Readers are familiar with David Martin, also known as “DC Dave,” (DCDave.com), the award-winning writer and insightful observer of the passing scene who reviewed both editions of Truth at Last, “Hillary Clinton and the Amelia Earhart Cover-up,” in August 2012 and “Amelia Earhart Truth Versus the Establishment” in May 2016.
Most recently Martin turned his lengthy, six-part 2003 presentation, “Who Killed James Forrestal?” into The Assassination of James Forrestal, published in May of this year, and selling very well despite the mainstream media’s near-total blackout of the book, which dismantles yet another of our nation’s historical sacred cows.
Those unfamiliar with the vast contents of Martin’s home page probably don’t know that he’s also an accomplished, witty and entertaining poet and lyricist. Yesterday (Oct. 11), he sent me the below, which I now present to you:
“THE BALLAD OF AMELIA EARHART”
(To the tune of…well, you know)
Amelia flew over the ocean;
Her plane “disappeared” in the sea.
We found it much later in Saipan.
Oh, move on, there’s nothing to see.
Hard facts, hard facts,
Hard facts are important to me, to me.
Hard facts, hard facts.
The truth is important to me.
The order came down to destroy it.
There are witnesses galore of the deed.
They come from that great generation,
But from the trough of the truth we don’t feed.
Hard facts, hard facts,
Hard facts are important to me, to me.
Hard facts, hard facts.
The truth is important to me
The U.S. and Japan are now allies,
In spite of that war’s genocide.
What happened to that famous woman
Is something they both want to hide.
Hard facts, hard facts,
Hard facts are important to me, to me.
Hard facts, hard facts.
The truth is important to me.
Not being the sharpest musical tool in the shed, initially I had no clue what Martin meant when he wrote, “To the tune of . . . well, you know.” The first song I thought of was Fess Parker’s 1955 popular hit, “The Ballad of Davy Crockett,” that was such a rage with the coonskin cap-wearing kids at that time, of whom I was one. When I tried to sing along with Martin’s words, however, it didn’t work at all.
Next, having spent most of my childhood in the Washington, D.C. area, well within listening range of the many great radio stations that played what’s now called “Doo-Wop” music, but then was more properly known as rhythm & blues, group harmony and even the more prosaic rock ‘n roll, I thought perhaps the tune Martin referenced might be the long forgotten “Ballad of a Girl and Boy” (1959), but upon further review, that was wrong too, though it was a pleasure to revisit.
Finally the answer popped into my thick skull, and I knew that Martin’s tune was “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean”; this version of the old Scottish folk song was produced in 2010 by a group under the direction of Mitch Miller, who died at age 99 in July 2010. The lyrics fit perfectly; try it!
Many thanks to Dave Martin for his unique contribution to the poetics of the Earhart saga.
Today we return to Bill Prymak’s Amelia Earhart Society Newsletters for another look at true Earhart research history. “The Jaluit Report” is Prymak’s account of his November 1990 trip to Jaluit Atoll in the Marshall Islands with his longtime friend, the strange, unreliable researcher Joe Gervais, best known as the progenitor of the notorious Amelia Earhart-as-Irene Bolam myth. “The Jaluit Report” appeared in the May 1991 Amelia Earhart Society Newsletters. Please understand that the words and opinions in this piece are those of the writers and others quoted, and not necessarily those of the editor. Boldface and italics emphasis is mine throughout.
“The Jaluit Report,” January 1991 (Part I of two)
by Bill Prymak and Major Joe Gervais, U.S. Air Force (Ret.)
This report summarizes the events experienced during our recent expedition to Jaluit and the great Japanese Naval Seaplane Base at Emidj, eight miles north of Jabor, the only harbor located in the Jaluit chain of islands, and where the administrative seat of Japanese Government was located prior to and during World War II.
Bill Prymak received considerable flak from the assemblage of critics out there for failing to maintain strict objectivity in the reporting of eyewitnesses interviewed during last year’s trip to Mill Atoll, so this report will simply “tell it as it happened,” with no editorializing, no personal opinions. It shall be for the reader to judge the veracity of the many eyewitness experiences related to us, and the impact these experiences may have on the Earhart Mystery. It should be noted, however, that we went so far back into the bush that many of these natives interviewed had rarely, if ever, seen a white visitor to their remote part of the Marshall Islands: none of them had ever been interviewed before, so we were fortunate indeed to visit with “uncontaminated” witnesses.
And yet, as the following report will detail, they knew of the “American Lady Spy who flew her own airplane” not from books (they have none there), not from previous visitors, not from their own government people, but they knew of the American Lady Spy relating only to a time many years ago, before the “Great War,” and always in concert with their servitude under harsh Japanese rule.
“Hey Bill, this is Joe Gervais. You gotta come down: I’ve got something important to show you, and when you see it, you’ll agree with me that we gotta take another trip to the Marshall Islands. There’s some unfinished business there.”
A typical Gervais call. Full of energy, optimism, and rarely failing to come up with a new tidbit on the Earhart mystery that has consumed the man for over thirty years.
Visiting Maj. Gervais has never been unpleasant nor without excitement; he lives in Las Vegas, and with my good fortune to own an airplane, it was a quick hop from Denver that late October, 1990. He is ever the gracious host, and his EARHART SUITE contains literally thousands of research data painstakingly procured over the past thirty years. It’s amazing how much Earhart material he has acquired that did not make his book.
Joe had photographs and spread sheets all over the table as he ushered me into the Earhart Suite. “Bill, let’s backtrack a bit: virtually every credible AE researcher has her down in the Marshall Islands, and every one of them tried to get to Jaluit, but because of time constraints, money, or logistics, none of ’em made it to Jaluit. Think about it; we have at least five sightings of what might be the Electra at Jaluit: Bilimon Amaron see it on the fantail of a Japanese naval ship; John Heine sees it on a barge [see page 156 Truth at Last] ; Oscar DeBroom reports seeing it at Jaluit; Tomaki [Mayazo, see pages 140-141 TAL for clarification], loading coal on the Kamoi, hears about the American Lady pilot and plane. And Jaluit was administrative headquarters for the Japanese long before World War II got underway. Why shouldn’t a ‘spy’ airplane be brought to Jaluit, placed on a barge for the inland water trip to a naval seaplane base under construction at that time, and far removed from prying eyes?
“Take a look at this,” Joe continued, his eyes lighting up with excitement, as he showed me classified pre-strike Target Detail Photos of Emidj, the Japanese naval seaplane base, taken by U.S. Air Force reconnaissance planes July 1943.
“My God,” I uttered, “that’s a mini Pearl Harbor down there,” as I studied the photographs. Clearly outlined were two massive concrete ramps leading into the lagoon, a main concrete apron 1,500 feet long by 360 feet wide, two enormous hangars scaling 240 feet by 160-feet wide (each!), numerous other support structures, and several giant Emily flying boats parked on the aprons.
“Study that overhead photo real hard, Bill, and see if you note anything unusual.” Joe was testing me. Besides the aforementioned ramps, hangars and airplanes, I could pick out AA guns, barracks, roads, and evidence that a tremendous amount of labor and materials had gone into this huge complex. But nothing that would precipitate an urgent trip to Las Vegas caught my eye. I looked up at Joe, plaintively, my eyes conceding defeat: “I give up — what’s so sensational down there?”
Joe whipped out a photo-enhanced copy of the recon photo and proudly placed it in front of me, pointing to what obviously was an Operations building . Behind the building, in what was apparently several years’ growth of underbrush, was a silver airplane! I was stunned! Intense magnification and scrutiny showed the object to be a twin-engined land airplane, twin tail, 55-foot wingspan, and looking just like a Lockheed Electra would look like from an overhead camera shot.
“Bill,” Joe said softly, “What the hell is a civilian land based airplane doing on a Japanese Naval Seaplane Base in the middle of a war?” I couldn’t even begin to answer, noting further on the photo that all the Jap military aircraft were clearly camouflage gray. Our attention was riveted upon a silver-looking (READ-Aluminum) airplane that just didn’t seem to belong there.
“Joe,” I asked, “when do we leave for Jaluit?”
You pay for at least three phone calls to the Marshall Islands before you finally connect with someone who might help you connect to Jaluit. And then the response to our request to visit Jaluit went something like: “Hey, mon, what for you wanna visit Jaluit? Nobody goes dere . . . dere ain’t no airport, no hotel, no beaches, no white folk . . . are you guys plannin’ on runnin’ dope or sumtin?” Finally, at no little expense, our twin-engine plane was headed southeast out of Majuro (capital of the Marshall Islands) some 115 miles down the road. It’s a big, big ocean out there.
Jaluit Atoll will never make the cover of ISLAND PARADISE MAGAZINE. It’s a scrawny looking string of very thin islands stretching some 40 miles in length and 20 miles at its widest girth. No beaches to speak of. We asked our pilot to make a low pass over Emidj for some photos; when we mentally compared our 1943 photos with the view below, we knew our work was cut out for us, as the encroaching jungle over the aprons and hangars showed a solid blanket of green.
As we approached Jabor, capital of Jaluit Atoll, I sat right seat next to the pilot; I jokingly asked if Jabor had a control tower. “We don’t even have an airstrip to land on,” complained the pilot, pointing to a narrow winding coral road. He skillfully dumped it in, however, and we were unceremoniously off loaded in front of a rusting hulk of metal vaguely resembling a beat-up pickup truck.
It had been previously arranged that the Mayor of Jabor (population some three hundred natives and thousands of chickens and pigs) would meet our flight and arrange food and lodging. But the fellow in the truck, a most agreeable chap who spoke some English, and who also happened to be the official Postmaster, advised us the Mayor was on a remote island attending a funeral, and his time or date or return was, well, “uncertain.” Mr. Johnson, our newfound Postmaster friend, took us to the Post Office to wait for the Mayor.
And then the rains came . . . in sheets like I’ve never seen before. Joe was resigned to sleeping on the P.O. desk, while I deliberated the delightful prospect of sleeping on the floor amongst all those crawling inhabitants. Suddenly Mr. Johnson remembered: school was on holiday, but one teacher remained, and might find us a bed in the teachers’ quarters. Miss Kimberly, a delightful transplant from Arkansas, saved the day for us, and proved to be a most charming hostess for the duration of our stay on Jabor.
Mayor Robert Diem was to be our guide and translator for the rest of our stay on Jaluit. His warmth, friendship and eagerness to help will be long remembered. First order of business on the first day was to get the BOOM-BOOM BOAT as they called it (didn’t Mill also have a BOOM-BOOM BOAT?) operational for the trip to Emidj, some eight miles up the lagoon. With much noise, fire and smoke by mid-morning we chugged northward and arrived some two hours later.
EMIDJ. What a great naval seaplane base this must have been. Begun in 1935 with 8,000 Korean and Marshallese labor, the enormous seaplane ramps, except for the 500-pound bomb direct hits, are today in excellent condition. The 30-foot-high bomb depository, with its 6-foot-thick walls and roof, stands as a testimony to the advanced engineering skills of the Japanese in that era. The structure today is as sound and solid as the day it was built.
Along the shore lay strewn dozens of radial engines, props, bomb carrier dollies, and rusting hulks of the machines of war. The big hangars were downed, devoured entirely by the creeping jungle. By my calculation, at least a hundred thousand tons of concrete were hand mixed to build this base.
Approximately 90 natives live on the concrete apron in tin shacks, with absolutely no visible sign of meaningful employment; the trading boat comes once a month with basic staples in exchange for the copra harvested. We were introduced to Joel, the school teacher who spoke fairly good English, and two native boys were assigned to us for initial reconnaissance work. We had previously plotted out precisely where the “aircraft in question” should locate, and as we brought in our survey lines, ground ZERO was surrounded by a solid wall of green. We were bitterly frustrated and disappointed at this turn of events, but “take heart!” we cried. This is only the first day.
Our two guides told us nothing existed at our ground ZERO, but we hacked our way to four corners of the huge hangars and were shown piles of aluminum aircraft debris that has been obviously bulldozed into one great mass. The jungle had flexed its muscles and embraced this mass of aluminum with a canopy that virtually defied penetration. We did identify several Japanese aircraft, including one huge Emily Flying Boat, but found nothing made in USA.
(Editor’s note: For those wondering about the one-winged plane that brought Gervais and Prymak to Jaluit, no trace of it was ever found.)
Crawling out of the jungle was like stepping out of a blast furnace, and nothing in the world refreshes like a cool drink of nectar out of a coconut. Joel, our schoolmaster friend told us that in 1977 the U.S. Army came in with bulldozers to deactivate any live ordinance strewn about and resettle the natives on Emidj. This was distressing news to us; it would take an army of men to cut through the jungle and mass of aluminum to affect a meaningful search for anything USA. We thanked our gracious hosts for their help and promised to return the next day. (End of Part I; witness interviews to come in Part II.)
Indiana lawyer’s instructive ’92 letter to Goerner: U.S. cryptanalysis “reaching its zenith in 1937/1938”
In Chapter XIV of Amelia Earhart: The Truth at Last, “The Care and Nurture of a Sacred Cow,” I discuss several compelling aspects of the U.S. government’s longstanding refusal to disclose the truth that’s been hiding in plain sight in the Earhart matter for over 82 years, including a 1992 letter from Highland, Ind., attorney Michael Muenich to Fred Goerner. The Muenich letter brings the complex world of cryptanalysis into better focus, and strongly supports Goerner’s claim that we knew the Japanese had Earhart in their clutches, despite their assurances of assistance in the July 1937 search, which were later proven to be blatant lies. Boldface and italic emphasis mine throughout.
In his letter, Muenich, a civilian with a solid understanding of Navy radio intelligence capabilities, begins with a brief history of Navy cryptanalysis and code-breaking. He cites Admiral Edwin T. Layton’s 1985 book, And I Was There, not only for study of the days and months leading to Pearl Harbor, but “the first several chapters detail radio surveillance, intelligence, and capabilities during the 1930s.”
Muenich tells Goerner that our “level of sophistication” in reading the Japanese naval and diplomatic codes “was apparently reaching its zenith in 1937/1938,” and describes the overall intelligence situation in the Earhart disappearance as well as any single missive I can recall. Here’s the letter, with minimal editing:
March 30, 1992
Mr. Fred Goerner
Frederick Allan Goerner
Twenty-four Presidio Terrace
San Francisco, California 94118
RE: Amelia Earhart
Dear Mr. Goerner:
I presume by now you have seen the April issue of Life magazine, which has an article under the byline of Richard Gillespie and accompanying photos regarding the disappearance of Ms. Earhart. I, however, remain a skeptic. I have now had an opportunity to secure and review copies of your original volume and Klass’s [sic] volume and have reviewed them with an eye towards your theory of a landing in the Marshals and ultimate transportation to Saipan. I also picked up a newer volume “Amelia Earhart: The Final Story” by [Vincent V.] Loomis and [Jeffrey] Ethel, published in 1985. If you have not yet had an opportunity to read this volume, I commend it to you as an excellent examination of the mystery.
Like you in Saipan, they have interviewed numerous witnesses in the Marshalls which place Earhart and Noonan on Mili atoll, specifically ditching off Barre Island. They have also located a number of Japanese witnesses which corroborate the recovery of Earhart and Noonan, together with their aircraft, by the naval research vessel Koshu thence to Jaluit, Truk and ultimately Saipan. Their theory closely parallels yours, with the exception of the routing from Lae, in that they do not subscribe to the “spy theory” of over flights in the vicinity of Truk or Saipan, but rather have them diverting South across Nukumanu and Nauru Islands. Unfortunately you, Messrs. Loomis and Ethel have witnesses, but no “hard” evidence, and Gillespie has “hard” evidence [sic], which isn’t conclusive as to Earhart, and no witnesses.
What caught my attention in the article, your book, and the book of Loomis/Ethel is the reference to radio transmissions, either from the vicinity of the Marshal or the Phoenix group. Gillespie referred to a Navy flying boat, HMS Achilles, and various stations over the Pacific, apparently Pan Am at Hawaii, Midway and Wake Islands, and advised the Navy that triangulation placed the aircraft in the Phoenix group. I believe your book makes reference to Navy stations on the west coast which picked up similar signals, possibly emanating from the Marshalls. I believe it may be radio signals that created the Navy’s secrecy and paranoia concerning this entire affair.
Also published in 1985 was “And I Was There” by Rear Admiral Edwin T. Layton. While the volume is directed to and addresses the issues of naval intelligence and the attack on Pearl Harbor, the first several chapters detail radio surveillance, intelligence and capabilities during the 1930s. I have enclosed copies of certain pages that detail this information; however the synopsis is as follows: Beginning with World War I, Herbert O. Yardley organized the first code breaking offices for the U.S. military. The cipher bureau was called MI-8 and worked with the British and French through the end of World War I. This office continued in existence until 1929 when it was prohibited by the U.S. Secretary of State, Stimson, against “reading other people’s mail.” However, prior to ceasing the operations, the Americans were able to establish the 5:5:3 – Ship tonnage ratio between Britain, the U.S., and Japan. The U.S. was reading Tokyo’s telegraphic instructions to its delegations, which allowed the Americans to read Japan’s hand in the poker game.
Apparently the Navy became very proficient in their trade and completely replicated what was then known as the Japanese Red code. While the operations were supposed to be terminated after the naval conference, they apparently became, at best, dormant throughout the late 20s and early 30s. You will repeatedly find the names of Joe Rochefort, Joe Wenger, Agnes Driscoll, Lawrence Safford, Tommy Dyer, Wesley A. “Ham” Wright, and other apparent geniuses in radio intercepts, intelligence, and cryptoanalysis throughout Layton’s book. The Navy operated a full network with listening stations in Guam, Shanghai, Peking, Cavite, Australia, Hawaii, and the west coast with all of the material ultimately delivered to Washington, cryptoanalysis stations Negat (Washington) Hypo (Hawaii) and Cast (Cavite).
In late 1930 the Japanese changed their naval code system and went from the Red book to the Blue book. Breaking the Red book had taken approximately three years, however given the level of experience and talent then available, the key to the Blue code was broken in September, 1931. Thereafter the Navy continued penetrating the new cipher system and for a period of eight years continued to read the Japanese “mail.” The level of sophistication with the blue code was apparently reaching its zenith in 1937/1938. In November, 1938 the eight-year-old Blue book was suspended and the Japanese adopted the “AD” code, then in June, 1939 the “AN” code, later to be designated as JN-25 which we penetrated and read throughout World War II.
In addition to reading the naval code we were also apparently reading merchant code and most significantly the Japanese diplomatic codes. Examples are the Japanese low-grade ciphers designated “PA-K2,” “LA,” “J-19” and the high-grade diplomatic code “Purple,” frequently referred to as “Magic.” Purple became effective in February, 1939. Its predecessor was Red, not to be confused with the Navy’s red code book. Both the Red and Ppurple diplomatic codes were machine code, with Red first coming into use in 1935. Colonel William F. Friedman developed the “M3” machine which was being used by the Japanese foreign ministry in 1935 to encode its most confidential communications. By 1936 we were regularly reading Tokyo’s diplomatic messages on this device. Ultimately a “Purple” machine was developed to read the diplomatic codes after 1939.
The point of this history is this: if the U.S. Navy was prepared to spend $4,000,000 and the allocation of numerous naval vessels to the search for Amelia Earhart, I found it inconceivable, given the ability of the U.S. Navy to read both the diplomatic and naval codes, and the extent of their direction finding and cryptoanalysis [sic] stations around the Pacific, that they did not listen in on Japanese communications and follow the “search” from the Japanese side. . . . Most interestingly, most of the Japanese “fleet“ that was supposed to be scouring the Pacific was in fact tied up in Japan preparatory to its operations in China which began on July 5th.
Navy signal traffic would have clearly indicated that this “fleet” was not where the Japanese claimed it to be, and may even have been able to determine the activities of the Koshu in the Marshalls. It must have driven the Navy crazy to read Japanese communications about the great search, if it did, in fact, know that no such search was being made. It is also quite possible that Navy direction finders pinpointed Earhart’s aircraft or even the Japanese recovery, since they certainly had that capability, however were unable to get our naval vessels near that area because the Japanese, knowing Earhart to be down in the Marshalls, had grabbed her first and refused to allow our Navy into the area.
Finally none of this material could be released to the public without compromising our signals intelligence and warning the Japanese that we were reading their mail. That, in my opinion, would be more than sufficient basis for the Navy’s paranoia about secrecy in this entire matter, since little, if any, of the signals intelligence was released until the 1970’s or later.
Your search and other searches at “naval intelligence” probably would not have revealed the information and files at “naval communication” which apparently were two separate and distinct operations which frequently did not share information. Unfortunately that led to the debacle at Pearl Harbor and may have also been involved in the Earhart mystery. According to the bibliography attached to Layton’s book, record group 457 of the National Security Agency on file in the national archives contains portions of the radio traffic between 1940 and 1945 and encompass over 300,000 messages intercepted and decrypted. I presume there are similar record groups that cover the summer of 1937. . . . [A]n examination of naval communication records, records of OP-20-G and the National Security Agency of signal intercepts during June, July, and August of 1937 might well locate the key to resolving the mystery.
Very Truly Yours,
Michael L. Muenich
The records of OP-20-G and the National Security Agency of signal intercepts during June, July and August of 1937 referenced by Muenich are precisely the point: If these records contain Navy intercepts of Japanese messages indicating they had Earhart in custody or even knew of her whereabouts, as some believe, it would be the smoking gun many have long sought. Although I haven’t personally searched the National Archives for these records, others more inclined to navigate and endure the stifling NARA bureaucracy have done so and confirmed what many have strongly suspected—a gap exists where the records of intercepted Japanese radio transmissions would normally be found, from 1935 to 1940.
Are these intercepts still being kept at Crane, Ind., as Carroll Harris suggested to Goerner in 1980, or do they even exist at all anymore? Were the top-secret files destroyed “in the interest of national security” somewhere along the line, perhaps? Barring some unimaginable development — a miracle, in my opinion — we’ll never know the answers to these vexing questions, as it appears the key to the vault that holds Earhart secrets was thrown away long ago.
For further discussion of U.S. and Japanese radio transmitting and intercept capabilities, please see pages 263-264 and “Chapter III: The Search and the Radio Signals” in Amelia Earhart: The Truth at Last.
Longtime reader Ken McGhee livened up an uneventful day recently when he informed me about a Sept. 9 Coast to Coast AM story, “Earhart Mural in Malaysia Gets Panned” that repeated a Sept. 5 Yahoo! News article in its own dependably despicable style. The story describes the recent painting of a huge mural depicting Amelia Earhart and her Electra on the outside of a public jail at Taiping, Malaysia, where Earhart reportedly stopped for fuel on her way to Singapore during her 1937 world flight attempt. (Boldface and italic emphasis mine throughout.):
During her now-infamous 1937 attempt at circumnavigating the globe which ultimately led to her disappearance, the legendary pilot stopped at the city’s airport for a day to refuel her plane. Much to the chagrin of those in Taiping who don’t consider the event to be all that significant, the brief moment when Earhart came to town is what is being memorialized in the mural.
Never one to miss an opportunity to throw dirt on the truth, Coast to Coast showed its stripes by drawing a false parallel to the Earhart Memorial Monument movement on Saipan, never checking the validity of the claim in the Malaysia story in its eagerness to misinform its readers about the Earhart disappearance whenever possible:
Taiping is not the only Earhart tribute to become a community concern as debate continues to rage in Saipan over plans to build a huge statue of the aviator whose only connection to the area are rumors that she ultimately landed there.
What “rumors” that Earhart “ultimately landed” on Saipan is Coast to Coast referencing? George Noory and his disinfo claque aren’t interested or well-read enough to be referring to Eyewitness: The Amelia Earhart Incident, in which author Thomas E. Devine’s claimed that Earhart flew directly from Lae to Saipan, an idea rejected by all serious Earhart researchers. This leaves Paul Briand Jr.’s original erroneous claim found in the recently discussed “Daughter of the Sky,” knowledge of which is also beyond Coast to Coast’s pay grade, though someone on their staff might have read my recent post. Most likely, it’s just Coast to Coast being incompetent, confusing and contrary, its usual practice in all things Earhart.
The original story, “Taiping’s latest mural of aviator Amelia Earhart draws online criticism,” came by way of the
Taiping’s latest mural depicting the first female aviator to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean, Amelia Earhart, has not gone down well with some people online.
Many have gone to the Taiping Municipal Council’s (MPT) official Facebook page to question the rationale behind the drawing.
The American had made a refueling stopover at Tekah Airport on June 7, 1937 before continuing her journey to Singapore and New Guinea in her attempt to circumnavigate the globe.
“As I look into this further, some strange things come up,” McGhee wrote in an email. “In the news article from Malaysia, they say she was in Taiping on June 7 to refuel. According to history books, she was in Natal in South America on June 7. Also in the history books, her route did not take her to Taiping, but to Singapore on June 21. Some error checking is needed here. When was she in Taiping? If at all? Something is not right, but I’m not sure what it is . . . Funny how nobody checks the facts on this. And Tekah is not that far from Singapore. If they went to Tekah Airport to refuel, they would not have needed to stop in Singapore.”
None of the maps or books I’ve checked contain any reference to Earhart stopping at Taiping, in 1937 or any other time. Thus far, the only source I’ve been able to find for the claim that Earhart stopped to refuel at Taiping has been Wikipedia’s Taiping Airport entry:
The airport also achieved fame through the famous American aviator, Amelia Earhart in 1937, when she was doing her world flight and made a stopover at the Taiping Airport for refueling. Amelia Earhart was flying between Thailand and Singapore and permission to land at Taiping Airport was granted on 7 June 1937 by the then Resident-General of Malaya.
Wikipedia offers no footnotes or citations for this claim, leaving us to speculate where it could have come from. I can’t find email addresses for the two artists or reporter Sylvia Looi, either, and have a language problem with the Majlis Perbandaran Taiping Facebook page.
Hoping to find some clarity, I turned to what most would consider the definitive source — the first-person record of Earhart’s world flight, at least of events leading up to the fliers’ June 30 arrival at Lae. What could be more authoritative than Amelia’s own book, Last Flight, published in 1937 by Harcourt, Brace and Company, Inc., which I have in a first edition, without her signature, of course.
Below is a scan of the top of page 204, Last Flight, Amelia’s account of her departure from Bangkok, Siam (now Thailand), on June 21, 1937.
The next four paragraphs present Amelia’s impressions of her flight to Singapore, with phrases like: “A country of green mountains opened before us”; “charming towns which looked from the air much like those at home”; and “the fields and valleys were upholstered with a deep-green jungle in an unbelievably continuous covering made by separate trees.”
Nowhere does Earhart mention Taiping or its airport, and she soon gets to the fliers’ arrival at Singapore:
Mary Lovell’s The Sound of Wings is among the best of all the Earhart biographies (see p. 302 for the critical section), but it also offers nary a word about Taiping or its airport. Lovell’s source is also Last Flight, according to the book’s notes, but if Last Flight can’t be considered definitive, what can?
Courtesy of the Chicago Tribune, the above map of Earhart’s world flight shows no stops between Bangkok and Singapore, June 20-21, 1937. So where did these two Malaysian muralists get the idea that Amelia stopped there with Fred Noonan and her Electra?
If we’re to clear up this little mystery, we need some help. Your ideas are welcome.
Sept. 24 update: On Sept. 23 I sent a correction page to Wikipedia, following its protocols, and see that the original sentence, “The airport also achieved fame through the famous American aviator, Amelia Earhart in 1937, when she was doing her world flight and made a stopover at the Taiping Airport for refueling,” has been changed. It now reads, “The airport also achieved fame through the famous American aviator, Amelia Earhart in 1937, when she was doing her world flight. Amelia Earhart was flying between Thailand and Singapore and permission to land at Taiping Airport was granted on 7 June 1937 by the then Resident-General of Malaya.” Note that the all-important phrase, “and made a stopover at the Taiping Airport for refueling,” has been deleted.
In a Sept. 24 email, Ken McGhee wrote, “I think its one thing to say she got permission to land on June 7. It is another thing to actually land. She may have gotten permission and then decided later not to land there.”
Clearly Amelia was not flying between Thailand and Singapore on June 7, when she was in Natal, Brazil, and would not have asked for permission to land at Taiping. But we’ll take the partial concession to logic that Wikipedia makes; it’s quite unusual in itself, especially where Amelia Earhart is concerned.
More important, Ken McGhee’s explanation makes more sense than anything we’ve seen before, and Wikipedia agrees. I’m not going to press them about the small detail of a long-distance radio call from Brazil to (then) Malaya, which could not have happened.
Now that the establishment’s latest phony effort to find Amelia Earhart’s plane as far away as possible from where it’s buried on Saipan has ended, I think a review of the true history of the search for Amelia is appropriate. (Boldface emphasis mine throughout.)
Most informed observers of the history of research into the disappearance of Amelia Earhart and Fred Noonan believe that Fred Goerner’s The Search for Amelia Earhart is the seminal work in the genre, and all that followed sprang from the San Francisco radio-newsman’s initial Saipan forays. But neither Goerner nor anyone else would have ever heard about Earhart and Noonan’s arrival at Saipan in 1937 if not for the 1960 book that started it all — Daughter of the Sky, by Paul L. Briand, Jr., a Ph.D., captain (later promoted to major) and assistant professor of English at the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colo.
I never met Briand, who was born in 1920 and died in 1986, to ask him definitively, but it appears that Daughter of the Sky was conceived and written as another Earhart biography, this one by an aviation expert and co-editor of The Sound of Wings (not the biography by Mary Lovell), an anthology of flying literature published in 1957. We must assume, based on its presentation, that as the book neared completion, Briand was informed of new material that he shoehorned into Daughter’s closing pages, information that changed everything about the Earhart disappearance.
Since few readers have a copy of Daughter of the Sky, I think it’s instructive to re-present its closing pages, for those interested in something more substantial than the latest failed searches and incoherent dispatches about native bones found and lost on a central Pacific atoll circa 1940.
In the last of its three parts, “The Last Flight,” Daughter of the Sky distinguished itself from all previous Earhart literature. In its next-to-last chapter, “The Fog of Rumors,” an apparently unconvinced Briand introduced the “great rumor” that Earhart and Noonan had been prisoners of the Japanese, attributing this idea “largely” to the 1943 Hollywood film Flight for Freedom, a red herring starring Rosalind Russell and Fred MacMurray, and speculation by Dr. M.L. Brittain of Georgia Tech, who had been onboard USS Lexington during the Earhart search, that the fliers became prisoners of the Japanese.
Here Briand presented some helpful information as well, noting Amy Otis Earhart’s claim that “her daughter was on a secret government mission and that she was captured by the Japanese,“ but writing that Mrs. Earhart had no “official basis” for making such as statement. For more on that story, please click here. Briand also cited the March 1944 Associated Press article, “Putnam Flight Yarn Revived,” by Eugene Burns that introduced the fishing boat pickup and Marshall Islands landing scenario that Elieu Jibambam had initially shared with Navy Lieutenants Eugene T. Bogan, Bill Bauer and Jimmy Toole (see Truth at Last pages 130-131). Burns’ story was buried in newspapers where it appeared at all, and was largely ignored.
Astute readers will note several discrepancies in Briand’s narrative of Josephine Blanco’s eyewitness account as reported by Navy dentist Casimir R. Sheft to him and later findings by Fred Goerner and others; after all, the book was published in 1960, so we’re talking circa 1959 that Briand was made privy to Sheft’s revelations.
Very little of substance was known at that time, but the key event, Josephine’s 1937 sighting of the American fliers at Saipan’s Tanapag Harbor, is presented in stark detail by the Air Force Academy English professor as Sheft related it to him, and thus the true modern search for Amelia Earhart was quietly launched. Very few were even aware of it, as the revelations in Daughter of the Sky were suppressed throughout the establishment media. Following are the closing pages of Paul Briand Jr.’s Daughter of the Sky.
9. “The Light of Fact: A Mystery Solved?”
Two additional events, however, separate in time and both involving Amelia Earhart — but heretofore never interrelated — do fit together in a logical and revealing pattern. All the pieces of the puzzle are not available, but there are enough of them to form a discernible picture.
At the end of World War II Jacqueline Cochran, then head of the WASPS, the famous organization of women ferry pilots, was asked by General Hap Arnold to go to Tokyo and investigate the role that Japanese women had played in aviation during the war. While she was in Imperial Air Force Headquarters Miss Cochran noticed that there were numerous files on American aviation notables — and many filed on Amelia Earhart.
These documents since that time have mysteriously disappeared. They are not in the official custody of the United States Government, or any of its departments, services, or agencies; nor do they seem to be in the possession of the Japanese Government. (All captured documents, those of historical importance having been copied on microfilm, have been returned to Tokyo. No AE files were discovered among the captured materials.) Nevertheless, these files seem to indicate that the Japanese had more than a normal interest in Amelia Earhart, because of another event that happened, curiously, again in the Marianas. This new evidence has never before been made public.
At the end of the war on the island of Saipan a Navy dentist worked with his assistant, a native girl named Josephine Blanco. It was 1946. Dr. Casimir R. Sheft, now practicing in New Jersey, was taking a break between appointments and talking with a fellow dentist. During the conversation Dr. Sheft casually mentioned the disappearance of Amelia Earhart and speculated about whether the famous flier could have ended her flight in the Marianas, and possibly near Saipan, for he had read somewhere that the Marines had found AE’s flight log during the invasion (actually, it had been the photograph album). Suddenly his dental assistant, Josephine, broke in: She had seen an American woman flier many years ago — nine or ten — on Saipan, when she was a little girl. The American woman wore khaki clothes and had hair cut like a man. . . .
Josephine Blanco, now Mrs. Maximo Akiyama, and living in California with her husband and their young son, was witness to an incident which is as incredible as it is enlightening,
In the summer of 1937 Josephine was riding her bicycle toward Tanapag Harbor. She was taking her Japanese brother-in-law, J.Y. Matsumoto, his lunch, and was hurrying along because it was nearly twelve o’clock.
That summer she had just finished Japanese grammar school, where she had gone for the last five years, ever since she was seven years old. In March she had celebrated her eleventh birthday, and now she could begin Catholic school. She was looking forward to studying with the Spanish missionary sisters. Father Tadzio had hoped that someday Josephine, too, like some of the other Chamorro native girls in the Marianas, would answer Gods call and become a native sister.
Josephine had a special pass to the Japanese military area near the harbor. Not even Japanese civilians were admitted to the area unless they carried the proper credentials. The young girl rode up to the gate, stopped her bicycle, and presented her pass. The guard allowed her into the restricted area.
On the way to meet her brother-in-law, Josephine heard an airplane flying overhead. She looked up and saw a silver two-engine plane. The plane seemed to be in trouble, for it came down low, headed out into the harbor, and belly-landed on the water.
It was not until she met her brother-in-law that Josephine discovered whom it was that had crash landed in the harbor.
“The American woman,” everyone was saying, greatly excited. “Come and see the American woman.” Josephine and her brother in-law joined the knot of people who gathered to watch.
She saw the American woman standing next to a tall man wearing a short-sleeved sports shirt, and was surprised because the woman was not dressed as a woman usually dressed. Instead of a dress, the American woman wore a man’s shirt and trousers; and instead of long hair, she wore her hair cut short, like a man. The faces of the man and woman were white and drawn, as if they were sick.
The American woman who looked like a man and the tall man with her were led away by the Japanese soldiers. The fliers were taken to a clearing in the woods. Shots rang out. The soldiers returned alone. (Editor’s note: No evidence has ever surfaced that supports the fliers being shot so soon after their arrival on Saipan. Some evidence exists that Amelia was shot much later, but none suggests that Fred Noonan was ever shot.)
Mrs. Akiyama has affirmed, after identifying a photograph of Amelia Earhart and Fred Noonan taken on the world flight, that the couple was unquestionably the same man and woman she and her brother-in-law had seen on Saipan: the clothes were different, but the woman’s haircut was unmistakable.
Josephine Blanco’s story, which is basically the same one she told Dr. Sheft in Saipan, is most probably true. It is extremely unlikely this native girl could have invented her story. If she had, then for what purpose? If for profit or gain, she had, for more than ten years after the American invasion, the opportunity to capitalize on her sensational news.
As an eleven-year-old girl, Josephine of course had no idea of the significance of what she had seen other than it was indeed an American woman she had seen. Dr. Sheft has never doubted her story, and for many years he has hoped that a thorough re-examination of the facts would be made. They were.
Amelia Earhart could have ended her flight around the world at Saipan, If she were indeed headed for Howland Island, however, she somehow made an error of about 100° in reading her compass.
(Editor’s note: The following scenario, in which Briand has the Electra and its crew reaching Saipan directly from Lae, is typical of the wild speculation that characterized the early days following the public release of Josephine’s Earhart sighting, and is included here only because it, too, is part of Briand’s closing chapter.)
It means that all during the night of July 2, beginning after sundown at 5:55 p.m., Fred Noonan was not able to get a fix from the stars to determine his position. And if, after fourteen hours out from Lae, he looked down and saw a chain of islands, he would have determined that he was on course and over the Gilbert Islands; but if AE had turned north while he was napping, and he had still awakened in time to see islands, they would have been, not the Gilberts as he might have thought, but the Caroline Islands — exactly the same distance away but in the wrong direction.
By somehow departing from her course, and making the tremendous error of steering north and west instead of east — as she had done once before on the world flight, when she had turned north to St. Louis instead of south to Dakar, overriding Fred’s directions, after the flight across the South Atlantic — AE would have found herself after twenty hours of flying time somewhere along the chain of islands that marks the Marianas.
Her last report, at 8:45 a.m., gave her line of position at 157-337. The Navy’s search satisfied judgments that the line was not a radio line, for the areas northwest and southeast from Howland were thoroughly investigated. One hundred fifty-seven-337, therefore, was undoubtedly a sun line.
Near Howland, at position 01° 00′ North Latitude and 177° 20′ West Latitude, on July 3, 1937, the bearing of the sun was 66° from the north point at 7:00 a.m., Howland time. The sun line, therefore, would have been 156-336.
Near Saipan, at position 13° 00′ North Latitude and 153° 00′ East Longitude, at 5:00 a.m., Saipan time, the sun was 64° from the north point. A sun line there would have been 154-334.
If Noonan had thought he was close to Howland when he shot his last sun line, his geographical point of reference — used for computing and plotting his observation — would obviously have been close to Howland. If he had actually been close to Saipan, however, the relative position of the sun would still have been almost the same: 64° from the north point near Saipan, as opposed to 66° from the north point near Howland. But his observation, when computed and plotted on his chart, would have shown him to be the same number of miles from his geographical point of reference.
An experienced navigator with trust in his abilities such as Noonan would have tended to believe that either his observations or his computations were somehow wrong. He would not have thought, at least immediately, that he was some 2,600 miles off course. If AE had been pressing him for a position to radio to the Itasca, he might have, in agonies of doubt, merely given her the line of position, which he could be sure of, but not the geographical point of reference, because he could now no longer determine that point with certainty. This possibility would explain the irregularity of Amelia having transmitted the line of position without the necessary point of reference.
On the basis of these determinations, therefore, there is strong support for believing in Josephine Blanco’s story.
The Navy gave Amelia until about noon before she would go down. It was at noontime that Josephine saw the two-motored plane ditch in Tanapag Harbor.
The Navy’s final conclusion was that Amelia had ended her flight somewhere north and west. Amelia Earhart and Fred Noonan were seen by two eyewitnesses north and west of Howland on Saipan. At that time of the year the American woman and her tall male companion could have been none other than AE and Fred Noonan.
In 1937 on Saipan, according to Maximo and Josephine Akiyama, the Japanese military did not hesitate to kill anyone. Japanese civilian or Chamorro native, whom they suspected of supping on their illegal fortifications.
Japanese officialdom maintaining an enigmatic silence (the Japanese Embassy in Washington knows nothing of the Earhart case, nor does Dr. John Young of Georgetown University, who examined captured Japanese documents for the American Government) concerning the disappearance of the two fliers, it may be idle to speculate upon the final fate of Fred Noonan and Amelia Earhart. The evidence, however, justifies at least one tenable conclusion.
When Josephine Blanco saw the twin-engined silver plane, Amelia and Fred had been flying for twenty-six consecutive hours and for 4,000 futile miles. The sight of the island that was Saipan must have cheered the fliers with renewed hope for safety, and for life itself.
When they survived the crash landing in Tanapag Harbor only to be taken into custody as spies, their joy must have turned to inexplicable bitterness: they had been saved not for life, but for death before a Japanese firing squad.
For Amelia, who once had said to her husband, “I don’t want to go; but when I do, I’d like to go in my plane — quickly,” the last word of her wish must have struck her now with sudden and ironic force.
Yet, as she had so often before, Amelia Earhart must have met this challenge with stubborn self-control and resolute courage. For here at last was her unmistakable, but irrefutable, fate.
Thus ended Daughter of the Sky. Though it was riddled with erroneous conclusions and wild speculation, its most important feature, Josephine Blanco’s eyewitness sighting of Earhart and Noonan on Saipan in the summer of 1937, was quite real — and this reality launched the modern-day search for Amelia Earhart.
Few, and mainly those who read this blog regularly, know about the vital role that San Mateo Times reporter Linwood Day played in the earliest days of the Earhart investigation, newly launched by virtue of the blockbuster revelations in Daughter of the Sky. Day’s Earhart series reached its zenith on July 1, 1960, when the Times front page announced in 100-point headlines, all caps, “AMELIA EARHART MYSTERY IS SOLVED.”
Fred Goerner was already on Saipan in the midst of his first witness investigation, and in six years his book, The Search for Amelia Earhart, would sell more than 400,000 copies, only to be trashed by Time magazine as a work that “barely hangs together.” The rest is history.