Uh-oh, it looks like your Internet Explorer is out of date.

For a better shopping experience, please upgrade now.

Amelia Earhart's Daughters: The Wild and Glorious Story of American Women Aviators From World War II To The Dawn of The Space Age

Amelia Earhart's Daughters: The Wild and Glorious Story of American Women Aviators From World War II To The Dawn of The Space Age

by Leslie Haynsworth, David Toomey
The dramatic and inspiring account of two generations of female flyers who broke out of traditional gender roles while breaking the sound barrier

The WASPs of World War II were much more than a group of airborne Rosie the Riveters filling in for the men overseas. The Women's Airforce Service Pilots flew B-26s because men were afraid to; they were able to recover


The dramatic and inspiring account of two generations of female flyers who broke out of traditional gender roles while breaking the sound barrier

The WASPs of World War II were much more than a group of airborne Rosie the Riveters filling in for the men overseas. The Women's Airforce Service Pilots flew B-26s because men were afraid to; they were able to recover P-38s from deadly inverted spins, and more than once they had to parachute out of aircraft that had been sabotaged. Led by the famous aviatrix Jacqueline Cochran, these forgotten women were superb pilots, the equals of any male fighter jock.

In 1944, the program ended, but the Cold War created yet another brief window of opportunity for American women pilots in aerospace. In a top-secret program that began in 1961, thirteen women passed the same rigorous astronaut tests made famous by The Right Stuff.

Here we meet Geraldyn Cobb, who might have rocketed into space two decades before Sally Ride, and who spearheaded the campaign to allow women to become astronauts. She took her case all the way to the U.S. Congress, but a dramatic two-day hearing demonstrated that, although these women had the right stuff, it was the wrong time.

These are stories of courageous women who lived with danger and fought discrimination. They were targets of "friendly fire," both literal and figurative, from a public which by turn reviled and glamorized them. But they wrote unique chapters in America's race to space-chapters which are all the more important because they've been overlooked for almost fifty years.

"Colorful heroes who could handle anything except descrimination... A rousing tale."(— New York Times BookReview)

"A well-deserved salute to the intrepid young women who answered the call of their country to risky duty in perilous times."(— Kirkus Reviews)

"Vital to women's studies and aviation history."(— Chicago Tribune)

"As Haynsworth and Toomey paint [these women], they seem to grow wings. Far-reaching in its scope, profound in its implications, this story reminds us of women we should never have forgotten in the first place. After reading it, we will never forget them again."(—Lucinda Roy, author of The Hotel Alleluia and Lady Moses)

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
During WWII, a group of American women pilots under the leadership of the legendary Jacqueline Cochran shattered the aviation gender barrier by performing feats that, until then, women supposedly could not do. Under the auspices of the Women's Airforce Service Pilots (WASPs), a division of the U.S. Air Force, Cochran's aviators flew some of the fastest and most dangerous aircraft of the day, including the P-51 Mustang fighter, notorious for taxing the strength and skill of its pilots. Because the story of the WASPs is already well known, Haynsworth, an advertising copywriter, and Toomey, who teaches English at Virginia Tech (Blacksburg), to their credit, use the Cochran/WASPs tale as a springboard for a series of lively chronicles of unsung female heroics. One of their best anecdotes involves a Chinese-American woman who crash-lands in a Texas field in 1943 while in training for the Air Force. The terrorized locals insist she's a Japanese invader until the pilot and her fellow soldiers stage a mock surrender. The authors present freshly angled details on a number of familiar episodes from other historical eras such as the U.S.-Soviet space race. The pioneering voyage of Cosmonaut Valentina Tereshkova, the first woman in space, is related with wit and drama so that, 35 years later, we're still relieved to read that her prolonged silence in orbit resulted not from death, as Soviet engineers feared, but because she'd fallen into a deep and weightless sleep. Informative, often gripping, this is a must-read for those who would understand the indelible contrail women in aviation and space flight have left in their wake since the invention of the airplane.
An account of many people who made important contributions to aviation but who never achieved the level of fame of Yeager, Glenn, or Earhart. The authors focus on WWII's Women's Airforce Service Pilots and Dr. Randolph Lovelace's "Women in Space" program which made it as far as Congress in July of 1962, but failed to put a woman into space (the Soviets accomplished this the following year). Annotation c. by Book News, Inc., Portland, Or.
Carol Peace Robins
Here is a rousing tale. . . .a fine balance of hair-raising exploits, political drama and portraits of colorful heroes who could handle anything except discrimination. -- The New York Times Book Review
Kirkus Reviews
An attempt at history penned by an advertising copywriter and an English teacher, who offer a paean to women pilots during and after WWII. Haynesworth (the copywriter) and Toomey (English/Virginia Tech) tell of the tumultuous early days following Pearl Harbor, when the U.S. was frantically mobilizing the military, including the Army Air Corps. The Air Ferry Command was formed to transfer military planes from factories to assembly areas for shipment to training fields and overseas. The initiative to attract licensed and experienced women pilots to the Ferry Command was led by Jackie Cochran, a prominent she-pilot of the time, whose ideas were financed by her wealthy husband, Floyd Odlum. By 1943 these volunteer women pilots, drawn mainly from affluent families who could afford private planes during the Great Depression, overcame many obstacles within the highly pressured Army Air Corps, graduating from trainers to more complex planes like B-17s and B-25s. One problem: their civilian volunteer status lacked the military benefits of the WACS and WAVES. They had to pay their own expenses, including burial costs. Alas, the book seems based on the advertising/public relations model that accentuates the positive and eliminates the negative, thus sabotaging the objectivity of the professional historian. Facts not dealt with include the death of 38 of the pilot pioneers, who lost their lives in service for their country (not to mention the unknown number who were '`washed out' in military training). The authors do trace the gradual progress of female astronauts during the space age. Despite its shortcomings, the book is a well-deserved salute to the intrepid young women who answered thecall of their country to risky duty in perilous times.

Product Details

HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date:
Edition description:
1 ED
Product dimensions:
6.49(w) x 9.55(h) x 1.11(d)

Read an Excerpt


The man is not the kind who'd usually attract much notice. He has a faded look about him, the look of a man who has accepted that it is his lot in life to work hard for little reward. And around here, pretty much everyone has that look, which makes the faded man all the more unremarkable. "Here" is Millville, Florida, circa 1913. Millville is little more than a few rows of frail, windowless pine and tar-paper shacks, and most of the people who live in the shacks are transients. Work in these parts is seasonal, and when jobs come to an end, people have to move on. There is usually just about enough money to keep a family fed and clothed, but there is never any left over to put aside for the future. Consequently, Millville makes it very hard for its inhabitants to imagine a future that might be different and better than the life they know here. This is why the faded man is so difficult to distinguish from all the other faded men in Millville. Millville breeds faded men.

But today, in the main room of a shabby general store, this man is important. Today he has an audience, watching him with rapt attention. In his hand he holds a cardboard box, and in the box are slips of paper, and on the slips of paper are written the names of just about every young girl in Millville. Soon the man will reachinto the box and grope around until his callused fingers come to rest on what feels like the right slip of paper. He will pull this paper out of the box and unfold it and hold it close to his eyes and squint at it and maybe mouth the name that's printed on it silently once or twice before he speaks it aloud. The girls are looking at him as if he matters. And tothem he does. It is his hand that will choose the slip, his mouth that will pronounce the name of the girl who will win the doll.

To a different group of girls, the doll might look as ordinary as the faded man usually looks to the people of Millville. She is pretty, of course, with golden curls and big brown eyes and a sweet rosebud mouth. She is the most stereotypical of dolls, but to the girls of Millville she is exotic, and even a little unreal. To them, she is like a bright promise of a better world that Millville usually won't let them believe in. She just appeared in the commissary shop at the mill one day, and the girls would come in little clusters to gape at her silently. Then they learned the really amazing thing about her--that she was the prize in a contest. Any of them could win her. All they had to do to enter the contest was spend twenty-five cents on toys in the commissary. Each time they did this, their names would go into the box.

So the girls had to find quarters. And one of these girls decided that, no matter how much anyone else wanted the doll, she wanted it the most. But she figured that the strength of her wanting was not in itself enough. Wanting wouldn't put slips of paper in the box. Only money could do that. Money wasn't something she could ask her family for, because it wasn't something they ever had. She would have to earn her chance to own the doll. So she went looking for work, hiring herself out to anyone who would promise to pay her to do the kinds of jobs an eight-year-old girl can do. She hauled water out of the well until her hands cracked and bled, and she changed diapers and washed dishes and swept floors and minded other children. After three weeks her small body was profoundly tired, but all of this seemed to her a reasonable trade for even the possibility of having the doll. By her calculations, her labors had netted her at least three dollars. But when the time came to collect, the neighbors who hired her shrugged and looked sheepish and mumbled something about how they'd pay her soon. She knewfrom the way they said it that soon meant never. She ended up with fifty cents. Her name went into the box exactly twice.

The man stands at the front of the room with the box in his hand and the doll by his side and he looks at the rows of waiting girls. Finally he reaches in and slowly pulls a slip of paper out of the box. The girls hold their breath and lean forward a little, and the man squints at the paper and moves his mouth silently a few times. At last he comes out with it: The name on the paper is Jackie.

Later she will be Jackie Cochran, but Cochran is a name she will choose for herself, because she never knew what name she would have had if she'd been raised by her real parents. In Millville, she is just Jackie, a foster child, a tacked-on addition to a family of impoverished migrant workers. Like a lot of the girls here, she wears a dress made of burlap, and when the family can't feed her she survives by eating pine nuts she finds on the ground. She does not even know the story of how she came to be taken in by this family, and maybe it has never even occurred to her to ask. Millville does not encourage its inhabitants to wonder. But to Jackie, the doll virtually embodies wonder. The faded man presses the doll into her arms and she looks at the doll and wonders if it is after all possible that wanting can be enough.

Looking at the doll, little Jackie does not at first notice that her foster family has crowded around her, and she doesn't hear what they are saying, although the words are addressed to her. She is at first only vaguely annoyed by this relentless cacophony of voices, but the voices persist, and gradually it sinks in that they're trying to tell her something about her older foster sister, Mamie. She realizes that it's not Mamie herself they're talking about, it's Mamie's little daughter Willie Mae. Willie Mae is two.

"Doesn't Willie Mae deserve the doll for Christmas, Jackie?" It isn't so much a question as an order. "You're too old to play with dolls now, aren't you?"

Mutely, she shakes her head. She's never had a doll of her own. But the look in her eyes, at once mutinous, fierce and pleading, does nothing to alter her foster parents' will. "Give the doll to Willie Mae."

Customer Reviews

Average Review:

Post to your social network


Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See all customer reviews