In the spirit of the best sellers FLY GIRLS and HIDDEN FIGURES comes the riveting and astonishing story of aviation pioneer Harriet Quimby, the first American woman to earn a pilot’s license and the first woman to fly solo over the English Channel.
In the early twentieth century, headlines declared that “the era of women has dawned.” Against this changing backdrop, Harriet Quimby’s extraordinary life stands out as the embodiment of this tumultuous, exciting period — when flight was measured in minutes, not miles.
Fearless unveils Quimby’s incredible story: rising from humble beginnings as a dirt-poor farm girl to become a globe-trotting journalist, history-making aviator, and international celebrity. With her tragic death in 1912 at the age of thirty-seven, her renown faded, along with her many accomplishments, including being the first woman to fly solo over the English Channel, a news event that was overshadowed by the sinking of the Titanic.
Meticulously researched and introducing an unforgettable cast of daredevil characters from around the globe, Don Dahler’s Fearless artfully blends rich historical biography with immersive and thrilling storytelling, giving readers the definitive account of one of the most remarkable hidden figures of history, Harriet Quimby.
Book Reviews.
“Informed, eloquent writing; this meticulous account is a must for aviation historians and enthusiasts alike.”
This biography charts the life of a pioneer American aviator.
Born in rural Michigan in 1875, Harriet Quimby enjoyed a life punctuated by firsts. She was among the first women to become a licensed driver, the first woman to secure a pilot’s license in America, and the first woman to fly solo over the English Channel. Dahler’s book records Quimby’s journey from being a “little girl from a Michigan dirt farm” to becoming an accomplished journalist, screenplay writer, and renowned aviator. The author describes the Quimby family’s move to San Francisco via Arroyo Grande, where the young girl developed a taste for writing. She began producing reviews for, among other publications, the San Francisco Dramatic Review, a role that would later see her relocate to Manhattan, where she would work as a theater critic. Dahler also focuses on Quimby’s love for speed, which began as a child, exploring the fields surrounding her family home at “full gallop.” The author draws on a range of secondary sources, including newspaper articles and newsreel stills—alongside Quimby’s personal recollections—to illustrate her landmark achievement of crossing the English Channel. Dahler calls this feat “almost as audacious and perilous as a trip to the moon would be fifty-seven years later.” The author also describes in chilling detail the events surrounding Quimby’s death at the age of 37 after falling from an airplane.
Dahler’s writing is characterized by its effervescent eagerness to tell Quimby’s story. This urgency makes for a fast-paced, compelling narrative: “Harriet Quimby was about to take a literal, and literary, leap into the void. If she survived, and there was certainly no guarantee of that, her leap was to be a first for women.” The author adds further drama by using intense, poetic descriptions: “Wraiths of heavy salt air floated across the White Cliffs of Dover, bestowing their wet caresses on everyone and everything that waited day after day for a break in the fog and lashing rain.” Some readers may consider this aspect of Dahler’s approach slightly overwrought on occasion: “Their petrichor marked a subtle change of fortune.” Yet despite mild bouts of wordiness, the author succeeds in evoking a haunting atmosphere that lends extra texture to the biography. Dahler is also expert in providing intricate social and historical background to Quimby’s life story. In one passage, the author brings the streets of 1900s San Francisco—which Quimby would have walked—to life: “Streetlights bore ornate globed tops. Pedestrians in long dresses and top hats strolled along broad sidewalks.” This keen eye for detail makes for a vivid, multifaceted book. On discovering Quimby, Dahler remarks, “it was stunning to me that someone who accomplished so much was virtually lost to history because of a cruel and horrific twist of fate.” The author’s passion to celebrate and commemorate Quimby’s accomplishments is palpable throughout, making this an engrossing, enlightening, and thoroughly enjoyable biography.
Informed, eloquent writing; this meticulous account is a must for aviation historians and enthusiasts alike.
Kirkus Indie Reviews
“A fascinating and consequential look at a pioneering turn-of-the-20th-century woman who lived life on her own terms. Fearless is indeed the right title for Harriet Quimby. Dahler’s telling of Quimby’s life story and validation of her as a multi-spectrum pioneer is welcome research.”
Dorothy S. Cochrane
Curator, General Aviation|Aeronautics Department National Air and Space Museum
“Amelia Earhart, move over. There’s a new first lady of the skies. Award-winning journalist Don Dahler has brought the invincible – and virtually unknown – Harriet Quimby to rip-roaring life in his invaluable new biography, FEARLESS. You’ll find yourself speed-reading through the pages, more to find out what she didn’t do, at a time when women were able to do so little. And the final pages of the book kick up with Chariots of Fire-like suspense as she races to become the first woman to fly herself across the English Channel. Quimby – and Dahler — win the race with this riveting new book.”
Kim Powers – author of THE HISTORY OF SWIMMING and RULES FOR BEING DEAD
“A tale of adventure, courage, and defiance, Fearless evokes the drama of the pioneering age of flight in dangerous detail, while providing a pacy and engaging tribute to the heroism of the first woman who dared to rise so high above her given lot in life.”
Clare Mulley, — author of THE SPY WHO LOVED
“What an amazing book! I stayed up all night reading and could not stop scrolling! It filled in a lifetime of unanswered questions and made me so proud of my Grandfather and all the brave early aviation pioneers – especially Harriet. They “propelled” one another to excellence and to succeed, in spite of much tragedy and adversity. Fearless has it all – suspense, drama, romance, betrayal, redemption, tragedy – WOW!”
Maile Ramzi, granddaughter of André Houpert; early pilot and Harriet’s instructor.
“Quimby deserves the attention Dahler gives her. Hers is a life worth knowing.”
Quimby had the misfortune of flying her wood-and-paper Bleriot over the Channel on the same day the Titanic sank. Instead of her feat being the big story, coverage of the Titanic consumed the media for months after the disaster.
Dahler has done an astonishing job of tracking down sources to bring to life Quimby’s story, from her hardscrabble childhood in Michigan to her start as a journalist in San Francisco, then on to becoming a pilot in the earliest days of aviation. Dahler quotes generously from Quimby’s own writing, offering a vivid picture of her personality and passions.
Marissa Moss is the author of A Soldier’s Secret: The Incredible Ture Story of Sara Edmonds, a Civil War Hero.
“For the daring Harriet Quimby, the sky was the limit.
She even conquered even that.
The turn-of-the-century adventurer was an actress in San Francisco, a pioneering journalist in New York, and a record-setting aviator. She was famous, rich and celebrated.
“Fearless: Harriet Quimby, a Life Without Limits” by Don Dahler (Princeton Architectural Press)
Then it all came crashing down hideously, and she’s barely remembered today.
Don Dahler’s “Fearless: Harriet Quimby, a Life Without Limits” restores some of that fame as he introduces readers to a woman who dared.”
Jacqueline Cutler
New York Daily News
“Harriet Quimby was a reporter, theater critic, screenwriter, and aviatrix prior to her untimely death at 37 in a 1912 plane crash. One year before her fatal accident, Quimby was the first American woman to earn the Aero Club of America aviator certificate, a precursor to standardized national pilot certifications. The photogenic pilot subsequently found national fame as the spokesperson for Vin Fiz grape soda and made her professional mark competing in air meets and races across the country. She also became the first woman to fly across the English Channel only three months before her death. Dahler covers every aspect of Quimby’s brief but exciting life, delving into her Hollywood friendships, especially with director D. W. Griffith, years as a newspaper and magazine journalist, and relationships in the world of aviation. This straightforward biography takes advantage of the thrilling, glamorous realms Quimby moved through, dropping all sorts of famous names and describing glittering celebrity parties and the adoring crowds who greeted her at airports.”
Colleen Mondor
Excerpt.
It took the Amerika a week to reach Cherbourg, France. During that time, Harriet pecked away on her typewriter in her stateroom, catching up on her Leslie’s commitments that would be translated into Morse code and sent back to New York via the ship’s wireless radio transmitter: “Latest Plays and Popular Players,” “Kubelík Earns $1 Million Dollars with a Violin,” and, with information gathered from the Moisant exhibition swing, “Notable Observations of Holy Week in Mexico.” “Poor, troubled Mexico!” the article begins. “Upset by revolution, facing dangers from within and without, with Madero’s new government tottering on its foundation, it is not strange that it turns to religion for a rest.”
Her first order of business upon arrival was to meet with Alexander Kenealy, editor of the London Daily Mirror, whom Harriet later described as an “inspired editor” and “bar-room gladiator of note.” Kenealy, a brute-faced bull of a man who had accompanied Admiral Robert Peary on the first Arctic expedition, knew a good story when he saw one. “He was delighted with the idea and immediately offered me a handsome inducement if I would make the trip as the Mirror’s representative.” Leo and Alexander negotiated exclusive European rights to the story of her flight. The pair also met with an unnamed British businessman and secured a $5,000 loan to purchase the Blériot.
The next thing necessary was to get a monoplane. I went to Paris, saw Mr. Bleriot and placed an order with him for a seventy-horse-power passenger machine, regarding which I had had some correspondence with the firm. At the same time I readily arranged with Mr. Bleriot for the loan of a fifty-horse-power monoplane of the type I had been accustomed to use in the United States [the more powerful model could not be built in time for the Channel attempt].
Mr. Bleriot has a hangar at Hardelot, where he has a seaside home. It seemed prudent to try out the new machine first in some quiet way. So it was shipped to Hardelot. I followed soon after. The control of the new machine was a trifle different from that which I had been using in the United States, hence my desire to have a trial flight.
It was not so easy finding Hardelot. It is a summer resort of recent creation and its exclusive character, as well as its remoteness from the crowded cities, made it a good place to test my machine without attracting attention.
Leo stayed behind while Harriet made her way from Paris to Boulogne, the closest rail stop to Hardelot. When she stepped off the train, she was dismayed to discover there were no cabs or vehicles for hire in all of Boulogne, only a “ramshackle tramcar” packed full of Easter holiday travelers. She managed to squeeze aboard and stood sandwiched in between raucous family members headed to the beach, “while everybody tumbled over my luggage lying on the floor.” She continues,
After one change of cars and an hour and a half of much discomfort on a bleak and chilly April day, I got into Hardelot just as it was getting dark. I had heard of its fine hotel, but to my surprise, on reaching the end of the tramcar line, I saw the hotel in the distance was in absolute darkness. I learned that it was open only in summer.
Here was a bad dilemma. With a knowledge only of fragmentary French and among total strangers, I was in something of a fix. I found a little cafe that took lodgers, but it was full. At another little place I had better luck and was stowed away in the single room remaining unoccupied. It had no fire or carpet—nothing but the bed and a chair. But the people were kind. They gave me a simple dinner, with plenty of hot tea, and, weary as I was, the bed, with its cardboard covers and diminutive pillow, was a haven of refuge most acceptable. I had scarcely sat down to eat before a little girl hesitatingly stepped up to me and, showing a postal card, asked if I would give her my autograph. I inquired why she wanted it. The French maid who waited on my table spoke a little English, and she said that they understood that I was in Hardelot to fly across the channel! And this after all our studied efforts to secure secrecy! I found that some one in the Bleriot hangar had been talking—quite innocently—too freely in Hardelot. I gave the girl and a number of others who came up my autograph, but enjoined secrecy. Question: Can a man keep a secret?
Eager to test out her new Blériot, Harriet rose early the next morning. Outside the window of the small café she watched as gale-force winds blew brown sheets of sand off the beach.
Usually it dies out in the evening, but it kept constantly increasing, until it whistled around the corners of the house at a velocity of forty miles. The next morning, at five, once more I prepared to go out into the chilly air to make a trial. Still the wind blew a gale, and it continued to blow throughout the day. There was nothing left but to sit in my cheerless room and wait.
Hardelot today is a beautiful vacation town with an eclectic and vibrant downtown and wide, sandy beaches, popular with French and English visitors. It was much smaller and modest in 1912, but no less welcoming. A British family that lived nearby heard about Harriet’s plight, “the lonesomeness of an American girl, a stranger in a strange land,” and invited her to join them for lunch. She gratefully accepted. A hired car pulled up to her boarding house at noon. Harriet spent the better part of a pleasant afternoon with Mr. and Mrs. J. Robinson Whiteley and their daughter. As they parted, no one guessed fate would conspire to reunite the new friends sooner rather than later.
During that week, Harriet often found herself staring out at the gray fog and churning waters, thinking about Dover and Calais, “like two grim bulldogs glaring at each other, these cities, twenty-two miles apart, bristle with fortifications of the most formidable type. The surging channel typifies the antagonism between two great European nations, now happily less than it has been.”
As the days crept by it became clear that she would not be able to test out the new plane before departing for the English coast.
The persistent gale at Hardelot would not permit me to carry out my plan to try out the machine. Time was flying—even if I was not. I had promised the Mirror editor to be at Dover promptly. So I arranged to have the Blériot monoplane shipped across to Dover at once and wired the Mirror to have its photographers and reporters meet me at the Hotel Lord Warden, at Dover. The famous Dover Castle stands on the cliffs, overlooking the channel. It points the way clearly to Calais. Those who have made the channel crossing by steamer at this point, with more or less discomfort during its period of a little more than an hour, will appreciate the delight with which I contemplated making an absolutely smooth journey across its spiteful waters in a swift and graceful monoplane. There was real satisfaction in contemplating a crossing in the air and mocking at the waves which had so often made me uncomfortable.
It was vitally important that nothing should be known of my contemplated journey, so the machine was shipped very secretly to the aerodome on Dover heights, about three miles back from the channel, a fine, smooth ground from which to make a good start.
But despite all their precautions, rumors began circulating among the villagers that “several English and French woman pilots were to attempt the crossing in the next few days.”
At the end of March, while the Quimby team huddled at Dover, waiting for the monoplane’s arrival, Harriet made the acquaintance of Gustav Hamel. He was a twenty-two-year-old Brit whose boyish looks belied his considerable flying experience. Already the proud possessor of numerous aviation records, crashes, and two channel crossings, Gustav’s reputation was that of a future superstar in the sport. Louis Blériot himself said he’d “never seen a pilot with such natural ability.”
The charming aviator magnanimously offered his advice to Harriet, and the two likely talked late into the night.
Three days later, the Daily Mail carried the headline “Lady Crosses Channel by Air.”
That lady was not Harriet Quimby.