The story of renowned aviator Amelia Earhart has captivated audiences for nearly a century, particularly the mystery surrounding her disappearance in 1937 while attempting to become the first female pilot to fly around the world. Earhart was an adept pilot, yet her inclination towards recklessness complicates her legacy. A new book, The Aviator and the Showman: Amelia Earhart, George Putnam, and the Marriage that Made an American Icon, posits that her marriage to the flamboyant publisher George Putnam may have contributed to her eventual fate.
Author Laurie Gwen Shapiro, a longtime admirer of Earhart, has revisited her iconic life through this new lens. Shapiro, who previously learned about Earhart from a Scholastic short biography, rekindled her fascination while working on her 2018 book, The Stowaway. This book discusses a young man’s adventures stowing away on Admiral Richard Byrd‘s expedition to Antarctica, with Putnam serving as the marketing genius behind the story.
Shapiro’s exploration of Earhart’s life was fueled by the revelation that Earhart began her relationship with Putnam as his mistress, contradicting her earlier pristine image. She says, “I was less interested in how she died than how she lived. Was she a good pilot? Was she a good, kind person? Was this a real marriage? The mystery of Amelia Earhart is not how she died, but how she lived.” Shapiro’s thorough research has drawn from a wealth of recently available materials, including over 200 hours of tapes from the Smithsonian’s Amelia Earhart Project, which feature interviews with Earhart’s sister, Muriel. Shapiro dedicated an extra six months to her research to meticulously review these recordings, along with archives from several universities and interviews with previous Earhart biographers.
In her engaging retelling of Earhart’s early experiences, Shapiro introduces new details about the aviator’s relationship with a benefactor in California, a 63-year-old billboard magnate named Thomas Humphrey Bennett Varney, who wished to marry her. However, Earhart ultimately chose to accept a proposal from Samuel Chapman, a young chemical engineer. Shapiro notes, “Amelia could have had a very different life… But I don’t think that was the life Amelia Earhart wanted, even if that meant she had a shorter life.”
Shapiro does not overlook Putnam’s role in the narrative, characterizing him as the “PT Barnum of publishing.” The family business, G.P. Putnam and Sons, was established in 1838, and by the late 1920s, George, eager to modernize the company, sought to secure his place among the successors. He attracted attention by publishing Charles Lindbergh‘s celebrated memoir, We, in 1927, and subsequently produced a number of sensational adventure memoirs chronicling the journeys of young explorers, often with tragic outcomes.
Recognizing the appeal of aviation stories in light of Lindbergh’s success, Putnam swiftly shifted gears when it came to his next project—sponsoring a woman for a flight. With financial backing from steel heiress Amy Phipps Guest, he positioned the initiative as not only a groundbreaking endeavor but also a clever publicity tactic. While initial reluctance from The New York Times to sponsor a female pilot threatened to derail the project, Putnam’s influence helped overcome those barriers.
Love at First Sight
Earhart, then a social worker in Boston, quickly captured Putnam’s attention during interviews for a spot on the crew of the trans-Atlantic flight in 1928. Shapiro notes that for Putnam, who faced marital issues with Crayola heiress Dorothy Binney, it was “love at first sight.” Despite being engaged to Chapman and Putnam still married, he ardently pursued Earhart.
The two eventually ended their respective engagements. Shapiro recounts a Smithsonian tape revealing a moment when Putnam’s wife discovered them together, adding a layer of scandal to the already tumultuous Jazz Age context. “Amelia wanted to achieve her dreams. Who are we to say a woman can’t marry a man who can give her a path to being wealthy?” she reflects.
Following the successful 1928 flight, which garnered Earhart the nickname “Lady Lindy,” Putnam lavished her with gifts. However, the onset of the Great Depression in 1929 strained their luxurious lifestyle and forced Putnam into financial turmoil after his removal from the family firm.
Earhart and Putnam wed in 1931 after Putnam’s tumultuous divorce from Binney. Their marriage was unconventional for its time, with Earhart maintaining her maiden name and separate finances. She viewed the union as a partnership and expressed her desire for independence in a letter on their wedding day, writing, “I may have to keep some place where I can go to be myself, now and then, for I cannot guarantee to endure at all times the confinement of even an attractive cage.”
As Putnam’s financial circumstances grew strained, he urged Earhart to embark on lecture tours, which involved stunt flights that would lead to published works and speaking engagements. Shapiro underscores the practicality of their partnership, noting, “It started out more romantically, but at a certain point, they needed each other to survive.”
Then came Earhart’s ill-fated final flight. The night before her departure, she hesitated due to nerves. Yet Putnam, eager for publicity and the corresponding book release, convinced her to proceed. Although her navigator, Fred Noonan, was experienced, his alcohol dependence posed concerns. Such decisions culminated in tragic events.
Shapiro characterizes the final flight as plagued by mechanical failures, suggesting it was more about marketing than a well-planned mission. She argues that while Earhart was an outstanding aviator, her refusal to learn key skills and heed warnings contributed to her downfall. “She was a decent flyer, and beyond brave… she aided the aviation industry during the Great Depression as a likable ambassador of the air,” Shapiro reflects.
Nonetheless, Shapiro contends that Earhart’s marriage to Putnam intensified her reckless tendencies. “Is it George’s fault, or is it Amelia’s fault? I don’t think that’s fair to say,” she states. The duo’s shared ambition brought mutual benefits, yet it also led them to take substantial risks, often neglecting crucial details. “Tremendous bravery is commendable,” Shapiro concludes, “but when charisma trumped caution and the showman insisted the show must go on, the results were fatal.”
