commercial airmail contracts and instead required the Army Air Corps to deliver the mail, eleven Army fliers were killed in crashes and expensive equipment destroyed. There was an attempt to blame Vidal. When Vidal declined to do the bidding of the most powerful man in commercial aviation, Juan Trippe, who had taken him and others on a TWA South American junket, Trippe and his Hearst newspaper allies became vituperative enemies. When another series of crashes shocked the American public, congressional hearings tried to blame the director of aeronautics. A well-known senator had been killed in one of the mishaps. The hearings exonerated Vidal; none of the other charges stuck to him. What was clear was that in the face of an insufficient budget Vidal had done everything possible to improve air safety, to regularize the industry, to encourage technical innovation, and to gain support for aviation as an essential part of the current and future American infrastructure.
When, in 1936, it seemed Vidal would be forced to resign, Earhart made it clear in a telegram to the First Lady that she could not fulfill her commitment to campaign for the Presidentâs reelection if Vidal were dismissed. When the waves were smoothed, Amelia and Gene arranged that Vidal write to the vice chairman of the Democratic National Committee to tell her that Earhart would, after all, campaign for the President. â We are all very grateful to you for ⦠getting Miss Earhart interested in working for President Roosevelt,â she wrote back to him. The director of aeronautics did his share also. As technical adviser to the Democratic National Campaign Committeeâs air fleet, displaying pro-Roosevelt banners across the country, his thank-you was to be jokingly commissioned âFlight Commander of Roosevelt Aerial Caravans.â No one, though, could last very long in such a high-risk position. There were too many masters to serve and too little money with which to serve. Not a politician by profession or temperament, Vidal was good neither at bureaucratic infighting nor at administering subordinates. Office work bored him. He preferred tinkering, inventing, dreaming, publicizing. Many of his ideas, inevitably, were overtakenby technical progress, especially faster, safer, more cost-efficient large airplanes and airports that made air travel economical and instilled public confidence in its safety. Always the good soldier, Vidal had placed his resignation in Secretary Roperâs hands numbers of times. He had agreed to stay on at the Secretaryâs pleasure in order to prevent the impression that Roper had capitulated to the Senate committee investigating the crashes. But Gene was relieved when, in March 1937, he was at last out of government service.
Some months before the country had a new President and a New Deal, Little Gene had a new school. His three years at Sidwell Friends, from 1933 to 1936, now went by in a blur, focused mostly by his enthusiasm for organizing a gang of classmates. His games were mostly imaginary, invented characters or toy soldiers. He played organized team sports only when forced. On the field, as the game progressed, he relieved the tedium by thinking of other things. âOne reason I didnât like football was the boredom of putting on and taking off all that gear. Even so, at an early school, I made what I thought was an unusually brilliant touchdown against what proved to be, on closer analysis, my own school.â Tall, thin, alert, well coordinated, he seemed to others a likely athlete. His fatherâs athletic fame prompted the assumption that he would follow in his footsteps even if he could not fill his shoes. From an early age he did everything short of insubordination to disabuse people of this notion. His father took it with his usual good grace. His mother was deeply disappointed, even angry, as if it were purposeful defiance. She wanted her boy to be like other boys, even more so.
When, in 1936, it seemed Vidal would be forced to resign, Earhart made it clear in a telegram to the First Lady that she could not fulfill her commitment to campaign for the Presidentâs reelection if Vidal were dismissed. When the waves were smoothed, Amelia and Gene arranged that Vidal write to the vice chairman of the Democratic National Committee to tell her that Earhart would, after all, campaign for the President. â We are all very grateful to you for ⦠getting Miss Earhart interested in working for President Roosevelt,â she wrote back to him. The director of aeronautics did his share also. As technical adviser to the Democratic National Campaign Committeeâs air fleet, displaying pro-Roosevelt banners across the country, his thank-you was to be jokingly commissioned âFlight Commander of Roosevelt Aerial Caravans.â No one, though, could last very long in such a high-risk position. There were too many masters to serve and too little money with which to serve. Not a politician by profession or temperament, Vidal was good neither at bureaucratic infighting nor at administering subordinates. Office work bored him. He preferred tinkering, inventing, dreaming, publicizing. Many of his ideas, inevitably, were overtakenby technical progress, especially faster, safer, more cost-efficient large airplanes and airports that made air travel economical and instilled public confidence in its safety. Always the good soldier, Vidal had placed his resignation in Secretary Roperâs hands numbers of times. He had agreed to stay on at the Secretaryâs pleasure in order to prevent the impression that Roper had capitulated to the Senate committee investigating the crashes. But Gene was relieved when, in March 1937, he was at last out of government service.
Some months before the country had a new President and a New Deal, Little Gene had a new school. His three years at Sidwell Friends, from 1933 to 1936, now went by in a blur, focused mostly by his enthusiasm for organizing a gang of classmates. His games were mostly imaginary, invented characters or toy soldiers. He played organized team sports only when forced. On the field, as the game progressed, he relieved the tedium by thinking of other things. âOne reason I didnât like football was the boredom of putting on and taking off all that gear. Even so, at an early school, I made what I thought was an unusually brilliant touchdown against what proved to be, on closer analysis, my own school.â Tall, thin, alert, well coordinated, he seemed to others a likely athlete. His fatherâs athletic fame prompted the assumption that he would follow in his footsteps even if he could not fill his shoes. From an early age he did everything short of insubordination to disabuse people of this notion. His father took it with his usual good grace. His mother was deeply disappointed, even angry, as if it were purposeful defiance. She wanted her boy to be like other boys, even more so.
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