Judge — March 1938 — page 20: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE POWDER PUFF PILOTS By Paul Gallico NE dry, hot, dusty afternoon in the summer of 1928, a gang of miscreants was scratching listlessly at the surface of the State of Kansas. They were temporary, and, in some cases, per- manent guests of a Kansas State Prison farm. An airplane clattered along high in the sky. All of a sudden the clatter- ing stopped and the ship began to circle. It spiralled down to a neat three-point landing at the feet, practically, of the assembled caitiffs, rolled to a stop, and Ruth Elder got out. Practically unani- mously, the convicts leaned upon their hoes, mattocks and brassies, rattled their chains once or twice lentissimo and broke into, “Oh, if I had the wings of an angel...” They pronounced it “Nane-jel."" You might too, if La Elder suddenly descended upon you from on high. The young lady had merely run out of gas. She was flying in the first Wom. en's Transcontinental Air Race, in con- nection with the Cleveland National Air Races. Much to the disgust of the lovely angels entered, it was known by the pro- moters as the “Powder Puff Derby.” “WHAT'S THE MATTER? CANCHA READ!” There are some who claim that is how the name “Powder Puff Pilot” for lady pilots originated. But veteran pilots and guys who hang around airports say that the first thing a lady pilot does after she has set her ship down, taxied it up to the line, and cut the switch, is reach for a purse jammed down in the map pocket in the cockpit, open it and powder her nose. Don’t laugh at the Powder Puff Pilots. When their ships spin and crash they bleed and die like any man, only a little more horribly because they wear white monkey suits and helmets. I once saw one die as terribly and gallantly as the bravest man that ever flew. There is a girl pilot named Phoebe Omlie. She comes from Memphis. When the floods came to the South, she and her husband in sepa. rate ships flew food and medi. cal supplies to the stricken, stranded families. She would skim her ship a hundred feet above the yellow, turbulent wa. ters until she spotted a cluster of frightened humanity swarmed about a ledge of dry land. Then she would thunder down to the Red Cross base, load up with clothing, medicines and things to eat, return, and bomb them with Mercy. She played a man’s part during those days. That first Powder Puff Derby was one of the toughest races ever held. A pretty creature named Marvel Crosson cracked up her Lockheed during its course and was killed. Lady tennis players may have funny legs and be a third of a second slower than men; lady golfers may wiggle their hips. Lady sports enthusiasts in practically any game are swell material for gags and laughs. But there is one thing you must admit about the powder puff gals if you know anything about flying. They do their job as well as a man or they don't get off the ground. Ask the average expert male pilot what is the essential dif- ference between men and wom. en fliers and he will tell you that it is merely the length of their. hair and that now and then a lady pilot will get hys- terics, but not until she has set The Judge comicbooks.com