A History of Chicago's O'Hare Airport

By Michael Branigan and Christopher Lynch

“Delves into O’Hare’s past and present, based on Branigan’s extensive research and his interviews with aviation professionals and enthusiasts” (Chicago Tribune).
 
In 1942, a stretch of Illinois prairie that had served as a battleground and a railroad depot became the site of a major manufacturing plant, producing Douglas C-54 Skymasters for World War II. Less than twenty years later, that plot of land boasted the biggest and busiest airport in the world. Many of the millions who have since passed through it have likely only regarded it as a place between cities. But for people like Michael Branigan, who has spent years on its tarmac, they know that O’Hare is a city unto itself, with a fascinating history of gangsters, heroes, mayors, presidents, and pilots.
 
Includes photos!
 
“This book reads like no other in the aviation industry from the historical context. Mike is a prolific writer with a knack for telling a story in a way that people can easily relate and understand.” —TribLocal

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Oct 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781614234005

Michael Branigan

Michael Branigan was born and raised one block away from Chicago's Midway Airport and has been involved with both Midway and O'Hare International Airports in some way since a very young age. In grade school, he started off at the Midway terminals as a self-employed shoeshine boy, later transitioning into an aircraft fueler, customer service agent and ramp service agent before completing technical training in aircraft maintenance, where he graduated from the American Airlines Maintenance Academy in 1992. Branigan has worked in the maintenance field since then at both airports. He also holds a private pilot license and has earned multiple FAA safety awards. Still residing in the Chicagoland area, Michael may be contacted through his website at www.oharehistory.com.

Book preview

Introduction

Goodbye to all my friends at home—Goodbye to people I’ve trusted.

I’ve got to go out and make my own way—I might get rich you know I might get busted.

But my heart keeps calling me backwards—As I get on the 707

Ridin’ high I got tears in my eyes—You know you got to go through hell

Before you get to heaven

Big ol’ jet airliner—Don’t carry me too far away.

—Steve Miller Band

All of my life, I lived and breathed aviation—literally.

My parents owned their first house at 6326 South Keating on Chicago’s South Side. Ours was the last house planes flew over before they landed on Runway 31L at Chicago’s Midway Airport. Midway back then was rather quiet when compared to its early years and today’s present years.

Midway Airport was the first major airport in Chicago. It opened for business in 1926 and hasn’t stopped since. Maybe it slowed at times, like when I was just a kid, running up and down the block of Sixty-third and Keating in the mid-1970s.

By that time, in order to cater to the demands of the jet age, most major air travel had shifted to Chicago O’Hare International. After O’Hare opened for commercial travel (both domestic and international in 1955), the shift had to take place. Midway Airport only resided on one square mile and just could not accommodate the larger jet aircraft. Mostly, the runways weren’t long enough for the Douglas DC-8s and the Boeing 707s.

Nevertheless, since being a young child, I have been fond of airplanes. I used to sit in the upstairs back bedroom of our Chicago brick bungalow and watch the planes fly right over my head. I didn’t get to see them for long, because behind our house was this big, thousand-plus-square-foot building/store known as Bargain Town. Bargain Town was something like a flea market at the time. That building stood in my way of being able to see the planes land. Had it not been there, I would have been sitting on my personal million-dollar property.

In 1980, my parents and I moved closer to my grammar school, St. Mary, Star of the Sea, located at 6400 South Kilbourn. But lo and behold, when we took up residence two blocks west on Sixty-fourth Street, I was still in the flight path for Runway 31L, if only just a little farther away. Best of all—and this is what attracted me most about my new location—as I watched the planes fly by, I had a longer time to see them coming. All I had to do was look out the picture-frame window in the kitchen located in the back of our house, and I could clearly see the planes. I was always amazed to see the pilots as they flew by: these little people sitting up there in their white shirts, flying right past me.

As I grew older in the ’80s, I found myself heading toward Midway’s terminals over on Fifty-ninth and Cicero. In 1978, roughly when Midway Airlines originated, the U.S. government deregulated air travel. However, Midway Airlines ended up bringing the airport back to life. Through business and general aviation, it survived over the years, but it never did become as it once was in that time between the 1930s and the 1950s: the glory days!

Midway Airport had been able to accommodate the DC-9, Boeing 727 and 737 aircraft, which came several years after the Boeing 707, and DC-8, which could not utilize Midway’s shorter runways. The DC-9 is what Midway Airlines primarily flew at first, followed by adding the Boeing 737 to its fleet. When Midway Airlines opened its doors, the airport started to become busy again. I would go over to the terminals as a kid almost daily, just to watch the planes taxi in and push out of their gates. Sneaking down to the then vacant B Concourse, I was just amazed, seeing that these concourses had flourished once before my time. I used to see the old dusty United Airlines signs and ticket jackets, along with old TWA reminisces.

I also discovered a bunch of hidden hallways and break rooms. The place being so desolate at times, I practically had free rein of the area. I knew all the hiding spots and even made my way up to the top of the old control tower. Years later, it would serve as the identification and badging (the area where airline employees obtain their IDs to work on the field). However in the early ’80s, it was just empty.

Then one day I got this notion in my head to become an entrepreneur and start my own business, shining shoes at the Midway terminals. So I put my shoeshine kit together, and off to Midway I went. And I went every day. I must say that for being in sixth grade, I sure made quite a bit of money shining shoes.

Shortly after I started, though, I noticed another kid there doing the same thing. His name was Henry. Henry was older than he looked, African American and took a liking to me. After being around Henry for a while, I learned the tricks of the trade. I must have been shining shoes and staring at airplanes almost every day for at least two years. Those two years were an amazing experience. I even met a few celebrities as they passed through. My favorite two celebrity customers were baseball Hall of Famers Dave Winfield of the New York Yankees and George Brett of the Kansas City Royals.

As I grew a little older, quite a few other kids were also coming in and trying to shine shoes. It didn’t matter much to me; I just loved being there. It did eventually get to the point where the police and aviation officials stepped in and had put a stop to it. However, they told Henry and me that since we had been there for quite some time, we could stay. And we did; but again, I was getting a little older. I found myself spending less and less time at the terminals.

In the mid-1980s, I would ride my bike around Midway’s one-square-mile perimeter, letting the wind conditions affect my trip. I would be doing OK as I peddled from Sixty-third and Cicero down to Central Avenue. When I made that right turn onto Fifty-fifth, though, I would sometimes battle a fifteen-mile-per-hour headwind and would have to just pump the pedals the entire way. Then as I made another right, heading from Central to Cicero, I would be fine for that mile. Finally, when I hit Cicero and started making my way from Fifty-fifth Street, back to my original starting point at Sixty-third, it all became worth it: the headwind I had on the other side was now a fifteen-mile-per-hour tailwind. Even if you rode BMX bikes in the ’80s and had only one gear, the aeronautic law of headwinds and tailwinds could only help a bike rider.

Many times, when I was on those rides, I would stop at Monarch Air Service on West Sixty-third to see Jimmy Deir. Jimmy was the manager of Monarch South and also my godfather. When I would visit him, he would let me go out on the field to see the planes up close and introduce me to the pilots or some of the guys who worked for him. I would always sit on the pushback tugs with him while he moved the planes around to park them. My godfather was good to me, and when I would leave, he would send me off with Monarch posters, calendars, pens and key chains.

Years later, I worked for Monarch as an aircraft fueler. At this time, Midway Airlines was experiencing severe financial trouble that stemmed from the lingering effects of the first Gulf War, the rising oil prices and internal company issues. I had been working for Monarch for about three months when, just after midnight on November 14, 1991, I received a call: it was from my lifelong friend, Geoff Kinnerk, who worked for Midway Airlines at that time. He told me that Midway had just ceased all operations. Now, I refueled Midway’s jets for Monarch; so not only were the Midway employees losing their jobs, but also anyone whose job was even connected to that airline—like me—did as well, for I had no more planes to fuel.

When I graduated high school in 1989, I decided I wanted to attend the American Airlines Maintenance Academy in Chicago. The academy was a twenty-month course in airframe and power plant mechanics. Upon successfully completing the training and passing several written and oral examinations, I became a Federal Aviation Administration-certified aircraft mechanic. However, the effects of the first Gulf War and the still-rising oil prices put a halt on the airline industry for quite a few years. I wasn’t even able to start my first job as an aircraft mechanic until the mid-1990s.

By 1997, though, things began to pick up again in the industry. I decided it was time to get out of the oil refineries and begin my career in aircraft maintenance. In April of that year, I started working for Chicago Express Airlines, a commuter service out of Midway that flew Jetstream 3100 and SAAB 340B aircraft. After almost two years with them, I was ready to move on to what we call the heavy jets. This led me to accept a position with Vanguard Airlines in 1999, where I worked on Boeing 737s. However, Vanguard, like many discount airlines at the time, was on shaky financial ground, and I realized I needed to keep an eye out for a more stable company. After a year with Vanguard, I found work with American Trans Air, also known as ATA.

I remained at ATA for the next six years, working on Boeing 727s, 737s and 757s. But as a result of the attacks on September 11, 2001, among other company issues, ATA was put under bankruptcy protection by 2006. Significant layoffs of employees, including myself, began to take place. Finally, on April 3, 2008, just like so many other great airlines that had taken to the skies over the years, ATA closed its doors.

In 2007, I began working at O’Hare airport as an independent contractor, working on the Boeing 747 and MD-11 cargo aircraft. And this was when I witnessed a truly big and busy airport. Coming from the one square mile of Midway to twenty-two square miles (respectively) of O’Hare made a huge difference in almost everything I looked at. I never really experienced seeing a line of 747s up close, and now I was fixing them. That smell of jet fuel that burns through the exhaust of the jets does something to a lover of aviation. It had carried right over from Midway to O’Hare and thus began my romance with Chicago’s biggest and busiest airport. Midway was my home base, and now O’Hare was my new and intriguing interest. I love them both equally but in two very different ways.

With continuous passenger travel from primarily 5:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m., followed by cargo carriers arriving and departing throughout the night, and, of course, the aircraft mechanics that taxi planes to the hangars for overnight maintenance, O’Hare never sleeps. And when the mechanics taxi the planes back to the gates in the morning, it is to begin another day of air travel. This has gone on every single day for over fifty years. Let’s tap into some of that history!

Chapter 1

1800s–1946

FARMBIRDS TO WARBIRDS

Some of the people cursed.

They cursed a present which desperately

Is trying to catch up with the future,

A future that just won’t wait.

—Jim Ritch, Chicago Catching Up With the Jets

Northwest Chicago is a land much transformed in the last two centuries. At one time, the untouched prairies, bordered by Indian trails, seemed as vast as the ocean. Overhead, robins, pheasants and the occasional stray seagull dominated the air traffic. Mallards and drakes would pause in their travels here to stay a night or two in one of the nearby ponds. Over two hundred years later, this region still plays host to those who prefer to travel by air. Instead of flocks of birds nesting along the rivers and trails, though, here exists what has been many times called a city within a city: Chicago O’Hare International Airport.

The transition from peaceful prairies to one of