 The DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the Cavalcade of America. Tonight's star, Joan Caulfield. Tonight's story, Daughter with Wings. They said it was because I was a woman that nature didn't intend women to fly aeroplanes. They very thought it was ridiculous, they said. Laughable. Monstrous. I had only one answer. Rubbish. A young woman wrote those words on a day in 1912. The author was the pioneer aviatrix of America. A girl whose courage, stubborn determination, and farsighted vision opened up the entire field of aviation for women. Her name was Harriet Quimby, and this is her story. It's just around the turn of the century. Harriet, a very young girl, is living quietly with her widowed mother in Boston. Did I say living quietly? Door and get... what on earth are you doing? Hanging pictures. There. Well, how do they look? Perfectly dreadful, dear. Would you like lamb chops for dinner? Over. Those are pictures of the Wright brothers. Yes, dear. Get two lamb chops, I think. I don't think you understand, Mother. Orville and Wilbur Wright. They're just going to change the world. That's all they're going to do. That's nice. But don't you think your room looked prettier without them? Well, all my friends have pictures. Well, of course, I notice all girls seem to have pictures of Lily and Russell or someone like that. But the Wright brothers. Well, I like them. Well, of course, dear. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but... Just think, Mother. They went up in the sky. Two men and a machine in the sky, lying around up there like they were birds. Of course, only one can do it at a time. But think of it, Mother. A machine in the sky. Yes, dear. I know. Two men who dreamed of flying, just as I've always dreamed of flying. Only they did it. In a box they made themselves out of bailing staves and chicken wire. Oh, just look at those pictures, Mother. Aren't they handsome? Yes, dear. Very handsome. Oh, and, Mother, I was wondering, would you mind very much if someday I flew? No, not at all. And you can start right now by flying down to the store to get those lamb chops. Oh, Mother, can't you see? I'm serious. Yes, dear. I think I do see. Well, I don't suppose there's any reason why you shouldn't fly someday. But I can't imagine what the neighbors would think. It was some years before Mother and I had a chance to find out. I completed my schooling in Boston and obtained a position as a journalist, a member of the writing staff of the magazine Leslie's Weekly. And it seemed to me that my dream of flying was only a dream. And one day it happened. It began the moment I saw the item in the Boston paper. I was in my bedroom. Mother was in the parlor serving tea to two of her friends, Miss Lynn and Martha White. Cream, Martha? Please, Lynn? No, Cream, dear, but perhaps a drop of milk. The English say one should never take cream and tea. It unbalances the flavor. Oh? Mm-hmm. Never cream. Only milk. Oh, you should see out the way round. Mother! Mother! What's that, Harriet? Mother! Oh, my goodness, you're supposed something's wrong. Mother, the most marvelous thing in the paper. We'll just listen to this. Harriet! Oh, good afternoon, Miss Martha, Miss Lynn. Good. Mother, listen. Harriet, be a cadet, wait. But it's the very first time it's happened in America. And it's a vital interest. Not just to me, but to all women. Of interest to all women? Oh, we did Harriet the article read. This is to announce that the Moisson School of Aviation has been established in the Hempstead Plains section of Long Island. All who are interested in the modern art of flying are invited to enroll as students for further particulars right to John Moisson Hempstead Plains Long Island. Yes, go on. Oh, that's all there is to this drawing. But you said of interest to women. Oh, yes, don't you see? It doesn't mention women at all. Well, shoot it. Well, if it had meant just men, it would have said so. But it says all who are interested in flying. That means women, too. But what woman would be interested in flying? I would. You? Harriet. Well, I know it must be a shock, but oh, I want to enroll. Shock? Why, my dear? Well, mother understands. Don't you, mother? Well, I'm not... Oh, the poor woman. Look at her sitting there with her own daughter telling her she wants to go up in a flying machine like her. Well, like a man, that's worth. It's not ladylike, Harriet. Well, I mean, what would you do with your skirts up there, all that wind? Oh, they have special suits for flying, Miss Martha. Leggings and goggles and helmets and... Ah, for the men, yes. But a lady and leggings. Harriet, if the good lord had intended us to fly, he'd have given us wings. Well, exactly. Well, we ride in automobiles, but we're not born with tires, Harriet. Well... Oh, excuse me, I didn't mean to be rude. Well, that's all right, Harriet. You don't need to consider our feelings, but there is someone you should consider. Who's that? Your mother. Oh, oh, yes, you're right. Oh, I was just talking. I couldn't really quit my job and go off to Long Island, leaving mother here all alone. Why not? Well, it wouldn't make sense. Mother, mother, you... You mean I could? I should hope so. Elizabeth! Martha, for the last ten years, I've listened to this child talk of nothing but flying. Now that her chances come, there's just one thing I regret. And what's that? That I can't go out and fly myself. What? Good heaven. And if you were honest, Martha White, you'd admit you had the same feeling. Well, I must say that I have thought about this. You have, Martha? I didn't like to mention it, but there was I. You, too. Ha ha ha! The following morning, I resigned my position, mother helped me pack in the afternoon, and then we hurried to my train. There was no time for goodbyes with old friends. My excitement carried me through, almost to the moment I boarded the train. Almost, but not quite. What's the matter, Harriet? I'm just wondering if I can selfish. You're going to have to take the brunt of all this when people hear what I'm doing. I'll manage. There'll be talk. My dear, no matter what a person does in Boston, Boston will talk. I'm used to it. You're not to worry about me. You'll be known as the mother of that crazy Quinby girl. I'm sure of it. You? Oh, Miss Lin, Miss Lin. Oh, sir. Girls, I'm so glad you came. Well, we just couldn't let Harriet go without saying good-bye. Oh, sweet of you. Oh, you know, I feel much better about everything now. Will you stay by, mother, if people start to talk? Of course we will. Oh, that's what we'll be talked about. Don't worry about your notoriety, Harriet. We three are going to enjoy it. Oh, we are. And that's indeed talked about without having to do anything immortal. What? Goodbye, my dear. Right. Oh, every day. Oh, Martha. I'll present. Give it to her. A present? Oh, you shouldn't... Well, now it's nothing much, Harriet. We thought it might be useful. It's some equipment for your flying machine. A hot water bottle. Oh, wonderful. I'll think of you every time I take it up with me. What? Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. The last thing I saw were those sweet, wonderful ladies smiling bravely and waving gaily. At the pain-gathered speed, they were hurled from sight. And now there was nothing to see but the future. I couldn't fail. I just couldn't. It's impossible, Miss Quimby. You want to learn to fly. It's ridiculous. But, Mr. Moiseau, I don't see what's so ridiculous about it. Your advertisement in the paper said your school would... Forgive me. I do not mean anything personal. And I understand your wish to fly. For those who have that wish, it's like a fever. And I sympathize. But a woman is not constitutionally fit for flying. What about the girl I saw out in the field in an aeroplane? The girl out on the field? Oh, it's only Tilly, my sister. She feels about airplanes the way you do, so I let her sit in one once in a while. Well, would you allow me, as you have your sister, to just sit in an aeroplane? You want to just sit in one, too? Well, perhaps drive it a bit on the ground. I'd be willing to pay just as though it were a regular lesson. You would pay even the breakage fee? Breakage? Well, injury to the airplane. Of course, nothing much could happen to it on the ground. Oh, I'm happy to pay for breakage. Oh, please, Mr. Moiseau, I know it sounds silly, but... Yes, it does sound silly, but... Charming must be coming to a woman. Miss Quimby, I'll do it. I'll see that you get an instructor and learn how to fly on the ground. And so my lessons began. For days on end, I learned how to steer the tail and guide the wings and gaze the throttle. I learned how to do everything but fly. So, sitting there in the cockpit, not leaving the ground, it was nothing I could do wrong to the plane. My breakage fee was safe. But then one day, after I was allowed to move up and down the field... Haven't you had enough for one day? I should think you would be tired. Just one more turn and I'll call it a day. Stand back now. Mr. Moiseau. Oh, oh, hello, Bill. Those new parts ain't coming yet. They ain't that Quimby out there. Look at her. She's so happy. She would eat her lunch in the cockpit if we'd let her. That Dame never gets up, does she? I think she hopes that one of these days we'll take pity on her and let her fly. No, I don't think that's what she hopes at all. I don't understand. We'll take a look. Well, she's nearing the end of the field. Oh, but she's going too fast to make the turn. That's what I mean. But you'll crush the fence. Crotter it up, Quimby. Lift it. Get it off the ground. Lift it. Look at her go. She made it. Did you see that, Bill? She made it. She's over the fence. She's flying. She's up. Oh, beautiful. Oh, yes, yes, it is beautiful. But mon dieu, now that she's up, how will she ever get down? Tonight on the Cavalcade of America, Joan Caulfield is starring as Harriet Quimby, the young American girl who more than anything in the world wanted to fly. Harriet Quimby persuaded John Wasi to let her become a pupil at his school, even if it only meant learning to maneuver a plane on the ground. And then it happened. One day during the course of this instruction, Miss Quimby alone in her plane took off. She circled the field and then started to come in for a landing with the astonished eyes of Wasi and his mechanic. Her approach is too high. Miss Quimby, too high. Oh, if she could only hear. Looks like she did. Hey, she's settling it easy. Oh, good, good, good. That's the way, Quimby. Nice and easy. Look at that, our perfect landing. I'll give her a perfect landing. She had no ruck. I will give her several perfect landing. Miss Quimby, Miss Quimby. Mr. Wasi, did you see what happened? Miss Quimby, it was a terrible thing that you did. Well, I know it wasn't. I think you ought to do something about it. For what? Well, you can have me arrested if you want to. I certainly would if I could. If you could? You mean there's no law that says women can't fly? You're making fun of me, Miss Quimby. Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Wasi. Miss Quimby, I... How did you like it? Up in the sky. Oh, I can't tell you what it was like to feel myself lifted from the earth into the clouds. Well, it was the most thrilling, the most wonderful... It's quite chilly up there, isn't it? Well, the next time you dress more warmly. The next time? Certainly, next time you want to be a flyer, you must work at it. Oh, I don't know how to... I don't want you to thank me. I think maybe you will hate me before it's over. You will fly morning, noon, and night all day every day you will fly when it is hot, when it is cold. You will fly with your head, your eyes, your hands, the seats of your pants. Please, Mr. Wasi. What? Oh, that's only an expression flyer's use, meaning to fly well. Oh. You can start tomorrow. And the first thing to do is to correct the mistakes you made today. For example, when you circle the field, your turns were too sharp. Wide angles is what you want. From then on, I flew all day every day from early morning till dusk. What? There were days when we couldn't fly because of bad weather. But those were the days we were busiest with a never-ending inspection and repairs of our motor. Er, Harriet. Harriet. Oh, calling me? What are you doing? Oh, I'm changing the oil. Your face. I would not know you. Crankcase oil. Good for the complexion. Uh-huh. Harriet. It has come. What? Oh, so the new tubing we want? No, no, no, no, no, no. This. Open it. Read it. Open my hand. No, no, no. Read it. Oh. This is to certify that Miss Harriet Quinby is a judged, qualified, and aerial pilot. Is a judged, qualified, and aerial proficiency. And is hereby issued an Arrow Club of America aviators license. I don't believe it. And there is something attached. A special note from the president of the club congratulating you on being the first woman in America to receive an aviators license. I congratulate you, too, Harriet. You make me very proud that it was here in my school where you were taught to fly. Thank you. You see, you made it just as you already said you would. Now you're on your own, a full-fledged flyer. Does it make you happy? Oh, yes, of course it does. But, well, you know, it's funny. I thought that nothing could make me happier than getting my license. But I was wrong. I find I'm much happier about something else. Something else? What's that? My breakage money. Your what? My breakage money. Can I have it back? I didn't break anything. Oh. It was a year later. I had been flying constantly for any cause at any chance just to stay in the air. Billed as a daring bird woman, I flew in exhibitions at county fairs all over the country sharing honors with lady parachute jumpers. The noise, the excitement, the crowds were all a part of that year. If I was considered something of a curiosity, well, it didn't matter. I was flying. But the time came when I knew I'd have to move ahead. And ahead lay England. This is a nice stateroom. There you'll have a lovely trip. Mother, if you think I'm out of my mind, say it. My dear, if you have a good reason for wanting to be the first woman to fly the English Channel, a good reason, mind you. Then, of course, I don't think you're out of your mind. I have a good reason. There are so many good channel boats flying in the world you want to fly. Mother, that's not the point, and you know it. All I know is that three men have tried the Channel crossing and crashed. So apparently sex has nothing to do with it. What are you talking about? Mother, women haven't been welcome in aviation. Men flyers as dentists. Oh, they give us all sorts of reasons to keep us out of playing, but they haven't kept us out. All right, so now women flyers are something to gawk at, but we are flying. And the next step is the Channel. But not to fly as a stunt, but as a competent flyer. Oh, if I can just convince the world that women want to help advance flying, then there will always be a place for women in aviation. Mother understood, and her quiet belief in me gave me the confidence I needed. Monsieur Blairio, a manufacturer of planes in France, also believed in me. He shipped a plane to Dover where I was to take off. He even arranged to have one of England's finest aviators advise me. Finest aviators, and one of the handsomest men I'd ever seen. Oh, Miss Crimby. Yes? Oh, I say. Well, what are you staring at? Well, I didn't expect to find anyone so lovely. Oh, thank you, Mr. Hammond. Oh, you know my name? Oh, of course I know you. You're one of the finest aviators in England, probably in the world. Oh, dear, what an exaggeration. Miss Crimby, what would you say if I tried to dissuade you from flying the Channel? It would be a complete waste of time, but... Don't you realize the danger of it? Mr. Hammond, if I hear once more how dangerous flying is for women, oh, I think I'll... Oh, I'm sorry. No offense. I meant no reflection on your ability. It's just that... That I'm a woman. Mr. Hammond, I can fly it as well as a man can, and nothing you or anyone else can say will make me change my mind. I see. Well, in that case, Miss Crimby, would you allow me to help you prepare for your trip? You mean you would? I should love to. I could help you map out your flight plan and help you with your compass, things like that. Oh, I'd be so grateful. Tell me, when do you think I can take off? Oh, I'd say in a week, perhaps two. Two weeks? Well, I want to leave in two hours as soon as the motor's been checked. Why is that so impossible? The engine alone would take two, three, probably four days. All right, Mr. Hammond, we'll make it two days, but only two. Well, it's the second day, Mr. Hammond. Is the airplane ready? Yes, the mechanics are working on it all night long. It's all ready. Oh, good. Would you start the engine for me, please? Harriet. Harriet, please just don't make this flight. What? Look, I'll tell you what we'll do. What do you mean what we'll do? Everyone's waiting. No, all right, all right. You will make the flight. At least that's what they'll think. Now, you go back to the hangar as though you've forgotten something. I haven't forgotten anything. Well, you just pretend. And when you get out of sight, take off your flying suit. In a few moments, I'll sneak into the hangar and I'll put it on. When I come out, they'll think I'm you. I'll fly the plane and I'll land out in the country in France somewhere where there's not many people. No one will ever know that you didn't fly the channel. Do you know what you're saying? Yes. But do you know why I'm saying it? Maybe I do. But... Well, I'm making the flight. And nothing will change your mind? No. I'm grateful and touched. But no. All right, then. If there's nothing I can say, can I help you up? Oh, thanks. There we are. And Harriet, now listen to me carefully. Try not to get too nervous. I'll try not to. And watch your right, brother. Yes. And remember, keep your nose on her eyes. Right. All right. Now, are you all set? Oh, there's just one thing I need. Yes, what? Well, my hot water bottle. Will you hand it to me, please? And into the fog that hung low that morning over the English Channel, Harriet Quimby guided her little creaky monoplane. She was not alone. Fear rode beside her as the 50-horsepower engine putted through the enveloping mist. The moment seemed like hours. And there was one moment. The converter had putted. Then miraculously cleared and on she drove through the mist. Then suddenly the fog lifted. A head was a white strip of sand. The coast of France with tears of joy and pride in her eyes and the prayer of thanksgiving in her heart. Harriet Quimby cut the switch of her engine and began gliding down to a French field and into her place beside aviation's immortals. Our thanks to Joan Caulfield and the Cavalcade players for tonight's story. Daughter with wings. Tonight's DuPont Cavalcade was written by Edith Sommer and Robert Soderberg. Original music was composed by Arden Cornwell conducted by Donald Boris. The program was directed by John Zoller. With Joan Caulfield, our Cavalcade cast included Arnold Moss as Mossat, Katherine Rod as Mrs. Quimby, FLO on as Martha, Arlene Blackburn as Lynn, Chester Stratton as Hamill, and Dan Aco as Bill. And now this is Cy Harris reminding you to be with us next week when the DuPont Cavalcade will present The Quality of Courage, Donald Kerry. The DuPont Cavalcade of America came to you tonight from the Belasco Theater in New York City and is sponsored by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. Makers of better things for better living, through chemistry.