Whistled Like a Bird, page 10
On May 22, after George had been in Boston for four days, he called Dorothy and asked her to join him. He was responsible for Amelia during the waiting period and decided she needed the support of a female companion who knew the specifics of the secret flight. Dorothy was the ideal choice, and she was pleased to be among the private group of supporters. With uncanny intuition, she wrote of the dilemma facing Amelia: “A phone [call] from George. I go to Boston tomorrow. I shall see her depart. I trust What nerve, courage, intelligence and faith! Or perhaps it’s fatalism. If I go my reputation is made forever, if I’m lost, I’m always a mystery, or what do I care!”
Dorothy became a witness to history, and her diary is a firsthand account of that frustrating period in Boston waiting day after day for a break in the weather.
MAY 23, 1928 To town early and then took I o’clock train for Boston. G.W. came to see me for the minute or two I was in New Haven, and he’s quite all thrilled, thinking there’s a chance either for G.P. or me to fly the Atlantic. God, I wish I were! How utterly spectacular for “nobody me” to get all that sudden reputation if I made it and just quietly disappear into oblivion if I didn’t. And I’m ready for it, really. And don’t mind in the least.
MAY 24, 1928 Boston—Thurs. Amelia Earhart of Kansas, College Graduate—engineer, mechanic, writer, settlement house director and social worker and air pilot. Tall, blond and very slim is to fly the Atlantic in Byrds’ Amphibian Plane “Friendship” with 3 pontoons and 71 ft. wing spread. Mrs. Guest is financing it. Bill Stultz is to be navigator, with assistant, Lou, Gower, and mechanic Slim Gordon. Visited Denison House in a.m. Mildred Towle [official at Denson House], Amelia, etc. Dinner in our room.
MAY 25, 1928 Boston—Fri. Out to Wellesley with George and Amelia in a.m. Saw Bobby Kitchel [Dorothy’s niece] and took her big box of candy. Back for lunch. Dick Byrd’s for lunch at p Brimmer Street. A strange old fashioned house with many rooms and sombre furniture. Dickie, Jr. is 8, blonde and healthy and there are three younger sisters. I like the nice intelligent wife; and Dick, of course, is a charmer for all time! Tall, strong, flatteringly attentive and utterly beguiling. Amelia Earhart here at hotel with us: registered as Dorothy Binney—how odd.
MAY 26, 1928 Boston—Sat. George and Amelia talked nearly all night long last p.m. I did get some naps between times. But they didn’t know till almost midnight that the plane wouldn’t hop oil this dawn. Rain, cloudy, bad. Keith’s in afternoon with Growers, Stultz’s, Slim and his girl, then tea dance. These flyer people are an odd fatalistic lot. Stultzs married 9 years, and has only 3 trunks or belongings! The Growers 4 years and have one magazine rack, 2, trunks and a suit case! And Mrs. Gower is also a flyer and a mechanic pilot.
MAY 27, 1928 Boston—Sun. Slept late—breakfast in room. First line day or actual sun shine. Amelia drove us to Cohasset for a lobster dinner at the famous “Kimball’s”—then a heavenly drive way down to the shore all afternoon. All back in time for supper. Planned on going tomorrow at dawn. Weather forecast pretty good outside and beyond and Stultz, Slim and Gower all “set” and packed. Golly, how do they keep so cool and collected.
Even George did not anticipate how well the two women would get along. During the six days that Dorothy remained in Boston, she and Amelia were constant companions. My grandmother admired Amelia’s courage and self-composure, but at the same time envied her luck in having been chosen for the flight. Amelia for her part appreciated her older friend’s genuine gestures of friendship.
On May 28, the two women left the hotel at three-thirty in the morning and drove through the silent streets to T Wharf, a setting that already had established itself in American history. “Boston—Mom To the restaurant with the crowd. All ‘set’ all tense with excitement, at 4 a.m, then to the old ‘Boston Tea Party Dock’ in the harbor.”
The plane was moored off the Jeffrey Yacht Club in East Boston, but bad weather kept them in the car, talking and wishing the cool spring rain would stop. By this time the repeated delays had begun to wear on everyone’s nerves. “How does this astonishing girl stand the strain??” Instead of winging their way into history, the crew remained grounded by the fog and drizzle that appeared as if out of spite every morning before dawn. For days, Amelia and the two-man crew could only gaze out at the Atlantic Ocean in hopes of liberation.
Amelia and Dorothy parked their car near the dock and sat huddled in the front seat. Condensation collected inside the car windows and Dorothy watched Amelia wipe the glass with the palm of her graceful hand, revealing a view of the waiting harbor. The Friendship rocked gently as the swelling and rolling water pushed against the enormous pontoons that held the floatplane high above the waves. “She went down with me and sat all that time in the car, cuddled up in my coat, talking and grinning.”
Amelia and Dorothy exchanged stories about their childhoods, families, and dreams. Though both women had developed a love for literature and theater, they also shared a passion for outdoor activities, such as gardening, horseback riding, and fishing.
Dorothy was thirty-nine years old, but their difference in age was of no consequence. The young flyer discovered in her friend a kindred soul as daring and as open to the world as she was. During those hours in the car, Amelia also learned that Dorothy had visited the Denison House with her Glee Club in 1908 while attending Wellesley College, and she had never forgotten the faces of the little children her group had entertained.
Their conversation ended early in the morning with the news that the flight would be postponed once again. But the hours had not been wasted; the bond between the two women would change their lives forever. “Waiting for dawn in a thick soft fog and drizzle, had to give up at 8 a.m.—no ‘hop off’ today.”
This was Dorothy’s last morning in Boston. She and George had made previous plans to give a dinner party at Rye; and since he couldn’t leave Boston, she would host the party alone. “Many errands and chores to attend for tomorrow’s party.” On the morning of May 28, Dorothy left her husband and hurried to the train station and into the waiting Pullman car. “Nine a.m. train hack to Rye, exhausted.”
8
THE FRIENDSHIP
MAY 30, 1928 Fine clear morning. Beefsteak Grill. Sen. Walcott and Bryn… George Chamberlain, Anna Case… Muriel Pollock (piano shark), Dorothy Speare (novelist and opera star), Scotty Allen… Dennisons, three Godleys, Greens.… A gurrand party, and gorgeous music, fine crowd, too.… So sorry G.W. was not here. He loved it last year.
THE FRIENDSHIP FLIGHT HAD NOW BECOME a major media event, and Dorothy secretly longed for her own adventure. “Oh Yd give much to be far away, on an island with a cabin and the tides and sun and fishing and an occasional climb, etc. I don’t want suburbs and cities. Rather loneliness and the seal”
Bogged down by poor weather, George and the frustrated crew continued to wait another three days. When the giant seaplane finally lifted from Boston Harbor, Dorothy recorded the eventful day:
JUNE 3, 1928 Hooray! Sun. The “Friendship” hopped off from Boston at dawn. All kinds or excitement all day.… All p.m. newspaper men calling for George, and it’s rather fun to sense their excitement trying to get dope on this trans-Atlantic flight. God, I hope that girl makes it!
Instead of flying on to Trepassey Bay in Newfoundland, the plane was forced to land in Halifax, Nova Scotia, because of poor weather. At last, on June 4, Bill Stultz, Lou Gordon, and Amelia Earhart were given the clear skies they needed and flew on to Trepassey Bay, the starting point for the trans-Atlantic flight: “Mon. The plane had to land in Halifax because of fog —then on, again, to Trepassey by 3 p.m. today. Every newspaper in the country full of it and many comments about George’s connection with it. All day the phone rings constantly. Vm too emotionalized and upset to do anything all day.…”
During the waiting period in Boston, Amelia had pieced together a loosely constructed will. George Putnam saved these “popping off” letters, one written to each parent, to be delivered in the event that she did not return. They are among his treasured papers.
May 20, 1928
Dear Mammy,
I am sorry I had to pass out of the picture in such a way. I am considerable and dislike leaving you with a burden, of rather without an income.
I have put down carefully all my affairs. Please destroy all my writings without examination and do what you will with personal effects. Even tho’ I have lost, the adventure was worthwhile. Our family tends to be too secure. My life has really been very happy and I didn’t mind contemplating its end in the midst of that.
Mildred Towle can perhaps tell you the circumstances surrounding my departure, etc. If you wish.
Affectionately, your doter,
A.E.
May 20, 1928
Dearest Dad,
Hooray for the last grand adventure! I wish I had won, but it was worthwhile anyway. You know that
I have no faith we’ll meet anywhere again, but I wish we might. Anyway, goodbye, and good luck to you.
Affectionately, your doter,
Mill
Amid the frenzy awaiting Amelia’s departure, Dorothy felt a keen loss of privacy. However, on the last day of May, while George remained in Boston, she and G.W. spent a delightful day outdoors.
MAY 31, 1928 The garden, some notes and two full hours at the piano. G.W. had cuts from class unexpectedly and came down here for lunch. We shot over to the beach, put on bathing suits and paddled canoe for four hours. And such run. We each acquired a pink coating of sunburn. A lovely ride way back in the hills and down in the garden later to see the full moon. Some music, a cool drink, and oh, so sleepy, to bed!
The following day, her words resound with the joy only G.W. could inspire. “The flute and singing almost from dawn on another heavenly day. Roses, roses, yellow roses! And perfume and a conversation such as one has twice in a life-time perhaps.” A year ago, G.W. had brought daisies, a symbol of their innocent love. Now he brought yellow roses, which marked a new sophistication on his part. Dorothy placed the long-stemmed blooms on the bookcase beneath the window facing the front and more formal side of the house. They seemed to belong there, rather than on the bedroom tea table where the daisies once rested.
In early June, George returned home to await news of the Friendship flight. As always the house was filled with flowers from the garden to welcome him back and Dorothy still found it comforting at times to slip into the routine and security of her marriage. “Worked in garden while George and the children burned off the orchard field. And it seemed quite like old times to be out exercising and pulling briars, transplanting, etc. I do love it and it keeps me sane when I might so easily go off the handle.”
The children were staying with their grandparents, where George’s father was giving his two grandsons a picnic supper and another lesson in fly-casting. At home, Rocknoll was silent except for George’s voice on the other end of the telephone, reporting updated weather reports. He decided it was easier to spend his nights in the city so that he could remain in constant touch with Amelia. The New York Times provided their wire service for communicating weather reports between Trepassey and the flight’s backers.
Dorothy took the train to Manhattan every evening to meet George for dinner. On June 6 she noted: “Still thrilled about the Atlantic. In town overnight to hear more intimate news. Dinner, Ritz with G.P. and Fitz. Hippodrome alone for an hour, while men at ‘Times’ office. Mabel Bolls [another flyer], the nightclub, fast, mistress of Lerne, girl now plans to hop, too.…Excitement of the flyers has somewhat subsided as bad weather holds ’em back. The Bolls woman had to return to Curtis Field—fog! Whoopie!”
By now, the newspapers were breathlessly playing up a new angle: a potential race across the Atlantic between two rival pilots—one a demure Boston social worker, and the other a beauty queen. By the time Mabel Boll’s plane made it to Harbor Grace, Newfoundland, both camps were waiting for the weather to clear. Amelia later denied any competition between them.
Trying to juggle the demands of family and Amelia’s flight left Dorothy wishing for an escape from it all. In her June 11 entry, she describes her confusion:
The new wall in the garden has started. Iris are lovely and the fields embroidered with daisies! All the world seems happy and fruitful! Why should I be sad and inwardly so hurt? I want to go far away, alone and work to get myself straightened out. For here we have luxury, beauty, comforts and discord., a friction no amount of ignoring on my part is able to conceal from me. All my fault perhaps, but nonetheless, here!
Dorothy was never far from her beloved birds. Thinking of G.W., she savored the melodic notes of the thrush’s song. “Thank God for thrushes and ferns! They help one thro’ a mental hiatus as nothing else can do. Yes, seriously, thank God.” On the 13th, her thoughts returned to Amelia. “Still the Earhart girl doesn’t fly: can’t get her plane up from the water with its necessary load. And Mabel Boll on her second attempt has reached NT. [Newfoundland].”
Much to her delight, Dorothy was interviewed by a reporter for The New York Times. The story appeared on June 17, alongside news accounts and photos of Amelia.
MRS. PUTNAM, WIFE OF BACKER OF FLIGHT, GIVES WORD PICTURE OF GIRL AVIATOR…
“I have seldom encountered a more thoroughly delightful person,” said Mrs. Putnam in speaking of Miss Earhart. “She is most extraordinarily cool and self-possessed. Although I saw her during the trying time when the hop was being delayed from day to day, her poise was remarkable.”
… A possession of Miss Earhart’s which particularly appeals to the residents of Tyler Street, headquarters of her social work, is her battered Kissel roadster. Countless children of slums crawling over it while parked in the street, have nearly demolished the windshield. Its color is bright yellow.
“Mr. Putnam dubbed it the ‘Yellow Peril,’” the publisher’s wife explained, “and Miss Earhart certainly drives the ‘Peril’ remarkably well. Fast, too. But that’s to be expected with a one hundred mile an hour air woman who herself has a woman’s altitude record of 14,000 feet.
“…It will be a joy to have America and our own sex represented in England by such an altogether fine person as Amelia,” Mrs. Putnam continued. “She is a lady in the very best sense of the word, an educated and cultivated person with a fine, healthy sense of humor. And a girl easy to look at, too. Her resemblance to Lindbergh is almost uncanny. She is a feminine counterpart of the ‘Flying Colonel.’ We certainly will be delighted to welcome her home to America, and eagerly look forward to having her as our guest at Rye.”
Finally, on June 17, despite warnings from the U.S. Weather Bureau, the Friendship took off as a crowd of onlookers cheered from the shore. “I am going today in spite of everything,” a determined Amelia told newsmen.
JUNE 17, 1928 Earhart off for Atlantic flight at 11:2,1 a.m. from Trepassey N.F. and great excitement in the household. A phone from Mrs. Stultz, and a radio from Amelia herself and newspapers, etc. all day! I feel as tho’ I were suddenly splitting the sides of my personality!… Hectic upset afternoon, phones and wires, etc.
Mabel Boll and her crew were still grounded with mechanical problems on the morning of June 18, when Amelia Mary Earhart became the first woman to cross the Atlantic by air. The following day, newspaper headlines boldly proclaimed Amelia as “‘LADY LINDY’ AIR QUEEN.” Photographs of Earhart with her gap-toothed smile and her leather flying helmet appeared on every front page in America. Her feat was considered a daring accomplishment and she earned worldwide fame and respect.
Strangely, my grandmother made no mention of the aviatrix in her diaries until Amelia finally returned on July 5. Dorothy writes of George’s involvement in the flight, but her life appears normal again, though her celebrated friend was the topic of conversations around the world.
JUNE 18, 1928 Dinner at a little place on B’way, then while George went to Times office to hear any news of the flight, I went to see Billie Burke in “Happy Husband,” an amusing and very modern frivolity about husbands and wives and their infidelities.…
The following diary entries lead me to believe that in fact my grandmother was thinking much more about her friend’s new fame than she wanted to admit, even to herself.
JUNE 2 0, 1928 I wish I were way off, alone somewhere with the salty smell of the sea, the sort sound of the tide and a chance to swim naked when I really wanted to be luxurious and self indulgent. Perhaps it’s just utter boredom or a daily routine which only satisfies in episodes and short periods. I’m neither young nor old. I’m tremendously vital still, and full of a spirit of comedy and “play” which gets small opportunity and outlet.
JUNE 26, 1928 Oh, why, why do I get such depressed and utterly disgusted days.! When really I adore out of doors, and woods, and the sea and music and my two grand sons! Yet, there are whole days on end when I wish it were all over and done for. When I’d like to “finish my job” and crack off. Oh, I must go away this winter and by myself!
Though technically only a passenger, Amelia was a very active one. Seated between the fuel tanks, she recorded her observations in the logbook as best she could with little light. From the moment the pontoons of the Friendship touched down onto the chilly water near the fishing village of Burry Port, in southern Wales, Amelia Earhart became an instant heroine, an almost mythical figure for women of her generation who only fantasized about escaping their domestic routines.
Back home, my grandfather was orchestrating her every move. He had already sent his associate Hilton Railey to England to help Mrs. Guest prepare for the plane’s arrival, and together they engineered a public relations dream.
Before Amelia returned to the United States, she and George had communicated daily over the wire service. In several of their messages, they had both used the nickname “Simpkin,” a name she had given him shortly after they first met. In observing George during the early days of their relationship, Amelia had remembered a favorite Beatrix Potter story from her childhood, The Tailor of Gloucester, about a tailor who lived alone with his cat, Simpkin. George later described the nickname’s origin in his autobiography, Wide Margins:
