Noonan’s Crown

Abstract

Noonan’s Crown Neal Bowers (bio) —Fred Noonan vanished with Amelia Earhart on July 2, 1937, during an attempt to fly around the world. He was her navigator for the flight. She told me she was not afraid to die,then tried to prove it by the way she flew,full-throttle and at altitudes so highthe breathless sky became a blacker blue. I swear the stars were visible at noonas we rose over daylight and mere time,toward irrelevance of sun and moonbeyond the upper limits of our climb. Then came our mad descent, with barrel rollsand spirals, loop-the-loops and figure eights,which she completed in a death-defying stalland free fall from those unforgiving heights. She was Queen of the Air, in death supreme;I was a phantom in a mirror in a dream. 2 I was a phantom in a mirror in a dream,a blur, a no one, with a name to match, hitchhiking in the slipstream of a famethat was impossible for me to catch. [End Page 359] Perhaps she took my insignificanceas her excuse to lift me into space, then pulverize me to irrelevanceon the stones of some undiscoverable place where even insects wouldn’t come to celebratethe feast of me in all my particles, as she dispersed in ether to intoxicatethe world with her mysterious debacle. I kept my mouth shut, and I went along,because Amelia could do no wrong. 3 Because Amelia could do no wrong,she never took the blame for anythingbut found somebody else to pin it on,even if the fault was her bad piloting. So, when she crashed while taking off, she saidthe ground crew filled the fuel tanks unevenly,then settled on a blown-out tire instead,though I could tell she wanted to blame me. Because she flew by nerve more than by skill,she was a fatal crash that hadn’t happened yet,and flying with her was a terrifying thrill,like lifting up the gun in Russian roulette. My one regret, down to the very bone—I promised not to drink until the trip was done. [End Page 360] 4 I promised not to drink until the trip was done,then modified that promise with a sip or two,and quickly went from saying “just the one”to losing count and pissing on my shoeoutside a bar in some forsaken colony,where we put down for fuel and to breakthe tedium of one another’s company;of course, Amelia did not partakeof any alcoholic beveragebut stayed behind to watch over the plane,striking poses in the silver fuselageof Deco goddess and Egyptian crane.Meanwhile, while I could almost barely think,I thumped the bar for one more thumping drink. 5 I thumped the bar for one more thumping drink,then cursed myself for spilling most of it and called the bartender a goddamned finkwhen he refused to cover the deficit but cut me off, instead, showed me the door,the midnight street without a single light, and never mind the rain, the mangy curthat nipped me as I stepped into the night, my head bent low above my sodden shoes,so sorry for myself I had to laugh and sing a few lines of the Noonan Bluesinto the shearing wind and the storm’s wrath: Wanted me a new life of harmony and joy,but my new wife found Amelia too coy. [End Page 361] 6 My new wife found Amelia too coy—her hair combed as if tousled by the wind,her dungarees and neckerchief a ployto understate her sex but remind menthere was a woman underneath those clothes. “It’s just another kind of tease,” she said,“the tomboy look, the freckles, and the poseof innocence, the way she tips her headand offers up that shy smile for the lens.She pulls men in while pushing them away,which is the heart of her allure, her siren’scall across the drowning rocks where her kind plays.” Scoffing at her foolish jealousy and fears,I...