Angel on the Wing: Flight 320 ... Come In!

By Joan M. Zeller

In Angel on the Wing, Joan Zeller shares how she survived a plane crash that took sixty-five lives in February 1959. She was a stewardess on American Airlines Flight 320, returning to New York from Chicago. Close to midnight on that foggy, cold evening, the plane crashed into the choppy waters of the East River on approach to LaGuardia Airp

• Language: English
• Publisher: Westwood Books Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Dec 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781648037481

Joan M. Zeller

Joan Zeller has been a restless soul for as long as she can remember, seeing the world as a breathless end of new experiences to be explored. Quitting a stable, career-oriented job and going in the airlines was her stepping off point. She threw caution to the winds and left herself open to whatever opportunities came her way. Her book is an expression of her free spirit and how she handled a terrible tragedy. After a colorful life, she is now retired and resides in a quiet New England town and has taken up watercolor painting of pets and wildlife.

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Copyright © 2018 by Joan M. Zeller.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Dedication

This small offering is dedicated to the extended family members of those who perished, many of whom were children or young adults at the time. It has touched me deeply that so many loved ones of the deceased have not found closure and still look for answers and information nearly sixty years later. I’ve read your messages online, and my heart goes out to you.

The only heroes in this story are Captain Samuel Nickerson, Co–captain Everett Phelps, and all the deckhands of the tugboat H. Thomas Teti, Jr. who courageously risked their own lives and, without hesitation, came to our rescue. The conditions couldn’t have been worse. Low-lying fog, light rain, thirty-eight-degree temperatures, and winds gusting up to forty miles per hour hampered their efforts. Add a midnight sky and choppy tide conditions, and their bravery was beyond heroic. I owe them my life.

In the end, there were eight survivors—six men, a little boy, and myself—of the seventy-three passengers and crew aboard American Airlines Flight 320.

I feel the time is right to share my own experience from the unique perspective of eyewitness and survivor. I have never felt more compelled to tell my story in hopes of bringing closure to those who still mourn and before it’s my time to join those departed passengers and crew who have gone before me.

Contents

Preface

Chapter 1 Angel Among Us

Chapter 2 The Rescue

Chapter 3 A Matter of Life or Death

Chapter 4 Near-Death Experience

Chapter 5 Joy of Living

Chapter 6 The Awakening

Chapter 7 Interlude

Epilogue

Remembrance

Acknowledgment

Book Reviews

Preface

I never had any intentions of writing about my experience with the possibility of it being published. Some time ago, I reluctantly responded to an invitation to join a writers’ club. It was intended to be therapeutic and serve as the emptying of the emotional baggage. It helped to a large degree, and years later I nearly disposed of the body of work that had served me well, but something held me back from clicking the Delete button.

Very recently my attention was directed to a website I didn’t know existed. It was a chronicle of events from the eve of February 3, 1959, involving American Airlines Flight 320, which crashed into the East River as we were attempting to land on runway 22 at LaGuardia Airport in New York. It listed all the names of the passengers and crew who perished, as well as the few survivors.

What really took me by surprise was an area of this website that was available for open communication. There were recent messages left by surviving family members of those who had lost their lives that fateful night. There was also an opportunity to respond to those people who had left those messages.

It stunned me! Here it was, nearing sixty years later, and the surviving family members were still wondering what had really happened to their loved ones. Many were young children at the time of their loss.

I recognized their pain and remembered the old manuscript I had written for therapy.

I put myself in their shoes, and had it been my parents, brother, or extended family members, I would want to know what their last moments were like too. To the observer, the carnage is horrifying. However, take comfort in knowing that, for the victim, a mechanism kicks in that clouds the senses but fuels the instinct to survive while also numbing the pain. If death is imminent, it is a peaceful event no matter what the body is going through; the soul escapes the earthbound body and is safe and free of pain and trauma. Shedding the body is actually a comfort; it’s the incredible lightness of being. Within these pages, I’ll share my own experience with you and hope that it in some small way brings a degree of solace.

Chapter 1

Angel Among Us

At dawn on February 4, 1959, New York newspaper headlines screamed, American Airlines Electra Crashes in East River with 73 Aboard!

As a recent graduate of American Airlines Stewardess School, I was living in Jackson Heights and sharing an apartment with my roommate, Barbara, one of three Canadian girls with whom I had shared a dormitory room while attending the stewardess school in Texas just six months earlier. Together, we were on the reserve list for the month of February. It was now three days into the month, and we had grown restless hanging around the apartment waiting for an assignment. The cell phone would have been a liberating device, but it hadn’t been invented yet. We had to either be close to our home phone or call crew scheduling and be released for a period of time.

Deciding to go into Manhattan to take in a movie, I telephoned crew scheduling to ask if we could be released for the evening, but instead the gruff voice on the other end of the line hastily said, Zeller, you’re up next. I can give you a flight right now. Pack your bags; you’ll be staying overnight. You’re going to Chicago. It’s the Electra, Flight 320.

I just rolled my eyes at Barbara to indicate that our plans had been dashed. Shortly after I hung up, crew scheduling called back, asked for Barbara, and gave her a flight too. I had unwittingly waved a red flag.

This would be my maiden flight on the Electra. In fact, most crews were experiencing their maiden flights on the Electra because American Airlines had very recently acquired a new fleet of the aircrafts. Cabin staff and pilots had been checked out on the new equipment but then had to wait out nearly a month’s strike by American Airline’s pilots.

Meeting the flight staff at crew scheduling that evening, I was immediately approached by one of the two other stewardesses working the outgoing trip. She asked if I would trade places with her and work the return trip because this was her regularly scheduled flight and she had already made plans for the evening. A dinner date was waiting for her in Chicago.

I shrugged and said, It’s okay with me!

In the winter, Chicago wasn’t my favorite place to be, so I was actually very happy with the trade and advised crew scheduling of the change.

The trip to Chicago included a meal service requiring three cabin crew members, while the return trip was only a snack service that two stewardesses could handle. So it was by chance that I was on a turnaround flight instead of a layover. The flight from New York was routine, and only when we approached the airport in Chicago was there a flurry of activity in the cabin. The wind-driven snow had begun a half hour or so before we landed. Passengers started looking for their gloves, scarves, and just about anything to insulate themselves from the cold.

In those early evening hours of February 3, at a loading gate at Chicago’s Midway Airport, the stage was being set for the headlines and stories that would spill over the pages of domestic and foreign newspapers the following morning. As we deplaned passengers into the billowing clouds of snow, they pulled up their collars and made a dash for the terminal. The third stewardess who wanted the layover— and whose name I’ve lost in memory—was the last one to deplane. I can see her in my mind’s eye to this day.

Pausing at the top of the stair ramp, she flung her garment bag over one shoulder, turned to us, and said, Have a good one, girls. Looks like it might be rough. Then she stepped out into the night to be swallowed by the luminous whiteout as she navigated the stairs.

The ramp agent soon boarded and informed us that they would be boarding outbound passengers immediately, adding that the passengers waiting to board had been briefed and asked to surrender their assigned seating choices for the sake of expediency. Due to the weather conditions, we would be one of the last flights out before the airport closed. We needed to finish loading and be airborne before we got socked in.

A few passengers expressed disappointment when they found their seats already occupied by someone else. Edward Gottlieb’s seat of choice was located in the forward part of the aircraft, but by the time he boarded, it had already been taken and he was forced to sit quite a few rows deeper into the cabin. He lamented his loss, but I reminded him of the change of plans due to the weather conditions and said I couldn’t do anything about it.

Once everyone was settled, Mae Markidis, the other stewardess who remained on board, and I took a head count of sixty-eight passengers. We passed the information on to the boarding agent, exchanged farewell greetings, and secured American Airlines Flight 320 for takeoff. We each took a portion of the cabin to check seat belts and take names, made the usual Welcome PA, and then dimmed the overhead lights before randomly choosing seats in the cabin.

Taking an empty aisle seat, I made idle conversation with the passenger sitting next to me until the plane finally lumbered into position for takeoff. The pelting snow creating rivulets of water on the windows was mesmerizing, and then the engines roared and the momentum quickened as we raced down the runway.

Take-off was my favorite stage of flight. I loved the sensation of lifting off and the feel of weightless freedom. Just like an eagle, I thought. During those brief, self-absorbed moments, I remember thinking how glad I was to be returning to my domicile instead of staying overnight