Indianapolis had long been an incubator for conservative and libertarian politics. There Phoebe encountered a host of like-minded individuals and groups, including the American Conservative Union, whose then chairman was the editor of the Indianapolis News; the American Party of Indiana, an incipient ultraconservative third party; the Indiana chapter of Pro America, an anticommunist and antifeminist women’s organization; the John Birch Society, an ultraconservative advocacy group founded in Indianapolis in the 1950s that equated communism with socialism and liberalism; the Taxpayer’s Lobby of Indiana, whose agenda was clear in its name; and others. These groups were strongly anticommunist but also animated, as she was, by the issue of states’ rights. They believed that the federal government had usurped the powers delegated to the states by the Tenth Amendment to the Constitution. Phoebe was actively supportive of the Liberty Amendment, which was designed to limit the powers of the federal government, restore power to the states and to the people, and to abolish all taxes.54 Pro America’s literature, in their STOP ERA (Equal Rights Amendment) campaign, claimed a conspiracy between the feminists and the communists, with destruction of the family being one of the prerequisites of a communist takeover. Phoebe drew parallels with her earlier concerns, as she wrote Louise that “Both in the ERA and the school situation the main drive is geared to nationalizing and centralizing all power to the US Congress and the bureaucrats in Washington.”55 She wrote a number of letters to local and national representatives in opposition to the ERA. To her, it was yet another federal imposition on states’ rights.56 She supported George Wallace as “the only national leader who would lay the cards on the table,” praised Spiro Agnew for “telling it like it is,” and deplored what she called the “Watergate Frame-Up.”57
Phoebe engaged with conservative groups in various capacities during her years in Indianapolis, collecting their literature, drafting supportive letters to friends, newspaper editors, state and national political figures, attending meetings and conventions, and sometimes serving on their boards. She was, for example, listed as a “Director at Large” on the letterhead of the National Council Against Forced Busing.58 She proudly wrote to Louise that the Congress of Freedom had presented her with their annual “Liberty Award” for her work in “helping to save our schools from federal control.”59
Phoebe carried on these lively political activities in spite of her poverty and worsening health. Her rent consumed nearly half of her meager income, and she was beginning to feel the consequences of her lifelong smoking habit.60 While continuing to try to publish her manuscript, she also tried to seriously pursue writing her autobiography. She wrote numerous inquiries seeking assistance with the writing, contacting friends and old aviation acquaintances seeking confirmation for some of her own memories, and trying to recover lost documents and photographs that she had left here and there over the years as she moved.61 One major motivation for getting started was to correct what she saw as persistent misrepresentations about the history of early aviation and particularly that of the origins and development of the Ninety-Nines and the activities of their charter members. Her memoirs would be a way to correct these falsehoods and tell the true history of early aviation, particularly women’s part in it.62
In her exchange of letters with Louise Thaden and with Glenn Buffington, Phoebe frequently complained about those who persisted in distorting the early history. She was, she said, on an “Aviation True History Crusade.” When either of them, however gently, disagreed with Phoebe, she would lash out. Indeed, her mostly cordial five-year correspondence with Buffington came to an abrupt halt in an angry exchange over his characterization of the genesis of the Ninety-Nines. She found his comments “asinine” and wrote, “It seems that you believe what you want to, and discredit that which you do not want to believe.” She closed with “As you know so little about all of this, let’s call it ‘quits.’”63 By the same token, Louise endured Phoebe’s complaints about false history, but admitted that sometimes Phoebe tried her patience. After Buffington told her of his altercation with their mutual friend, Louise responded: “Phoebe has always been an odd character and those of us who have known her for a long time let her opinions etc. slide off and forget it. However, her obsession with ‘the truth’ over the past several years (blindly) and her rudeness to folks (I’ve not escaped either) is considerably accelerated, to the point it seems where all are out of step except herself. Regrettable.”64
Phoebe was hospitalized in 1973 for what was likely the beginning of her battle with lung cancer. Her doctor began radiation treatments in July, to which she seemed to be responding “quite well.”65 But a subsequent hospitalization a year later convinced her to prepare for her own demise. She wrote a letter to Mr. and Mrs. John Bieschke, founder and president of the Pioneers of American Heritage in Indianapolis: “As you know, the trip to the hospital was rather sudden. If this is the final landing, please take over.” She instructed the manager of the York Hotel to release her things to them and suggested that they act “as manager of my auto-biography, try to find a writer that has some ‘feel’ of the days that will be depicted in this story.” She enclosed a memo for a sample agreement with an author for her autobiography, adding that “Two volumes will be necessary to cover over fifty (50) years of the auto-biography.” Phoebe closed with: “Best of luck, and don’t worry about me. I have lived a very full life and, more or less, done what I wanted to do.”66
After that scare, she apparently rebounded to write a more upbeat Christmas message to friends. She apologized for its late posting, which was caused by her two weeks “sojourn” in the hospital. “I have had a sore throat for six months and they can’t find out the cause of it. The doctor even asked me if I ever had a broken neck.” The x-rays and the radiation treatments had made her weak but, she reported, she was feeling better now.67 She was, in fact, continuing to receive cobalt treatments on her throat. A few days later, she wrote Pancho that she had spent the last ten years trying to save the schools from federal control, “but since a recent physical check-up I realize that time is running out.” She asked her friend if she knew anyone who could help in editing her autobiography. “Do you know any writer who would be willing to work on a percentage, and who would not question the truth of the background of aviation’s development?”68
A few months later, Phoebe made contact with author Jeanira Ratcliffe, an Indianapolis native who had recently published two books, Will There Really Be a Morning?, the ghostwritten autobiography of troubled actress Frances Farmer, and The Kennedy Case (The Intimate Memoirs of the Head Nurse to Joseph P. Kennedy During the Last 8 Years of His Life) written with Rita Dallas, R.N. Intrigued with the possibility of working on the aviator’s story, Ratcliffe asked a friend’s cousin, Della May Frazier, to pick Phoebe up at the York Hotel and bring her to Jean’s home. Della May was dismayed by conditions she found at the York, a dilapidated structure next door to a burlesque theater. Phoebe lived in one small room with a hot-plate and kept her milk on the windowsill in winter. “I don’t know what she did in the summertime,” Della May said.69
Ratcliffe was initially unwilling to commit to producing Phoebe’s story in its current state. She made it clear that she “did not work with the subject I am writing about except to hone up the story and draw out the stronger points.” She suggested Phoebe and Della May draw up an agreement to work together to get her memoirs in that condition before she would take it on.70 While the discussion continued, Phoebe issued a power of attorney putting Della May in charge of her personal and financial affairs and signed a new will leaving all of her estate to Della May Frazier. Article II reflected her intentional distance from her family (an estrangement that had apparently begun when she split with her brother Paul in the 1920s and maintained over the many years since their parents’ death): “I am aware that I have blood relatives and it is my demand and my firm will that no blood relative nor any of their heirs receive or any way participate or enjoy benefits or inheritance from my estate, be i
t personal or real, tangible or intangible.”71 The three women eventually signed a collaborative proposal Phoebe drew up at the end of the month, in which Della May promised that she would “in all ways act as I [Phoebe] would act in regard to the preparation and eventual sale of the manuscript.” They all recognized that the clock was running out for Phoebe.72
The course of her cancer had been swift, but her doctor remained optimistic. The previous month, Dr. Woerner indicated that following Phoebe’s first course of “irradiation” for lung cancer in 1974, a new nodule in the left lung was found in February 1975, and she was again “treated with irradiation.” Both times she responded well. “The stress on her heart has increased … [but] Her appetite has improved, and she has started to gain a little weight. It is impossible to say at this time how long we will be able to control her problem.”73
After visiting the York Hotel, Della May tried to get Phoebe into a better living environment; she offered to help her apply for assistance to live in a low-income apartment complex. Given Phoebe’s storied distrust of others and her proud rejection of any kind of assistance from friends, much less from the government, her transformation here is remarkable. For reasons we’ll never know she responded positively to Della May’s compassion. Phoebe had so little income (just over $2,000 a year) that her application was easily approved. Her rent in her new place in Pine Needle Court was $134.50 ($50 less than at the York) of which $99 would be covered by the Federal Housing Authority. With so few belongings, Phoebe was easily and quickly moved. Jean and Della May furnished her apartment and got her a telephone (the one in the York was in the lobby). Phoebe took possession of her new apartment on 7 June. Less than three weeks later, Phoebe called Della May to tell her that she had lung cancer and that she was going to the hospital.74
Jean called Louise, then Louise wrote Glenn describing Phoebe’s desperate circumstances: “Phoebe Omlie is in an Indianapolis hospital, dying …. Phoebe is destitute; the hotel where she lived was on Skid Row and in a very small room at that; malnutrition; deaf; no possessions. Of course, no family. Phoebe has been as controversial as she is proud—and this period of last years’ finish of her life is heart-breaking.”75
Phoebe checked into St. Vincent’s Hospital for the last time on 27 June. She died there three weeks later, at 2 AM on 17 July, of “lung cancer with metastasis.”76 Della May had visited her the day before, but regretted that Phoebe died alone. She took her favorite red nail polish to the funeral home. Phoebe had $837 in her bank account when she died. Della May made up the difference in paying for the doctor, hospital, the local undertaker to prepare the body, the airfare, and the bill for her funeral in Memphis.77 Phoebe had told Della May that she wished to be buried next to her husband in Memphis. Since Della May did not know any of Phoebe’s friends in Memphis, she contacted the Ninety-Nines in Oklahoma City, who referred her to the Ninety-Nines chapter in Memphis to meet the body and make arrangements there. She sent along a floral arrangement in the shape of a propeller.78 A brief graveside service put Phoebe to rest beside her husband in Forest Hills Cemetery.
Obituaries that followed celebrated her amazing career while only mentioning, if at all, the circumstances of her final years. One exception was published in the local paper by a writer who apparently had intimate knowledge of Phoebe’s life in Indianapolis. Phoebe, she wrote,
walked briskly … her head held high with an air of dignity … she wore silver wings on her lapel. She met acquaintances for good conversation at the YWCA or in a busy hotel lobby. Seldom did she invite guests to her $21 a week shabby room. She ate one full meal a day, and kept eggs, butter and milk in her window. Her small Social Security check and much smaller amount from her husband’s pension sustained her. She would have no part of welfare or food stamps …. She treasured scrapbooks and pictures of the golden days of her life in space, and carried them with her in a courier case. Without a plane, she was like a bird with a broken wing.79
Epilogue
Soon after Phoebe returned to Memphis for the last time, local columnist Eldon Roark suggested naming the Memphis International Airport for the Omlies. The Memphis chapter of the Ninety-Nines enthusiastically endorsed the idea, saying that Memphis-Omlie International “has a nice ring, don’t you think?”1
Aviation enthusiast James T. Kacarides, editor of the Memphis Flyer, the publication of the Memphis Experimental Aircraft Association, had already been working for several years on a fitting memorial for Memphis’ most famous woman aviator.2 Kacarides had widespread support from the aviation community. Groups like the Experimental Aircraft Association, the Civil Air Patrol, the Ninety-Nines, the Antique Airplanes Association, the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association, and the Confederate Air Force responded enthusiastically to these efforts. First, they attempted to get the Shelby County Airport named for her in 1970, but the County Quarterly Court named it for their chairman, Charles W. Baker.3 Next, when the Mud Island Downtown Airport was relocated and hence would be renamed in 1971, Kacarides submitted a long brief outlining her career to justify the name change. It was because of the Omlies’ “unbounded energies and hard work [that] aviation was rooted to Memphis,” he wrote. Instead, the downtown airport was named to honor local war hero Brigadier General DeWitt Spain, who died in 1969.4 This most recent call, in 1975, to include Phoebe Omlie in the title of the Memphis International Airport was rejected by the Airport Authority. Instead, they created an Aviation Historical Room in the Terminal Building “to perpetuate the memory of the Omlies.”5
The issue was raised again in the centennial edition of the Memphis Press-Scimitar in 1980 that featured a detailed article about Phoebe Omlie’s career from her high school graduation until her husband died in 1936, closing briefly with her sad end and her “battle with the bottle.”6 Kacarides responded to the Press-Scimitar with a letter to the editor that extended the highlights of her career post-1936 and suggested that the time was right to establish a lasting memorial to Phoebe Omlie.7 He proposed “the new air traffic control tower at Memphis International Airport be named in memory of Phoebe Fairgrave Omlie in recognition of her outstanding accomplishments and contributions to the field of American aviation. Towering into the sky she loved so dearly, it would be a magnificent tribute to a magnificent woman.”8 Carolyn Sullivan, representing the Memphis chapter of the Ninety-Nines, enthusiastically endorsed the idea, adding, “I can see a beautiful bronze likeness of her, gazing skyward, on an appropriate natural stone or granite base. This object would be facing, and near, the road which passes the tower, where thousands and thousands of people would see, read, and be inspired by it.”9
While Kacarides campaigned for naming the tower for Phoebe Omlie alone, particularly emphasizing her work in government on behalf of general aviation long after her husband had died, the Airport Authority clearly preferred naming the tower for both the Omlies. In their December meeting, they officially “agreed to name the airport tower after Vernon C. Omlie and his wife, Phoebe Fairgrave Omlie, if the move is approved by Federal Aviation Administration officials.”10 In response to their inquiry, the FAA pointed out that “Federal Aviation Administration facilities are not usually named in honor of people, living or dead, in or out of aviation. As a matter of fact, it takes an act by the Congress of the United States to name a government facility after a person.”11 The Airport Authority promptly informed Kacarides that the FAA had rejected the proposal, but Kacarides saw not rejection but a suggestion that they pursue congressional action.12 He pressed that the issue be included in the next meeting’s agenda, and after a favorable vote by the Airport Authority, chairman Ned Cook contacted the members of Tennessee’s congressional delegation to request that they initiate a bill to name the new FAA control tower “Omlie Tower.”13
Senators Howard Baker and Jim Sasser filed the bill S.896 in the Senate. Representatives Harold Ford, Robin Beard, and Ed Jones sponsored the matching bill, H.R. 3072, in the House. “A bill to designate the control tower at Memphis International Airport the
Omlie Tower” easily passed the Senate in May 1981. It was held up in the House over Department of Transportation concerns that “Confusion could arise because the airport approach control, VOR, air route traffic control center, and flight service station at that location are all identified as ‘Memphis.’ Additionally, considerable cost would be involved in reprinting documents such as approach plates, enroute and sectional charts, the Airman’s Information Manual, and the airport facility directory.” In order to minimize this confusion the bill contained language that any references to said tower would be “held and considered to refer to ‘Omlie Tower.’ Therefore, “Pilots would still ‘call in’ to ‘Memphis Tower’ and maps would still read ‘Memphis Tower’—but this would be deemed to refer to Omlie Tower. We were further advised that report language to accompany the bill would make clear that no impact on air traffic control operations was intended.”14 With these clarifications, the Department of Transportation satisfied their objections and the Committee on Public Works and Transportation moved to take up the bill. “During debate on the bill on the House side, the sponsors agreed that the renaming of the tower would not mean that federal officials would have to reprint any maps or air charts to show the new name of the tower.”15 In short, despite the name change, no one would be required to use the designation.
H.R. 3072 passed the House in early June, and President Reagan signed the measure 21 June 1982.16 In making the announcement of the president’s signing, Senator Howard Baker said,
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