Free Before Amelia by Eileen F. Lebow Page A

Education and a Silver Medal from the
Service de Santé de l’Air.
Two years earlier, on her eightieth birthday, she was treated to a flight over Nancy in an F–101 at twelve hundred kilometers per hour by an American officer from the base at Toul–Rosieres—an extraordinary experience for a veteran of bamboo and fabric machines.
    Hailed as “the most extraordinary woman since Joan of Arc” by the American press, Marie more than earned that tribute. Blessed with a long life, she enjoyed the recognition that came to her through the years. She collected many mementos, but they did not buy food or heating in her later years, when she was forced to live very frugally. Older inhabitants of Nancy remembered their famous octogenarian neighbor, who still rode
Zepherine,
her ancient bicycle, around the city streets, but a younger generation had to be reminded of her history on special occasions. Her famous bicycle trip to Paris from Nancy at almost eighty–six was one. Ensconced at the Ritz Hotel, she visited an air base outside Paris and climbed into a French helicopter for a flyover of Paris that made all the city newspapers. (Her pr ivate pilot’s license was renewed three years before, at age eighty–three; her last pilot’s physical examination was dated August 2, 1956, when she was eighty–one. For the authorities, it was a way of honoring this exceptional woman. They knew she would never fly again.)
    Marie’s recipe for good health stipulated four or five hours of sleep and eating half–a–dozen snacks a day, like mountaineers—no big meals. For her, a healthy diet included tender red meat and plenty of chocolate, sugar, and fruit, but no spicy food, bread (it wasn’t made well anymore), boiled beef, or alcohol. It was a regimen that served her well for almost ninety years. Interviewed in Nancy on her birthday in 1958, she announced proudly with a big smile, “I’m eighty–three years old, and I have all my teeth!”
    After all the headlines, decorations, and accolades, Marie died in poverty in 1963 in a nursing home run by the sisters of Sainte Charles in Nancy. Her obituaries were glowing; she would have loved them. Her funeral was dignified and well attended by representatives from the aviation and civilian ranks who knew her legendary record. As one of that special group of women aviation pioneers, her place in history is assured, not just because of the publicity surrounding her countless exploits but because of the steadfastness of character she demonstrated, her concern for those in need, her humor, and her warmth. Asked once why she did so many unusual things, tackled so many risks and challenges, her answer was that of the mountain climber attempting Everest: “Because it is there.” In doing these unusual things, she believed she learned about nature and herself. There was a prayerful side to Marie that many people never saw, but her firm religious belief certainly contributed to her supreme confidence.
    Two years before she died, an interview with Gordon Ackerman for
Sports Illustrated
revealed she had lost none of her sense of humor. She told him with amusement of the city’s plan to build a museum to hold her trophies. When she was ill some years before, the city fathers decided her time had come, and they visited her to tell her their plans to honor her. Said Marie: “So every few days since then somebody has come to look in and see if Marvingt is still around, and if they can start work on the museum. This has been going on for a long time. They are starting to lose interest.” Then she flashed her famous smile, radiant still in old age.

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Vive les Femmes!
    THE FRENCH SKIES continually beckoned women to discover for themselves what the excitement was all about and gain a measure of liberation doing what only men had done. Marthe Niel—even before Hélène Dutrieu and Marie Marvingt had received their