My name is Amelia Earhart, and I am an aviator. Flying has always been my passion, and the pursuit of that passion has led me to accomplish incredible feats that no other woman before me ever had. Stories of my adventures have inspired a great number of people, and today I would like to share those stories with you too.
Come with me and experience the wonderful voyage that took me all over the world!
I was born on July 24, 1897, in the home of my grandparents in Atchison, Kansas. My family was very well known in town; my maternal grandfather, Gideon Otis, was a federal judge who later became director of the Atchison Savings Bank. My father, Samuel Stanton Earhart, worked in the field of law in Kansas City.
My sister, Grace Muriel, who was born when I was two, was my favorite playmate throughout my childhood. Together, we collected worms, moths, and frogs, and we were always on the lookout for new adventures.
Unfortunately, in those years, my father had a problem with alcoholism, which caused him to lose his job. It was the beginning of a period in which we moved frequently. I moved to Chicago with my mother and sister and enrolled in Hyde Park High School, where I earned my diploma in 1916.
HIGH SCHOOL DIPLOMA
The following year I started working for the Red Cross in Toronto, Canada, where my sister had gone to live. Unfortunately, in 1918, while I was treating the wounded from World War I, I caught the Spanish flu. It took me almost a year to get better — a year in which I dedicated my time to reading and studying mechanics.
When I was finally cured in 1920, I entered the medical program at Columbia University, but after just one year of studies, I had an experience that changed my life. On December 28, in Long Beach, California, I boarded an airplane for the first time and took my first flight as a passenger. As soon as I left the ground, I knew that I had to fly myself.
In 1922, with the help of my mother and my sister, I bought my first airplane. It was a second-hand, yellow biplane that I called the Canary. I set my first record in it, reaching an altitude of 14,000 feet (4,200 m).
Finally, in 1928, my luck changed and I became part of an ambitious plan to fly across the Atlantic. The endeavor was successful. Our team left from Newfoundland and Labrador in Canada and reached Wales in 20 hours and 40 minutes.
DAY 7
A book written about the adventure made me famous. But actually at the time, I still wasn’t able to pilot the plane chosen for the transatlantic flight; I only participated as a passenger and, in fact, as soon as we landed, I told an interviewer that I had been transported like a sack of potatoes! But the experience made me want to try it again – this time in the role of pilot.
Besides a passion for aviation, George and I had many common interests, including golf, horseback riding, and tennis. I always thought of my marriage as an alliance, as well as a partnership in which we both held equal power. I know my ideas were quite liberal for the time. For example, to be called “Mrs. Putnam” always made me laugh, and as a rebuttal I sometimes called George “Mr. Earhart.”
In 1932, I set off on the venture for which I’m still famous today. I bought the daily newspaper as proof of the date of departure, boarded a singleengine Lockheed Vega 5B, and embarked on a transatlantic flight. I became the first woman to successfully fly solo across the Atlantic.
I wanted to land in Paris, but bad weather had made the flight very difficult and my trip ended in Northern Ireland after 14 hours and 56 minutes. When I landed, a farmer asked me if I had come from very far away. “From America,” I answered with great satisfaction.
I tried again a few months later, and the flight as far as New Guinea was a success. On July 2, 1937, I took off for Howland Island, a small atoll in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. A United States Coast Guard vessel anchored near the island was supposed to provide radio support to help me land on the atoll, but technical problems made communications impossible, and with no precise information, I missed the atoll and disappeared, along with my plane. No one ever heard from me again, and although many have searched for the remains of my expedition, it is impossible to say for sure what happened that day.
