RedDogC130
Well-known member
- Joined
- Jan 6, 2005
- Posts
- 1,329
Mimi Halperin, 61
Atlanta, Georgia
38 years of flying: Eastern Airlines and Valujet/AirTran
My aviation career began in 1967, when I was hired by Eastern Airlines. I have my original application for employment. It asks: “Are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist party?” Along with the application, they sent a brochure describing the qualities the company was seeking in its flight attendants. It said, “After all, the same poise, grace, and efficiency for which Eastern stewardesses are noted are the qualities every man seeks in a wife.”
Oh my word, I was interviewed by a male recruiter and had to pull my skirt tight so he could judge whether my legs were good enough. We always had the two Gs—girdles and gloves. Once I got cited for being underweight; I was so thin, I had to use a safety pin to hold my girdle up. They wanted no jiggle down the concourse. At the time it didn’t seem insulting. We were just meeting a more glamorous standard.
Eastern was one of the legacy carriers, and early on the uniforms were very proper and conservative. That changed with the times: At one point an optional uniform was hot pants, but you had to get approval to wear them. You’d go into the office and they’d assess your form.
In the late sixties we actually provided cigarettes on the first-class trays. When the airlines started to control smoking, the smoking section was generally at the back of the plane. Those people were the drinkers, too, and you were absolutely taking your life in your hands if you worked back there!
We used to play games to entertain the passengers. We offered little airline-stamped prizes for people willing to produce the ugliest driver’s license photo or the oldest penny—or for the person who could guess the age of the flight attendants.
I never would have left my job. It broke my heart to think that I wouldn’t get to fly again when Eastern folded. I started with AirTran [then Valujet] as part of its first class of flight attendants, hired in the fall of 1993. At my graduation ceremony I cried all the way through because I was getting my wings back.
Bille Jean Stephan, 62
Arlington, Washington
41 years of flying: Alaska Airlines
I was in college in Fairbanks in 1966 when I interviewed with Alaska Airlines. There were no other companies flying where my school was located. I was the only applicant not weighed, and they didn’t ask too many questions. I was the only one hired at that time. My mother was devastated because she didn’t want me to leave college.
Soon after I began, we flew to Russia. That’s when the Soviet Union was first opening up and was very restrictive about where we could land, how long we could be on the ground. In some places flight crews weren’t allowed to leave the airport. At Leningrad they let us do a quick taxi tour and come right back, but we couldn’t take pictures. When I left some film to be developed at a drugstore in Anchorage, that roll was confiscated. It was never returned. We were being watched that closely.
The first uniform I wore was ski pants, a sweater, and a parka. Then we went into costumes for a while—Gay Nineties outfits hearkening back to when Alaska was settled. I wore a long red velvet skirt with a white blouse that had big poufed shoulders; we were told to wear a wig, fishnet nylons, and high-button shoes and carry a carpetbag. The interior of the plane was done in red velvet, too. When we started going to Russia, we wore a Cossack uniform: long black coats and big fluffy tall hats.
I think we were one of the few airlines that did our announcements in rhyme. When we started the Gold Coast run—a marketing program run by Alaska to encourage tourism—we did poems for all our landing and takeoff announcements. After a while it got to be monotonous, especially for the businessmen, but the tourists thought it was phenomenal. “One hello to you / from the Gold Rush crew / at the Golden Nugget jet / our welcome extends / to the flying friends / both new and the ones we’ve met / now fasten seat belts, please,” and so on.
Until the early seventies we flew prop planes. I never had to sweep the wings myself, but there were a lot of times when we had to wait for a couple of mechanics to come out, throw a rope over the wing, and shake all the snow off by sliding the rope back and forth. It was standard procedure.
Joyce Avriette, 77
Los Angeles, California
55 years of flying: Pacific Northern, Western, and American Airlines
When i was a young girl in grammar school, we had to write about who our idols were. I’d been reading about Amelia Earhart and always wanted to fly because she had. Upon completing our training, each stewardess was given a certificate and had wings pinned on her jacket by C. R. Smith, our president. We were C. R.’s girls.
Playboy Bunnies thought they were the first to bend their knees instead of leaning over, but it was us! I started in 1952 and we were very ladylike, polite—people onboard were guests, not just customers. They were in our airplane home, and that’s what a hostess does for guests. You talked to people a lot. We didn’t have movies, music, or TV.
One passenger who flew to Hawaii several times a year would say, “Gals, you do such a great job. Give me your address and I’ll send you something.” We were not allowed to take tips, but we could accept gifts.
All the female passengers wore hats and carried cosmetic bags for jewelry and makeup. They had furs you couldn’t believe. Both the men and women dressed beautifully because they wanted to make an impression when they got on and off the airplane.
In 1952 we earned around $2,000 a year. My first paycheck was $78, and $75 of that went to rent: We lived on $3 until the end of the month. Every week they’d give us expense money: 75 cents for breakfast, $1.25 for lunch, $2 for dinner. But it was never enough.
All we served on the plane when I started was coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. Until 1957 passengers weren’t allowed to drink on domestic trips. But I used to fly a lot from Chicago to Washington, D.C., with senators and representatives who would disappear into the bathroom carrying flasks. They’d come out saying “Aaahhhhh…” It smelled to high heaven!
When we began serving cocktails, there was a two-drink limit. We had a 16-ounce lowball for the first and a little carafe for the second, so it was two glasses but really the equivalent of about eight drinks.
Everyone had the same meal. Most people liked to eat steak when they went out, so that’s generally what we served, except on Fridays when we had fish as an alternative. Several years later, on the 707, we introduced a lot of different food, such as chicken Kiev.
Children on the flights we worked would ask for our autographs—they were absolutely darling. We were able to take them up to the cockpit and let them meet the pilots, and we’d give them little wings. Babies got certificates signed by the captain and the copilot. We did that until the seventies, when we got the huge airplanes and had so many kids on board, we could have spent the whole time filling out certificates.
In 1960 my roommate and I decided we’d go around the world for five weeks. When I started we flew only on our own airlines for free, but then they opened it up and we got deals with other airlines—as much as 90 percent off the fare. And if you went around the world, it was actually cheaper than going over to India and coming back to the West Coast, so we thought we’d go all the way. Commercial air travel had made that possible.
Atlanta, Georgia
38 years of flying: Eastern Airlines and Valujet/AirTran
My aviation career began in 1967, when I was hired by Eastern Airlines. I have my original application for employment. It asks: “Are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist party?” Along with the application, they sent a brochure describing the qualities the company was seeking in its flight attendants. It said, “After all, the same poise, grace, and efficiency for which Eastern stewardesses are noted are the qualities every man seeks in a wife.”
Oh my word, I was interviewed by a male recruiter and had to pull my skirt tight so he could judge whether my legs were good enough. We always had the two Gs—girdles and gloves. Once I got cited for being underweight; I was so thin, I had to use a safety pin to hold my girdle up. They wanted no jiggle down the concourse. At the time it didn’t seem insulting. We were just meeting a more glamorous standard.
Eastern was one of the legacy carriers, and early on the uniforms were very proper and conservative. That changed with the times: At one point an optional uniform was hot pants, but you had to get approval to wear them. You’d go into the office and they’d assess your form.
In the late sixties we actually provided cigarettes on the first-class trays. When the airlines started to control smoking, the smoking section was generally at the back of the plane. Those people were the drinkers, too, and you were absolutely taking your life in your hands if you worked back there!
We used to play games to entertain the passengers. We offered little airline-stamped prizes for people willing to produce the ugliest driver’s license photo or the oldest penny—or for the person who could guess the age of the flight attendants.
I never would have left my job. It broke my heart to think that I wouldn’t get to fly again when Eastern folded. I started with AirTran [then Valujet] as part of its first class of flight attendants, hired in the fall of 1993. At my graduation ceremony I cried all the way through because I was getting my wings back.
Bille Jean Stephan, 62
Arlington, Washington
41 years of flying: Alaska Airlines
I was in college in Fairbanks in 1966 when I interviewed with Alaska Airlines. There were no other companies flying where my school was located. I was the only applicant not weighed, and they didn’t ask too many questions. I was the only one hired at that time. My mother was devastated because she didn’t want me to leave college.
Soon after I began, we flew to Russia. That’s when the Soviet Union was first opening up and was very restrictive about where we could land, how long we could be on the ground. In some places flight crews weren’t allowed to leave the airport. At Leningrad they let us do a quick taxi tour and come right back, but we couldn’t take pictures. When I left some film to be developed at a drugstore in Anchorage, that roll was confiscated. It was never returned. We were being watched that closely.
The first uniform I wore was ski pants, a sweater, and a parka. Then we went into costumes for a while—Gay Nineties outfits hearkening back to when Alaska was settled. I wore a long red velvet skirt with a white blouse that had big poufed shoulders; we were told to wear a wig, fishnet nylons, and high-button shoes and carry a carpetbag. The interior of the plane was done in red velvet, too. When we started going to Russia, we wore a Cossack uniform: long black coats and big fluffy tall hats.
I think we were one of the few airlines that did our announcements in rhyme. When we started the Gold Coast run—a marketing program run by Alaska to encourage tourism—we did poems for all our landing and takeoff announcements. After a while it got to be monotonous, especially for the businessmen, but the tourists thought it was phenomenal. “One hello to you / from the Gold Rush crew / at the Golden Nugget jet / our welcome extends / to the flying friends / both new and the ones we’ve met / now fasten seat belts, please,” and so on.
Until the early seventies we flew prop planes. I never had to sweep the wings myself, but there were a lot of times when we had to wait for a couple of mechanics to come out, throw a rope over the wing, and shake all the snow off by sliding the rope back and forth. It was standard procedure.
Joyce Avriette, 77
Los Angeles, California
55 years of flying: Pacific Northern, Western, and American Airlines
When i was a young girl in grammar school, we had to write about who our idols were. I’d been reading about Amelia Earhart and always wanted to fly because she had. Upon completing our training, each stewardess was given a certificate and had wings pinned on her jacket by C. R. Smith, our president. We were C. R.’s girls.
Playboy Bunnies thought they were the first to bend their knees instead of leaning over, but it was us! I started in 1952 and we were very ladylike, polite—people onboard were guests, not just customers. They were in our airplane home, and that’s what a hostess does for guests. You talked to people a lot. We didn’t have movies, music, or TV.
One passenger who flew to Hawaii several times a year would say, “Gals, you do such a great job. Give me your address and I’ll send you something.” We were not allowed to take tips, but we could accept gifts.
All the female passengers wore hats and carried cosmetic bags for jewelry and makeup. They had furs you couldn’t believe. Both the men and women dressed beautifully because they wanted to make an impression when they got on and off the airplane.
In 1952 we earned around $2,000 a year. My first paycheck was $78, and $75 of that went to rent: We lived on $3 until the end of the month. Every week they’d give us expense money: 75 cents for breakfast, $1.25 for lunch, $2 for dinner. But it was never enough.
All we served on the plane when I started was coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. Until 1957 passengers weren’t allowed to drink on domestic trips. But I used to fly a lot from Chicago to Washington, D.C., with senators and representatives who would disappear into the bathroom carrying flasks. They’d come out saying “Aaahhhhh…” It smelled to high heaven!
When we began serving cocktails, there was a two-drink limit. We had a 16-ounce lowball for the first and a little carafe for the second, so it was two glasses but really the equivalent of about eight drinks.
Everyone had the same meal. Most people liked to eat steak when they went out, so that’s generally what we served, except on Fridays when we had fish as an alternative. Several years later, on the 707, we introduced a lot of different food, such as chicken Kiev.
Children on the flights we worked would ask for our autographs—they were absolutely darling. We were able to take them up to the cockpit and let them meet the pilots, and we’d give them little wings. Babies got certificates signed by the captain and the copilot. We did that until the seventies, when we got the huge airplanes and had so many kids on board, we could have spent the whole time filling out certificates.
In 1960 my roommate and I decided we’d go around the world for five weeks. When I started we flew only on our own airlines for free, but then they opened it up and we got deals with other airlines—as much as 90 percent off the fare. And if you went around the world, it was actually cheaper than going over to India and coming back to the West Coast, so we thought we’d go all the way. Commercial air travel had made that possible.
This industry changes yearly.
