I’ve been in countless airports in the United States and Europe, even Spencer Municipal Airport (Spencer, Iowa, population: 11,317), where our flight was diverted because the airport in Sioux City, Iowa, was fogged in. Oddly enough, one airport reminded me of Spencer: Berlin Tegel Airport. I’ve flown in and out four times and each one was hardly what one would expect from an airport in a major world capital.
Tempelhof, Berlin’s first airport, opened in 1927, and
the partition of Germany and Berlin after World War II led to the construction
of two additional facilities. Schönefeld was completed in 1946 to serve East
Germany and the Soviet section of Berlin. Stalin decided to test American
resolve and ordered a blockade of West Berlin (American, British and French
sectors), preventing essential goods from being trucked in from West Germany.
The solution: the Berlin Airlift. After the blockade commenced in June 1948, supplies
would now be flown in, and the French authorities in charge of the Tegel
district ordered the construction of a 2,500-meter-long runway, the longest in
Europe at the time. The first plane, a U.S. Air Force Douglas C-54, landed in
November 1948. After the blockade ended six months later, Tegel became the
Berlin base of the French Air Force. Tempelhof’s runways were too short for the
advent of larger jets in the 1950s, and Tegel replaced it as Berlin’s major
airport.
In September 2016, we traveled to Prague, Vienna and
Budapest. Because there were no direct flights from Chicago to Prague or from
Budapest to Chicago, we flew Air Berlin with connecting flights through Berlin.
As a footnote, Air Berlin – an excellent airline – ceased operations in October
2017, necessitating our return flight from our October 2019 visit to Berlin to
connect in Brussels (no direct flights). Shortly before our departure, I read a
post by my friend Bob Elisberg that the Berlin airport was little more than a
glorified bus terminal (and that Budweiser in Europe is NOT the American King
of Beers but a European brew).
Upon landing in Prague on September 7, we departed the plane the old-fashioned way – by stairs – and took a bus into a rectangular building that looked like (surprise!) a glorified bus terminal. On top of that, our prop-plane flight to Prague was delayed 40 minutes. Also waiting for the flight were some 20-somethings from Chicago who had band gigs in Prague, one of whom worked as a vendor in the Scout Seats at Sox Park. I told him if they got in trouble the U.S. Ambassador was from Chicago (we were guests at the residence the following evening); he promised to travel the straight and narrow. The terminal did have a Fabriano Boutique.
The flight from Budapest on September 18 was uneventful, this time again crossing the tarmac but to the main terminal. Our flight home was from the first gate and, because of a tight schedule, I took one photo before entering the gate area, from which you could not leave. Shortly thereafter, I received a tap on my shoulder and a voice that said, “Is this the Standard Club?” It was Warren Katz, a fellow member who I saw regularly in the Health & Fitness Center locker room. In my first encounter back, I caught him from behind and inquired, “Is this the Berlin Airport?”
Our second and final Tegel was a near disaster. Our
September 17, 2019, Paris-to-Berlin flight landed out on the tarmac, from which
we sprinted to the main terminal through a light rain (luckily the only rain
during our 12-day trip). Passing through the security checkpoint staffed by two
Uzi-armed military personnel, we inquired about the whereabouts of the baggage
claim. Told it was behind the checkpoint, we were refused reentry into the area
to claim our bags, despite our pleas that we’d just disembarked. No can do.
Instead, we first waited for 15 minutes in what was the wrong place to claim
your baggage, then headed back out in a heavier rain to the auxiliary terminal
to the correct window. There we went through a check list of illustrations
showing the style, size and color of our bags, then forked over 25 Euros for
the privilege of getting back our bags. It took about 20 minutes, rather
shorter than we had anticipated. We made it to the hotel and the dock for our
reserved Spree river tour with time to spare.
I don’t remember anything about our departure on September 22, other than knowing if I ever made it back to Berlin – a fascinating city in many ways – it wouldn’t be through Tegel. Our connecting flight was through Brussels, a beautiful airport far more convenient than Heathrow, Frankfurt or de Gaulle. The new Berlin Brandenburg Airport opened on October 31, 2020, and the last flights left Tegel eight days later.
Back to Spencer, Iowa. Three international public relations agencies were making new-business pitches to the infamous IBP, the former Iowa Beef Processors. One of the other account teams – Ketchum – was on the same plane and, because Ketchum’s presentation time was before ours, we told them to take the town’s only taxi for the 100-mile drive to Sioux City. Our team – corporate practice leader Paul Rand, public affairs practice leader Robert Pflieger and me, investor relations practice leader – was left to figure out how to get to our presentation. The cabdriver’s wife agreed to take us for a reasonable fare, and the three of us piled into her white Cadillac DeVille with red leather seats and headed to Sioux City. Lunch was a microwaved burrito in a Casey’s General Store on Iowa Highway 60.
IBP management wanted to push our presentation to the
following day, but because of pressing appointments back in the Chicago the
following day, they agreed to hear our pitch. Without luggage, we checked into
a hotel across the river in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, courtesy of IBP. Because
Rob didn’t want to fly a prop plane as part of our return trip, we departed
very early the next morning for Minneapolis before returning home. Four states,
four plane trips and one 100-mile drive in the span of 24 hours in 1999. The
result: IBP didn’t choose anyone and was acquired by Tyson Foods two years
later.
