8.Marriage
Before the wedding of GP and AE in February, 1931, there were warnings given to both. Why did they want to marry? Why did GP want to become a hero’s husband? Of all men why did Amelia Earhart choose George Palmer Putnam?
No one, perhaps, understood heroes better than George Putnam. Himself a writer, publisher, explorer, and promoter with, asTimesaid of him, “the dangerous combination of literary ability, business acumen, [and] energy,” he was to the young Amelia Earhart the fitting opposite to her essentially modest and retiring nature. He was, in brief, her kind of man.
Soon after theFriendshipflight AE realized that she needed a man to protect her, to help her continue as the symbol that she was. GP was the man to clear the way for her, to find the money, to stand beside her in the press of circumstance, to support her in every venture. Although many men could fill such requirements in a husband, Amelia felt that she could find happiness, if it were possible to find it with anybody, only with George Putnam.
For GP his first wife, Dorothy Binney, had given him many good years and two sons. But the Oregon years were in the distant past and by 1928 they had become cool and aloof toward each other. Dorothy Binney divorced him on a formal charge of “failure to provide,” and moved to Florida. George continued at Rye. He was never long without a wife.
The marriage of AE and GP was, to employ a metaphor from flight, a delicate combination of solo and dual. George was forty-two years old; Amelia, thirty-two.
Before the ceremony at the home of George’s mother in Noank, Connecticut, on February 8, 1931, AE gave GP a letter that defined an attitude for the future course of their life together:
Dear GP, there are some things which should be writ. Things we have talked over before—most of them.You must know again my reluctance to marry, my feeling that I shatter thereby chances in work which means so much to me. I feel the move just now as foolish as anything I could do. I know there may be compensations, but have no heart to look ahead.In our life together I shall not hold you to any medieval code of faithfulness to me, nor shall I consider myself boundto you similarly. If we can be honest I think the difficulties which arise may best be avoided....Please let us not interfere with the other’s work or play, nor let the world see our private joys or disagreements. In this connection I may have to keep some place where I can go to be by myself now and then, for I cannot guarantee to endure at all times the confinements of even an attractive cage.I must exact a cruel promise, and that is you will let me go in a year if we find no happiness together.I will try to do my best in every way....
Dear GP, there are some things which should be writ. Things we have talked over before—most of them.
You must know again my reluctance to marry, my feeling that I shatter thereby chances in work which means so much to me. I feel the move just now as foolish as anything I could do. I know there may be compensations, but have no heart to look ahead.
In our life together I shall not hold you to any medieval code of faithfulness to me, nor shall I consider myself boundto you similarly. If we can be honest I think the difficulties which arise may best be avoided....
Please let us not interfere with the other’s work or play, nor let the world see our private joys or disagreements. In this connection I may have to keep some place where I can go to be by myself now and then, for I cannot guarantee to endure at all times the confinements of even an attractive cage.
I must exact a cruel promise, and that is you will let me go in a year if we find no happiness together.
I will try to do my best in every way....
The letter was signed simply “AE.” Willing but reluctant, Amelia Earhart effected the agreement—it would have been too demanding for most men—and became Mrs. George Palmer Putnam.
She had refused marriage at least twice before, and as late as 1930 she had written to a friend, “I am still unsold on marriage.... I think I may not ever be able to see marriage except as a cage until I am unfit to work or fly or be active—and of course I wouldn’t be desirable then....”
Amelia’s mother, Amy Otis Earhart, had been opposed to the marriage. At Greenwich House in New York, where Amelia was occupying the top floor as a celebrity in residence, AE and Mrs. Earhart discussed Amelia’s plans. The mother argued in vain; her daughter had made up her mind.
Hilton H. Railey tried to dissuade GP from his plans. For his efforts Railey was accused of being in love with Amelia himself.
Amelia was often asked her opinion on the marriage-career question. “Marriage is amutualresponsibility,” she would answer. “And I cannot see why husbands shouldn’t share in the responsibility of the home. By that I mean something more detailed—and for as long as it takes them to get used to the idea, perhapsmore arduous, even uncomfortable to the men—than merely keeping a roof over the collective head and coal in the furnace.”
As for her career and its effect on her marriage, she wrote: “It seems to me that the effect of having other interests beyond those exclusively domestic works well. The more one does and sees and feels, the more one is able to do, and the more genuine may be one’s appreciation of fundamental things like home, and love and understanding companionship.”
The problem of money was frequently brought up. “For the woman to pay her own way,” Amelia said, “may add immeasurably to the happiness of those concerned. The individual independence of dollars and cents tends to keep a healthy balance of power in the kingdom of the home. If one’s time is worth more at specialized tasks—writing, flying, interior decorating, what have you—it is good sense to put in one’s hours at such work rather than cooking, cleaning, and mending. Assistants more skilled than myself can be employed to substitute in the housewife role without robbing a marriage of its essence. It is fortunately no longer a disgrace to be undomestic, and married women should be able to seek, as unrestrictedly as men, any gainful occupation their talents and interests make available. Thus—for me—can joyful luxuries like low-wing monoplanes be had—as adding to the sum total of contentment.”
And George Palmer Putnam seconded his wife’s views. GP and AE had a joint bank account and every month each would put part of his earnings toward those regularly recurring bills such as household, doctor, clothes, clubs, automobiles, and trips.
Occasionally some wag would call GP “Mr. Earhart.” “Usually,” George observed, “it was some nitwit who didn’t care whether or not he lived.” But on one occasion GP called himself exactly that.
The Putnams went out to Hollywood to join other celebrities in making a film for charity. In the group were Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford, “America’s Sweethearts,” whom GP and AE had never met.“I,” said Douglas Fairbanks, introducing himself to Miss Earhart, “am Mister Pickford.”
“And I,” said GP, picking up the thread and introducing himself to Mary Pickford, “am Mister Earhart.”
In 1931 GP gave up publishing and went to work for Paramount Pictures as head of the editorial board. He had sold his interest in G. P. Putnam’s Sons to a cousin, Palmer C. Putnam.
GP stayed four years at Paramount. Among his successes wasWings, which promoted Clara Bow, Dick Arlen, and Buddy Rogers to stardom. Playing a bit part in the film was a tall, gangling youth whose name was Gary Cooper.
There were many delightful days in the seven years of their marriage for AE and GP. George spent most of his time working for Paramount in New York. Amelia flew from her cage in the autogiro and advertised Beech-Nut. The flying advertisement had been one of GP’s money-raising ideas. He had many of them.
One, however, Amelia could not accept. It was the “Amelia Earhart Hat.” AE, George, and Hilton Railey were at the Biltmore in New York. GP crossed the room and from behind his back proudly produced a woman’s hat. It was made of russet suède and on the silk band around it was reproduced Amelia’s signature.
Amelia looked at it and turned it in her hands, pensively. Her smile of amusement narrowed to disappointment. “Of course, GP,” she said firmly, “this won’t do at all. You’ll have to cancel it.”
“But I can’t!” George cried out. “I’ve already signed the contract. They’re already made up.”
“Then tell the manufacturer tounmakethem. Tell him at once—right now!” She pointed to a telephone on a small table. “Phone him,” she commanded.
Angrily glaring at Railey, GP flailed his arms and stomped about the room. Amelia waited for the fury to subside.
“Since I can’t very well sue the manufacturer, and youhadmy power of attorney, then I shall most certainly sue you—unless!” She was unyielding; she wanted no part in the scheme.
The matter was settled, and no “Amelia Earhart Hats” were put on the market. Railey, bringing all his powers of persuasion to bear, had talked the manufacturer into tearing up the contract.
But there were other, more acceptable, ideas from George Putnam. Amelia became a woman’s fashion designer for a time, and she modeled her own original creations—the lines simple, classical, functional. She devised buttons, buckles, and other accessories; they were adapted from such airplane parts as a hexagonal nut, a wing light, taillight, parachute buckles, wing bolts, cotter pins, and ball bearings.
She endorsed the Franklin Motor Car; its engine was air cooled like that of her airplane. And there was Earhart luggage, light, practical, and designed for air travel.
Because of his many and varied ideas and activities, AE had a pet name for George—“Simpkin.” The name came from a book Amelia remembered from childhood, which told the story of the Tailor of Gloucester who lived with his cat Simpkin. Simpkin believed in keeping mice in reserve by secreting them under cups; whenever he was bored, he always had a mouse to liven the day. Amelia discovered early in her marriage that she was just another one of the many enterprises that her husband managed. One mouse at a time was not enough for GP; thus his nickname, “Simpkin.”
The marriage of AE and GP produced no children. Nevertheless, it was a happy one for the most part, although a New York columnist had reported in 1933 that AE and GP were on the verge of breaking up. Helen Hutson Weber, who was a house guest in the Rye home, where she was recuperating from a serious illness, chuckled when she read the item. For as she did, AE and GP were out on the patio cavorting like two playful children: George was driving Amelia around in a wheelbarrow, then dumping her on the ground. AE squealed in delight.
Neither George nor Amelia had to meet the pledge of two years before and go their separate ways if they found no happiness together.