Follow a 1940s woman who learned that the sky is the limit -literally. Fan fiction based on Fanny Flagg's character Fritzi in The Last Reunion of the All Girl's Filling Station
Her reputation intrigued me. I first heard about Fritzi when she took over running the family filling station after Pearl Harbor. As soon as the men went off to war, she jumped in, organized her younger sisters and never looked back.
In some ways, I identified with her. Both of us were in male-dominated fields, and both of us lived by the saying, “If you can’t fix it, feature it.” Fritzi changed the station’s name to the ‘All Girl’s Filling Station’, designed a marketing strategy around that fact and quickly built the most successful gas station around. People came from miles to see the girls with the pretty smiles.
Neither Fritzi nor I were the marrying kind. We both loved wholeheartedly but valued our freedom and lived alone. Fritz met Billy, the love of her life, when she was very young and stayed with him for the rest of her life.
That’s where the similarities ended. I am afraid of heights. She was fearless. Prior to running the station, she had spent years traveling around the country dancing on an airplane’s wings when she performed air shows with Billy. She returned home to run the station only when he entered the service.
When I got the chance to interview Fritzi, she had just been accepted into the WASPS, a small elite all women’s air force unit. She would be flying supplies and equipment from base to base. Since this was the first time the service had allowed women to fly, there was a lot of speculation about whether they could handle the pressure.
It was obvious from our first hello that Fritzi could easily handle anything. I was completely captivated and pulled into the orbit of her magnetism
We talked over drinks at her favorite jazz club. Her popularity and genuine appreciation of people were evident by all those who greeted us. I had expected her to be independent and self-confident, which she was. But her deep love of family was a surprise. She proudly talked about her sisters and brother, never letting on she was the hub of the family, nurturing and empowering them.
When I visited her home the next morning, everyone welcomed me with open arms, even offering to let me put on a uniform and clean windshields. It was a joy to be part of the team and to witness how effortlessly the sisters worked together. They would do just fine without Fritzi. After my brief encounter with work, I settled down to talk to them. They couldn’t stop mentioning everything Fritzi had done for them. Her sister-in-law confided Fritzi had encouraged her brother to propose– even giving him the money for the ring.
My time with Fritzi was short, but our connection was strong, and we eagerly agreed to keep in touch.
In the service, she became an exceptional pilot as well as a ‘den mother’ to the other women. She was a natural leader, mentoring them and empowering them to be their best and follow their dreams.
Her letters were full of tales of hazardous flights, fun layovers, infrequent meetings with Billy, and the other women in her unit. Unfortunately, She also found that some of the servicemen felt free to harass the women and subject them to discrimination. Regardless, she was thriving in the army, just as she had in her past careers.
My letters to her were also newsy, talking about going to jazz clubs and working on the newspaper. Like her, I was thriving but also aware of the discrimination that left me with human interest stories while the men covered the hard news.
It was a sign of the times that neither of us questioned our unfair treatment, but just accepted it for what it was, let it slide off our backs, and went about our business undaunted.
Unfortunately, the WASPS were dismantled in 1944 so the men could take over the jobs and the women could return to taking care of the home. Fritzi had no desire to take care of a house. She grieved the loss of her beloved flying job and the closeness of the women in her unit, and floundered in the beginning.
However, she soon recovered, remembered a city in California she loved, and relocated. She became a civilian flight instructor, flew whenever she could, and contentedly waited for Billy to be discharged from the service and join her.
In the meantime, journalism was beginning to open up for women a little and I was given a few news stories. I still handled all the human-interest stories and wasn’t given any major newstories, but it was a start. Like Fritzi, I settled down with the man of my dreams.
Fritzi and I continued to write and treated ourselves to birthday phone calls. Though we were separated by miles, The four of us managed to get together every few years. Of course, we went to a jazz club. While there was some reminiscing, most of the conversation revolved around our enthusiasm and plans for the future. Fritzi and I always promised to find the time to get away together for a girl’s weekend, but it was not to be.
Fritzi passed shortly after our last visit. The pilots in her old unit gathered to pay their respects the only way they knew how – by flying the missing man formation. They offered Billy the honor of leading them, but he felt it was fitting for her sisters to pay this final tribute. As a lone bugler began to play Taps, the women walked across the tarmac with gray hair, eyeglasses, thick waistlines, and heads held high. There wasn't a dry eye in the place when the women proudly boarded the plane, took off and flew overhead in a last goodbye to a beloved friend.
Kimberly has gone from a well-paid female executive one minute to a desperate woman the next. Thinking her day can't possibly get any worse, she finds out how wrong she is when she goes home. The only way to set things straight is to get even.
