SPEAKER_03: Hello! From WonderMedia Network, I'm Jenny Kaplan, and this is Womanica.
SPEAKER_00: This month we're talking about adventurers, women who refuse to be confined. They push the boundaries of where a woman could go and how she could get there. Today we're talking about an aviatrix who never took no for an answer. She crossed an ocean to get her pilot's license, delighted audiences with high-flying feats, and fought for the right to take flight. Let's talk about Bessie Coleman. Bessie was born on January 26, 1892, in Atlanta, Texas. She was one of 13 kids born to Susan and George Coleman, Black Day laborers and sharecroppers. When Bessie was little, the family moved to Waxahachie, a small town south of Dallas. They lived in a small shotgun house. A quiet life lasted just seven years before George packed up and left. The Colmans were no strangers to racial oppression in Jim Crow, Texas. So George, who was part Native American, thought there could be a better future for the family in Indian Territory, what today is called Oklahoma. He asked his family to come with him, but Susan refused. She and the kids would remain in Texas. Bessie grew up studying in a one-room schoolhouse, helping her mother with odd jobs to make ends meet and dreaming of something beyond the flat plains of Waxahachie. By the time she turned 18, Bessie was itching to get out. She enrolled at a university in Oklahoma, but after just one semester, her money ran out and it was back home to Waxahachie for a few more years. As she did other people's laundry, she dreamed of getting out again. And she did. In 1915, she moved to Chicago, where she found work as a manicurist. It was there, one fall day in 1919, that her brother John showed up drunk to her manicurist's table. He was taunting her about her job. He'd served in the army in France. He'd seen another way of life. And he went on and on about how Bessie would never see the same opportunities as women in France. In France, he said, women were so liberated they could even fly planes. That's it, Bessie shouted. You just called it for me. From then on, Bessie had her eyes on the sky. The road to a pilot's license, though, was not without its obstacles. Bessie couldn't find a pilot willing to give her lessons in the U.S. So after studying French, scrounging together some money, and crossing the Atlantic, Bessie enrolled in flight school in France. She started out in a Newport Type 82, a notoriously finicky training biplane. It was constructed of wood, wire, steel, aluminum, cloth, and pressed cardboard. Each time she went up, Bessie had to conduct a thorough inspection of the vehicle. And even then, structural issues mid-flight were practically par for the course. There was no steering wheel, no brakes. In the cockpit, Bessie watched a mechanic prime the engine with castor oil. She lowered her goggles over her eyes, priming herself as the engine stuttered to life and covered her coat in a fine yellow mist. She engaged the plane's pitch by leaning on a large wooden stick, about as wieldy as a baseball bat, between her knees. At her feet, a long bar controlled the rudder. And once she was in the air, Bessie was on her own. Even when she flew with an instructor, the roar of the engine was so loud she couldn't hear a thing. She could only watch their movements. When it was time to come back down to Earth, Bessie flew perilously close to the ground, slowly lowering the plane's tail until it dragged along the dirt and skidded the entire aircraft to a halt. At least once, Bessie witnessed another student's death in an aviation accident. The learning curve was steep, but Bessie was up for the challenge. She mastered the loop-de-loop and dove into tailspins. At the end of seven months, Bessie received her pilot's license from the World Air Sports Federation. With it, she was granted the right to fly anywhere in the world. And she became the first African-American woman and first Native American to hold a pilot's license. Back in the U.S., Bessie became a front-page story. The press hailed her as a full-fledged aviatrix, said to be the first of her race. She wasted no time in using that star power to her advantage. By 1922, she was dazzling audiences with her stunts. Walking on the wings of planes. Parachuting down from the cockpit. But Bessie only performed for audiences where black people were treated equally. If the venue forced black and white people to use separate entrances, they didn't get to see Bessie perform. For Bessie, aviation was an avenue for empowering black people. And she stuck to her guns. When she was offered the chance to star in a feature film about her own life, Bessie jumped at the opportunity. Three weeks later, the project was dead. Bessie had walked on set, been told her first scene would depict her in tattered clothing as an ignorant girl arriving in New York, and walked out. She said on her way out, "'No Uncle Tom stuff for me.'" Bessie had dreams of starring in other shows and of opening a flight school for black pilots. By April of 1926, she'd saved enough money to buy a second plane for her air shows. But her career was cut short. On April 30th, ahead of a big air show the next day, Bessie decided to go up for a survey flight. She and a co-pilot flew out in the Jennie, a plane much better equipped than the Newports she'd started out in. Bessie didn't want to be strapped in so she could scope out a good spot for landing in her parachute. And while peering out of the side of the cockpit, the plane suddenly nosedived and flipped upside down at about 500 feet from the ground. Bessie fell to her death. She was just 34 years old. Officials concluded a loose wrench had jammed the plane's control gears. Throughout her career, Bessie had been a stickler for safety precautions. It survived her fair share of misfires and crashes, each time raring to get back up into the sky again. That fighting spirit inspired folks even after her death. About 10,000 people paid their respects at her memorial service, which was led by journalist Ida B. Wells. Even today, Bessie's memory keeps the torch lit for aviators. In 1992, when Mae Jemison became the first African American woman to fly into space, she took a picture of Bessie with her. All month, we're talking about adventurers. For more information, find us on Facebook and Instagram at Womanica Podcast. Special thanks to Liz Kaplan, my favorite sister and co-creator. Talk to you tomorrow.
SPEAKER_02: Evidence-wise, we had virtually no evidence.
SPEAKER_03: In 1995, Detective Tony Richardson was trying to figure out who killed a fellow officer. The case comes down to who is believed and who is ignored. Oh my goodness, we did convict an innocent man. I'm Beth Shelburne from Lava for Good Podcasts. This is Ear Witness. Listen to Ear Witness on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.
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