The Trial of the 20th
Century was undoubtedly the Lindbergh kidnapping trial.
Some people might dispute that and
argue for the O. J. Simpson trial, but I have it on good authority from someone
who witnessed both trials that Simpson was amateur hour on that score.
H. Alan Painter covered the
Lindbergh trial as a rookie reporter and lived long enough to watch the Simpson
trial on television.
The difference, of course, was
technology. The Lindbergh trial had radio, black and white movie newsreeels.
The Simpson trial had television, helicopters hovering over the famous white
Bronco on the freeway. But atmosphere is what makes a circus.
And the Lindbergh trial had the
elephants and the dancing bears and the high wire acts. Reporters signaled
their colleagues out the courtroom windows as deadline approached and had many
other little methods of getting the word out.
The trial is Hunterdon County’s
little contribution to American history. Lindbergh was America’s hero. The Lone
Eagle, Lucky Lindy. The man who personalized the fledgling world of aviation.
In an age where Elon Musk is
testing rockets to send payloads to space for private clients and investing in
self-driving cars, it may not occur to the younger folks among us that what
Lindbergh did was really incredible. Several aviators had died trying to cross
the Atlantic. Once Lindbergh proved it could be done transportation was forever
changed.
In a very modern-seeming action,
the Lindberghs chose to move to the secluded Sourland Mountains to avoid being
stalked by photographers and the public decades before Fellini’s Paparazzo
would lend his name to the phenomenon. There tragedy struck, forever placing
Flemington in the public lexicon.
The courthouse, already an old
building, was the scene of uncontrolled chaos. Rules about courtroom decorum by
the press were in their infancy, as were kidnapping laws. Every prominent
journalist of the day crowded into the second-floor courtoom and, when the
day‘s proceedings were over, adjourned to the Union Hotel, a former stagecoach
stop right across Main Street.
In 1935, reporters were probably
even more hard-drinking than they are now. It was certainly more acceptable.
Damon Runyon had quit drinking by that time, but not Dorothy Parker, Dorothy
Killgallen, Walter Winchell and H. L. Mencken. The Union Hotel was where they
drank, and talked, and wrote their stories. The echoes of their typewriters
still resonate through the hallways and their banter still lingers in the bar.
The courthouse was carefully
restored years ago. The hotel allowed to
deteriorate.
There have been attempts to save
the hotel. Now, apparently, the borough has given up. Experts in historic
preservation say the hotel is salvageable. It is a matter of will.
Without the Union Hotel, the
courthouse would still be the courthouse, but its historic significance would
be lessened. The two buildings need to be preserved as a unit. They both played
a role in Hunterdon County’s most important historic event. They must be kept
together.
Flemington has many historic buildings that
have been carefully restored. Like those below.
The hotel is bigger than most, but that is a
challenge, not a deterrent. Allowing the hotel to be demolished would be a
tragedy for the courthouse, the borough, the county and anyone who care about
history.
