On this day, May 20, in 1932, Amelia Earhart took off on a flight that would distinguish her as the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic. She left from the town of Harbour Grace, Newfoundland, a place that still honours her with a statue beside the road as you arrive.
A visit to the ‘airstrip’ she used makes one marvel. In truth, it’s a rather lumpy field at the top of a bluff – a field you wouldn’t want to use as a soccer pitch, for fear of turning an ankle. [INSERT ‘AE airstrip at Harbour Grace’ PHOTO]But that’s what airstrips were back then, so that’s what she used.
Equipped with tomato juice (her go-to drink) and a gifted thermos of soup from a woman in Harbour Grace, she flew out over the water, no doubt seeing the many icebergs known to bob in the waters there this time of year.
It’s hard for me to understand just how she could be so brave. The plane she piloted was, in our terms, tiny, a Lockheed Vega [INSERT LINK TO SMITHSONIAN on words ‘Lockheed Vega’] with a single engine. After this flight – and the glitches she experienced (flames spewing from the engine, the wings icing up, her altimeter failing so she couldn’t even know how high above the sea she was) – she vowed to never again fly over open water in a single-engine plane. Who could blame her.
Although her destination was Paris, she was blown off course and ended up landing in a farmer’s pasture in Ireland. Not France at all, but still, the other side of the Atlantic, so she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do.
Earlier, in 1928, she’d been credited as being the first woman to fly across the Atlantic, but that time, though she was allowed to make entries in the logbook, she was only a passenger. Referring to her role on that flight she said, “I was just baggage, like a sack of potatoes.”
The flight in 1932 was different – a true solo.
The fact that her flight took place five years to the day after Charles Lindbergh had accomplished his solo flight to Paris was probably no accident. I like to think it helps affirm my contention that Earhart was the first intentionally-created celebrity. No doubt, there was publicity celebrating the anniversary of Lindbergh’s feat. George Putnam, Earhart’s husband (and publisher and publicist) was no fool. He would have wanted to take advantage of the date and the mystique surrounding it.
Yet despite being managed by a man (yes, the pun is intended), Earhart was very much her own person. A woman brave enough to speak out for equality at a time when women were mostly expected to do their husband’s bidding. A woman who insisted on a prenuptial agreement that might cause raised eyebrows even today. A woman who believed – and acted on her beliefs – that a woman could do anything she set her mind to. A woman who still stands as a shining mentor.
The Conception Bay Museum [INSERT LINK TO CONCEPTION BAY MUSEUM ON WORDS ‘Conception Bay Museum’]at Harbour Grace is itself a place of history. Early in the 20th century, the building served as the Customs House. No doubt, Earhart flew over it as she headed out to sea across the Atlantic.
The museum holds a number of artefacts relating to Earhart’s flight. The day I was there, May 20, 2017, I was fortunate enough to see the guest book where she’d signed her name before embarking on her evening flight. I wasn’t allowed to touch the book, but closed my eyes and tried to imagine her standing there, pen in hand. [INSERT ‘Guest book with AE sig PHOTO]
To see a two-minute film of Earhart’s departure from Harbour Grace, visit the Conception Bay Museum’s YouTube posting. [INSERT LINK at words ‘YouTube Posting’ AND/OR POST URL IN FULL]
— Heidi Greco, author of Practical Anxiety (Inanna, fall 2018) and Flightpaths: The Lost Journals of Amelia Earhart (Caitlin Press)