Jacqueline Cochran portrait. Original mixed media art, Denise Voie de Vie, (c) 2015, Leather, Lace, Grit & Grace. |
I have only managed to mark the Labor Day holiday twice here on the blog. I expect it is a weekend during which I attempt to not labor. However, given the current disheartening conversations surrounding U.S. military veterans, combined with how we all are re-conceiving our notions of what constitutes essential labor in these pandemic times, I wanted to share some details of the life of one of our first females of flight, Jacqueline Cochran. This is excerpted and re-edited from two different chapters in my first self-published book, Leather, Lace, Grit & Grace.
Jacqueline Cochran: 1906 - 1980
For all her inconsistency, Jacqueline Cochran (born Bessie Pittman in the Florida panhandle) represents the rags-to-riches story that America just loves.
Jackie grew up poor, with no indoor running water or toilet, and knew she wanted more. She wed a young salesman in 1920, had a baby the next year, and then proceeded to leave the upbringing of her child to her parents as she left Florida to start her career.
Jackie eventually landed in New York and, over dinner one night in 1932, she not only met her second husband, but also found someone willing to bankroll her next business venture (cosmetics), as well as flying lessons. Soon she was flying for both sport and business.
A mere six years later, during which Jackie lived through the disappearance of Amelia Earhart (her best friend among female pilots of the day), she went on to win the Harmon Trophy for best female pilot after beating all the male pilots in a transcontinental race. In case anyone thought it a fluke, Jackie went on to win the Harmon trophy a second year in a row, thus solidifying her position as "first lady of the airlanes."
Soon after, WWII broke out, and Jackie went on to head the WASP program - the Women's Airforce Service Pilots. Conceived as a way to get male pilots to train on the B-29 bomber after one of Boeing's best test pilots died during the bomber's testing phase, the WASPs went on not only to train men, but to also fly every type of plane the military used during WWII. WASPs logged more than 60 million miles in the air, 38 women lost their lives flying planes during WWII, and despite Jackie's impassioned efforts to save the WASP program, it was shut down in 1944. These female pilots never received the military status they so rightly, and still do, deserve.
WASP portrait in front of a B-29. Original mixed media art, Denise Voie de Vie, (c) 2015, Leather, Lace, Grit & Grace. |
Jackie, however, went on to receive the Distinguished Service Medal for her WASP program efforts, was the first female to break the sound barrier, and ran for Congress in 1952. She won her party's primary, but lost in the general election to the first Asian-American congressman,Democrat Dalip Singh Saund.
Her second husband's wealth has (as some commentators have noted) overshadowed Jackie's own business acumen, but she went on to be twice named Associated Press's "Woman of the Year in Business," based on her lucrative cosmetics industry career. Jackie fought hard on behalf of her fellow WASPs, many of which she personally recruited for the program. I expect if Jackie was around today, she would be labelled "ambitious." I also expect she herself would own that label. Ambition and ethics need not be mutually exclusive - Jackie gave selflessly to a program that has yet to be formally recognized by the military.
I initially ascribed "inconsistency" to Jackie's life, but it's more a commentary on American caste than anything else. There is no doubt that Jackie worked tirelessly to improve her station in life. She represents the promise of the American dream, yet many would criticize, in hindsight, her choices, precisely because of the tensions inherent in such a station change.
On this Labor Day weekend, I recognize Jacqueline Cochran, and all the WASPs of the second World War. Their unsung labor and effort (and let's be honest, sheer guts) helped shape the U.S. efforts in WWII. Grit and grace, indeed.
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