Famous Flyers Part 16

CHAPTER IX-Four Women Flyers

Mrs. Martin, too, was pleased. She had gained her point, and now had another surprise for the company. "Did it ever occur to you that there are famous flyers who aren't men? It's just like you to neglect the women altogether."

"Aw," said Bob, "we can't go telling stories about women. We're sticking to men."

"It seems to me that the women oughtn't to be neglected," said his mother. "After all, when we women do things, we like to be recognized."

The Captain broke in, then. "Well, how about some of the women? he asked. Of course, being a woman yourself, you can't enter our story-telling contest, but you can amuse us from a purely amateur love of getting in your feminine licks."

Mrs. Martin smiled in the dark. "You think that I won't," she said. "But I will. I've been doing reading of my own, you know."

"Tell away, Mater," said Bob. "You're better than any of us."

Mrs. Martin began her story. "There are four women who stand head and shoulders above the rest in the United States," she said, "when it comes to flying. They are that oddly-a.s.sorted group-tall, slender, boyish Amelia Earhart, who's Amelia Earhart Putnam, now; little Elinor Smith, who doesn't weigh much over a hundred pounds: medium-sized, gracious and charming Ruth Nichols, who belongs to the Junior League; and short, st.u.r.dy, daring Laura Ingalls.

"Amelia is probably the first lady of the land, or I should say, first lady of the air in the United States now, since her solo trans-Atlantic flight on May 20, 1932. It was fitting that she should make her flight on the fifth anniversary of Lindbergh's flight to Europe, because she's always been called the Lady Lindy. She looks like him, you know-long, lean, blonde, with a shock of unruly curly hair, and a shy, contagious smile. She has even his modest nature, and the ability to win the hearts of everybody with whom she comes in contact.

"The solo flight wasn't Amelia Earhart's first trip across the ocean by plane. You remember her first flight, when she went as a pa.s.senger on the Stultz-Gordon flight in 1928. She's the first person now who has ever crossed the ocean twice through the air. Amelia is a real pioneer-she must have adventure and excitement in life-that's why she gave up social service work, and made flying her profession. It wasn't easy for her to learn to fly-she just had evenings and Sundays to get in her practice flights, but she stuck to it, and finally had a sufficient number of hours in the air to get her pilot's license. Of course, she is interested in the progress of aviation. Everybody who flies has this interest at heart-but the love of adventure is uppermost in her mind when she makes her record flights.

"It was that that sent her across the Atlantic, through storms and sleet and fog, with no thought of turning back, in spite of decided defects in her motor that threatened to land her in the middle of the ocean and send her to certain death.

"There wasn't much publicity before her flight. Since it was going to be for her own satisfaction, she wanted to keep it to herself. She took off quietly from Harbor Grace, Newfoundland. The weather was fairly good, but when she got out a few hours, she met with the same terrifying flying conditions that her solo predecessor, Lindbergh, had. Fog enveloped her plane. She could not see in front of her, or to either side. Ice formed on the wings of her plane, and threatened to break them off. Gradually the temperature rose, and the ice melted. But new dangers threatened. A weld in the exhaust manifold broke, and the manifold vibrated badly; leaks sprang in the reserve gas tanks in the c.o.c.kpit, and then-the altimeter broke.

"Now the altimeter, as I suppose you all know, records the alt.i.tude at which the plane is flying. Amelia Earhart had never flown without one, and now she realized the hazards of not knowing how high she was flying through the fog. Sometimes she would drop so low that she came suddenly out of the fog, but so close to the water she could see the white caps on the surface.

"The girl realized that she must make a landing as soon as possible, and that was when she reached Culmore, Ireland, a tiny place five miles from Londonderry. She landed in a field, scaring a team of plow horses, who had never before seen a woman landing after a trans-Atlantic flight. She went by automobile to Londonderry, and there received the rousing welcome that was due her.

"Europe entertained her royally. She was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross; she was received by the Prince of Wales; she was partied and banqueted. And through it all she kept her poise, and modestly accepted the acclaim that was showered upon her. She was the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic, but not only that, she had set a new speed record for the North Atlantic Ocean, flying a distance of 2,026 miles in about thirteen and a half hours. She had at the same time broken Ruth Nichols' long distance record for women, which had been set at 1,977 miles from Oakland, California, to Louisville, Kentucky.

"Ruth Nichols has a habit of setting records. She started to fly at about the same time that Amelia Earhart started, and has kept nip and tuck with her, except for the fact that proposed plans of hers to fly the Atlantic have not as yet been carried out. She was graduated from Wellesley College, and was a member of the Junior League, which rates her pretty high in the social scale, but her overwhelming desire for adventure and pioneering, led her, as it led Amelia Earhart, to choose aviation as her profession. Ruth Nichols held the long distance record for women until it was broken by Amelia Earhart. She holds the alt.i.tude record for women, though, and broke the alt.i.tude record for Diesel engines in 1932, at a height of over 21,000 feet.

"Elinor Smith was, in a way of speaking, born in an airplane c.o.c.kpit.

Her father was a pilot; Elinor made her first flight as a pa.s.senger at the age of eight; took over the controls at twelve; and made her first solo flight at fifteen. She was so small that her head did not reach over the top of the c.o.c.kpit, and the other pilots called her 'the headless pilot.' It was a funny sight to see a plane land gracefully on a field apparently with no one to guide it. Then out would pop Elinor, a grimy little girl, covered with grease from the motor, and with a cheerful grin on her impish face. It was Elinor, who at seventeen, set the women's solo endurance record by staying in the air alone for 26 hours and 21 minutes. Elinor should do great things in aviation. She knows her planes inside and out; she's had the opportunity such as no other woman has had, to learn the technicalities of aviation when she was young that she absorbed them as part of herself. Elinor Smith is one of the most popular women in aviation now.

"Laura Ingalls is the stunt flyer of the women. She came out of the middle-west, from Missouri. She took to music and dancing first to express her restless spirit, and then found that it was flying that would express her best. So she went to a government-approved school, and became an expert, daring flyer. She is the holder of the record for loop-the-loops for women, and of the barrel roll record for both men and women. She is interested in the progress of aviation, but gets a great thrill out of merely flying for its own sake."

Mrs. Martin paused. "I guess that gives you an idea," she said, "what women are doing nowadays."

"Women have always done the great things in aviation," said Mrs. Gregg.

"They stay home and wait while the men are risking their lives. Waiting is harder than doing.

"Women haven't a monopoly on that," said Bob. "What about Mr. Putnam, who waited at home while his wife flew the ocean?"

Everybody laughed. "You're right, Bob," said Mrs. Gregg. Then she added, "It's getting pretty late. How about our going, Hal?"

The two of them cut across the garden to their home.

CHAPTER X-Hawks and Doolittle

The next day was spent in a pleasantly muddled state, getting Hal ready to go with them, and putting the finishing touches to their own equipment. Stout boots, fishing lines, flies, everything on their lists was gradually being checked off. Late in the afternoon they had a breathing s.p.a.ce, and Bob remembered that it was Pat's turn to tell his story.

"Come on, Pat, you might as well get it over with," said Bob. "We haven't anything else to do, anyway."

"You're mighty impudent for a young one, Bob, my lad," said Pat. "Just because you've made a solo flight doesn't mean that you're wings are dry yet. You might know that any story I'd tell would be good."

"Oh, Patrick, you'll have to prove that," said the Captain. "I've heard some pretty awful ones from you. Haven't I?"

"It must have been two other fellows," said Pat. "But I'll begin. And I won't take so long, either. I'm not one of these long winded story tellers," he said significantly.

"Get on, get on." This from Captain Bill.

"My two boys are the speedy two, all right," began Pat. "Speed was their middle name. Their real names were-well, you probably have guessed. It's not a secret-Frank Hawks and Jimmie Doolittle. Beg pardon, maybe I had better say Lieutenant Commander Frank Hawks of the United States Naval Reserve, the holder of some 30 inter-city aviation records, etcetera, etcetera; and maybe it would be more proper to talk about James Doolittle, M.S.; D.A.E.. But what's the use of the t.i.tles? They're just Frank and Jimmie, two of the squarest shooters in the game.

"Frank was born, of all places for a flyer to be born, in Marshalltown, Iowa, on March 28, 1897. Iowa's flat, you know. Wouldn't think that there'd be much inspiration for flying out there. But maybe all that flat prairie was just so much inspiration to get away from it all, and get up into the air. Anyway, young Frank put plenty of grey hairs in his mother's head with his love for climbing. Just crazy about high places.

Always up a tree, so to speak.

"Little Frank was mighty pretty, I guess. Maybe he wouldn't like my saying it, but he must have been a smart kid, too. At a very tender age, my lads, our friend Frank Hawks was playing children's parts in Minneapolis. But then the family moved to California-maybe to live down the scandal of a performing son, and Frank got serious, being mightly busy just going to high school.

"Maybe it was fate, but something happened that changed Frank Hawks'

ideas about what he wanted to be when he grew up. The Christofferson brothers, who were pretty great shakes in those days, and pioneers in flying, set up a shop on the beach outside Frank's home town. They took up pa.s.sengers. But they charged plenty for it, and Frank, while he hung around a lot, never had the money to go up, although he was mighty anxious to fly.

"Finally he got an idea. If he couldn't get up in the usual way, he'd find a way he could go up. So young Frank got himself a pencil, a notebook, and a mighty important look, and approached one of the Christoffersons. 'I'm from the newspaper, Mr. Christofferson,' he says, 'and I'd like an interview with you.' And he interviewed him just as serious as you please, with Christofferson pleased as could be, thinking of the publicity and the new pa.s.sengers he'd get. Then young Frank asked if he couldn't go up, in order to write his impressions of an airplane ride. Of course, of course.

"So Frank Hawks got his first ride in an airplane, and decided on his future career. Aviation got a recruit and Christofferson waited a long time for his interview to appear. In fact, he waited indefinitely.

"The problem for Frank then was to get another ride. He finally went to the flyer, and told him what he had done. He was forgiven, and worked out his pa.s.sage for that ride and other rides by working around the flying field. It was then he learned to fly. But business was not too good, and the brothers moved on. Frank Hawks went on with his high school work, and was graduated in 1916. Thought he ought to have more book learning, so he went on to the University of California.

"But the war stopped that. When he was twenty, Hawks joined the army, the Flying Corps. He was too good, though. Too good for his own good.

They never sent him to France, where he wanted to go. Instead, they made him an instructor, so that he could teach green recruits how to fly. At the end of the war he was discharged, with the t.i.tle of Captain.

"The five years after that were hectic ones. Aviation was still new-interest in it had been stirred up by war flying, and all sorts of men, young, old, every kind, bought up old planes from the government and went barnstorming around the country, taking people up on flights, stunting, flying in air circuses, balloon jumping, and doing anything they could to make money with their tubs. Some of these planes were no more than old junk, and the flyers no more than the rankest amateurs.

But there were some of them who were good, and one of these was Hawks.

He went dizzily stunting around the country, until' he got himself the reputation of being just plain crazy, but a great flyer.

"There were ups and downs, to be sure. And I don't mean to be funny, either, my lads. The people in the United States were getting just a little weary of going up in airplanes just for the fun of the thing-they were getting too common. But-there were people down in Mexico who had never seen a plane, much less flown in one, so down to Mexico went Hawks. He gave. Mexico plenty of thrills, and Mexico gave him some, too.

The country was unsettled at the time, upset with revolutions. Hawks got a job flying a diplomat from Mexico City to his ranch, because they'd be safer in the air than going by automobile through the mountains. Hawks even tried ranching for a while, but it didn't work.

"He decided to go back to the United States, and when he went back he married Edith Bowie, who hailed from Texas. Down in Texas Hawks flew over the cotton fields with a.r.s.enic to kill the boll weevils. He worked in the oil fields, too, as a driller. It was good experience for him.

They found out that he could fly, and he got a job piloting officials of the oil company from place to place in the oil country. They found that they were saving time and money.

"At this time Lindy flew over the Atlantic. Hawks bought the Spirit of San Diego, which was the sister ship to the Spirit of St. Louis, and flew across the country to greet Lindbergh when he came back. He flew 4,000 miles on a National tour with the Spirit of San Diego, and then 7,000 miles criss-cross.

"Luck was with him. He was going to reap his just rewards. He became a member of one of the country's richest oil companies, as their technical flying expert. He advised them in buying planes, and chose their pilots for them, and in addition, had to sell flying to the country.