Chapter 12 #2
As for getting rid of them now, he said forcefully, “No one cares about your safety! This is an air race. People want excitement, thrills, and, yes, danger! And every one of you is here to give those to them. If you ladies want to live a safe life, you won’t find that in the cockpit of an airplane.
It’s far too late for any of you to wail and whine about safety. ”
Mayor Mack laughed loudly and added, “Cliff Henderson has you flappers in this race for one single reason: to get headlines. Whether you do that by living or dying makes no difference to him or any of the investors.”
“This whole race is an elaborate circus, and you’re nothing but a bunch of sideshow performers,” Ayers said contemptuously. “Go ahead and make a fuss as loud as you please. The press will eat it up. I can see the headlines now: ‘Flying Flappers Lose Their Nerve!’”
The women audibly sucked in their breath in collective offense.
“And don’t think for a minute that Horace Aldridge will help you. Not only is he the one who put Calexico back on the route, but I happen to know he’s left his phone off the hook tonight, leaving me in complete charge.”
Hah. That finally shut them up.
Triumphantly, Ayers added, “No one cares about any of you. Remember the Dole race? Ten dead, and no one even remembers their names.” On that note, he shoved past the women, telling the doormen, “Keep them from following me, or I’ll have you both fired.”
Pancho stared at Ayers’s retreating back. “That man is colder than a dead fish,” she said in disgust before turning back to the other women.
“Mildred Doran,” Phoebe said sadly.
“William Erwin,” Marvel added softly.
“John Frost.”
“Gordon Scott.”
“John Pedlar.”
The somber recitation went on until they’d named every pilot who perished over the Pacific Ocean in the 1927 Dole Air Derby from Oakland, California, to Honolulu.
By the time they finished, Pancho had to clear her throat to dislodge the lump in it.
She said soberly, “We’ll never forget those who died in the Dole race.
We’ll never forget any of the friends and loved ones we’ve lost to flying accidents.
Yes, we all know how dangerous airplanes can be.
But we also know how important air flight is.
And it’s going to take brave pioneers like us to show the rest of America just how useful aviation can be to our country.
Everyone who has died in the pursuit of flight understood this. ”
The women nodded, and a few of them hugged each other.
Contemplative silence enveloped all of them. It was a moment of remembrance and respect for those who had come before them. They all understood they might be the next ones remembered this way. But it was a risk each and every one of them was willing to take.
Pancho caught herself studying each woman, memorizing their faces in this moment of solidarity and sisterhood, just in case it was the last night for one of them.
Don’t you think like that!
She shook off the feeling of impending doom, telling herself sternly that fear was like water.
You couldn’t let it get under your roof, or it would rot the very walls of your house.
“Listen to me, ladies,” she said firmly.
“We are not going to be names printed in the headlines because we crashed. I won’t stand for it. You hear me?”
A relieved breath of laughter passed through her fellow pilots as the sadness and tension of the moment broke.
“We have to be better than that wattle-necked turkey Ayers. We’re here to show the world that aviation is the future and women are capable of being in and, in fact, belonging in the cockpit.”
Everyone stood a little straighter, and their usual feistiness glinted in their eyes as they gazed at her.
“Yes, but what else can we do?” Thea Rasche asked. “We told him the truth. But he did not listen.”
“Surely, he can’t disqualify all of us,” Phoebe said. “He’d have no derby. He was bluffing. Wasn’t he?”
“I’m not so sure about that. He is right that the papers would be quick to point out we all quit because we were scared,” Amelia admitted reluctantly. “If Cliff gets to our sponsors, we’d all have to fall in line or lose our planes.”
Pancho trusted Amelia’s experience with the press and believed her. She growled, “And Cliff Henderson would get his big headlines either way.”
“We’ll just have to get the maps out and come up with a plan for landing the big planes at Calexico,” one of the others said doubtfully.
Pancho looked at the group, trying to gauge their stance on trying it or not.
The group appeared split. She also caught several of them looking at the grandfather clock standing in the hall.
It was after midnight. Time wasn’t on their side to get this fixed before tomorrow.
Her temper flared again, but she fought it down.
Getting mad wouldn’t help. She needed a clear head to think up a way out of this mess.
“Headlines can go both ways . . .” she muttered, an idea forming. The others looked to her, their expressions brightening with budding hope.
“We could get the reporters working for us for a change.”
Marvel made a keep-going motion with her hand. “How precisely do we do that?”
“We’re going to play chicken with Dr. Ayers,” Pancho announced. “We’re going to get to the reporters before he does and make sure they hear the story from our side first.”
“It’ll be winner takes all if you involve the press,” Amelia cautioned her.
Pancho shrugged. “In my book that’s the only game worth playing.”
“The male reporters will tend to side with their own gender,” Amelia added.
Pancho nodded in agreement. But it was a risk she was willing to take.
Aloud, she said, “At the risk of agreeing with Dr. Ayers . . . we were mainly invited to race for the headlines it would generate. But the press’s job is headlines.
Reporters need good ones even more than the race investors. So let’s give ’em a doozy.”
“Like what?” Marvel asked.
“I’m thinking something along the lines of ‘Women Pilots Revolt, Demand Safety.’”
The women around her started to smile.
“Please to explain . . . how does this headline accomplish our goal?” Thea asked. “How do we make Dr. Ayers accept our petition if his boss, Horace Aldridge, has his telephone—how you say—off the hook?”