Amy Johnson CBE, 1903-1941: A brief biography Amy Johnson is one of those historical figures who have generated many myths and half-truths. She is, for example, often portrayed as a champion for women’s rights. In fact, she largely pursued her own agendas, though she was certainly an inspiration to many women. She was also “the typist who flew to Australia”, the plucky amateur so beloved of British society. Amy did spend some time working in a legal office, but was educated far above the level of the average 1930’s typist. And although her early flights were not exactly methodically planned, she became a highly professional pilot. Then of course there are the numerous theories about her death, which seem sometimes to attract more attention than her numerous achievements. The real Amy is far more complex and interesting.
Amy was born in Hull on 1 st July 1903. The family home at the time was in St. George’s Road, in the western part of the city, not far from the docks. Her father, John William Johnson, was a partner in the family fish processing business. This had originally set up by Amy'’ Danish grandfather, who moved to Hull and anglicized his name to Andrew Johnson. “JW” Johnson was a shrewd and resourceful character and somewhat of a pillar of local society. As the family business grew, the Johnson family found a better house, acquired two cars and generally enjoyed a comfortable lower middle class lifestyle. “JW” joined the Rotarians and was a staunch Methodist. He also proved to be a loyal and energetic supporter of Amy’s career, once she had set her heart on being a pilot (for example he contributed half of the £600 needed to buy her first aircraft). Perhaps his daughter’s adventurous spirit struck a chord in his heart? In his youth, “JW” had taken part in the Klondike gold rush of 1898, although he came home without making a fortune.
In 1902, “JW” married Amy Hodge. She is said to have been a charming person, although rather shy in company (a trait which Amy shared with her). She was also apparently rather house-proud. For a long time, the Johnson children were not allowed to have pets in the house and “Ciss” (a family nickname) insisted on doing all of her own baking. Like “JW”, Amy’s mother attended Methodist chapel, where she played the organ. She does not seem to have actively opposed Amy’s flying career, but was often rather nervous about her daughter’s safety.
Three other girls were born to the Johnson family – Irene (in 1904), Molly (in 1912) and Betty (1919). The family home seems to have been a happy place. If Amy’s own account is to be believed, the girls played rather boisterous games involving climbing on the furniture and swinging from the light fittings. The Johnson family often went for long bicycle rides, as well as summer holidays at Bridlington. As a teenager, Amy did gym practice (with Irene) at the Young Peoples Institute in Hull and went swimming at the Beverley Road baths in the city.
After a succession of private schools, Amy joined the Boulevard Secondary School in 1915. Although she proved to be a bright pupil, Amy was also a bit of a rebel. She attempted to start a revolt over the much hated school straw hats and was seen in the park in the company of a boy, whilst in her uniform. Amy’s real passion at this time was sport. She was keen player of both hockey and cricket and was respected by the boys for her ability to bowl over-arm. By nature quite outgoing, Amy’s
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shyness seems to have originated in a cricket accident which cost her two front teeth and made her very self conscious about her appearance. Throughout her life, it was a characteristic of Amy, that in spite of her fame and a number of close friends, she often experienced what she called “black moods”. These had much to do with the men in her life, but in part, they may also have reflected a surprising lack of inner confidence, despite her great achievements.
Having left school with good qualifications, Amy took a degree in Economics, Latin and French at Sheffield University (this was still a relatively unusual option for a girl at this time). It was during this period (1922-1925) that she met Hans Arregger, her first serious boyfriend. Hans was a Swiss catholic, who later set up a small import business in Hull. Amy first met him at a party arranged by a relative and it was typical of her get up and go style that she pursued Hans and not the other way around. Their somewhat stormy relationship endured for about six years, surviving parental disapproval, but eventually succumbing to Han’s refusal to commit to marriage.
Having obtained her degree, Amy returned to Hull, where she worked in an advertising agency as a secretary. She had her first (brief) experience of flying at this time, when she went up for a joy ride at the Hull Fair. It is recorded that Amy was not too impressed by the experience, but it may in some way have sowed the seed for her later ambitions. Moving to London in 1927, to escape family pressure over her relationship with Hans, Amy tried a variety of jobs (including a spell as a sales assistant), before finding a position as a secretary in a legal firm. In April 1928, on a whim it seems, she visited Stag Lane airfield, Edgeware, the home of the London Aeroplane Club. Boldly wandering into the members enclosure, she made inquiries about membership fees. These were £3, plus 30/- per hour flying fees – a considerable sum for someone then earning about £2 per week. Fortunately for Amy, her father proved from the first to be a ready source of funds, as well as wisdom.
Amy took her first flying lesson in September 1928, went solo after 15¾ hours and obtained her pilot’s “A” licence in July 1929, with 19 hours flying experience. Her first instructor had suggested to her that she would never make a pilot! Flying with three separate instructors and having long breaks enforced by bad weather had lengthened Amy’s tuition period. She seems also to have had some difficulty with making landings and heavy landings remained a feature of her flying for much of her career. On the other hand, there is absolutely no doubting her courage and will to succeed. She also had an uncanny ability to navigate, almost by instinct alone.
Along with her first flying lessons, Amy had, in early 1929, taken an even more revolutionary step for a woman at this time. Ingratiating herself with Jack Humphries, the chief mechanic at Stag Lane, Amy began to learn how to maintain an aircraft. In December 1929, she gained the Ground Engineer’s licence. She was not (quite) the first woman to possess this qualification, but she was for a time the only woman to do so. Her ability to mend an aircraft, even when proper spares were lacking, was to prove indispensable on her flight to Australia.
Popular myth would have it that Amy left off typing, jumped into an aircraft and flew, unprepared, 10,000 to Australia. In fact, there was a long campaign of letter writing and pleading before Amy was able to secure the financial backing of Lord Wakefield, the oil magnate. He agreed to provide half the
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£600 need to buy a DH60Gipsy Moth biplane and arranged for petrol and oil supplies at agreed points along the planned route. What is true, is that Amy had very little flying experience with this particular aircraft (which she christened “Jason” after the family business), when she took off from Croydon airport on 5 th May 1930. In fact, her longest flight prior to this was from Stag Lane to Hedon airfield!
During her 19½ day flight, Amy had to fight her way through a sandstorm and a tropical storm, emerged unscathed from a crash landing and had to make numerous (often ad hoc) repairs to the plane. Along with bureaucratic delays, any of these factors could have brought the flight to a halt. Although Amy failed to break the England-Australia record, her outstanding achievement in becoming the first woman to fly solo to Australia caused a remarkable outpouring of celebration in the media and the public generally. When she landed at Darwin she received numerous congratulatory telegrams, including one from the King & Queen and another from the Prime Minister. Wherever she traveled, she was showered with all manner of gifts. To mention just some of the major items, there was the award of the CBE, two aircraft and a cheque for £10,000 from Associated Newspapers. A number of songs appeared – “Amy, Wonderful Amy” being the best known – and there was even a cartoon in Punch magazine comparing her to Dr. Samuel Johnson (not a relation!).
Various portraits were also produced of Amy and she was photographed with celebrities like George Bernard Shaw and Lady Astor. Amy seems to had little idea of the media circus her flight would create. After her initial elation, tiredness and stress soon set in. There were also unkind and unfounded suggestions from one Australian tabloid that Amy was a “gold digger”. Back in England after a long sea voyage and flight home, Amy found that her £10,000 cheque had a price – she had to hand over “Jason” and conduct an exhausting round Britain tour. This she was unable to complete due to ill health.
Amy’s 1930 flight has tended to eclipse the rest of her career. This was perhaps less dramatic, but was marked by a growing professionalism. Gradually, she seems to have adapted to life as a celebrity, though she never especially enjoyed it. Flying was always something she did primarily for enjoyment. In January 1931, she attempted a solo flight from London-Peking in “Jason III”, another Gipsy Moth. Many well-informed people tried to dissuade Amy from flying across Russia in an open topped biplane in winter, but she was determined to make the attempt. In the event, she got no further than Warsaw, before crashing in appalling weather. Continuing by train to Moscow, she was introduced to several prominent Soviet leaders.
In July/August 1931, in a cabin-equipped Puss Moth, Amy and Jack Humphries set a record time of 10 days for the England-Japan flight. This received little publicity, being overshadowed by Jim Mollison’s 9-day flight from Australia to England at the same time. Mollison was one of the outstanding pilots of his day, but his exploits have tended to be overshadowed by his high profile (and stormy) marriage to Amy. His successes included the first east-west solo crossing of the Atlantic, as well as a crossing of the south Atlantic to Brazil. The marriage of the “Air Lovers” in 1932 (as the Mollisons were dubbed by the press) was a dream for the media. Attention was focused as
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much on their social doings and their clothing as on their flying. They were the “Posh” and “Becks” of their day. Mollison’s surface charm hid a dark side however. Infidelity and excessive alcohol consumption were a problem from the very start and Amy divorced Jim in 1937. The couple flew together on some highly publicised (though not very successful) flights. In July 1933, as part of a planned long distance record, they took off from the Pendine Sands, aiming for New York. Running out of fuel, they crash-landed at Bridgeport, Connecticut. Nevertheless, the couple got their ticker tape welcome and hob-knobbed with celebrities like President Roosevelt and the aviatrix Amelia Earhart. An attempt on the England-Australia air race in 1934, in a brand new DH Comet called “Black Magic” also ended in failure.
Amy twice broke the record for flying solo from England to Cape Town, South Africa (in 1932 and 1936). In the first of these flights she flew by the difficult west coast route and crossed the Sahara, flying across thousands of miles of desert and jungle, with only primitive airfields to set down on and little chance of rescue if a mishap occurred. These flights in particular demonstrate that Amy learned to plan thoroughly and didn’t rely solely on courage and good luck. As the craze for “stunt flying” began to wane, Amy had to find other outlets to keep her financially afloat and maintain her profile. She spent short spells as a commercial pilot in 1934 and 1939. In 1934, she was for 6 months the aviation editor for the Daily Mail and also wrote articles about women’s issues generally. In 1938 she took part in a number of motor car rallies and she also took up gliding. An element of risk seems to have been involved in many of her activities. She liked to drive her own cars fast and was fined for speeding on a number of occasions! Interestingly, after her divorce she does not seem to have had any further serious relationships.
In May 1940, Amy joined the women’s section of the Air Transport Auxiliary. She had hoped to command the unit, but seems to have been passed over for someone without Amy’s celebrity “baggage” (Amy often felt that she couldn’t get a serious job in aviation because of her record- breaking exploits). In Amy’s time, the ATA flew transports, trainers and other non-combat aircraft from the manufacturer’s airfields to RAF bases. Flying unarmed aircraft without radios, it was a highly dangerous task, which claimed more than a few lives. On 5 th January 1941, Amy disappeared on a flight from Squires Gate, Blackpool to Kidlington, Oxfordshire. Parts of her Airspeed Oxford and items of luggage belonging to her were recovered from the Thames Estuary. It seems likely that due to the extreme weather conditions that day, she got lost, ran out of fuel and had to ditch the plane. It is highly likely that she actually went under the convoy vessel that was trying to rescue her. Conspiracy theories about spying missions, mystery passengers and “friendly fire” incidents started almost immediately, but are all very unconvincing. Amy had predicted that she would die flying and would probably have preferred that to a gradual decline into obscurity and old age. Her death therefore, although premature, was not “tragic” in the strictest sense – she died doing what she loved.
In 1959, JW Johnson donated many of Amy’s personal items to Sewerby Hall near Bridlington, where they remain today as part of a permanent display about her life and career. In 2003, East Riding of Yorkshire council put on a special exhibition and events programme to commemorate the centenary of her birth. New artifacts are regularly added to the collection at the Hall.
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Amy Johnson was a complex character. Likable and engaging certainly, she suffered from periods of self-doubt and had a troubled personal life. Her courage and will to succeed in a male-dominated world and against natural obstacles make her a worthy role model for anyone to follow.
Some suggested further reading:
Constance Babington Smith “Amy Johnson”, Collins, 1967 (out of print but still obtainable second hand)
Midge Gillies “Amy Johnson, Queen of the Air”, Wiedenfeld & Nicolson, 2003
David Luff “Amy Johnson, Enigma in the Sky”, Airlife Publishing Ltd., 2002
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