A Tribute to Amelia Earhart It has been 110 years since Amelia Mary Earhart was born. Named for her two grandmothers, she was born on July 24, 1897 in Atchison, Kansas, the first daughter of Edwin and Amy (Otis) Earhart. Her first glimpse of a genuine airplane, or “aeroplane” as it was then spelled, came one summer’s day when her father took the family to the Iowa state fair in Des Moines. Aviation then was in its first toddling stages, and the first aircraft were rickety affairs of wood and wire and oiled canvas, powered by tiny sputtering engines. “Flights” were a matter of a few miles, often terminated by engine failures and forced landings. Amelia, though uninterested, would remember later her first sight of the machine which some twenty years later would make her a world celebrity, engage her whole life, and encompass her death. At the age of 22, she had acquired an overriding interest in aviation. It became almost an obsession. She sought information on how much it cost to learn to fly. One thousand dollars, a short time later she went up for the first time from a suburban airfield out of Wilshire Boulevard hemmed in by oil derricks. The pilot was Frank Hawks, who was to hold many speed records. Amelia immediately signed up for flying lessons. For the first time in her life she felt really free, alive in her proper element. Airborne, even in one of the rickety trainers then in use, most of them surplus, she felt entirely secure. In those days it was really necessary for a woman to wear breeks and a leather coat. The fields were dusty and the planes hard to climb into. Flyers dressed the part in semi-military outfits to be as inconspicuous as possible. Amelia fell into the same style. She also cropped her hair. Inconspicuous or not, she loved the costume, reveled in the atmosphere of a dusty airfield with its ramshackle hangers and the wind sock which passed for meteorological expertise. Veteran pilots observation of her from her first fledgling flights; she was a “natural”, the aircraft became an extension of herself, she was cool headed and she handled a plane with steady hands. When the big day came, she was cool and self confident. Clad in breeches, boots, and a brown leather jacket, with the traditional scarf around her neck she vaulted into the cockpit of a Kinner Biplane; a mechanic spun the prop, and she zoomed down the runway with the nonchalance of a veteran. She was on her own now; there was no one to seize the controls if anything went wrong. On her solo flight Amelia took the biplane up to 5,000 feet, maneuvered it expertly for a while, and then came down to make what she later admitted as “an exceptionally poor landing.” The rest, as they say, is history. On June 17, 1928, Amelia became the first woman to fly across the Atlantic as a passenger and on April 8, 1931, she set an altitude record for autogiros, 18,415 feet. One afternoon in April 1928, she received a telephone call from Captain Hilton Railey. “Miss Earhart, would you be willing to do something important for the cause of aviation?” “Such as what?” “Flying a plane across the Atlantic.” She paused for only a moment. “Yes,” she answered. “Who could refuse a chance like that?” In those few seconds she made herself a candidate for legendary fame. Four years later on May 20, 1932, at 7:20 p.m., she took off from the Harbour Grace airstrip with sunset lingering on Lady Lake and the dirt strip behind her. 15 hours and 18 minutes later she landed in a long sloping meadow in Londonderry. She had become the first woman to fly across the Atlantic. August 24-25, 1932, she broke the women’s nonstop transcontinental speed record, Los Angeles to Newark, 19 hours, 5 minutes. July 7-8, 1933, broke her own transcontinental speed record, Los Angeles to Newark, 17 hours, 7 minutes. January 11-12, 1935, first to solo from Honolulu to Mainland (Oakland). April 19-20, 1935, first to solo from Los Angeles to Mexico City. May 8, 1935, first solo from Mexico City to Newark. In 1937 she attempted to be the first to fly around the world at the equator, but the flight was not completed. At 7:42 a.m., on July 2, her voice was heard, high pitched and edged by alarm....... “gas is running low.” It was the second last message ever received. At 10 a.m., the plane would be out of fuel. The voice of Amelia Earhart at the age of 39 would be stilled forever. But her greatness lives on - reaching across the years like a......”winged legend.”