16
Without exception the most horrible and disillusioning experience or my life! Excruciating pain and horror! And from the man who promised to love and cherish me.
IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO IMAGINE my grandmother as a battered woman.
When I first read the diary entries recounting in detail her secret other life, I dropped the book to the floor and cried. The thought that anyone could abuse this gentle woman made me physically ill. For months I woke up in the middle of the night feeling the terror she had endured. She told no one, but at last she was able to reveal her secret shame to me through her diaries. It must have been an enormous relief. When I shared these pages with my husband, he also wept.
Living in her home now, there are times I can almost visualize her blood spilled on the tiled foyer floor and can hear Eff’s angry threats.
This was the darkest chapter of her life.
JANUARY 1, 1933 Drove north thro rain after seeing David on train. (Childish, violent temper. Eff). It knocks the stuffing out or me. And I know, now, that it’s not worth it to me. I must get out or it this year for I’ll do better alone and not nagged!
Yet throughout this ugly period, Dorothy hid her pain. In retrospect, I now understand why my grandmother decided that confronting her husband about his drinking would only make things worse. She knew that preserving his ego was her only chance. With Eff’s election to the County Commission, Dorothy had further reason to protect him. She did not want to undermine his position on the board, especially because her father had taken Frank under his wing. On a deeper level, the insecurities that plagued my grandmother from childhood perhaps made her believe she deserved to be mistreated.
The development of Fort Pierce was very much a family affair. Edwin Binney had invested heavily in local real estate and was using his personal fortune to promote the harbor improvements. He later became the chairman of the Fort Pierce Port Commission. Though he had already given the St. Lucie County Bank a personal check for $186,000 in 1929 to keep its doors open, the bank still needed additional funds to stabilize its weakened financial base, caused by the Depression. Two years earlier, Frank Upton had been involved in drumming up funds for the bank’s dwindling reserves. “Well, he did it; he got a large loan (for now!) On my 1400 Columbian Carbon stock and mortgaged this house, etc. $65,000 which is marvelous—for the bank.”
Dorothy was also involved in helping her father secure funds for the financial institution, and had mortgaged Immokolee as collateral for the St. Lucie County Bank. With Edwin as the bank’s board chairman and Frank as its newly appointed vice president, Dorothy was determined to hide Eff’s problem and help carry the bank through its continuing crisis.
In the year 1933, Eff’s monstrous behavior escalated, prompting his wife to write: “I swear I’ll divorce! And I ought to. Contrite all day, hanging around—sad and quiet.”
Whether Eff knew at this point that Dorothy planned to leave him is unclear. What is clear from her diaries is that the violence was unrelenting. He seemed determined to punish Dorothy, perhaps as a result of his own insecurities. At one point, this burly man resorted to grabbing a bull-whip in rage; he was even spotted by a neighbor chasing my grandmother through the orange grove, brandishing the whip. She was helpless to fend off his blows, and after one beating tearfully sought refuge at the downtown home of her close friend, Franklind Tyler, and his wife, Bess.
MAY 29, 1933 Ill in pain and miserable beyond words. Horsewhipped—19 lashes, To bed at Tylers all afternoon, in agony.
MAY 30, 1933 Just dragging myself around. 19 great black and blue swollen welts across my body—bleeding open wounds on ribs and thighs and buttocks. Moved downstairs to red room [downstairs guest room] Monday. In pain, went to doctor again.
My grandmother wrote of the beatings in her diaries, but Eff, determined to destroy the evidence, tore out the incriminating pages. The only way she could record this horror was by backdating her entries and mixing them with earlier years. She hoped he would not destroy her hidden notes. Lost somewhere in the pages ripped out by Frank is the full story of her humiliation and suffering; the severity of her abuse will never be known. “He’s torn out all these pages because they were too frank about his rotten behavior. Not in to dinner—at 12:30 came in, drunk and repulsively amorous. I loathe it, loathe it!”
Dorothy knew that the drunken rages would be followed by urgent apologies the following morning. Frank would beg for Dorothy’s forgiveness, and his repentance seemed genuine. Over and over again she forgave him, wanting to believe his anger stemmed from his passion for her. She was both ashamed and afraid at the same time, and would “go thro’ hell” before finally admitting her mistake and seeking the help she so desperately needed.
Alice and Edwin Binney were unaware of the trauma being inflicted on their daughter, but they must have begun to suspect something. “Mother and Bub arrived by boat from New York. So glad to have them! Yet tongue tied and embarrassed.” Edwin had just named Frank president of the St. Lucie County Bank, making the situation even more delicate and embarrassing for his daughter. Soon, Frank turned his temper on her parents.
JUNE 22, 1933 The most revolting evidence of bad taste and no breeding! Quarrel, then downstairs and insulted Mother—yelled at her. Woke up Bub. Maudlin. Cried!! No apology! He just won’t do what nice people do, nor their customs! Oh, so sorry for Mother and Bub. So completely ashamed or him. I feel sunk and pep-less. I mustn’t let him crush me; it’s weak or me.
JUNE 28, 1933 Mother and Bub moved over to Casa [Caprona] yesterday. Don’t blame them. It can’t be very pleasant at Immokolee. At 1:45 a.m. Eff left for Washington on business—cross and angry at me. God help us.
Dorothy was afraid of public disgrace. Women of her time were ashamed to report to the authorities such spousal abuse, especially forced sex within a marriage. In July she wrote: “Had to submit tonight when Eff came in late—he’d been drinking. So disgusting.”
JULY 18, 1933 Sun. 16th: Terrible scene with Eff—drunk. He pretended to shoot himself, tore off my clothes, etc. Called servants; lay shivering with fear rest or night
SEPTEMBER 9, 1933 (On 10th, pages torn out!) A ghastly scene and quarrel. Oh, it’s too awful! Nowadays they occur every two weeks or so. “I began too late. I ought to have horsewhipped you two years ago.”
For the first time, my grandmother feared for her life. “Another terrible night, from 10 to 4 a.m. And this time: ‘I’ll kill you, and I’ll kill myself!’ And nine times my throat is held, vice-like and my hair pulled. Parapet on deck.” Between this entry in October 1933 and February of the following year, Dorothy’s diary pages were blank. She was afraid to write the truth.
On February 4, 1934, Frank and Dorothy had been arguing earlier in the day when she pleaded with him to stop drinking. He ignored her tearful request and set out by himself for a local bar. Several hours later she heard a car pull up to the front door. The headlights were dimmed. She peered through the window, expecting to see Frank stumble inside, and braced herself for another night of terror. Instead, she saw a figure emerge from the driver’s seat and walk around to the passenger side. Now there were two silhouettes in the dark, one struggling to hold the other’s dead weight. Dorothy drew in her breath and realized that the crumpled figure was her husband. He had been shot twice in the head.
Dorothy bundled Junie into a coat and rushed from the house, but not before calling for medical help. “Brought home at 10 p.m., Jr. and I fled Ghastly. Doctors. Blood.” Whoever the assailant—perhaps as inebriated as Upton—he had failed in his mission. The bullets only grazed the target. Dorothy does not name the shooter and took this secret to her grave. “He shot him twice in the head, but too drunk to he aimed right. Bed, two doctors. Loss of blood. I shall be 24 hr. Nurse. Must lie about it all. Still dangerously weak. Bed. Dr.”
The following day she returned to Immokolee from town, and found Frank lying in the red room where she had left him the night before, and where she herself had often gone to recuperate from his lashings. She served him meals from her delicate tea tray, not bothering to hide her disgust. The room was dark and hot, and Frank brooded, anxious for a drink. Leaning against the mirrored door, staring at the blood-stained sheet, Dorothy wondered how she had gotten herself into such an ungodly mess.
On Valentine’s Day, Dorothy was clearly shattered: “I shall burst emotionally soon! Dead.”
Two weeks after the shooting, when Eff was well enough to drive himself into town, she walked outside and headed for her swimming pool. The night before, she had fallen asleep with the knowledge that her son David would arrive the next afternoon. She knew help was on the way. For the first time in over a year she slept peacefully; in the morning she stretched out in the warm sun to wait for him.
David was now twenty-one, a physically imposing young man, six feet four—and utterly fearless. Dorothy once described him as “the kind of boy I saw in my secret heart when he was conceived—high in the western mountains. Tall blonde clean cut and alive to people.” He was living near Portland, Maine, and flying for the Boston and Maine Airways. Someone—perhaps his grandfather or even Dorothy herself—had called him about the terrifying situation. Throwing a few belongings into the open cockpit of his Kinner biplane, he had notified his fellow air-mail deliverers, sent a radio message to his mother, and taken off. David planned to land in Fort Pierce between 4:00 and 5:00 P.M. and would circle Immokolee several times to announce his arrival before turning east in the direction of the grassy airstrip.
Hearing the distant hum of the plane’s engine, Dorothy stood and waved frantically, both arms outstretched above her head. She turned and ran down the steep concrete steps, gripping the rail. “Dave arrived by plane! At 5 p.m. Much excitement!”
Frank Upton knew that his marriage was over. Whether or not he was confronted by a furious David is not recorded. It seems very likely. I recall my mother telling me that Dad went out to Immokolee in a rage and “ran Eff out of town.” Dorothy explains his abrupt departure from Fort Pierce in very terse terms: “Eff to Washington. (In silence and anger.) David here!”
Her oldest son had always thought of his mother as invincible. To find her in such a broken state was deeply painful, and he felt a strong sense of guilt for living so far away. He also worried about his younger brother, imagining what the thirteen-year-old must have witnessed. David had been spending most of his free time at Rocknoll with G.P. and Amelia, and on several occasions he had accompanied his stepmother on trips, acting as her bodyguard. Now it was his mother who needed protection.
The Florida sun streamed into the living room as David watched his mother at the piano. The slow, soft music reflected her grief and David knew how deeply she regretted her marriage to Eff.
David’s visit had another historic consequence. That week a family friend invited him to meet a young woman visiting from Georgia, Nilla Shields, who was staying at the nearby Casa Caprona. A blind date had been arranged with Nilla—who had just graduated from Duke University—to attend a dance at the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach.
Blond, petite, and beautiful, Nilla Shields had gone to visit a medium two weeks earlier on a whim with her three sisters. They giggled when the psychic predicted that Nilla would meet a tall, handsome man who owned his own plane. She had never met a flyer, let alone someone her age who owned his own plane. The psychic also predicted she would fall madly in love with this stranger and marry him.
She must have grinned when David Putnam arrived to pick her up and, on the drive down to Palm Beach, told her about his life. He was instantly attracted to Nilla’s southern beauty, but it was her sense of humor that ultimately stole his heart. They arrived at the dance, and onlookers could not help but notice the couple. He towered over her by a foot and a half, and she seemed to disappear when he wrapped her in his arms. “Kids at ‘Casa’ for swim and cocktails. To dance at Palm Beach. And David took Nilla, a ‘blind date’”
Forty-eight hours later, they eloped, and with David’s marriage a miracle occurred: Peace returned to Immokolee.
MARCH 4, 1934 Fished till 3 p.m. Home, swim and Ramseys [Nilla’s hosts] and Nilla out for evening. Nilla is charming and beautiful
MARCH 5, 1934 David married Nilla while I was at hospital and Angler’s Club Meeting! Too exciting. Grave them my room.
My grandmother learned later that the couple actually had to wait a whole day for the justice of the peace to return from vacation to perform the hasty ceremony; otherwise the lovebirds would have married after a twenty-four-hour courtship. Rather than feeling cheated out of a formal wedding, Dorothy was thrilled by the romance and gave the newlyweds her treetop bedroom as their bridal suite.
At night, lying under a cool sheet in the treetop bedroom, I imagine my mother and father starting a life together in the same room. I laugh when I think that my parents forced me to wait a whole year before marrying my own husband, Jack.
Several days later, David had to leave Fort Pierce to resume his job in Maine, but not before stopping briefly in Rye to tell his father and Amelia the news. His new bride remained with Dorothy at Immokolee for several days before returning home to Georgia, where her family was understandably shocked by this turn of events, but still thrilled for their youngest daughter. Her new in-laws were equally surprised and delighted, judging from a letter she received from George Putnam, her father-in-law, accompanied by a note from Amelia.
March 11, 1934
Dear Nilla,
Dave has just shoved off for Boston. We had a fine day with him most of which, curiously enough, was devoted to his telling us about a gal he met and married down south!
This is just a hasty note to say hello and send my love. I was sorry that it happened so suddenly, as a little delay would have been fairer all around and better for you and for him in the long run. But that is water over the dam, and all that counts now is for you both to be happy and to move wisely. Dave knows that you both can count upon me for every bit of help I can give—although the real test is for you to help yourselves. Anyway, I’m eager to see you, and you’ll find a full measure of affection in your new dad. What’s more, you’ll also find here another friend who will do her part and more. For Amelia is devoted to Dave, understands him well, and knows with me that you must be just the kind of girl we both can love.
When Dave gets squared away again on his new job, we’ll know more about your plans. It would be fine if you can stop off here on the way to Boston, assuming Dave could come down. That would give us a chance at a little visit. And by the way, I suggest that you do not try to buy much in the way of clothes down there. That will be more fun and better, in New York. And Amelia and I would enjoy fitting you out with a few duds you’ll likely need for a northern spring, as a sort of left handed wedding present. So count on that.
I want you to know that I know it was hard to let Dave go so soon, and hard for him. That was playing the game—and courage helps a lot. Also separation makes reunions all the happier.
Please feel sure that you have two good friends here, and that everything will be easy as can be.
Affectionately,
David’s Dad
And I echo all that “David’s Dad” has said.
Amelia Earhart
Dorothy, Junie, and Frank “Eff” Upton during the Sarasota/Silver Springs trip (1929).
Dorothy and Sen. Fred Walcott sailing on Long Island Sound (1929).
Adm. Richard Byrd presents the Explorers Club flag that flew over the South Pole to G.P.P. (VP of club), with Clarence Chamberlain (second from left), Amelia, and Bernt Balchen (1930).
Eff during Immokolee’s construction in 1930.
G.W. at Casa Caprona pool (1930): A grand roughhouse swim back at pool with rubber animals and a band!
Junie, Alice and Edwin Binney, Dorothy, and Eff at Florindia (1930).
Don Blanding and Eff (1930): Don’s undersea panels for the new house are colorful and original.
G.P.P and Amelia (portrait by Ben Pinchot, 1931).
G.P.P. and Amelia, shortly after their wedding in 1931, in their New York apartment.
Amelia and G.P.P. in Paris after Amelia’s historic flight (1932): She’s done it! She flew across to Ireland. Solo. World Attention!
Amelia and David with a model of a Lockheed Vega (1932): “David had been spending most of his free time at Rocknoll with G.P. and Amelia.”
Eff, Dorothy, and Junie outside Immokolee (1932),
G.P.P. and Amelia at home (1932).
Dorothy with a giant sea bass (1933).
David, Nilla, Amelia, and “Philbert,” Amelia’s gift to the newlyweds (1934).
The stairs leading up to the loggia at Immokolee (1935)
1935: “IMMO-KO-LEE,” Seminole (My Home Place). Our grove name.
Amelia at the Double Dee Ranch (1935).
Amelia and G.P.R (1937)
Amelia and G.P.P. at a Japanese tea ceremony in Hawaii (1935).
Amelia with her Cord and Electra (1937).
Nilla, G.P.P., and Amelia, May 31, 1939: “The day before the flight, Mom accidently walked into their room to discover them in a warm embrace, reassuring one another that the daring attempt would be a success.”
These were the last photos of Amelia taken by G.P.P. before her flight on June 1, 1937, in Miami.
A week after this photo was taken, Nilla woke from a dream seeing “Amelia through a thick pane of glass in deep water pleading for me to help her.”
G.P.P. photographs Amelia and Fred Noonan with their mechanic.
G.P. to A.E.: “Once this is out of your hair, what a very happy interesting time we can have. We can have it, too, should you for any reason decide to quit.”
George (“Junie”), Dorothy, and David dressed in the standard Immokolee chef aprons and hats (1940).
Dorothy sitting at the Driftwood (1940).
Don and Dorothy at Immokolee (1942): 2nd anniversary. Filled house with orchids. Set a beautiful South Sea Island table.
G.P.P. with Nilla in Fort Pierce to welcome his first grandson, David B. Putnam, Jr. (1942): A major in the Air Corp., more power to him.
G.W. as a colonel with the Air Transport Command (1940).
Alice Binney with David (1944)
Nilla, David, and Jean Marie Putnam (1940).
Peg and G.P.P.’s wedding day, San Marino, CA (1945): Recalled Robert Lee, “She loved G.P.P. for both his strength and his idiosyncrasies.”
Dorothy and Lew Palmer (1949): I’m trying to think why I deserve so much joy and happiness after all the turmoil in my life so far! But I love it!
Dorothy with a rickshaw driver in Africa with Lew (1945): “Perhaps those ebony blacks of Africa and the white-robed Mohammedans of far off Arabia or the coastal islands of Africa should have a right to their way of thinking, too.”
Lew at the site of their Smokey Mountain cabin (1949): Cabin, A ‘Smokey’ day and cool. Planted azaleas on hillside below porch. Hope they grow.
Lew at his Spanish garden wall at Immokolee (1950): At sunrise in the garden, I said a prayer, and gave my Beloved forever to Immokolee, which he loved!
Dorothy at seventy-five (1963): Time is learning to accept a few defeats. But it’s rather fun frustrating the old monster.
Dorothy at eighty-one with Binney Putnam (1969).