Whistled Like a Bird, page 11
Simpkin was a cat who believed that if holding one mouse in reserve against the danger of having time idle on one’s hand—or paws—was wisdom, then holding a good number of mice in reserve against such a likelihood was even better. So Simpkin kept a flock—or whatever the grouping of mice is—always available by the neat expedient of housing them, one by one, under inverted teacups. Somehow or other AE had hit on the resemblance in me to Simpkin’s way of doing things, for she early perceived that, important as the project of which she was the center became, it was really just then one of the group of enterprises in which I was engaged.
Seemingly, one mouse at a time was not enough. And so privately called me Simpkin.
Amelia arrived in London with very little money but almost immediately acquired an Avro Avian Moth sport plane from Lady Mary Heath, in which the latter had made a record flight from Cape Town, South Africa, to Croydon. Mary had inscribed into the fuselage a message for Amelia: “To Amelia Earhart from Mary Heath. Always think with your stick forward.”
She was also furnished with Parisian gowns and shoes, courtesy of Mrs. Guest, and was honored with dinners and luncheons. At a private affair at the exclusive Embassy Club, Amelia and the Prince of Wales were the center of attention. (He was an avid flyer.)
Amelia’s victorious face appeared on the front page of every newspaper, and moviegoers thrilled to the newsreels of her stepping onto British soil. She was greeted by crowds everywhere she went, sipped tea with the Prime Minister and Lady Astor, and chatted with Winston Churchill. Ever the enterprising publisher, my grandfather had arranged for Amelia to write dispatches from London that were eagerly devoured by newspaper readers back home.
The English reception was only the start of what would be an extended celebration. On June 28, ten days after reaching the coast of Wales, Amelia Earhart and the crew of the Friendship, along with Hilton Railey, boarded the SS Roosevelt for the eight-day voyage back to waiting throngs of Americans. Dorothy could not have predicted how dramatically her life would change with the return of her famous friend, who was planning to take up residence at Rocknoll for the summer while she wrote her book. George was now officially Amelia’s business manager, and with that came an enormous loss of privacy. “Phone rang all night!” Newsmen regularly perched on her front lawn.
George was swept up in the media attention, and Dorothy felt abandoned. She was still the same woman, and her friend’s sudden fame had done nothing to improve her spirits or her marriage. On June 29, Dorothy experienced a premonition: “… Killed snake on way home and had curious feeling of something uncanny about it. Have I an unknown enemy? A back biter? And a slanderer? Sometimes I fear so. Is there a ‘snake’ I ought to be more aware of?” The next evening, her relationship with George had ruptured once more.
JUNE 30, 1928 Again a wretched long argument, all night. The same old story… my indifference and why and wherefore? And his insistence. Impersonally, I’m regretful and sorry, and yet personally I can’t seem to force myself to another point of trying to begin all over again—as tho’ one ever brought back romance—or could order it.…
Yet life went on. Two days before the crew of the Friendship arrived in New York, the annual Binney family Fourth of July celebration took place at Rocklyn. All of the Putnams and Binneys, the neighbors, and the pals of Junie and David’s donned their bibbed aprons and chef’s hats for the traditional barbecue. “A swim, late, then five Putnams to Sound Beach for a grill. But bad storm and only the lobsters were broiled. But a nice party. And fireworks later, to which the neighbors all came.” The group was buzzing with excitement over Amelia’s record flight and her anticipated arrival. They were ecstatic at the prospect of having the flyer in their midst for a time, even if it meant that the rest of the summer would become a circus of photographers and reporters.
As the fireworks burst over the blinking lighthouse, Dorothy slipped away from the crowd and found her way up to her childhood room. It was quite some time before George realized his wife was missing. Walking around to the side entrance of the house, he climbed to the third floor and discovered her sitting on the edge of a table in front of a small window. Gazing out at the display, she seemed more interested in the man-made shooting stars than in her husband watching her from the doorway.
After an edgy night, filled with constant chatter about aviation and heroism, Dorothy awoke and began packing for the several days that she and George would spend in New York for the official welcome-home ceremonies. Dorothy wondered how her relationship with Amelia would change. She had missed her friend’s vitality and the confidences they had shared in Boston only a few short weeks earlier.
Her diaries over the following days describe in detail Amelia’s triumphant return. For a period of time her life was consumed by this Cinderella story, and she was even mistaken for the flyer by bodyguards hired to protect Amelia.
JULY 5, 1928 Thurs. Many reporters, reviewers, etc. already waiting in the “Friendship Flyer’s Suite” at 1717 in the Biltmore. Four bedrooms a dining room and reception room and it gives one quite a thrill or anticipation. Read Walpole’s “Wintersmoon,” a delicately done picture or aristocratic, conventional English life. The marriage or two people not in love and finally he falls in love with her and he loves their little son! The hopeless circle of it.
JULY 6, 1928 Up at dawn and then early down the bay on the little reception tug, Macom, to meet S.S. President Roosevelt, Dick Byrd, Laymans and Phipps, etc. on board and really quite a thrill. It pleased me for I knew nearly everyone and could really help a lot. Was tickled, really, to have Amelia throw her arms around me and kiss me, her only kiss, when she stepped aboard! Dick Byrd delightful lunch at Biltmore after Mayor’s reception and parade up Fifth Avenue. Wilkins, Wilsen, Chamberlain, Fokker, etc. there, many notables. Paramount Theatre p.m. Special Earhart films, late.
JULY 7, 1928 After Paramount last night we went to special benefit performance for Olympic Teams at Palace. A great show where I was mistaken for Amelia and rushed into the theatre by guards, etc.! Very amusing, but embarrassing. Women’s City Club lunch—22, Park Avenue—Good speeches and intelligent women. Amelia made excellent talk and fine impression. George a good speech. “Showboat” later. Fliers party. Capt. Manning, Mr. Woodhouse, and David, Helen and Mother joined us. David drove back to Rye with us, quite thrilled at motor cop escort and clearance of traffic!?
JULY 8, 1928 Amelia, George and I had to drive to town for Denison House Reception after dinner. The girl very tired and I fear I offended the committee by taking her away early. Again, motor cycle cops as escorts, clearing all traffic for us, and tooting siren every minute. It seems tremendously impressive to go against traffic signals!
Dorothy, George, and Amelia were relieved to escape the pressures of New York City and retreat to their country home.
Briefly out of the limelight, Amelia was comfortably surrounded by the mossy silhouettes of Don Blanding’s undersea mural in the guest room. That evening, she presented a silver fish pendant to her hostess and friend Dorothy Binney Putnam. The fish is etched with tiny scales and a flat fin lies against its small side. There is a ring in its mouth that originally held a thin satin purple ribbon. On the reverse side the inscription reads: “A.E.—6–18–28—D.B.P.” The significance of the fish comes from a play that Amelia and the Putnams had seen in Boston just before her departure. The title was The Good Hope. Amelia would later write in her book 20 hrs. 40 min: Our Flight in the Friendship that “The story is a tragedy; all the hopeful characters drown while the most tragic one survives to carry out a cold lamb chop in the last act. A recurring line is ‘The fish are dearly paid for,’ and our crew adopted that as a heraldic motto, emblazoned under a goldfish rampant.”
The following morning, the three returned to Boston, where the official pageantry continued. Amelia was beginning to enjoy the nonstop parades and dinner parties, and charmed admirers with her “wonderful sense of humor,” as Anne Morrow Lindbergh later wrote. “In a crowd in which we were all present, she reported hearing some stranger exclaim, ‘the poor girl does look like Lindbergh!’” Dorothy’s casual sophistication and natural understanding of celebrity had become invaluable to her friend, and she was delighted to help.
JULY 9, 1928 Left hotel at 7:15 for Curtis Field. Take off for Boston in a trimotor Ford plane. George and I with Amelia. Stultz and Gordons in a Fokker. My greatest thrill and joy of all new sensations. Hot, sultry, golden day, 2 to 3,000 ft. altitude, going at 85 to 110 miles per hour. Yellow daisies in field below looked like golden dust and no hills at all! And we watch our own shadow below. The other plane seems to glide, motionless and we feel no sense of moving, just hear the sound of motors! Boston in 2, hrs. Parade—Reception—Governor’s house—Capitol—Parade—Boston Common, etc. A celebration out doing that for Lindbergh. We had Colonel Lindbergh Suite!
Dorothy later recalled that “Dennison Airport was shouting and cheering; great ships in the harbor shrilled their whistles; on every roof handkerchiefs waved; and everywhere showers of gay papers made a snowstorm of welcome.…”
Amelia’s fiancé, Sam Chapman, was waiting at the hotel in Boston when they arrived. On July 10, feeling excluded from the formal ceremonies, he gravitated toward Dorothy:
Almost before we woke, phone began ringing again and reporters and news photo men, etc. were waiting for interviews. Sam Chapman was sneaked up to her room to see her, and reporters immediately knew of it. There’s a penalty to being famous and one pays the price by having no privacy whatever! Medford noontime parade and reception. While Sam Chapman and I stayed behind and had a fine talk. Such an insight in to a human being as I’ve only seen a few times before. I like him, but Lordy what a problem he is facing. Back to Rye on Private Car. Gilt Edge special.
Soon after the parades ended, Amelia moved into Rocknoll, where she began writing what would become 20 hrs. 40 min. Though she continued to make personal appearances, she would essentially live in the Putnam home until the manuscript was completed. “George and Amelia in town for a radio talk at night. When Dick Byrd introduced Amelia in Boston he said: ‘A very gallant lady, at home in the universe and unafraid.’ A fine tribute.”
Dorothy understood that the aggressive publishing entourage that had followed them back to Rye was a necessary part of book promotion. “Secretaries and extras and neighbors, and relatives all crowding around. And an enormous mob for meals. All very hectic and upsetting, but it’s all in the game.” She was swept up by the activity, but privately wrote of her longing for and frustration over G.W.’s absence.
JULY 12, 1928 Busy all day around the house trying to get things caught up. Out to see the outboard motor boat races and the navy seagull races off Playland Beach. A flat ideal day, and returned in time to meet George, Amelia and Capt. Manning [of the SS Roosevelt] for dinner.
JULY 13, 1928 To town, Capt. Manning returned with me, many errands. Amelia worked all day. After dinner Amelia and I drove my new Chrysler “75” {actually, the very first one delivered!) to meet Sam Chapman at Stamford. Home—a cold drink and a little music and to bed in the loggia. Oh, sometimes it would be easier not to know so much about other people’s intimate affairs. One suffers for it, often. I’m curiously apathetic. I don’t understand myself—Why? What? Who?
JULY 14, 1928 Try to arrange fresh flowers, but the fields are so wet from constant rains that I’m drenched. Swim in a.m. altho’ water cold and unappetizing, but we must have exercise. Amelia and I really swam, but Chapman and George quit as soon as they were wet. Damn the constant rain! Sam and Amelia out for drive after dinner, then cool drink and very soon a quiet house.
The historic month had not altered her fundamental situation. Once again, Dorothy seemed to be moving toward a breakup of the marriage.
JULY 15, 1928 The only man I desire, I can’t have. The one who has a “right” {to hell with conjugal rights!) to me, I am utterly indifferent to, and anyway he’s far too occupied with affairs of business to give time to any emotional life. But I don’t really care any more. There’s only one man I can think of loving.
9
G.W. AND A.E.
JULY 20, 1928 My birthday! And how utterly old and finished I feel. All the thrills and joy of life seem to be behind me. And yet I see a few older women who remain vital, keen and amusing and loveable. I wonder have I those qualities too?… Dinner, a very special one, with Junie, Dave, France. My child called on phone for my birthday—so happy.
NEARING HER FORTIETH BIRTHDAY, MY grandmother became increasingly philosophic. “No woman knows anything about a man till he has kissed her at least twice.… I would rather be loved for five minutes than be admired for an hour.” Diary excerpts like this one make me wish I had known her in her younger and more passionate years.
It may not have been her birthday that prompted the pensiveness, rather the painful fact that she was growing old without a plan or purpose, and that the only man she had ever loved was unavailable. She had just received a letter from G.W. saying he could not join her at the Double Dee Ranch in Meteetsee, Wyoming, later that summer. From her diaries, it’s clear my grandmother was deeply disappointed, but understood that he was working in Pennsylvania. “A long letter from G.W. which says he’s hard at work with his Dad, on a mill in Danville. And I fear the Dude Ranch chance has fallen by the wayside. Too bad, and yet I know what it means to his family to have him home with the gang.”
On July 24, George and Amelia returned to Rye. Dorothy did not greet them outside on the drive, preferring to appear less eager than the rest of the household. By now, the two women respectfully acknowledged their dual relationship to the publisher. Amelia was sensitive to Dorothy’s role as wife and mother, and appreciated her need to be in control of the domestic scene, just as Amelia was beginning to develop her own career under George’s watchful direction.
The friendship between the two women continued, despite the tight book deadline that found Amelia at her writing desk for most of the day. Still, there were welcome excursions. “Amelia and I spent all afternoon searching for a new dance frock for her in Port Chester and Greenwich.” They seldom missed their afternoon swim together, and Amelia particularly enjoyed visiting the Binneys’ home, where she was afforded an unusual hour or two of privacy. “Drove to Sound Beach to see my dad—took Amelia and Junie. Nice visit.” There was a spirit of free will and determination in both women, and oddly enough at this point, not a trace of jealousy over the man who had brought them together.
JULY 25, 1928 The house seems so terrifically crowded and full of people. 4 in family, 4 guests, and 4 servants! I don’t like it, really, and long for a quiet tete a tete with a congenial soul, or some satisfying music. Oh, for a quiet cool house, full of fresh flowers and one person such as Hub or G.W. to talk with and listen to good voice or piano or flute by the hour! Amelia working on her book with Fitz.
In the waning days of July, Amelia became a familiar figure at social functions in Rye, accompanied by the Putnams. Dorothy enjoyed introducing the young flyer to her circle of friends, who were taken by Amelia’s modest charm.
JULY 26, 1928 Home just in time for George’s train and Hilton and a newspaper woman came with him. Club sandwiches and tea and then we six left for town and the big fight to see Heeney and Tunney. Dave, Amelia, George and I, a box, and a great fight to watch. A. K. O. in the 10th round, but the bell saved Heeney. And the referee stopped the fight in the 11th—Tunney still champion heavyweight and not even gooey or bruised! Drove home—sort warm night.
JULY 27, 1928 To town early for hair trim and a few errands for Amelia. Cocktails at house, and a fine party at Casino. Shore dinner and dance. 15 or us. Rainy night, but no one cared. Every one really an exceptional dancer. All men left for N.Y. and Marty and Laurie took midnight train for Boston to see Hub at Martha’s Vineyard. Good party all around.
JULY 28, 1928 Amelia, Dave, George and I drove to Ogden Reid’s home to a bathing suit party. Perhaps 40 guests, young and old in bathing suits, plus a fancy costume. Dinner on the terrace, moonlight and an orchestra, then afterwards a delicious swim in heavenly pool 75߰ × 30߰ and Hooded with lights under the water.
JULY 29, 1928 After a minute or two at piano George and I walked to Manursing just for exercise. Home and dressed and off to a buffet lunch at the Bernhard Gimbels to meet Gene Tunney. A lovely day, a hundred or so guests, a beautiful big country estate. And our Amelia and Tunney were the cynosure of all eyes. Both, too, more than charming in their way—easy, agreeable and good looking. Except for a very slight purple stain under one eye, Tunney scarcely shows his affair [the fight against Heeney] of Thursday
My grandmother must have had some reservations several days later, when she and Amelia risked their lives by riding as passengers in a small plane piloted by an unsavory character. Despite Wilmer Stultz’s refusal to go along, the two women leaped at the opportunity, eagerly climbing aboard.
AUGUST 2, 1928 Off in a.m. to Teterboro Field with Amelia, by car. Flew from there with her and two men to Sea Girt, Military Review, etc., by Governor Moore. Big lunch and party. Stultz received Mayor’s Commission. Had a lesson in courage; the pilot or our plane, Caperton, had a bad reputation—crashed two planes recently. The Stultzes refused to fly with him. Amelia walked over and climbed in. She and I went with him. Hot day—Small plane—Thrill
On August 4, Dorothy impatiently awaited the beginning of a long-planned weekend with G.W. It was to take place on Martha’s Vineyard at the home of a mutual friend (and Putnam author) Hubbard (“Hub”) Hutchinson. But G.W. had fallen off a scaffold earlier that summer and my grandmother was worried that he would not be able to leave after all. Waiting for him to arrive, she concentrated on the piano keys. “All morning I did music and filled the house with blossoms.” She fussed over her appearance, even wearing a touch of rouge on her cheeks, which she once said was “the second greatest boon to womanhood—the first being economic independence.”
