Amelia Page #2

And I feel at home.

You okay?

Be better off if the damn radio would

join the party!

Mr. Putnam! There's a call coming in.

Putnam.

I'm afraid we've lost contact

with Miss Earhart's plane, sir.

Keep me informed. Thank you.

We've been flying for 19 hours plus.

How far to land?

Radio is still out.

There's no way to compute wind speed

and drift in the clouds,

so God only knows where Ireland is.

There may be an hour of gasoline left.

Probably less.

If we land on the water now,

we might have a rescue.

And a failure!

That's out.

Hold on to something, for Christ's sake!

Slim, go help her.

Hang on! Okay, I'm coming. Hold on.

Got it. Take my hand.

- Hang on, Slim!

- Help!

You boys all right?

Oh, God!

Land.

Land. Look.

We got land!

We did it!

We're alive!

Nice work!

Amazing!

Glory, hallelujah!

We made it!

Hello!

Hello there!

Hello, young lady!

Fine young fella.

Hello!

Hello there, gentlemen. Hello!

What do you make of that?

Hurry up with it.

You're going to miss it.

Hurry up, man!

Welcome, Miss Earhart!

Miss Earhart!

Morgan, be careful.

That's precious cargo!

There you go,

lovely lady. Watch your step.

Welcome.

Thank you.

Is it Irish tradition

to greet newcomers with song?

I couldn't say. This is Wales!

Bill, look!

Hello, Dorothy.

Are you going to be

the next girls to become pilots?

What?

It feels strange.

We haven't had a moment alone.

Just the two of us.

Miss Earhart,

do you have a statement for the Times?

We're so proud of you!

We love you, Amelia!

Amelia! Not in the rain!

I flew across the Atlantic!

Hold it right there.

Now, this is a list of the shots they want.

Do you have dirt on your face?

I believe you are referring to my freckles.

- They come with the skin.

- I don't like them.

Very heroic. Think Lindbergh.

Lady Lindy. That's what they'll call you.

As I look back on the flight,

I think of two questions

that have been asked me most frequently:

"Where are you going next?"

And "What did you wear?"

Lucky Strike endorsement.

I wrote the copy myself.

What does it say?

"I don't smoke, but you should"?

No, it says that Lucky Strikes were

the only cigarettes aboard the Friendship.

Which is true. I hid them under the seat.

True, maybe, but misleading.

Why would I sign that?

So that Bill and Slim get paid.

Amelia Earhart,

the only woman to fly across the Atlantic,

just can't keep her feet on the ground.

The publisher George Putnam

has commissioned her

to write a book on her flying adventures.

- Thanks, fellas!

You're welcome, Miss Earhart.

You didn't have to come get me.

You do have a dress to change into, I hope.

- Well, it's just a college class, George.

- No, no, no.

No. You have to take

every appearance seriously.

You never know what it might lead to.

Spoken by a man who should know.

What was that for?

Good luck?

What happened to tipping your hat

and crossing your fingers?

Oh, I'm afraid I'm way beyond that now,

like it or not.

I think I like it.

What did your mother say when she knew

you flew across the Atlantic?

Well, she sent a telegram

congratulating me

and then she said the next time

she wants to sit beside me in the cockpit.

How did it feel to fly over the ocean?

Were you scared?

When I looked down at the sea,

it seemed much like the sky to me.

As if the sky and the sea were the same.

I felt much as I do

when I'm flying upward toward the sun.

Transported somehow to a simple,

safe, beautiful place,

where everything is comprehensible.

Welcome to

the Chicago Congress Plaza Hotel.

Good night, Amelia.

Good night.

It must have been moonglow

Way up in the blue

It must have been moonglow

That led me straight to you

I still hear you...

Dance with me, George.

And I keep on praying

"Oh, Lord, please let this last"

We seemed to float right through the air

Heavenly songs

Seemed to come from everywhere

And now when there's moonglow

Way up in the blue

I'll always remember

That moonglow gave me you

Hello, Elinor.

Mr. Putnam.

Yes, please come in.

Amelia.

Miss Smith.

I've been following your career

with a great deal of admiration.

Oh, Miss Earhart,

you are such an inspiration.

I never get tired

of reading about you.

They're saying

you get $500 a week on the lecture circuit.

- On a good week.

- On a bad week.

Depends on

whether you want the real or the sell.

Oh, I don't underestimate

the value of selling.

A 16-year-old girl

makes headlines illegally flying

under the four bridges of the East River.

You don't seem to need

much help selling yourself.

Actually, Mr. Putnam,

I was hoping you could do to

me what you've done to her.

What's your primary ambition?

To take Amelia's place as

the number one female pilot.

- You want a tip?

- I do.

If I listened to everyone

who said it was impossible,

I'd never be flying.

Don't let anyone turn you around.

You're all here.

Thank you.

So lovely to see you.

- Hello.

Good evening.

Good evening, Miss Earhart.

Marvelous party.

Oh, Amelia. This is Gene Vidal.

Amelia Earhart, the aviatrix.

She's a friend of George's.

How do you do, Miss Earhart?

Quite well, Mr. Vidal.

Thank you.

I understand you're writing a book

about your transatlantic journey

under the tutelage of the master.

Yes.

You enjoying your stay here in Rye?

I must say, I'm a bit out of my element.

The distance between this world

and where I come from

is as great as the distance

between the sun and the moon.

And you believe the whole

"opposites attract" theory is...

Pure hooey.

- Where are you from?

- Kansas.

"Hooey" is a Kansas word?

Yes, I suppose it is.

Public relations.

It's a new field, entirely new.

It's not publicity, not promotion.

Miss Earhart. May I call you Amelia?

We may be from different worlds,

but we have more in common

than you might imagine.

- Is that so?

- Yes. I'm a teacher,

at West Point, true, but still a teacher.

What do you teach?

Flying.

Listen, Amelia...

This is the first time

I've ever seen you stumped for a word.

What is it?

Marry me.

- What?

- I want you to marry me.

I don't want to get married, George.

I'm not the marrying kind.

Don't you see

you and I embarking on a new life?

Dear George.

Only I can make a

fulfilling life for myself.

I don't believe

that one can have a fulfilled life alone.

Only when it's shared.

Let me share your life with you.

Let me try to give you whatever you want.

When I was a little girl,

for my seventh birthday

my father gave me a globe.

And I'd spend hours just spinning it slowly,

reading the names of all those strange,

faraway places.

Morocco. Spain. Ethiopia.

Dreaming that someday

I would go to those places,

like a wayfarer,

a traveler,

a vagabond.

I want to be free, George.

To be a vagabond of the air.

I'll help you get there.

Thanks.

Hello!

Give me the camera.

I am on my shining adventure,

flying the world.

No borders, just horizons.

Only freedom.

Dear G.P.,

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