I was at Sun ’n Fun Aerospace Expo in Lakeland, Florida, working as an aviation reporter. Early that morning I started getting voicemails and emails telling me about the large X’s carved into the runway, rendering it unusable and trapping a handful of aircraft based there.

One of the first to see the damage was a pilot who had planned to land at Meigs but had to divert to another location. He reported the damage to a surprised air traffic controller who, like himself, was not aware that Meigs had been destroyed.

The abrupt closure took airport employees by surprise as well. One of the Meigs tower controllers told a local news outlet that he learned he was out of a job while driving into work and heard a local radio station reporting on the damaged runway.

• READ MORE: ‘Remember Meigs Field’

At Sun ’n Fun, which is the second-largest aviation convention in the U.S., the destruction was talked about somberly. How could this have happened? 

We quickly learned that the heavy equipment operators that came to the airport under the cloak of darkness and dug those massive ditches into the runway were acting on orders from then-Chicago Mayor Richard M. Daley. Daley was not the first Chicago politician to propose the closure of Meigs Field.

In the 1980s, Mayor Jane Byrne suggested closing the airport and turning the property into a park. Local pilots, aviation advocacy groups, and businesses that appreciated the convenience of an airport so close to downtown objected to the idea.

In addition, the FAA noted that the airport had received agency grants, and each grant carried an assurance that it would remain open a set amount of time—usually 25 years—so that the grants can be amortized. At the time, the airport had most recently accepted a grant in 1976. In theory, the earliest the airport could be closed was 2001.

Meigs Field History

The airport was built shortly after World War II on Northerly Island, a human-made peninsula minutes from downtown Chicago. The airport had a single runway measuring 3,900 feet by 150 feet. In 1952, the airport was named after Merrill C. Meigs, publisher of the Chicago Herald-Examiner newspaper and an aviation enthusiast. 

The land, which is owned by the Chicago Park District, was leased for the airport. The location being so close to downtown Chicago made it popular for businesses, medical flights, and for a short time, commercial aviation. It was so busy that a control tower and two instrument approaches were added. By the late 1990s, commercial aviation had given way to general aviation and medevac flights. Meigs was also popular in the virtual aviation world, as it was the default airport for Microsoft Flight Simulator.

In 1994, Daley revived the idea of closing the airport and redeveloping its 75 acres into a park. The FAA reminded the city that it had accepted FAA funding for improvements and by doing so agreed to grant assurances that stipulated the airport remain open.

• READ MORE: City Council Votes To Close Santa Monica Airport

Daley continued to push for closure, and in 1996, the Chicago Park District refused to renew the lease for the airport. Large X’s were painted on the runway identifying the airport as closed. 

In response, the Illinois  Legislature and the FAA strongly opposed the action, and the combined pressure resulted in the reopening of the airport. The painted X’s were removed and the airport resumed operations. The understanding was that the facility would remain open until at least 2026.

Aviation organizations loudly defended the airport and its convenience for downtown businesses, yet the threat of closure remained. The pilots attending the Meet the Administrator public forums at EAA AirVenture held up large red-and-white signs that read “SAVE MEIGS FIELD” to get their point across.

Aviation groups such as the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) and the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association (AOPA) continued to watch the airport. The FAA repeatedly noted that it  is in the business of protecting airports, not closing them, reminding the city of Chicago that the grant assurances stipulated the facility stay open. In addition, FAA regulations state that closure of an airport that includes an instrument approach—Meigs had two—requires a 30 days notice prior to shutdown, which was never given.

Aviation advocacy groups were quick to respond to the airport’s destruction. Phil Boyer, AOPA’s president at the time, called out Daley for what Boyer called a lack of honor: “The sneaky way he did this shows that he knows it was wrong.”

EAA president Tom Poberezny was attending Sun ’n Fun when he heard about Meigs Field. Within two weeks, the organization became part of a GA coalition that lobbied the U.S. Senate to support the National Aviation Capacity Expansion Act, which called for the codifying of the historical political agreement between then-Illinois Governor George Ryan and Daley to preserve Meigs Field for another 25 years.

Meanwhile, Daley defended his actions, claiming the destruction was done “due to safety concerns,” citing a potential terrorist attack similar to 9/11 when terrorists used aircraft to attack the World Trade Center in New York City and the Pentagon in Arlington County, Virginia. This story was quickly discounted when the Department of Homeland Security stated that the airport’s proximity to downtown Chicago was not a risk and that no threats had been made against the city.

Daley then told multiple media outlets that the abrupt closure was done as a means to prevent lengthy and costly litigation as various entities fought to keep the airport open.

For several months, pilot organizations and aviation groups lobbied for the repair of the runway and the reopening of Meigs Field, but it was not to be.

Several weeks after the forced closure, which became known as “Daley’s Midnight Raid” in aviation circles, the FAA gave permission for the 16 aircraft left stranded to depart using the taxiway as a runway.

That was not the last time aircraft used the facility, however.

In July 2003 a pilot on the way to EAA AirVenture in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, experienced mechanical trouble and made an emergency landing in the grass next to the remains of the Meigs runway. Daley accused the pilot of intentionally landing there as a publicity stunt to “embarrass him.” The pilot maintained that he had engine trouble, and the grass infield was the most suitable place for an emergency landing. The FAA sided with the pilot’s interpretation.

In August 2003, the demolition of the remaining infrastructure of Meigs Field began. Today, it is a park.

Even in the virtual world, Meigs in MSFS is gone—lost to the ages.

A Cautionary Tale

In 2005, the FAA fined Chicago $33,000 for closing an airport with a charted instrument approach without giving the required 30-day notice. At the time, the maximum fine the agency could levy by law was $1,100 per day. The city of Chicago appealed the fine, and aviation advocacy groups and elected representatives were quick to note its amount. Some $33,000 was “pocket change”’ to many municipalities that wanted to close the local airport.

In response, the Meigs Legacy Provision was passed as part of an FAA reauthorization bill. The provision increased the maximum fine per day from $1,100 to $10,000 per day for illegal airport closures.

In September 2006, the city dropped all legal appeals and agreed to pay the $33,000 fine, as well as to repay the FAA for the $1 million of Airport Improvement Program (AIP_ funds that were used to demolish the airport and build Northerly Island Park.

Meigs Field’s saga serves as a warning whenever other airports are threatened. The message is clear: It could happen here.

“Remember Meigs Field!” has become the battle cry of endangered airports.

Santa Monica Airport (KSMO) and Reid-Hillview Airport (KRHV)—both in California—come to mind. Both airports date to the early days of aviation. When they were built, they were in farm fields away from the city. Today, they are surrounded by industrial and residential development. And both are facing threats of closure from their elected city and county officials.

The post The Cautionary Tale of the Destruction of Meigs Field appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

“Remember Meigs Field!” 

This phrase has become the battle cry of pilots seeking to prevent the closure of their local airports. For 50 years, Merrill C. Meigs Field (KCGX) operated near downtown Chicago. That came to an abrupt end one night in 2003 when heavy equipment was used to destroy the runway. As the 19th anniversary of the airport’s forced closure approaches, aviation groups want to be sure that the loss of the iconic airport—and what the closure represented—is not lost to the sands of time.

Early History

The airport was built shortly after World War II on Northerly Island, a human-made peninsula minutes from downtown Chicago. The airport consisted of 75 acres and had one runway. In 1952, the airport was named Meigs Field after Merrill C. Meigs, publisher of The Chicago Herald and Examiner and an aviation enthusiast. 

The land, owned by the Chicago Park District, quickly became known as one of the busiest in the United States as it was used by both general aviation and, for a time, commercial carriers. Eventually, the airport added a control tower and an instrument approach.

Rumblings Begin

In the 1980s, Chicago Mayor Jane Byrne suggested closing the airport and converting the land into a park. Local pilots, aviation advocacy groups, and businesses that appreciated the convenience of an airport so close to downtown objected to the idea. The FAA noted that the airport had received FAA grants, and each grant carried an assurance that the airport would remain open a set amount of time—usually 25 years—so that the grants could be amortized. The airport had most recently accepted a grant in 1976. Byrne dropped the idea only to have it picked up again by her successor, Richard M. Daley.

Daley shared Byrne’s opinion that the airport should be turned into a park. In late 1996, he instructed the parks department not to renew the airport’s lease and ordered Xs be painted on the runway. The X means a runway is closed.

In a matter of weeks, pressure from the state Legislature and the FAA resulted in the reopening of the airport with the understanding that the airport would remain open until at least 2026. The painted Xs were removed, and the airport resumed operations.

• PHOTO GALLERY: A Look Back at Meigs Field

Still, Daley kept up political pressure trying to drum up support for airport closure.

The aviation community fought back. Public forums with the FAA at EAA AirVenture were marked by audience members holding red-and-white signs that read “SAVE MEIGS FIELD.”

The Midnight Raid

Then, just before midnight on March 30, 2003, heavy-equipment operators, acting on orders of  Daley, trundled on to the peninsula with orders to destroy the runway. The equipment operators gouged large Xs into the 3,900-by-150-foot runway. The Xs were actually trenches that were several feet deep. 

As the sun rose the next morning, the damage to the runway was apparent and shocking. Aerial photographs of the mutilated runway were quickly disseminated on the internet. Among the first to see the damage was a pilot who had planned to land at Meigs but had to divert elsewhere, reporting to a surprised air traffic controller that the runway was no more.

One of the controllers who worked in the tower at Meigs later told the Chicago media he learned he was out of a job while driving into work and heard a local radio station reporting on the damaged runway.

There was outrage from the aviation community. “The Midnight Raid,” as it came to be known, occurred during Sun ’n Fun, the second largest fly-in held in the United States. Visitors to the event discussed the destruction of Meigs as one would discuss the death of a friend.

The morning after the closure, Daley held a news conference, during which he claimed the runway was destroyed in the name of security, alleging that aircraft could be launched from Meigs Field and used as weapons to attack downtown Chicago, similar to the attack on the World Trade Center on September 11.

The story quickly fell apart when the Department of Homeland Security stated that the airport’s proximity to downtown Chicago was not viewed as a risk and that no threats had been made against the Windy City.

Daley later changed his story, stating to several media outlets that the abrupt closure was done to prevent lengthy and costly litigation as various entities fought to keep the airport open. 

The destruction was a surprise to many pilots, especially the owners of the 16 aircraft parked at the airport. Several weeks later, the FAA gave permission for the aircraft to depart Meigs using the taxiway as a runway.

Alphabet Groups Respond

Condemnation of The Midnight Raid was swift and vocal. 

Aviation advocacy groups, including the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association (AOPA) and the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA), were quick to speak out against the airport’s destruction.

Phil Boyer, AOPA’s president at the time, called out Daley for what he called a lack of honor, noting, “The sneaky way he did this shows that he knows it was wrong.”

EAA president Tom Poberezny was attending the Sun ’n Fun Fly-in at Lakeland, Florida, when he heard about Meigs Field. He decried Daley’s actions, and within two weeks, became part of a general aviation coalition that lobbied the U.S. Senate to support the National Aviation Capacity Expansion Act, which called for the codifying of the historical political agreement between Illinois Governor George Ryan and Chicago Mayor Richard Daley to preserve Meigs Field for another 25 years.

For several months, pilot organizations and aviation groups lobbied for the repair of the runway and the reopening of Meigs Field. 

The Midnight Raid was still a topic of discussion that summer when a pilot, on his way to AirVenture in Oshkosh, experienced a mechanical issue and made an emergency landing at the defunct airport. After repairs were made to the aircraft, the pilot continued to Oshkosh, where he addressed the media, saying he was glad what was left of the airport was still intact because it gave him a place to land without endangering persons or property on the surface.

Daley suggested that the pilot made the landing intentionally to embarrass him.

By August of 2003, the demolition of what remained of Meigs Field began. Within a few months, the once-vibrant reliever field was gone and replaced with grass and walking paths. 

Aftermath

In 2005, the FAA fined Chicago $33,000 for closing an airport with a charted instrument approach without giving the required 30-day notice. At the time, the maximum fine the FAA could levy by law was $1,100 per day. The city of Chicago appealed the fine, and legal fists flew back and forth for several months.

Aviation advocacy groups and elected representatives were quick to note the amount of the $33,000 fine would not be much of a deterrent for a municipality that wanted to close the local airport.

As a result, the Meigs Legacy Provision was passed as part of the FAA reauthorization bill. The provision increased the maximum fine per day from $1,100 to $10,000 per day for illegal airport closures.

In September 2006, the city of Chicago dropped all legal appeals and agreed to pay the fine of $33,000 as to repay the FAA for the $1 million of FAA Airport Improvement Program funds that were used to demolish the airport and build Northerly Island Park.

Today, Meigs Field is a warning when other airports are threatened. The message is clear: It could happen here.

In the 2005 documentary One-Six Right, which tells the story of Van Nuys Airport (KVNY) in Southern California, Phil Boyer warns viewers that all airports could go the way of Meigs Field.

“For 25 years, it was the little airport that could,” he states, “and now it is lost forever.”

Digital Presence Erased

For many years, Meigs Field was the default airport in Microsoft Flight Simulator. When you opened up the game, you found yourself on the runway with the Chicago skyline in the distance. Today, if you virtually overfly what was Meigs Field, you will find yourself flying over a park.

The post ‘Remember Meigs Field’ appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

I didn’t know who McPherson was, but I knew I hated him.

There, scrawled into the schedule, smack dab in the middle of the weekend I had planned for a flying vacation, was a two-hour block of time during which he had reserved the flying club’s Cessna 172.

I thought I had planned far enough ahead to avoid such frustrations; that particular weekend was, in fact, four months away. But it wasn’t the first time my flying plans had been thwarted by another renter, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Over the years, countless other would-be trips would never materialize because of similar scheduling conflicts.

In addition to ruining the carefully considered dates of a future vacation, the realities of renting can also lock a pilot into an inflexible itinerary with little room for adjustment. One time in the late 1990s, my friend Ted and I rented that same 172 and flew it to Oshkosh for a week of ogling vintage airplanes, camping beneath the wing, and ingesting an unholy amount of bratwurst. The trip there went fine, as did our week of festivities. Toward the end of the week, we ran into an airline pilot friend who had to return to Chicago and was in need of a ride.

No problem, we told him. We had room in the Skyhawk and we were taking the lakeshore route home to Michigan, anyway. It would take virtually no effort to drop him off at Meigs Field, and from there it would only take him about 15 minutes to walk to the nearest subway stop. Chicago was a heck of a lot more enjoyable and accessible with that airport in place.

The approach into Meigs Field was epic. Even at pattern altitude, skyscrapers extended well above us and grew ever taller as we descended on base and final. Walking across the ramp to the terminal building, I felt as though I had been somehow sucked into Microsoft Flight Simulator, where over the years, I had logged considerably more flight time than in the real world.

While saying goodbye to our airline pilot friend and admiring the beautiful skyline in the falling dusk, the FBO receptionist walked out and gave us a friendly reminder that the airport would be closing in 10 minutes. Not just the FBO, but the entire airport.

This was a piece of information that would have been immensely useful to us had we thought to review it beforehand.

Our sprint across the ramp to the airplane resembled the scene of a World War II air raid scramble, if those WWII pilots were out of shape and heavily laden with Wisconsin airshow cuisine. We completed the checklists swiftly but diligently, and then cranked the engine. And cranked it. And cranked it some more. We checked the time. The engine wasn’t starting, and we had exactly three minutes remaining until the airport closed and we became stranded in downtown Chicago.

“We may not make it out,” Ted observed. “Yes,” I replied as I looked back over my shoulder at the majestic skyline, bursting with activity, nightlife, and hotel rooms that were decidedly more luxurious than the tent accommodations we had been using for the past week. “That would indeed be tragic.”

Never before and never since have two pilots so strongly willed an engine to not start. Faced with a choice between dutifully returning the airplane on time or treating ourselves to an impromptu post-Oshkosh night on the town in Chicago, we badly wanted a legitimate excuse to partake in the latter.

But we knew an overnight delay would have ruined at least three or four lessons scheduled for the following day at our flying club, and in the end, the Lycoming gods came through as per usual, providing us with a good start and a safe flight home.

We spent that entire flight reflecting on what a great time it would have been had we not been constrained by the realities of renting, and what other things we could have done if we were able to adjust our plans on a complete whim.

Instances like these, I came to understand, plant the seeds that eventually grow into ownership. Though my experience as an owner is still minimal, I’ve already felt the odd freedom of being able to adjust my plans as I see fit or indeed, to not make plans at all, knowing that I can always whip some up at the very last minute.

This benefit of ownership isn’t easily quantifiable. It doesn’t show up on a spreadsheet, and it is easily forgotten as we sift through the hard financial and mechanical facts that drive the purchasing process. But when all that is behind you and you find yourself presented with great weather, no commitments—and no other pilots depriving you of the airplane—it’s an entirely new layer of freedom that can make aircraft ownership truly sublime.

Jason McDowell is a private pilot and Cessna 170 owner based in Madison, Wisconsin. He enjoys researching obscure aviation history and serves as a judge for the National Intercollegiate Flying Association. He can be found on Instagram as @cessnateur. You can e-mail him with any questions or comments you have.

The post Stranded in Chicago? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.