Amelia Earhart: Canadian aviation protégé

News Article / August 7, 2014

By Major William March

A few weeks ago, the media featured the story of Amelia Rose Earhart, 31, who became the youngest woman ever to fly around the world in a single-engine plane. She was inspired in part by Amelia Mary Earhart, the famed aviator of the early 20^th century. But who or what inspired the first Amelia Earhart?

If there is a candidate for a "poster child" highlighting women in aviation, one of the prime contenders would be Amelia Earhart.

This well-known American aviatrix made a name for herself in the field of aviation during the 1920s and 30s through a series of "firsts". The most famous of these was perhaps being the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean in 1932; a feat for which she received the Distinguished Flying Cross from the United States Congress.

An author, aviation pioneer and champion for woman's rights, she disappeared at the height of her fame, along with navigator Fred Noonan, during the trans-Pacific leg of a round-the-world flight in July 1937.

Ms Earhart was not the only woman breaking barriers in aviation during this period, but she certainly benefited from wide-spread publicity, much of which was generated by publisher and promoter George P. Putnam who she married in 1931.

To a large extent the "mysterious" circumstances surrounding her disappearance gave rise to several theories (ranging from alien abduction to execution at the hands of the Japanese) and served to cement her place in popular culture. There have been numerous articles, books, movies, and websites dedicated to Amelia Earhart, including an episode of the television series Star Trek: Voyager entitled "The 37's" (1995).

Given her status as an aviation icon, it is interesting to note that she may have been bitten by the flying "bug" in Canada.

Amelia Earhart grew up in the American mid-West, with her family's fortunes dependant upon a father who had a drinking problem. While attending junior college at Ogontz School in Rydal, Pennsylvania, she decided to visit her sister Muriel, who was attending St. Margaret's College in Toronto over the Christmas holidays in 1917.

It was while strolling down King Street with her sister, that Amelia was first exposed to the human cost of the European war that America had so recently joined (April 1917). An athletic "tomboy", Amelia was immediately struck by the plight of the large number of wounded soldiers.

"There for the first time I realized what the World War meant. Instead of new uniforms and brass bands, I saw only the results of four years' desperate struggle; men without arms and legs, men who were paralyzed and men who were blind. One day I saw four one-legged men at once, walking as best they could down the street together."

When the holiday break was over she returned to Pennsylvania, remaining there only long enough to pack her things and withdraw from school.

Returning to Toronto, she volunteered as a member of a Voluntary Aid Detachment, working where required in the Spadina Military Hospital, located in what is now part of the University of Toronto.

Often working twelve-hour shifts, Ms Earhart went wherever an extra pair of hands was required. During her infrequent days off she often visited a nearby stable where she won the trust of a spirited horse named "Dynamite" which the owner let her ride for free. During these outings that she met several pilots attached to the Royal Flying Corps Canada (RFCC). Captivated by the vivacious young American, they invited her to visit them at their aerodrome at Armour Heights.

Canada did not establish a flying corps of its own until the end of the First World War. Therefore, Canadians who flew in combat did so as members of either the Royal Flying Corps (RFC) or Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS) until April 1, 1918, when both of these organizations were combined to from the Royal Air Force (RAF).

During the first two years of the war, the importance of military aviation had grown exponentially to the point where, by the end of 1916, virtually all of the functions that we take for granted in a modern air force (surveillance, targeting, bombing, counter-air, ground-attack, etc.) were being undertaken. The increased need to "control the air" brought with it both the requirement to expand the RFC and RNAS and to deal with the horrendous losses, or "wastage", experienced at the front.

In December 1916, it was finally decided to establish a training organization in Canada that would be self-sufficient, tap into a pool of "air-minded" Canadian youth, and take advantage of the abundance of space and resources available.

Eventually, the RFCC would grow to 20 Canadian Training Squadrons (CTS), plus schools, repair parks and supporting units, located primarily at Borden, Leaside, Deseronto, downtown Toronto and Armour Heights – all in Ontario.

At Armour Heights, Amelia would have been the guest of No. 21 CTS, which during the winter of 1918 was the only squadron left in Canada. The rest, and a sizeable portion of the support elements, had been temporarily shifted to Texas as part of a reciprocal agreement with the United States Government. As a new combatant, the United States was anxious to expand its air service and wanted to take advantage of British expertise.

The British, not quite sure how flying training would be effected by the Canadian winter, wanted a warmer climate under which to continue training. By mutual agreement, the RFCC would use Texas airfields from November 1917 until April 1918 for which the British would train the equivalent of 10 squadrons for the Americans. No. 21 CTS was tasked to experiment with winter flight training.

It is hard to imagine what Amelia would have thought of her visit. Although flying was still a new and exciting undertaking, flying with the temperature below zero was an exercise in endurance.

The principle training aircraft of the RFCC was the Curtiss J.N. 4, affectionately known as the "Jenny". A two-seater, open cockpit biplane, the Jenny was just being "introduced" to skis at Armour Heights. The pilot and student, bundled up against the cold to the point where they could barely move, would have waddled to their aircraft for a training flight. Climbing with difficulty into their respective seats, attended by groundcrew jumping up and down to stay warm, pilot and student would have made last-minute adjustments to their wraps prior to the roaring cough of the engine.

Using hand signals – radio communications were not a regular feature yet – the instructor directed the student to takeoff straight ahead, across a field that had been cleared of the night's snow either by hand, or with a horse-drawn snowplough. With the skis bucking over various ruts and bumps, the Jenny was finally airborne to the relief of the instructor, the thrill of the student and the amazement of the onlookers.

Amelia was thrilled and wrote of her experience: "Though I had seen one or two [airplanes] at country fairs before, I now saw many of them, as the officers were trained at the various fields around the city. Of course no civilian had a chance of going up. But I hung around in spare time and absorbed all I could. I remember the sting of the snow on my face when it was blown back from the propellers when the training plan took off on skis."

Later in life, as Amelia began to take an active interest in learning how to fly, she credited "the interest aroused in me in Toronto led me to all the air circuses in the vicinity." At one such field in California she made her first flight and the rest – as they say – is history.

But you have to wonder. If she had closed her eyes in the balmy Californian sky, did she think of a cold winter's day at Armour Heights and a Jenny on skis?