Chapter 2 #4
“Mrs. Barnes. Henderson here. You’re a hard woman to track down.”
Although Elizabeth McQueen had conceived the idea of a women’s cross-country flying race, making it part of the National Air Races held in Cleveland every year had been Cliff Henderson’s idea.
He was no great fan of women pilots, but he was a huge fan of publicity.
An air racing promoter, he was a Great War aviator and member of the Quiet Birdmen—an exclusive club for pilots.
Pancho had applied to join but had been turned down because it was for men only.
He’d been nothing but a pain in her rear from day one of planning this race.
“Congratulations. You found me,” she yelled back.
“You got your way, Pancho. The National Exchange Club board just met. Elizabeth McQueen got through to them. We’re changing things. Again.” He sounded spitting mad.
“How’s it changing?” she shouted back.
“They voted to allow only a solo woman pilot in each plane. Just like you wanted. And they insist you all wear parachutes.” Her snort of derision interrupted him, but he continued stubbornly, “You got your wish for a minimum flying time requirement. One hundred solo hours, at least twenty-five of which must be cross-country navigation time. Out of all the licensed female pilots in the US, only forty qualify now.”
She nodded approvingly. “Cheer up. You’re left with the women pilots who are actually qualified to fly the race. That batch of Hollywood starlets has nothing but fake logbooks. They would have been a recipe for disaster. We’ll get you some real pictures for those newspapers.”
“Yeah, well, some of my investors thought those starlets would get this race all kinds of press coverage and national attention. They aren’t going to be happy.”
She rolled her eyes. “What we want is to draw attention to the women pilots doing our part to advance the field of aviation.”
“Yes, but the actresses are beautiful and charming and appealing—”
“And we pilots are smart and brave and daring. I keep telling you, the public will be more fascinated by us than by your girls who can’t tell an airplane’s nose from its tail. We’re going to earn our place through skill.”
He huffed. “I guess we’ll find out who’s right, won’t we?”
“I’m looking forward to you shaking my hand after I win,” Pancho told him firmly.
“Mark my words. If you and your fellow pilots destroy the derby, it’s going to cost me and the sponsors a fortune.”
“We’re gonna save the race, Cliff,” Pancho insisted.
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“I’m here with most of the favorites to win the race, and we all agreed to pull out of the race just before you called. But with these changes, I can probably talk them back into racing.”
“You’d better. If I can’t have my actresses, I’ll need the famous fliers for publicity.
” He paused for an extended moment before adding grudgingly, “Hustle over to the airport. To level the playing field, the committee voted that the first twenty pilots to sign up under the new rules will get to race. When word gets out, there’ll be a mad rush to Clover Field.
If the remaining eligible actresses sign up first, you and your fellow rebels will lose the race before you even climb into your planes.
As for your sponsors . . . they want to sell planes.
Don’t count on them allowing you to keep their planes if you don’t fly them in the derby. ”
Pancho’s stomach dropped like a brick. A bunch of starlets might get to race, and the best female pilots in the world wouldn’t? She hung up without even bothering to say goodbye and started to whirl in panic but stopped herself in the nick of time.
The starlets were finished dancing and wouldn’t miss whatever the pilots in the room did.
Turning casually to face her companions, she plastered a smile on her face. From behind the fake grin, she spoke quietly so only her companions could hear her. “Ladies, we’ve got a problem.”
CLEVELAND, OHIO
Cliff replaced the phone earpiece in its cradle with a snort.
“Why did you warn them about the sign-up limit?” Horace Aldridge demanded. “I am beginning to think you don’t understand what this air derby is really about. Let me be clear, I invested for large profits.”
Cliff straightened up. He took a moment to collect his composure, making Horace wait. Which wasn’t a bad thing in his book. Men with money like Horace would keep someone like him dancing if they thought they could.
“Car crashes sell papers, too,” Cliff explained evenly. “I am just getting things kicked off early. So you’ll get those crowds at the airfields. Let’s make it a race before the race even begins.”
Horace’s expression changed. The look of disapproval melted away, leaving a gleam of anticipation in his eyes.
Cliff sniffed, his nose rising slightly into the air. “Give your movie studio friends a call and fill them in. They should send their girls running for Clover Field. That should give us some very nice headlines by tomorrow morning.”
Horace applauded softly before rubbing his hands together. “I must say. I did not see that coming.”