Airstrips of old differed in one other significant way from a modern, professionally planned, code-compliant "regional executive jetport": Most were built on the edge of town, a 10-minute drive from anywhere.
That's just not possible today. An urban airport gobbles up far too much expensive land. And imagine trying to sell the concept of a new in-town airport to those who would become its neighbors. Which urban land use proposal do you think would get the better public reception: Thirty-six-hole upscale golf course? Great! Regional upscale mega-mall? Terrific! More maximum-density upscale housing? Bring it on! Upscale regional executive jetport? You can't be serious.
Never mind that an airport is mostly vast open-space acreage that will never be overrun with people or cars or high-rises and for its physical size, is a minimal user of water, power, and sewerage. People perceive that an urban airport will mean deafening airplane noise at all hours of the day and night, scheduled 747 operations, and twisted metal raining down on the heads of their children.
So, new airports are built where the land is cheaper and the neighbors fewer and more tolerant—out in the boonies. A quick and easy way to tell if an airport is urban or rural is to check its listing in AOPA's Airport Directory, under the "Restaurants" and "Lodging" headings. If you have to go farther than a mile for a burger or a bed, then it's likely the airport is bounded by something akin to amber fields of uncomplaining grain.
Urban airports are extremely convenient for the private pilots, business aircraft operators, freight haulers, flight schools, emergency medical helicopters, police, and public agency aircraft that use them. They're also an interesting attraction to people in town who have no direct connection with aviation other than being fascinated by it. They're the ones who think it's still pretty cool to watch airplanes and helicopters take off, land, and fly low overhead in the airport pattern.
Not all urban airports are created equal. The best have a distinguishing feature—the primary runway butts up against a major road. That makes things more interesting for everyone. Motorists get an up-close-and-personal look at aircraft gliding by on short final or climbing out under full power. It's also fun from inside the aircraft.
My home field is a great urban airport. When the burghers in the small town of Fort Myers, Florida, decided about 75 years ago that an airport would help advance the cause of civilization on the Southwest Florida frontier, they chose a parcel of land to the south of town bordering the Tamiami Trail, then as now the city's major north-south road. The city had acquired the land intending to build a municipal golf course, but the airport took precedence.
Named for a local World War I pilot-hero who died in 1920 in the crash of a Curtiss amphibian near Everglades City, Page Field developed into the only major airline airport between Sarasota and Miami. When I moved to the area for the first time, in 1974, I remember watching Boeing 727s loaded to the gunnels with winter tourists land on 6,400-foot-long Runway 5.
It was an awesome sight. From the vantage point of the stoplight at Route 41 (Tamiami Trail) and Danley Drive, the main entrance to the airport, you could watch the huge aluminum missiles approaching the runway. With leading-edge slats and massive flaps hanging from the wing and black smoke trailing from the three engines, they'd cross less than 200 feet over the highway with a loud whoosh. If it was a long light, you could continue to monitor the approach until twin puffs of smoke signaled main-gear touchdown and the thrust reversers popped out to help the behemoth shudder and buck to a stop.
The 727s stopped coming in 1983 when a fresh batch of burghers succeeded in having a new upscale regional jetport built in the boonies to the southeast of town. Now tourist-heavy 757s and 767s make their approaches to Southwest Florida International Airport over soggy cypress hammocks that border upscale housing and high-density condo projects. The airport planners failed to provide for a major or minor fringing highway to give motorists a fantastic belly shot of the new really big jets.
At least Tamiami Trail is still in service and busier than ever, the stoplight at Danley Drive still runs long when there's a line of left-turning traffic, and Page Field still fulfills the promise of the urban airport. It still gives motorists a wonderful front-row seat on general aviation, and hungry and tired pilots can still find a restaurant and a motel less than a mile away.
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