Ellyn Lake

“It’s easy to fly,” the brunette said. “I finished third in the 1937 Bendix Trophy race flying it.”

“Yes, I know, Jacqueline Cochran, famous flyer.”

Cochran smiled at her. “What are you, my press agent?”

“You don’t need one, you’re in the papers all of the time.”

“You’ ll get along kid; I like your attitude. Look at those planes over on the flight line,” she pointed her finger at them. “How would you like to jump into one of those babies and send it roaring down the runway?”

“Would I like that,” muttered Ellyn.

“You’re not checked out in that hot stuff ,” said Cochran. “Look at those monsters. See that one at the head of the line?”

“I see it.”

“That’s a Gee Bee Q.E.D. A real hot potato. Look at those lines, low wing monoplane, huge wheel covers and look at the size of that engine.”

“I see it, now I want to fly it.”

“Sure, kid, sure. How about that second one? Know what that is?”

“Well, it’s another Staggerwing.”

“Yes, it is, and to be more specific, it’s the blue one that Louise Thaden and Blanche Noyes won the 1936 Bendix Trophy with. Isn’t it a beauty?”

“It sure is.”

“Hey, how about the third one, pretty nifty, eh? That’s Pancho Barnes’ Travel Air. She hit 196 miles an hour in that back in 1930.

“Hot stuff all right. I wish that I could check out in all of them.”

“Maybe you will some day, who knows,” said Cochran.

“Looks like there’s some activity at the end of the flight line.”

“You’re right,” said Cochran, “the group’s getting together.” They walked down the line, and she craned her neck to see who had shown up.

“There’s Amelia.”

“What do you mean, where?”

“See her; she has a one piece flying suit on.”

“How can it be?” gasped Ellyn.

“OH, they’ ll all be here,” said Cochran, “Especially those who were killed. Earhart would never miss. Her presence was never affected; she really never left us. You knew that, kid, didn’t you?”

Ellyn glanced down at her flying breeches and stammered, “I guess I did.”

“There’s Ruth Nichols. She set an altitude record, made it to about 20,000 feet back in 1932.”

“I remember her.”

“There’s Edna Newcomber. She disappeared that same year in her Bellanca. Odd that they never found her.”

“Boy, they are all here. See, there are O’Donnell and Lund and Ingalls and Smith. What a group. What talent and courage.”

“Have you heard of me? I’m Ellyn Lake of Sanford, California.”

“Kid, we never heard of you. This is the group that did so much for aviation in the 1930s. They were part of the leading edge. They’ ll never be forgotten.”

Cochran stopped in front of the group. They were visiting, and some of them, with their hands, told of sudden maneuvers and heart-stopping aerobatics. The listeners laughed and made light of accomplishments while Earhart walked among them speaking softly to old friends.

“She’s the permanent symbol of the feminine presence in aviation,” said Cochran, as she turned and walked away.

Ellyn followed her into the group and made a determined effort to join in the conversation. She tried one person after another but found that she was unable to communicate.