his ear, "Tell the president in private how you fly."
The buckets banging against his knees, he whispered back, "I can't." How would
she
feel, nailed to the back of a shark?
The tour ended in the Oval Office, where the president did his hardest work and made decisions that affected the entire world. FDR smiled and said, "Jon, now will you tell me how you do it?"
Jon panicked, blurting, "I have to go to the bathroom," clearly the dumbest answer ever given to any chief executive of the United States of America.
Mr. Hoover followed Jon into the bathroom and grabbed him by his left ear, growling, "You better tell the president how you do it, or I'll throw you in jail for as long as you live."
"Owww!" Jon yelled.
Just then the Coast Guard admiral entered and said loudly, "What are you doing, J. Edgar?"
Mr. Hoover scowled at the Coast Guard admiral. "Russian communist agents could kidnap him."
"Hardly," the Coast Guard admiral said. "I'll have a boat patrolling the lighthouse day and night."
NINETEEN
THE PRESS HAD BEEN GATHERING ON THE lawn since eight o'clock. At last count there were more than three hundred people, including correspondents from around the globe. Chairs to accommodate the president, the first lady, Jon's mother, and Jon himself faced the batteries of cameras, microphones, and print reporters. A White House aide held Smacks's leash.
The president introduced Jon and Mrs. Jeffers, even Smacks.
As quickly as he could, Jon told the story of Ling Wu for the sixth or seventh time. He then answered questionsâbut not about how he flewâfor a good fifteen minutes, until President Roosevelt's press secretary stepped forward and told Jon to proceed with the demonstration.
Holding the buckets, Jon waited until the press secretary tied one end of a fifty-foot yellow line to his ankle, the other end to an anvil. There was such a hush over the audience that only the sound of cawing crows could be heard. The press secretary whispered, "That anvil will be a museum piece someday."
Jon closed his eyes and called upon five hundred million cells to lift his feet off the ground. He dropped the ballast buckets and shot up into the air like a rocket to
oooooohs
and
ahhhhs
from the audience, and then thunderous applause.
He flew around the lawn at the end of his tether and was photographed with the president and the first lady. Although a war had recently begun in Europe, Jonathan Jeffers captured headlines around the world the next day.
Jon and his mother, who had now been joined by Bosun Jeffers, stayed on in Washington for another six days of sight-seeing. Several shoemakers offered to provide Jon with lead-soled shoes, but he decided that twenty-five pounds of lead on each foot would become very tiresome, especially since he only weighed fifty-two pounds. Jon decided to keep carrying the buckets for the time being, until Dr. Buxtehede could come up with a solution. And anyway, he liked the shoulder muscles he was developing.
When the Jeffers returned to San Francisco, hundreds of people were there to greet them, including the press and Hiram K. Forbes. He hadn't been reassigned to Arkansas, after all. The photo of him and Jon had remained a secret and was now in a safety deposit drawer at the main branch of the Bank of America, hidden from the eyes of White House busybodies.
There was a hurriedly assembled parade. The Jeffers sat in the back of a long open Cadillac, waving to the crowds along Market Street, just like Lindbergh had done eight years earlier. There was a reception in the mayor's office, and Jon received the key to the city. The Coast Guard Command saluted him with a luncheon. There was a huge dinner at the Mark Hopkins Hotel, with every notable in town attending, including Dr. Buxtehede, who whispered to Jon, "Come see me tomorrow."
The next day, Dr. Buxtehede was waiting for Jon and his parents in his office. He put on a brave smile when (hey entered, shook hands all around, and then admitted,
The buckets banging against his knees, he whispered back, "I can't." How would
she
feel, nailed to the back of a shark?
The tour ended in the Oval Office, where the president did his hardest work and made decisions that affected the entire world. FDR smiled and said, "Jon, now will you tell me how you do it?"
Jon panicked, blurting, "I have to go to the bathroom," clearly the dumbest answer ever given to any chief executive of the United States of America.
Mr. Hoover followed Jon into the bathroom and grabbed him by his left ear, growling, "You better tell the president how you do it, or I'll throw you in jail for as long as you live."
"Owww!" Jon yelled.
Just then the Coast Guard admiral entered and said loudly, "What are you doing, J. Edgar?"
Mr. Hoover scowled at the Coast Guard admiral. "Russian communist agents could kidnap him."
"Hardly," the Coast Guard admiral said. "I'll have a boat patrolling the lighthouse day and night."
NINETEEN
THE PRESS HAD BEEN GATHERING ON THE lawn since eight o'clock. At last count there were more than three hundred people, including correspondents from around the globe. Chairs to accommodate the president, the first lady, Jon's mother, and Jon himself faced the batteries of cameras, microphones, and print reporters. A White House aide held Smacks's leash.
The president introduced Jon and Mrs. Jeffers, even Smacks.
As quickly as he could, Jon told the story of Ling Wu for the sixth or seventh time. He then answered questionsâbut not about how he flewâfor a good fifteen minutes, until President Roosevelt's press secretary stepped forward and told Jon to proceed with the demonstration.
Holding the buckets, Jon waited until the press secretary tied one end of a fifty-foot yellow line to his ankle, the other end to an anvil. There was such a hush over the audience that only the sound of cawing crows could be heard. The press secretary whispered, "That anvil will be a museum piece someday."
Jon closed his eyes and called upon five hundred million cells to lift his feet off the ground. He dropped the ballast buckets and shot up into the air like a rocket to
oooooohs
and
ahhhhs
from the audience, and then thunderous applause.
He flew around the lawn at the end of his tether and was photographed with the president and the first lady. Although a war had recently begun in Europe, Jonathan Jeffers captured headlines around the world the next day.
Jon and his mother, who had now been joined by Bosun Jeffers, stayed on in Washington for another six days of sight-seeing. Several shoemakers offered to provide Jon with lead-soled shoes, but he decided that twenty-five pounds of lead on each foot would become very tiresome, especially since he only weighed fifty-two pounds. Jon decided to keep carrying the buckets for the time being, until Dr. Buxtehede could come up with a solution. And anyway, he liked the shoulder muscles he was developing.
When the Jeffers returned to San Francisco, hundreds of people were there to greet them, including the press and Hiram K. Forbes. He hadn't been reassigned to Arkansas, after all. The photo of him and Jon had remained a secret and was now in a safety deposit drawer at the main branch of the Bank of America, hidden from the eyes of White House busybodies.
There was a hurriedly assembled parade. The Jeffers sat in the back of a long open Cadillac, waving to the crowds along Market Street, just like Lindbergh had done eight years earlier. There was a reception in the mayor's office, and Jon received the key to the city. The Coast Guard Command saluted him with a luncheon. There was a huge dinner at the Mark Hopkins Hotel, with every notable in town attending, including Dr. Buxtehede, who whispered to Jon, "Come see me tomorrow."
The next day, Dr. Buxtehede was waiting for Jon and his parents in his office. He put on a brave smile when (hey entered, shook hands all around, and then admitted,
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