godfrey started trading in shares.
In the radio room,
Godfrey is in contact with his assistant on the exchange floor.
He constantly buys and sells shares.
He earns an immense amount of money.
It has an infectious effect on the other men.
They get greedy and try to follow in Godfrey's footsteps.
We glide over the Midwest.
All that seems to matter to them is the Stock Exchange.
Karl and I don't talk any more.
He maintains a deep silence about my letter.
In 21 days, we flew over mountains, valleys,
over fields full of flowers, dark virgin forest.
We explored countries where people live as prisoners,
where human life has no value.
Here, in the land of the free, there seems no limit to the horizon.
To see this world, to live this journey.
Nothing can ever be the same.
RADIO REPORT: We ARE in radio contact with the Graf.
We hear that, after a good rest,
Eckener has come out of his cabin to fly the airship over New York.
The old man is back in front.
After sending my last dispatches to the news room,
I get an enthusiastic message back from Hearst.
"You'd better prepare yourself, girl,
"for a splendid reception in New York." Gosh!
RADIO BROADCAST: What a glorious moment.
The airship salutes our Statue Of Liberty.
We have all gathered in the wheelhouse.
It's a breathtaking and solemn moment.
We are silent and moved.
Karl comes to me.
I tell him I'm not afraid.
I must move on.
He says, "Believe me,
"you're the lucky one."
RADIO REPORT: Yes, people, 5,000 men, women and children
are sitting on newspapers in the park.
The streets are PACKED, all available parking places have been taken.
Deafening cheers rise up when the Zeppelin appears on the horizon.
But, when the airship flies over,
the thousands standing to watch are silent.
RADIO BROADCAST: Drivers are breaking all the rules,
putting the brakes on and climbing onto the roofs of their automobiles.
The police are trying to keep everything under control.
They issue warnings and blow their whistles,
but no-one pays any attention.
Pretty soon, the officers give up, shrug their shoulders
and turn their eyes up to the sky to join the watchers.
Yes, people, New York has gone crazy.
Well, well, well. Here we are, right at the official stand.
Within a few moments, the Graf Zeppelin will be back home.
CHEERS
Leeds, Wilkins and Lehmann are the first to disembark.
They are given a hero's welcome.
Eckener is received with great enthusiasm.
I can see that he's happy.
I wait until it is my turn.
Then I realise that outside, the crowd is clamouring for me.
For me.
CHEERS
Here we are now in front of City Hall,
waiting for the parade to start,
and millions of people are waiting.
BRASS BAND MUSIC
I ride in the parade behind Eckener.
What I see is overwhelming.
I have enjoyed the privilege
of being the first woman to fly around the Earth.
I am the luckiest girl in the world.
Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd
E-mail subtitling@bbc.co.uk