Inez Scott Treadway
The following was sent to us by Charles Treadway and was written out longhand by his mother just a few years before her death. Thanks Charles, this is the type of material that I am looking for.
One beautiful morning when I was seven years old something exciting happened as I was outside playing in our sand pile under the chinaberry tree. I heard an airplane. From the sound I knew it was flying low, though I had not seen or heard many planes. We lived on the farm about 1 mile South of the small town of Hollandale. My daddy was a farmer. He took pride in his crops of cotton, corn, sugar cane and alfalfa. This year his alfalfa was beautiful and it was not too long until he would be cutting and bailing it. As I got up from my playing to see if I could see the plane in the sky, my daddy came riding up on his big white horse. He said "Inez, hop on and let's go see about that plane that just landed in my alfalfa." Of course I hopped on and we trotted about one quarter of a mile to where this plane was right in the middle of daddy's beautiful field of alfalfa. A young man was standing by the plane as if thinking, "Now what and where am I!" He introduced himself to daddy and apologized for being in the field. His gas had run out and, as there were cars on the highway, he could do nothing but land in the field. About that time some other people came up being curious as we were as to why the plane was there. When they found out about the fuel they offered to go to town to get him some gas. The pilot did not have much money so they could only buy a little gas. While they were gone to town, the rest of us stood around looking at the plane and talking. We had never been that close to a plane. It was just a plain, open cockpit plane. I did not listen to the talk as I was more interested in the plane. Finally he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride! Would I! Yes but I was scared. He picked me up and sat me in the back seat and put the goggles and helmet on my head. I'm sure he strapped me in but I don't remember that. I do remember how my heart raced as he started the motor and taxied off down the field. I held my breath as we took off. He flew over Hollandale, then Deer Creek and some farms. I'm sure we were not up very long but it seemed long to me. When we landed and he got out and was trying to get me out, I felt glued to the plane. I had held on so tight that my knuckles were white. When he took the helmet off my hair was dripping wet. I think I ran home to tell mother of my great ride--little realizing who I had ridden with. He took up other people that day and charged them one-dollar a ride in order to make money for some more gas. I remember Charles Lindbergh was a tall, nice looking and gentle young man!