Collins, Max Allan - Nathan Heller 10 by Flying Blind (v5.0) Page A
Authors: Flying Blind (v5.0)
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rival aviatrixes came over to the table and joined us. Amy made introductions (I was her “bodyguard and chief bottle washer”) and Toni Lake sat next to Mantz, across from Amy and me.
“Paul,” Amy said, “you’ve got to hear this…. Toni, tell Paul what you told me.”
“Tellin’ you’s one thing, hon,” the woman said. “Spreadin’ it around, tellin’ tales outta school, makes me look like Miss Sour Grapes of 1935.”
To tell you the truth, with her scorched-tan, leathery complexion, Toni Lake didn’t look like Miss Anything; but she did have lovely brown eyes and lashes longer than some store-bought I’d seen.
“G. P.’s done Toni an awful injustice,” Amy said; she was pretty worked up about it.
“Go ahead, Toni,” Mantz said, sitting back. He was working on one of his trademark frosted martinis; this was lunch so he’d only had two. “Let me warn ya, though—nothing you tell me about Gippy Putnam’s gonna much surprise me.”
But it was Amy who began the story, blurting, “G. P. tried to hire Toni to an exclusive contract to fly with me in the Women’s Derby.”
The Powder Puff Derby, as Will Rogers had dubbed it.
“She was to pretend to be my ‘mechanic’ but do most of the flying,” Amy said, indignantly.
“He said you weren’t ‘physically strong enough,’” Lake said with a humorless smirk. “Her loving husband offered me a two-year seventy-five-bucks-a-week contract to co-pilot Amelia, only she had to seem to be doin’ all the flyin’. You know, I’m not some damn dilettante or socialite, I’m just a girl who likes to fly and was lucky enough to have an old man who’s a pilot and runs an airfield. Seventy-five bucks is big money to this little girl.”
Amy was shaking her head, mortified.
I asked, “How the hell did G. P. figure you could make it look like Amelia was doing all the flying?”
Lake shrugged. “When we made stops, I was supposed to either get out of the way of the photographers, or stand to the left so I came second in the captions.”
“You have to believe me, Toni,” Amy said, and she seemed close to tears, not a frequent state for her, “I knew nothing of this. I would never have stood for it. Oh my goodness, how he could even think—”
“That’s not the worst of it,” Toni said. “When I refused to sign the contract, he blew sky high, started swearin’ like a stevedore, said he’d ruin me and all. Said I’d never fly professionally again and even if he hasn’t quite managed that, he’s put all sorts of barriers in my path…officials causin’ me problems, sponsor contracts fallin’ through. And I can’t get press coverage to save my life, anymore. They used to cover me like a movie star. Now I could fly to the moon and they’d just report an eclipse.”
“Toni,” Amy said, “I couldn’t be more embarrassed. I promise you, I swear to you, I will take care of this.”
“Well, even if you can’t—”
“I can, and I will, Toni. Count on it.”
“Sweetie, I’m just glad to know you weren’t in on it. I mean, everybody knows that your husband works against the other women pilots—”
“I didn’t know.”
“Just ask anybody. Ask Lady Heath, ask Elinor Smith, ask ‘Chubby’ Miller….”
“I will,” Amy said, her mortification giving way to resolve. Suddenly I almost felt sorry for old G. P. “In the meantime, join us for a nice lunch. On me.”
That afternoon, to Mantz’s displeasure, Amy abandoned her flight preparations for the company of Toni Lake, who owned a pair of Indian Pony motorbikes. The aviatrixes spent hours racing up and down the runways on the bikes, flight helmets and goggles on, like a couple of schoolgirls having the time of their lives playing hooky. Chasing small planes, cutting figure eights, pursuing each other like cowboys and Indians, they attracted something of a crowd, when word got out one of the two naughty children was Amelia Earhart.
During part of this gleeful
“Paul,” Amy said, “you’ve got to hear this…. Toni, tell Paul what you told me.”
“Tellin’ you’s one thing, hon,” the woman said. “Spreadin’ it around, tellin’ tales outta school, makes me look like Miss Sour Grapes of 1935.”
To tell you the truth, with her scorched-tan, leathery complexion, Toni Lake didn’t look like Miss Anything; but she did have lovely brown eyes and lashes longer than some store-bought I’d seen.
“G. P.’s done Toni an awful injustice,” Amy said; she was pretty worked up about it.
“Go ahead, Toni,” Mantz said, sitting back. He was working on one of his trademark frosted martinis; this was lunch so he’d only had two. “Let me warn ya, though—nothing you tell me about Gippy Putnam’s gonna much surprise me.”
But it was Amy who began the story, blurting, “G. P. tried to hire Toni to an exclusive contract to fly with me in the Women’s Derby.”
The Powder Puff Derby, as Will Rogers had dubbed it.
“She was to pretend to be my ‘mechanic’ but do most of the flying,” Amy said, indignantly.
“He said you weren’t ‘physically strong enough,’” Lake said with a humorless smirk. “Her loving husband offered me a two-year seventy-five-bucks-a-week contract to co-pilot Amelia, only she had to seem to be doin’ all the flyin’. You know, I’m not some damn dilettante or socialite, I’m just a girl who likes to fly and was lucky enough to have an old man who’s a pilot and runs an airfield. Seventy-five bucks is big money to this little girl.”
Amy was shaking her head, mortified.
I asked, “How the hell did G. P. figure you could make it look like Amelia was doing all the flying?”
Lake shrugged. “When we made stops, I was supposed to either get out of the way of the photographers, or stand to the left so I came second in the captions.”
“You have to believe me, Toni,” Amy said, and she seemed close to tears, not a frequent state for her, “I knew nothing of this. I would never have stood for it. Oh my goodness, how he could even think—”
“That’s not the worst of it,” Toni said. “When I refused to sign the contract, he blew sky high, started swearin’ like a stevedore, said he’d ruin me and all. Said I’d never fly professionally again and even if he hasn’t quite managed that, he’s put all sorts of barriers in my path…officials causin’ me problems, sponsor contracts fallin’ through. And I can’t get press coverage to save my life, anymore. They used to cover me like a movie star. Now I could fly to the moon and they’d just report an eclipse.”
“Toni,” Amy said, “I couldn’t be more embarrassed. I promise you, I swear to you, I will take care of this.”
“Well, even if you can’t—”
“I can, and I will, Toni. Count on it.”
“Sweetie, I’m just glad to know you weren’t in on it. I mean, everybody knows that your husband works against the other women pilots—”
“I didn’t know.”
“Just ask anybody. Ask Lady Heath, ask Elinor Smith, ask ‘Chubby’ Miller….”
“I will,” Amy said, her mortification giving way to resolve. Suddenly I almost felt sorry for old G. P. “In the meantime, join us for a nice lunch. On me.”
That afternoon, to Mantz’s displeasure, Amy abandoned her flight preparations for the company of Toni Lake, who owned a pair of Indian Pony motorbikes. The aviatrixes spent hours racing up and down the runways on the bikes, flight helmets and goggles on, like a couple of schoolgirls having the time of their lives playing hooky. Chasing small planes, cutting figure eights, pursuing each other like cowboys and Indians, they attracted something of a crowd, when word got out one of the two naughty children was Amelia Earhart.
During part of this gleeful
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