Gyp

CLXXXVI

The cockpit of Amelia Earhart’s Lockheed Vega

Aircraft accidents were frighteningly common during the late 1920s and early 1930s. Most manufacturers were responsible and built the best aircraft they could, but there were no national standards regarding the materials that went in to airplane making. Accidents often occurred when pilots graduated from one aircraft to another. It took time --- and “feel” --- to understand the different tolerances of different craft. Around the U.S. as a whole in that era it’s likely that there was at least one airplane fatality daily on average. 

The fact that Amelia Earhart ground-looped or made a rotten landing, or got lost over the featureless farm country of the Midwest, or ran out of fuel was not news in and of itself to pilots. Every pilot did. You weren’t considered a flier in those days until you’d survived a crash or two, at least. And the fact that she wasn’t really a “Lady Lindy,” as good a pilot as the now-legendary Slim, didn’t bother most pilots. That was forgivable.

What they couldn’t stand was George Putnam. 

George had gone a little crazy in his role of impresario, and not only because he was falling in love with Amelia. He had been having a rough Great Depression --- at least for a very rich man. 

First his wife had left him for a younger man, which probably dented his masculinity. Second, the Depression had consumed the book-buying market like dry straw in a summer fire; George had had to sell G.P. Putnam’s Sons to a cousin who proceeded to tank it completely, saving the company in name only when he in turn sold it to a rising publishing conglomerate. It had to have stung when George sold off the company that bore his very name.  Third, the “Amelia Earhart” brand was under attack --- or so George thought.

Elinor Smith

The “attack” George imagined came from Amelia’s sister aviatrices, who, quite naturally, wanted to make their own marks in aviation history. Most of the 120 licensed female pilots in the world were Amelia’s acquaintances, and a sizeable handful were close friends. An ugly breach developed in this sisterhood, when, invited to dinner and other functions, they shared their plans or ideas with George or Amelia, only to discover shortly thereafter that Amelia’s seemingly sleepless publicity machine was announcing that “Lady Lindy” would be breaking this record or competing in that event, or had been hired to promote a particular brand of makeup or a popular cigarette (Amelia did not smoke).

It soon became clear that Amelia (and / or George) was mining Amelia’s would-be competitors for new ways to keep Amelia’s name in the headlines. A good number of Amelia’s friends broke off personal contact with her. 

George Palmer Putnam. Despite his youthful looks he was twenty years older than Amelia. His own first wife, Dorothy Binney, had left him for a man 20 years her junior. The divorce, the loss of his publishing business, and the financial hit of the Great Depression turned this genial and imaginative man sour on outsiders

It grew steadily worse. George began poaching events away from other female fliers. If there was a lecture series to be given by another aviatrix, George (with his great influence) either had the event cancelled on the sly and replaced the scheduled speaker with Amelia, or alternatively, scheduled Amelia across town on the same day and time. He pulled this trick on Mary, Lady Heath, a British pilot and close friend of Amelia’s who arrived in New York by liner only to discover that her national speaking tour had evaporated. In this cutthroat game, name recognition meant everything. Not only was George lining (his and) Amelia’s pockets, he was starving other female pilots out. Without public appearances they could not find backers nor raise money, nor generate interest in their endeavors. Many of her colleagues complained to Amelia about these tactics, but they had no proof. George was canny enough to cover his tracks, and Amelia was either ingenuous enough or disingenuous enough to say she knew nothing about the business end of things.

Among George’s many ways of keeping Amelia’s name in the papers was a weekly column, “My Wife,” in which he shared aspects of his adventurous marriage with earthbound readers. George wrote fiction, mostly. Their private life together remained private

Particularly vicious was George’s treatment of Elinor Smith, who would have been newsworthy in our own day. At sixteen, Elinor was the youngest licensed female pilot in the world (and likely the youngest licensed pilot of either sex). She was also a crackerjack plane handler who was already setting records. Elinor hero-worshiped Amelia Earhart (who was twice her age), and so Elinor was thrilled to be invited to the Putnams’ Rye, New York, estate for lunch. 

George saw this young fresh-faced teenager as a threat, but he had to take her measure. During this luncheon, George asked offhandedly, “What are your ambitions?” and the bedazzled teenager answered naively, “To be the next Amelia Earhart!” 

George froze.

George and Amelia were very much in love. He wanted the rest of the world to love her too, and sometimes he didn’t care who he hurt to gain that love. Between the two of them, he was “Gyp” and she was “Mill.” To the world, they signed their names “G.P.” (or “G.P.P.”) and “A.E.” Meelie had left the Midwest far behind her  

Within days, Elinor lost several big backers and her press coverage began to dry up. She suspected that George Putnam had something to do with this sudden downturn in her fortunes, but she could never prove anything. At the same time that her nascent career began to stall, Amelia kept in fairly regular touch, being supportive and showing concern for the young woman. It was all very confusing to Elinor, whose suspicions were confirmed a year later when she received a call from George Putnam. He offered her a job.

The job he offered was for Elinor to be Amelia’s personal pilot. Explaining breezily that Amelia had so many demands on her time and so many appearances to make that she couldn’t possibly fly herself everywhere without becoming utterly exhausted, George suggested that Elinor do most of the flying at an unheard-of Depression-Era salary of $1,500.00 per week. 

It seemed like a dream offer, and most people would have grabbed it, just as fast today as then. To fly, to work with one’s own personal inspiration, to be mentored, to be with the most famous woman in the world on a daily basis, to move within that charmed inner circle. Plus, the salary was a hundred times more per week than some Americans were earning in the Depression. Who wouldn’t want that job? 

A photograph of Amelia (top) with some of the Ninety-Nines

Of course, George added, Elinor was never to tell anyone that Amelia wasn’t flying the plane herself. Elinor’s public face was to be that of Amelia’s “lady-in-waiting,” always to the left of, and slightly behind Amelia whenever they appeared in public. All her utterances were to be scripted, and she was never to speak without Amelia’s express approval. Essentially, for her “ground” job, Elinor need be nothing more than a mannequin.   

Oh, and, just one other thing --- Elinor would have to give up competitive flying on her own behalf. 

In what was either a supreme fit of adolescent self-righteousness or an exhibition of backbone the likes of which George Palmer Putnam had never seen before, Elinor Smith turned him down flat. 

George seethed. “If you think you’ve had trouble finding backers this past year, just wait. You’ll be lucky if you get to keep your flying license!” he shouted into the phone. Elinor hung up on him. 

She continued flying, and she continued competing, but she never had the career she’d dreamed of. However, before the year was out, she had proof positive that the rumors she’d heard in pilots’ circles, that Amelia really wasn’t much of a pilot, were borne out personally. Working for Bellanca Aircraft, she took Amelia aloft to test a new model plane. The moment she handed control off to Earhart, Elinor was later to say, “That plane was all over the sky.” 

After a sloppy landing, Elinor exacted a little revenge. She told Bellanca about Amelia’s flying skills, and they withdrew an offer of spokesmanship that was on the table. George Putnam was furious, but whether he connected the two events isn’t clear. Amelia was stunned when Elinor later turned down her own personal invitation to be a charter member of the female aviation group the Ninety-Nines.*  

Although the rumors were carefully kept from the public, many fliers believed at this point that Amelia was taking secret flying lessons to improve her skills. The reality was that although George Putnam was able to package “Amelia Earhart” as the perfect pilot for public consumption, he had no grasp of how to deal with pilots (as can be seen in his mishandling of Lindbergh, Smith, and Amelia herself at first). 

Fliers laughed at George’s clumsy attempts to cover up Amelia’s many flying accidents. Accidents were common in those days, and all pilots had them, but not Amelia. The moment something --- anything --- happened, George was manufacturing an excuse. It was a blown tire. A failed brake line. Problems with the gasoline. A broken door latch. A stuck indicator. Literally anything but that most common cause of accidents, pilot error.  Aircraft manufacturers and suppliers began to refuse to deal with Amelia because George was so consistent in demeaning them.  He himself was hurting his carefully crafted brand.

Amelia at a public event. No shrinking violet, she loved the limelight

Of course, George had trapped himself (and Amelia) in a never-ending directionless spiral, for the world’s only perfect pilot couldn’t suddenly start making errors. The whole show reached an apex of absurdity when one day Amelia ground-looped her “Little Red Bus,” the Lockheed Vega, on landing. It was a bad accident. The plane flipped over on its back and Amelia was thrown from the cabin. Rather miraculously, she was only bruised, but the Vega was a total loss. Rather than replace it, George had it rebuilt at great cost so as not to have to announce that Amelia had lost a plane. The mostly-new Vega conveniently retained the same registration number. The accident itself, George announced, happened when the freshly-landed plane taxied into “an unseen ditch” and tipped over. Eyewitnesses and wags both said that the ditch remained as “unseen” after the accident as before.  

George was not a bad man at heart, only one who had gotten his way for so long that he had forgotten that other people had different priorities. At this point in his life, at least, he was decidedly unpleasant to people outside of his immediate circle. Yet, he remained kind, generous, funny and affectionate with family, friends, and his closest business associates. George undoubtedly meant well as far as Amelia was concerned, but history has been less than kind to him. It is hard to believe that Amelia was unaware of George’s sometimes cruel machinations in regard to others. She had to know she was losing friends. She had to hear at least whispers of the things that were being said about her, and about her skills. Was she utterly obtuse? Judging from her other actions and activities it seems not. More likely, she chose not to be aware of George’s promotional indiscretions because they benefitted her world-famous brand (and the Putnam pocketbook). 

No one ever accused her of unkindness or of being manipulative, so it’s very likely she tried hard to undo the damage she knew (or sensed) was being done to others, whether through kind words, kind and generous acts, or an enlarged social conscience. For example, her interest in Elinor Smith’s career was apparently entirely genuine, and doubtless she suggested to George that Elinor be offered the lucrative job George presented, But there is no doubt that George set the onerous terms and conditions that put Elinor off. There’s no record of Amelia ever calling George’s bluff on any of his ploys.

People have said that George Putnam pushed Amelia Earhart to fly solo across the Atlantic and then around the world. It’s highly doubtful. But perhaps by building this flawless public persona George did her a gross injustice. Perhaps she began to think that she was a better pilot than she actually was. 

 

For good and for ill, George turned his wife into a brand. Here, she is advertising tennis gear

*The Ninety-Nines got their name because 99 of the 120 licensed female pilots in the world at the time chose to join. Most who didn’t had been victimized in some way by George Putnam. It is interesting to speculate what might have happened to Elinor Smith had she taken the job offered to her as Amelia’s “Lady-in-Waiting.” If she had decided to give up competition flying or if she had managed to convince George to allow her to compete under Amelia’s brand (a real possibility since the Ninety-Nines themselves were in effect an extension of the brand), her career might have been far more memorable. She would have been near the apex of the world of female fliers and perhaps assumed Amelia’s mantle after the latter’s disappearance --- or she may have vanished along with her in the wastes of the South Pacific. Upon such snap decisions do the fates play their hands.