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JULY 20, 1928 My birthday! And how utterly old and finished I feel. All the thrills and joy of life seem to be behind me. And yet I see a few older women who remain vital, keen and amusing and loveable. I wonder have I those qualities too?… Dinner, a very special one, with Junie, Dave, France. My child called on phone for my birthday—so happy.
NEARING HER FORTIETH BIRTHDAY, MY grandmother became increasingly philosophic. “No woman knows anything about a man till he has kissed her at least twice.… I would rather be loved for five minutes than be admired for an hour.” Diary excerpts like this one make me wish I had known her in her younger and more passionate years.
It may not have been her birthday that prompted the pensiveness, rather the painful fact that she was growing old without a plan or purpose, and that the only man she had ever loved was unavailable. She had just received a letter from G.W. saying he could not join her at the Double Dee Ranch in Meteetsee, Wyoming, later that summer. From her diaries, it’s clear my grandmother was deeply disappointed, but understood that he was working in Pennsylvania. “A long letter from G.W. which says he’s hard at work with his Dad, on a mill in Danville. And I fear the Dude Ranch chance has fallen by the wayside. Too bad, and yet I know what it means to his family to have him home with the gang.”
On July 24, George and Amelia returned to Rye. Dorothy did not greet them outside on the drive, preferring to appear less eager than the rest of the household. By now, the two women respectfully acknowledged their dual relationship to the publisher. Amelia was sensitive to Dorothy’s role as wife and mother, and appreciated her need to be in control of the domestic scene, just as Amelia was beginning to develop her own career under George’s watchful direction.
The friendship between the two women continued, despite the tight book deadline that found Amelia at her writing desk for most of the day. Still, there were welcome excursions. “Amelia and I spent all afternoon searching for a new dance frock for her in Port Chester and Greenwich.” They seldom missed their afternoon swim together, and Amelia particularly enjoyed visiting the Binneys’ home, where she was afforded an unusual hour or two of privacy. “Drove to Sound Beach to see my dad—took Amelia and Junie. Nice visit.” There was a spirit of free will and determination in both women, and oddly enough at this point, not a trace of jealousy over the man who had brought them together.
JULY 25, 1928 The house seems so terrifically crowded and full of people. 4 in family, 4 guests, and 4 servants! I don’t like it, really, and long for a quiet tete a tete with a congenial soul, or some satisfying music. Oh, for a quiet cool house, full of fresh flowers and one person such as Hub or G.W. to talk with and listen to good voice or piano or flute by the hour! Amelia working on her book with Fitz.
In the waning days of July, Amelia became a familiar figure at social functions in Rye, accompanied by the Putnams. Dorothy enjoyed introducing the young flyer to her circle of friends, who were taken by Amelia’s modest charm.
JULY 26, 1928 Home just in time for George’s train and Hilton and a newspaper woman came with him. Club sandwiches and tea and then we six left for town and the big fight to see Heeney and Tunney. Dave, Amelia, George and I, a box, and a great fight to watch. A. K. O. in the 10th round, but the bell saved Heeney. And the referee stopped the fight in the 11th—Tunney still champion heavyweight and not even gooey or bruised! Drove home—sort warm night.
JULY 27, 1928 To town early for hair trim and a few errands for Amelia. Cocktails at house, and a fine party at Casino. Shore dinner and dance. 15 or us. Rainy night, but no one cared. Every one really an exceptional dancer. All men left for N.Y. and Marty and Laurie took midnight train for Boston to see Hub at Martha’s Vineyard. Good party all around.
JULY 28, 1928 Amelia, Dave, George and I drove to Ogden Reid’s home to a bathing suit party. Perhaps 40 guests, young and old in bathing suits, plus a fancy costume. Dinner on the terrace, moonlight and an orchestra, then afterwards a delicious swim in heavenly pool 75߰ × 30߰ and Hooded with lights under the water.
JULY 29, 1928 After a minute or two at piano George and I walked to Manursing just for exercise. Home and dressed and off to a buffet lunch at the Bernhard Gimbels to meet Gene Tunney. A lovely day, a hundred or so guests, a beautiful big country estate. And our Amelia and Tunney were the cynosure of all eyes. Both, too, more than charming in their way—easy, agreeable and good looking. Except for a very slight purple stain under one eye, Tunney scarcely shows his affair [the fight against Heeney] of Thursday
My grandmother must have had some reservations several days later, when she and Amelia risked their lives by riding as passengers in a small plane piloted by an unsavory character. Despite Wilmer Stultz’s refusal to go along, the two women leaped at the opportunity, eagerly climbing aboard.
AUGUST 2, 1928 Off in a.m. to Teterboro Field with Amelia, by car. Flew from there with her and two men to Sea Girt, Military Review, etc., by Governor Moore. Big lunch and party. Stultz received Mayor’s Commission. Had a lesson in courage; the pilot or our plane, Caperton, had a bad reputation—crashed two planes recently. The Stultzes refused to fly with him. Amelia walked over and climbed in. She and I went with him. Hot day—Small plane—Thrill
On August 4, Dorothy impatiently awaited the beginning of a long-planned weekend with G.W. It was to take place on Martha’s Vineyard at the home of a mutual friend (and Putnam author) Hubbard (“Hub”) Hutchinson. But G.W. had fallen off a scaffold earlier that summer and my grandmother was worried that he would not be able to leave after all. Waiting for him to arrive, she concentrated on the piano keys. “All morning I did music and filled the house with blossoms.” She fussed over her appearance, even wearing a touch of rouge on her cheeks, which she once said was “the second greatest boon to womanhood—the first being economic independence.”
Finally, the excursion moved into high gear.
AUGUST 4, 1928 A poor start, with a three hour delay waiting for G.W. But it didn’t really make any difference. A very scorching day and off in our gay blue Chrysler we started for 260 miles to Woods Hole! And oh, such delectable gaiety and fooling and jokes and good nature! We missed the last boat, then $$$thro’ a chance friend or George’s went over in a private boat. Hub overjoyed to have us! Dunes, moonlight, swim, fooling, happiness, wit, joy.
The reunion of old friends, the childlike frivolity, and the electricity between Dorothy and G.W.—despite Hub’s presence—is obvious. She dubbed their gang “the Three Musketeers.”
AUGUST 5, 1928 Heavenly sunny day and off fairly early for an ocean beach with superb rollers and a positively inviting look. Sand dunes again and an inner lagoon, or shallow pond. After lunch the Three Musketeers lay on the hillside under a huge scrub oak tree and Hub read aloud his new story then with a picnic supper we started off for another beach, driving over hills and thro’ deep ruts bordered with sweet bay and brakes, put a brief thunderstorm chased us back to the car. Out to the first beach for an hour and back to our beds on tip toe.
AUGUST 6, 1928 Breakfast 7:15—then down the island 15 miles over rolling English moor-like country to catch the boat for Woods Hole. An occasional spatter of rain, but not enough to dampen or even distantly affect our ribald mirth and good nature. At noon we stopped for a lobster sandwich, delicious, then on thro’ great country to Westerly and somewhat of a scramble to let G.W. off at New Haven where he just caught the train. Dined at “7 Gables Inn” leisurely, then on down Post Road to home at 10 p.m. David came in with three boys. Fruit, cake, cold drinks and to bed at midnight. Oh, what a delicious, ecstatic weekend!!!
Dorothy describes her shameless love, along with her uniquely candid opinion of the aging process.
AUGUST 18, 1928 I could take a rose in my teeth, and come skating into the picnic on one wheel! I am so mad about him that every other man in the world looks like my great aunt to me! Why the Greek dance! With its abandon or youth and the invariable abdomen or age! The people we know today who are hot tempered, witty, unconventional determined and passionate. Subtract the fire which is their motive force and in 30 years these same people will be irritable, silly, untidy, pig headed, and lewd! Nothing is in the ashes that was not in the log save the perfectly negative qualities or pallor, impotence and chill
While Dorothy was away for the weekend, Amelia finished her manuscript. The flyer cryptically recalled her impressions of the previous seven weeks, from takeoff in Boston through the completion of her book in the Putnam home:
Preparations… the flight… England… our return… the first receptions… photographs, interviews… New York, Boston, Chicago … the many invitations not accepted because of lack of time… mayors, celebrities, governors… splendid flyers; Wilkins, Byrd, Chamberlain, Thea Rasche, Balchen, Ruth Nichols, Reed Landis… speeches, lunches, radio microphones… acres of clippings (unread) … editors, promoters… settlement houses, aldermen’s office… gracious hostesses, camera-wise politicians… private cars, palatial planes… and then my book… hours of writing piled up in the contented isolation (stoically maintained) of a hospitable Rye home… friends, a few parties… swimming, riding, dancing, in tantalizing driblets… brief recesses from work… Tunney vs. Heeney, my first fight (a boxer’s career is measured by minutes in the ring; an aviator’s by hours in the air)… more writing—much more.
I was sixteen when I first read 20 hrs. 40 min. I found the thick black book with red letters in my father’s library; it was inscribed to him by the author. I turned the pages and studied the photographs first. Here was this woman who had taught my father to fly. At the time, I didn’t realize the book was dedicated to my grandmother. Growing up, I was unaware of their strong emotional connection. Now I know how much they influenced each other’s lives. And I’m aware that had it not been for my grandparents, Amelia would not have moved in the circles she did. Dofry invited Amelia into her world, introduced her to a glittering array of celebrities, artists, adventurers, and socialites. To the unsophisticated young flyer, the Putnams represented a lifestyle she had only dreamed of. How ironic that Dorothy seemed to be Amelia’s heroine, at least for a short time.