Whistled Like a Bird, page 19
Alice and Edwin Binney were unaware of the trauma being inflicted on their daughter, but they must have begun to suspect something. “Mother and Bub arrived by boat from New York. So glad to have them! Yet tongue tied and embarrassed.” Edwin had just named Frank president of the St. Lucie County Bank, making the situation even more delicate and embarrassing for his daughter. Soon, Frank turned his temper on her parents.
JUNE 22, 1933 The most revolting evidence of bad taste and no breeding! Quarrel, then downstairs and insulted Mother—yelled at her. Woke up Bub. Maudlin. Cried!! No apology! He just won’t do what nice people do, nor their customs! Oh, so sorry for Mother and Bub. So completely ashamed or him. I feel sunk and pep-less. I mustn’t let him crush me; it’s weak or me.
JUNE 28, 1933 Mother and Bub moved over to Casa [Caprona] yesterday. Don’t blame them. It can’t be very pleasant at Immokolee. At 1:45 a.m. Eff left for Washington on business—cross and angry at me. God help us.
Dorothy was afraid of public disgrace. Women of her time were ashamed to report to the authorities such spousal abuse, especially forced sex within a marriage. In July she wrote: “Had to submit tonight when Eff came in late—he’d been drinking. So disgusting.”
JULY 18, 1933 Sun. 16th: Terrible scene with Eff—drunk. He pretended to shoot himself, tore off my clothes, etc. Called servants; lay shivering with fear rest or night
SEPTEMBER 9, 1933 (On 10th, pages torn out!) A ghastly scene and quarrel. Oh, it’s too awful! Nowadays they occur every two weeks or so. “I began too late. I ought to have horsewhipped you two years ago.”
For the first time, my grandmother feared for her life. “Another terrible night, from 10 to 4 a.m. And this time: ‘I’ll kill you, and I’ll kill myself!’ And nine times my throat is held, vice-like and my hair pulled. Parapet on deck.” Between this entry in October 1933 and February of the following year, Dorothy’s diary pages were blank. She was afraid to write the truth.
On February 4, 1934, Frank and Dorothy had been arguing earlier in the day when she pleaded with him to stop drinking. He ignored her tearful request and set out by himself for a local bar. Several hours later she heard a car pull up to the front door. The headlights were dimmed. She peered through the window, expecting to see Frank stumble inside, and braced herself for another night of terror. Instead, she saw a figure emerge from the driver’s seat and walk around to the passenger side. Now there were two silhouettes in the dark, one struggling to hold the other’s dead weight. Dorothy drew in her breath and realized that the crumpled figure was her husband. He had been shot twice in the head.
Dorothy bundled Junie into a coat and rushed from the house, but not before calling for medical help. “Brought home at 10 p.m., Jr. and I fled Ghastly. Doctors. Blood.” Whoever the assailant—perhaps as inebriated as Upton—he had failed in his mission. The bullets only grazed the target. Dorothy does not name the shooter and took this secret to her grave. “He shot him twice in the head, but too drunk to he aimed right. Bed, two doctors. Loss of blood. I shall be 24 hr. Nurse. Must lie about it all. Still dangerously weak. Bed. Dr.”
The following day she returned to Immokolee from town, and found Frank lying in the red room where she had left him the night before, and where she herself had often gone to recuperate from his lashings. She served him meals from her delicate tea tray, not bothering to hide her disgust. The room was dark and hot, and Frank brooded, anxious for a drink. Leaning against the mirrored door, staring at the blood-stained sheet, Dorothy wondered how she had gotten herself into such an ungodly mess.
On Valentine’s Day, Dorothy was clearly shattered: “I shall burst emotionally soon! Dead.”
Two weeks after the shooting, when Eff was well enough to drive himself into town, she walked outside and headed for her swimming pool. The night before, she had fallen asleep with the knowledge that her son David would arrive the next afternoon. She knew help was on the way. For the first time in over a year she slept peacefully; in the morning she stretched out in the warm sun to wait for him.
David was now twenty-one, a physically imposing young man, six feet four—and utterly fearless. Dorothy once described him as “the kind of boy I saw in my secret heart when he was conceived—high in the western mountains. Tall blonde clean cut and alive to people.” He was living near Portland, Maine, and flying for the Boston and Maine Airways. Someone—perhaps his grandfather or even Dorothy herself—had called him about the terrifying situation. Throwing a few belongings into the open cockpit of his Kinner biplane, he had notified his fellow air-mail deliverers, sent a radio message to his mother, and taken off. David planned to land in Fort Pierce between 4:00 and 5:00 P.M. and would circle Immokolee several times to announce his arrival before turning east in the direction of the grassy airstrip.
Hearing the distant hum of the plane’s engine, Dorothy stood and waved frantically, both arms outstretched above her head. She turned and ran down the steep concrete steps, gripping the rail. “Dave arrived by plane! At 5 p.m. Much excitement!”
Frank Upton knew that his marriage was over. Whether or not he was confronted by a furious David is not recorded. It seems very likely. I recall my mother telling me that Dad went out to Immokolee in a rage and “ran Eff out of town.” Dorothy explains his abrupt departure from Fort Pierce in very terse terms: “Eff to Washington. (In silence and anger.) David here!”
Her oldest son had always thought of his mother as invincible. To find her in such a broken state was deeply painful, and he felt a strong sense of guilt for living so far away. He also worried about his younger brother, imagining what the thirteen-year-old must have witnessed. David had been spending most of his free time at Rocknoll with G.P. and Amelia, and on several occasions he had accompanied his stepmother on trips, acting as her bodyguard. Now it was his mother who needed protection.
The Florida sun streamed into the living room as David watched his mother at the piano. The slow, soft music reflected her grief and David knew how deeply she regretted her marriage to Eff.
David’s visit had another historic consequence. That week a family friend invited him to meet a young woman visiting from Georgia, Nilla Shields, who was staying at the nearby Casa Caprona. A blind date had been arranged with Nilla—who had just graduated from Duke University—to attend a dance at the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach.
Blond, petite, and beautiful, Nilla Shields had gone to visit a medium two weeks earlier on a whim with her three sisters. They giggled when the psychic predicted that Nilla would meet a tall, handsome man who owned his own plane. She had never met a flyer, let alone someone her age who owned his own plane. The psychic also predicted she would fall madly in love with this stranger and marry him.
She must have grinned when David Putnam arrived to pick her up and, on the drive down to Palm Beach, told her about his life. He was instantly attracted to Nilla’s southern beauty, but it was her sense of humor that ultimately stole his heart. They arrived at the dance, and onlookers could not help but notice the couple. He towered over her by a foot and a half, and she seemed to disappear when he wrapped her in his arms. “Kids at ‘Casa’ for swim and cocktails. To dance at Palm Beach. And David took Nilla, a ‘blind date’”
Forty-eight hours later, they eloped, and with David’s marriage a miracle occurred: Peace returned to Immokolee.
MARCH 4, 1934 Fished till 3 p.m. Home, swim and Ramseys [Nilla’s hosts] and Nilla out for evening. Nilla is charming and beautiful
MARCH 5, 1934 David married Nilla while I was at hospital and Angler’s Club Meeting! Too exciting. Grave them my room.
My grandmother learned later that the couple actually had to wait a whole day for the justice of the peace to return from vacation to perform the hasty ceremony; otherwise the lovebirds would have married after a twenty-four-hour courtship. Rather than feeling cheated out of a formal wedding, Dorothy was thrilled by the romance and gave the newlyweds her treetop bedroom as their bridal suite.
At night, lying under a cool sheet in the treetop bedroom, I imagine my mother and father starting a life together in the same room. I laugh when I think that my parents forced me to wait a whole year before marrying my own husband, Jack.
Several days later, David had to leave Fort Pierce to resume his job in Maine, but not before stopping briefly in Rye to tell his father and Amelia the news. His new bride remained with Dorothy at Immokolee for several days before returning home to Georgia, where her family was understandably shocked by this turn of events, but still thrilled for their youngest daughter. Her new in-laws were equally surprised and delighted, judging from a letter she received from George Putnam, her father-in-law, accompanied by a note from Amelia.
March 11, 1934
Dear Nilla,
Dave has just shoved off for Boston. We had a fine day with him most of which, curiously enough, was devoted to his telling us about a gal he met and married down south!
This is just a hasty note to say hello and send my love. I was sorry that it happened so suddenly, as a little delay would have been fairer all around and better for you and for him in the long run. But that is water over the dam, and all that counts now is for you both to be happy and to move wisely. Dave knows that you both can count upon me for every bit of help I can give—although the real test is for you to help yourselves. Anyway, I’m eager to see you, and you’ll find a full measure of affection in your new dad. What’s more, you’ll also find here another friend who will do her part and more. For Amelia is devoted to Dave, understands him well, and knows with me that you must be just the kind of girl we both can love.
When Dave gets squared away again on his new job, we’ll know more about your plans. It would be fine if you can stop off here on the way to Boston, assuming Dave could come down. That would give us a chance at a little visit. And by the way, I suggest that you do not try to buy much in the way of clothes down there. That will be more fun and better, in New York. And Amelia and I would enjoy fitting you out with a few duds you’ll likely need for a northern spring, as a sort of left handed wedding present. So count on that.
I want you to know that I know it was hard to let Dave go so soon, and hard for him. That was playing the game—and courage helps a lot. Also separation makes reunions all the happier.
Please feel sure that you have two good friends here, and that everything will be easy as can be.
Affectionately,
David’s Dad
And I echo all that “David’s Dad” has said.
Amelia Earhart
Dorothy, Junie, and Frank “Eff” Upton during the Sarasota/Silver Springs trip (1929).
Dorothy and Sen. Fred Walcott sailing on Long Island Sound (1929).
Adm. Richard Byrd presents the Explorers Club flag that flew over the South Pole to G.P.P. (VP of club), with Clarence Chamberlain (second from left), Amelia, and Bernt Balchen (1930).
Eff during Immokolee’s construction in 1930.
G.W. at Casa Caprona pool (1930): A grand roughhouse swim back at pool with rubber animals and a band!
Junie, Alice and Edwin Binney, Dorothy, and Eff at Florindia (1930).
Don Blanding and Eff (1930): Don’s undersea panels for the new house are colorful and original.
G.P.P and Amelia (portrait by Ben Pinchot, 1931).
G.P.P. and Amelia, shortly after their wedding in 1931, in their New York apartment.
Amelia and G.P.P. in Paris after Amelia’s historic flight (1932): She’s done it! She flew across to Ireland. Solo. World Attention!
Amelia and David with a model of a Lockheed Vega (1932): “David had been spending most of his free time at Rocknoll with G.P. and Amelia.”
Eff, Dorothy, and Junie outside Immokolee (1932),
G.P.P. and Amelia at home (1932).
Dorothy with a giant sea bass (1933).
David, Nilla, Amelia, and “Philbert,” Amelia’s gift to the newlyweds (1934).
The stairs leading up to the loggia at Immokolee (1935)
1935: “IMMO-KO-LEE,” Seminole (My Home Place). Our grove name.
Amelia at the Double Dee Ranch (1935).
Amelia and G.P.R (1937)
Amelia and G.P.P. at a Japanese tea ceremony in Hawaii (1935).
Amelia with her Cord and Electra (1937).
Nilla, G.P.P., and Amelia, May 31, 1939: “The day before the flight, Mom accidently walked into their room to discover them in a warm embrace, reassuring one another that the daring attempt would be a success.”
These were the last photos of Amelia taken by G.P.P. before her flight on June 1, 1937, in Miami.
A week after this photo was taken, Nilla woke from a dream seeing “Amelia through a thick pane of glass in deep water pleading for me to help her.”
G.P.P. photographs Amelia and Fred Noonan with their mechanic.
G.P. to A.E.: “Once this is out of your hair, what a very happy interesting time we can have. We can have it, too, should you for any reason decide to quit.”
George (“Junie”), Dorothy, and David dressed in the standard Immokolee chef aprons and hats (1940).
Dorothy sitting at the Driftwood (1940).
Don and Dorothy at Immokolee (1942): 2nd anniversary. Filled house with orchids. Set a beautiful South Sea Island table.
G.P.P. with Nilla in Fort Pierce to welcome his first grandson, David B. Putnam, Jr. (1942): A major in the Air Corp., more power to him.
G.W. as a colonel with the Air Transport Command (1940).
Alice Binney with David (1944)
Nilla, David, and Jean Marie Putnam (1940).
Peg and G.P.P.’s wedding day, San Marino, CA (1945): Recalled Robert Lee, “She loved G.P.P. for both his strength and his idiosyncrasies.”
Dorothy and Lew Palmer (1949): I’m trying to think why I deserve so much joy and happiness after all the turmoil in my life so far! But I love it!
Dorothy with a rickshaw driver in Africa with Lew (1945): “Perhaps those ebony blacks of Africa and the white-robed Mohammedans of far off Arabia or the coastal islands of Africa should have a right to their way of thinking, too.”
Lew at the site of their Smokey Mountain cabin (1949): Cabin, A ‘Smokey’ day and cool. Planted azaleas on hillside below porch. Hope they grow.
Lew at his Spanish garden wall at Immokolee (1950): At sunrise in the garden, I said a prayer, and gave my Beloved forever to Immokolee, which he loved!
Dorothy at seventy-five (1963): Time is learning to accept a few defeats. But it’s rather fun frustrating the old monster.
Dorothy at eighty-one with Binney Putnam (1969).
17
NILLA’S DREAM
“children and work, maybe, are all that matter. Tho’ of course, close contact with friends goes a long way to help. So we have to have our children.”
ON DECEMBER 17, 1934, EDWIN BINNEY died of a massive heart attack. Dorothy’s sister Helen described the events surrounding their father’s death in her book, Memories:
When he [Bub] and mother left for the South the middle of December they stayed overnight at the Hotel Iroquois. Because I felt very depressed when they left Old Greenwich, I decided I must see them again. So, when Cotter [the Binneys’ chauffeur] took off the next morning to pick them up, I went along. They gave me a warm welcome and seemed delighted when they knew that I had arranged to drive as far as Washington with them.…Instead of leaving for home early, I had to go to the capitol with Bub, as he had conferences with several Senators about his inlet project in Fort Pierce.…But I remember most, my distress at his shortness of breath and persuaded him to use the elevators. Cotter drove us to the station for my noon train, and we parted affectionately with a big hug and my urgent admonition, “Take care of yourself—I love you.” On December 17, 1934, he died of a heart attack in the car before he had reached his beloved Fort Pierce. Certain memories do not fade.
Heartsick and grieving, Dorothy retreated to Immokolee following the funeral. It was a painful blow coming so soon after her split from Eff. However, she was not the sort of woman who stayed inactive for long. Edwin Binney had been a towering figure in Fort Pierce, and now his daughter would assume some of his responsibilities. With Bub dead and Eff gone, Dorothy felt a profound attachment toward her hometown. But the greatest boost to her spirits was the news that David and Nilla had decided to move down to Florida, planning to build a house across the road from Immokolee on land Dorothy had given them.
On July 6, 1935, Dorothy became a grandmother. David and Nilla Putnam named their daughter—my older sister—Binney. From the moment that Dorothy held the tiny baby to her breast, she felt renewed. Her grandchildren would prove to be an overwhelming source of pride and pleasure, and she vowed to make up for the times she felt she had neglected both David and June.
The young Putnams were still living at the Casa Caprona in Fort Pierce during the construction of their home when Amelia and her cousin Lucy Challis flew down to see the baby. David left for the airport immediately after hearing the roar of the Lockheed Vega as it swooped down so close to the rooftop that he later recalled seeing Amelia’s freckled cheeks through the plane’s window. Driving south on U.S. 1 beneath the shadow of the low-flying plane, David chased the airborne visitors, laughing as he attempted to beat them to the dirt runway.
