Before Amelia Read Online Free PDF Page A

infractions of the rules, and the press called for a limit to the number of machines that could safely fly at one time. Raymonde was fined twenty francs for not observing the rule of the road; Jan Olieslagers, one hundred francs for passing too near another flier. Flying over the heads of spectators was forbidden.
    On the sixth day of the meet, dressed in her distinctive white sweater, white hood, and gray divided skirt, Raymonde took to the air for the five thousand–franc ladies’ prize, for which she was the lone competitor. Passing in front of the grandstand, where the convivial crowds cheered her loudly, her machine was pitching uneasily in a seven-to eleven–milean–hour wind. On the second lap she rose high and wide as she rounded the pylon at the far end of the field, some nine hundred yards from the grandstand, leading a field that included Lindpaintner, Bartolomeo Cattaneo, and Latham. What happened next depends on the viewer reporting.
    Suddenly, Raymonde’s machine was seen to dip earthward and hit the ground with terrific force. According to one account, she was rattled when another aeroplane cut across her in the turn; the Voisin shuddered and swerved, side–slipped, and hit the ground. Another version blamed the draft from a machine that passed over her, causing her to turn off her ignition. Her machine glided briefly, then fell “like a meteorite” two hundred feet to the ground, shattering on impact. Another reporter wrote that two aeroplanes swung out to pass her, one on each side, without realizing the effect on the Voisin’s pilot. Startled, she either pulled the wrong lever or let go of both levers, causing the elevation planes to tilt downward and the machine to plunge to earth out of control. The correspondent for the London
Times
observed the scene through strong glasses and reported that following Raymonde’s exceptionally wide turn more than one machine was taking the turn closer than she had. She apparently started to come down from two hundred feet in a gentle slope that changed suddenly “to a sharp dive, and she shot down the last 150 feet at an angle of 60 degrees.” The crowds shrieked in terror, women fainted, and scores of men rushed to the wreckage, where the bloodied pilot lay beside her machine. Lindpaintner, who had flown his Sommer biplane near her, was nearly lynched by angry Voisin men on landing, but an investigation by a committee of judges cleared him of wrongdoing.
    On regaining consciousness, the severely injured baroness blamed the backwash from an aeroplane that cut in front of her for bringing her machine down. In her woozy state, she was more incensed that the aviator had not been punished for flying close to her than worried about her own condition. First reports indicated she had multiple fractures of the arms and legs and possible internal injuries. One Paris newspaper had her fatally injured, but most of the press focused on the terrible wreck and their wishes for her recovery. Her fall in January was retold with hints that bad luck was pursuing her, that she had lost her coolheadedness. More measured accounts pointed out the danger of crowding at air meets, especially “inconsiderate driving,” which was blamed for other recent accidents by a competitor’s backdraft.
    The shock of the accident led
Le Monde
to contact Raymonde’s parents and reveal that she had a son, André, a boy of seven, who lived with his grandparents. Raymonde’s mother, who was stricken by the news, said the boy was the spitting image of his mother, whom he worshiped. In fact, the child had gone to Rheims with his godmother to watch the meet. This one mention of a son is the only one in all the articles about his mother, showing that it was still possible in 1910 for famous people to have a private life shielded from public scrutiny.
    The crash triggered critical comments from aviation writers, who pointed to it as proof that in an