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James Tinus Christensen
from a 1921 Souvenir Issue of the Hermes
PDF
 Spring
had just burst forth, the flowers were hardly at their best, the
young bird had not yet flown lightly away,-- yet Nature
was at the height of her glory; for it was Springtime and
Life was young. There was an exuberance of life abroad. We had
drunk the nectar of Spring. We were full of life. We walked so
buoyantly. We worked so vigorously. We proceeded so surely. We
hoped so fondly. We expected much of Life. Then like a
thunderbolt out of heaven the sad news of Air Mail Pilot J. T.
Christensen's death came to us. The tragedy of it touched
us deeply.
Tinus Christensen was born in Denmark.
When only four years pf age his parents brought him, together
with his brothers and sisters, to Blair. He was educated
in this city and has had his home here since his arrival.
Shortly after America became involved in the Great War, he
enlisted in the army air service. He spent two years at
the training fields in Texas and Florida. During a part of
this time he was an instructor. After the armistice, he
entered the air mail service, in which service he met his death
on April 29th in Cleveland, Ohio. Prior to that date he
had been carrying the mail between Chicago and Cleveland.
The 29th was foggy and he had had trouble in finding the landing
field. Before he could find it his plane developed engine
trouble. Upon approaching the ground the found that he was
directly over the city. To Tinus had come the supreme moment of
choice. Rather than endanger the lives of the pedestrians
in the crowded streets, he landed on a railroad right-of-way and
was burned to death beneath his own plane.
The time for his funeral was set for three
o'clock on May the fourth at Blair. Early that morning a
flag was raised to half mast in the city square and plans for
closing all business places during the funeral were under way.
While it was still morning a fleet of six airplanes arrived from
Omaha. In these came a number of the close friends of
Tinus, coming to pay him a last and proper tribute.
Shortly after noon, automobiles from all parts of the
surrounding county came gliding silently into town, their
low-humming almost becoming a part of the hush that lay over
Blair that day. Fully an hour before the appointed time
the crowd commenced to gather about the City Auditorium, where
the services were to be held.
The time drew nearer. The crowd became more
dense. From here and there ex-service men gathered, and as a
sharp military command cut the silence, they fell into line,
their uniforms of blue and white and khaki bringing anew the
patriotic thrill, the quick-spring tear of wartime to the
waiting crowd. Then, from far -off down the street came
the sound of muffled drums, then the mournful notes of the
funeral march. The ex-service men came sharply to
salute. the crowd parted in clean-cut lines, leaving a
clear space for the funeral cortege. Drawn by four white
horses, kept at a slow even pace by the uniformed men at their
bits, an artillery caisson, draped in black, advanced, carrying
the flag-covered casket.
Slowly and reverently the casket was carried
into the hall. The pallbearers were friends of Tinus,
representing the three branches of the service. Then came the
honorable pallbearers, his friends from the air service. Then
followed a tiny cluster of civil war veterans, -- then the
ex-service men, and finally the surging crowd.
Rev. Underwood, of the Crowell Home, read the
comforting words in the second chapter of Hebrews in a low toned
voice; and Prof. P. S. Vig spoke touchingly in Danish for the
special benefit of the dead man's mother. The services having
ended, the casket was borne on the caisson to the city cemetery.
Thousands of people clustered about the marble
headstones awaiting the casket with uncovered heads. As the
caisson approached the fleet of airplanes commenced circling far
overhead, hovering like great birds above the procession.
Gradually they circled lower and lower until--just as the casket
was being lowered--they swooped down one by one, the engines
momentarily shut off, and scattered flowers on the grave.
The firing squad fired a lat salute. The bugle sounded the
slow, poignantly sad strains of "taps". His relatives and
friends lingered while the silent crowd rapidly dwindled away.
Oh that so noble and so capable a pioneer in a
new and wonderful line of human endeavor should die so early!
That he was a pioneer and a worthy one we know, for by this good
service he had won recognition in his own county and even in
foreign lands. That he was noble and honorable we doubt
not for th was deserving of the highest tribute while still
alive. Whatever of honor and fame came to him nothing
could take the place of the respect and reverence he held for
his aged mother. |
