THE MAKING OF THE SPIRIT OF ST. LOUIS AIRPORT

 

 

            The story of the Spirit of St. Louis Airport and St. Louis Air Park began when Paul Haglin and William Honey met Christmas Eve in the apartment of The Rev. Robert Morisseau, the Assistant Rector at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Ladue. While their wives chatted about children and home, Haglin told Honey he was interested in building an alternative airport to Lambert Field. He already had a vision of a 5,000 foot runway, terminal building and hangars for private, non-commercial airplanes.

 

            Haglin was a pilot and owner of a Cessna 190, which he kept at one of the fixed base operators at Lambert Field. His interest in an alternative airport strictly for general aviation was piqued the day he had to ask the control tower at Lambert to let him take off on a taxiway or he would have to shut his big rotary engine down and be towed back to the fixed base operator.

 

            The principal airport in St. Louis has been Lambert Field. Commercial aviation was growing fast and private planes alternating with commercial jets taking off and landing were to become a hazard as the airport grew. St. Louis needed an alternative airport.

 

            Haglin and Honey hit it off, although they were opposites in many respects. Haglin was an engineer with McDonnell Aircraft and working in the sales department. Everything was straight forward, yes or no.  Honey was a lawyer recently discharged from his mandatory service with the U.S. Army.

 

            Both were lifelong Episcopalians, which was later to change in Haglin’s case. Haglin was a rock solid Republican of the John Birch Society variety. Honey on the other hand was an unambiguous liberal.

 

            Haglin told Honey he had his eye on a tract of land for a private airport and asked if Honey could find out who owned the property. Later that week they walked the property on which Haglin said he planned to build a private airport. Unfortunately, the land was expensive and at the end of the planned runway was an elementary school.

 

            The senior partner at Honey’s law firm represented several farmers in the Gumbo Bottoms in west St. Louis County and he agreed to introduce Honey who was to conduct all the land acquisition to Bill and Walter Schultz, who farmed 180 acres in the bottom.  Honey would meet with the Schultz’s and see if it was feasible to acquire enough land for a 5,000 foot runway and industrial property around the airport. 

 

            Earlier Haglin and Honey had flown into a privately owned airport in Dallas that featured acres of industrial lots around the airport with access to the runway. The sale of the lots was intended to  subsidize the airport, which relied on sales of fuel and rental of ramp space. It was a concept Haglin and Honey would adopt.

 

            Honey coined the name “Air Park” for the industrial land, and a national aviation magazine picked up the term, and today hundreds of airports also have “Air Parks.”

 

            Bill and Walter Schultz bought into the idea of an airport in the Gumbo Bottoms immediately, and they agreed to help Honey meet with the 27 other owners of land within the 1,000 acres that Haglin thought would be needed for a 5,000 runway.

 

            Bill and Lucille Schultz lived in a small house near the road. They had children and grandchildren, but none of them wanted the farming way of life. Walter and his wife Helen lived in a two story house in the middle of the acreage surrounded by barns and sheds and tall trees. They had no children. The first time Honey visited Walter and Helen he took with him three of his four children, and Walter and Helen took to them right away. Craig got to sit on Walter’s lap and drive the tractor. Sarah immediately sat in Helen’s lap and explained why her doll could not come visit. The children became a regular part of Honey’s visits with the families as he drove to the Gumbo Bottoms nearly every weekend for over a year that it took to get the agreement of all the landowners and their signatures on an option to either buy or lease their property.

 

            With the benefit of Bill and Walter’s knowledge of the people and the crops and the costs and net profit per acre earned by most of the 28 farmers whose land was needed, Honey recommended to Haglin that they organize a corporation and obtain options. Haglin and Company was formed with Haglin owning a slight majority of the stock and Honey as the minority stockholder. Honey then prepared options calling for a sale price or $1,000 per acre and a rent for the first ten years of a 99 year term of $100 an acre rising to $125 an acre after ten years.

 

            The time was ripe. Most of the farmers were well into their sixties. The airport was a way out of farming into their eighties for many of the families in the Gumbo Bottoms.

 

            The Schultz’s, the Loesing’s, the Steinert’s, and others who lived in a house on their acreage were to receive a separate price for the house and outbuildings. Honey fixed on a price for each that was enough for them to buy a newer house.

           

            There were two holdouts. The owner of 20 acres in the middle of the proposed runway asked for double the price per acre that the others were receiving. Honey refused. It would not have been fair, and others were certain to ask for more. He talked to Bill Schultz about it, and Bill talked to his neighbors. Several days later Honey received a phone call that he could come to the owner’s house and pick up the option papers. The owner gave every impression that his neighbors had ganged up on him.

 

            Herman Steinert was the last parcel. His property was on the west end of the 1,200 acres. Everyone said Herman and Emma Steinert were outsiders and would never agree with anything their neighbors did. Bill and Walter pleaded with Honey to forget the Steinerts; that Herman was a maverick and stubborn and would never give an option to sell his land to the airport project. Haglin insisted that this last parcel on the west end of the 1,000 acres was necessary for runway length. “You have to try,” he urged Honey.

 

            Honey drove to Gumbo on a Sunday, taking his two oldest children with him. He parked in the big yard between the Steinert’s house and barn and walked up to the back screen door. Mrs. Steinert was in the kitchen. She answered the door. Honey said who he was. She said she knew who he was and beckoned him to come in. Honey held the screen door and Craig and Sarah entered and they all stood awkwardly in the kitchen.

 

            Mrs. Steinert took charge. “You children go sit at the table and I will get you something. Mr. Steinert is in the basement fixing the furnace. He will be a while.” Honey was wearing grey flannel slacks, a striped shirt and blue blazer. “How do I get down to the basement, Mrs. Steinert?” he asked. She looked at his attire with a critical eye and pointed to a door.

 

            Honey walked down the stairs into a basement with a concrete pad for a big round coal fired furnace. Mr. Steinert was inside the furnace. Honey stripped off his blue blazer and stepped through the furnace door inside with the furnace.

    

            “Let me give you a hand with that,” he said and grabbed hold of the piece of furnace Mr. Steinert was trying to wrestle back into its proper position. It took the efforts of both of them to fix the piece. Honey had to put his back to the furnace wall to brace himself to hold the piece while Mr. Steinert bolted it into place.

           

            Finally it was fixed, and they both climbed out of the furnace. Mr. Steinert said, “You’re the Bill Honey all my neighbors are talking about. You got your good clothes all dirty. You should have brought some work clothes.”

    

            “These are my work clothes,” Honey replied. “Anyway, I can wash the shirt and send the pants to the cleaner.”

           

            “I thank you for your help,” he said, “And I hear younguns upstairs. Let’s join them.”

    

            They walked upstairs where and Craig and Sarah were charming Mrs. Steinert, who was in turn bribing them with all sorts of farm delicacies they never eaten before. Mr. Steinert and Honey joined them at the kitchen table, and Mrs. Steinert poured coffee. Mr. Steinert asked about the airport, and Honey explained the terms of the option and some of the hurdles he and Haglin still faced.

 

“I would want more than you are offering the other farms,” Mr. Steinert said.

 

“I can’t pay you more than the others. Everybody has to get the same or it won’t work and it wouldn’t be fair,” Honey replied.

 

The Steinerts agreed on a lease of $100 an acre and together they agreed on a price for the house and outbuildings. Mrs. Steinert loaded them up with sausage and ham slices and fresh tomatoes from her garden. Sarah gave her a hug goodbye, and Craig shook hands with Mr. Steinert despite his stern visage that had frightened most of his neighbors for years.

 

            The Steinerts held out for a few more weeks, Honey felt possibly so Mrs. Steinert could entertain Honey’s children one more time.

 

99 YEAR LEASE

 

            It is difficult to finance construction on leased property unless the landlord agrees to subordinate his lease to the lender’s security. Honey was not about to ask the 28 farm owners to subordinate their lease. The concept of an airport was highly speculative, and the first lawyer who saw the lease would have vetoed it.

 

            He drafted a lease that contained a clause that in the event that the lease went into default, the landlord had to notify the lender and then the lender had six months to pay $125 an acre for the land in which case the fee simple title automatically was vested in the lender.

 

            The title company agreed that the lender did have automatic title, and the lenders received a guaranteed title from the title company.

 

            This satisfied the obligation Honey felt to the farmers he met with weekly for over a year, ate at their table, brought his children for them to play with, and felt like family, and it would greatly facilitate borrowing.

 

ZONING

 

Haglin went to work and drew up plans for an airport and industrial park on the 1,200 acres of land on which Honey had secured options, and Haglin and Company filed an application with St. Louis County for an airport permit and industrial zoning.

           

            First the St. Louis County Planning Commission endorsed the plan with enthusiasm. Then the zoning request went to the County Council.  Weeks went by and the rezoning bill did not come up for a vote.  Plans for the project had been hailed by both St. Louis newspapers and numerous civic leaders as good for industrial development and as a relief to the crowded municipal airport. The Planning Commission had given its unqualified approval to plans for a 5,000-foot runway, terminal area, hangars and hundreds of acres of industrial lots with access to the runway. Still, the County Council had not moved on a request to rezone the 1,200 acres.

 

            Honey had left Kerth, Theis and Screiber and opened his own law office. He began to receive strange phone calls from contractors and insurance salesmen and others claiming they had influence with the County Council and could facilitate the zoning. They wanted the airport’s business, naturally.

 

            Honey had been attending the Wednesday evening meetings of the Council for weeks, and every Wednesday night the application was passed over as the smart money waited for Haglin and Honey to wise up and play ball with the big boys.

 

            One evening as Honey sat waiting for the zoning bill to come up the man sitting beside him suddenly doubled over in pain. An intern, Walter Metcalfe, was with Honey at the time, and he offered to assist the man, who explained that he had ulcers and needed a can of condensed milk to quiet the flames in his stomach, but he had to stay in the council chamber to watch the voting. Walt immediately left and found a can of condensed milk. The milk did its work, and when the meeting was over we talked. The man said he was secretary of the local machinist union. Honey explained their predicament to him.

 

            "Are you against unions?" the man asked.

           

            As a young man Honey read with admiration the stories of Norman Thomas about Eugene Debs and other early union leaders, so he could honestly answer he was not against unions.  The union representative called the next day and asked Honey to attend a meeting Saturday morning at the headquarters of the Central Trades Union.

 

            On his arrival he was shown to a meeting room in the basement. A representative of each of the major unions in St. Louis was there, including the Machinists, Teamsters, Plumbers, Carpenters, Electricians, Bricklayers, and others.

 

            Harold Gibbons, second only to Jimmy Hoffa in the Teamsters Union at that time, led the discussion. We will help you with your zoning problem, he said, if you will promise us that the industrial park you are planning to build will contain no restrictions against unions.

 

            Honey assured him there would be no such restrictions in the land covenants, and that the roads into the park would be dedicated to public use, which meant that union organizers could come into the park on the park roads and wouldn't be restricted to picketing at the entrances to the 1,200 acres.

 

            Once the subject of covenants and picketing were satisfied, Gibbons assured Honey that they would take care of the zoning problem.            Honey was dubious and asked Mr. Gibbons if he would explain how they planned to do that, and warned that the County Council was determined in this matter.

 

            "We thought we would take them to lunch," Gibbons said quite casually.

           

            "All together," Honey asked incredulously.

           

            "No. One at a time," he answered.

           

            Wide eyed, Honey blurted, "You aren't going to beat them up or anything, are you?"

           

            Gibbons laughed, leaned forward and patted Honey’s knee and said, "We don't do that any more, son."

           

            The union representatives did as they promised and took each member of the council to lunch.  The very next Wednesday night Honey attended the council meeting. Before the meeting started, the chairman called him by name. "Honey! Come here!" he said brusquely.

 

            Honey walked up to the semicircle table with the seven members of the?? council in their rolling, swiveling, leather chairs. The chairman handed him a rolled up piece of paper.

           

            "What is this?" he asked.

 

            "Your application," he said.

 

            "Is it going to come up tonight?" Honey asked.

           

            "It's already come up," he said. He then benefited Honey with a few expletives and swiveled his chair.

 

OBTAINING THE MONEY FOR SPIRIT OF ST. LOUIS

 

            With the options and zoning in hand it was time to raise the money to build the airport. Haglin quit his job at McDonnell Aircraft to devote full time. Honey had received an offer to become Assistant General Counsel of McDonnell Aircraft, and he turned the offer down. What deterred him was the Spirit of St. Louis Airport. He had started a project, and he was determined to see it through to completion.

 

            A money broker had introduced them to two officials at Republic National Life Insurance Company in Dallas who issued “take out” commitments – commitments to buy a loan after a period of years. During the intervening years the insurance company hoped the project would take hold and refinance and let them off the hook.

 

            Haglin and Honey appealed to the First National Bank of St. Louis to fund the intervening years. At the first meeting the bank questioned the wording of the commitment letter. The two young men had committed their careers and their life to this project. To be told the commitment on which they had relied so much was inadequate was a shock. Paul became angry and walked out of the meeting.

 

            Honey remained in a very tense moment around a conference table with four bank officials.  He didn’t feel this was the end of the line, so he said to the bank officials, “Why don’t you have your attorney tell me what changes you want, and I will fly down to Dallas and see if Republic will make the changes. I really believe they intend to issue a commitment that is binding.”

           

            “Good idea,” said the Vice President leading the bank contingent, and that is what happened.

 

Honey came back from that trip to Dallas with two commitments that he thought met the bank’s objections. He had a feeling that the bank attorney had forgotten one element that he would remember later and insist upon, so he got two commitments. When the bank’s attorney raised the issue, he pulled out the other commitment and said, “I thought it was something eventually you would insist upon.” Everything went smoothly after that. The bank funded the buyout of the land and the construction of the airport and utilities in the industrial park around the airport.

 

CONSTRUCTION

 

            Haglin was in his element during construction of the airport and industrial park. He negotiated with the water company for extension of a larger high pressure line to the airport; and with the power company to relocated wires at the end of the proposed runway; and with the various contractors for roads, sewers, sewage disposal pond and other amenities of the airport/industrial park.

 

            The planned runway was to be 5,000 feet by 100 feet with a parallel taxiway. Both runway and taxiway would be lighted by side lamps. A terminal building faced a large ramp for airplane parking. Adjacent to the ramp were to be two “T-hangars.” Honey had a client who specialized in soil cement, a process whereby the soil (if sandy enough) was tilled and mixed with powered cement and then water infused. The soil at the airport was ideal for the process. Haglin and Honey’s client then proceeded to construction of the runway, taxi-way and ramp. The process worked perfectly to create a base that was strong enough for the heaviest commercial jet when topped by two inches of asphalt.

 

            Honey drew up covenants for the 1,200 acres that included provisions for landscaping and more attractive four-sided buildings, a significant change from most industrial parks. Haglin supervised the planting of trees with minimum two inch diameter trunks along the main roads entering the park.

 

            Honey met with an official of the highway department to see if they had plans for widening of the three lane highway 40 that fronted the park. The answer was that as soon as there was a dramatic fatal accident on the two lane bridge that crossed the Missouri River there would likely not be any effort to expand the highway or the bridge.

 

THE AVIATION REFUELING FACILITY

 

            The airport needed facilities for dispensing three grades of aviation fuel. Haglin and Honey sought financial help from several major oil companies. They found that beginning their inquiry at the local or regional level brought no results as the local officials were reluctant to recommend so large an investment in so risky a venture.

 

            Honey solved the problem by calling the secretary of a major oil company and quickly explaining their need. In the next few days an invitation came from the secretary to fly to New York and meet with the President. That meeting did not work out, but another did as orders from the top office to the regional officials to make a decision worked.     

 

MOVING TO THE SITE

 

            Haglin moved his office from Clayton to a remodeled gas station facing Highway 40. Honey gave up his law practice and moved also. Information was sent out to industrial realtors around the country that St. Louis Air Park was open for business.

 

THE LAWSUIT

 

            Across the street from the newly constructed Spirit of St. Louis Airport was a small airfield with a dirt runway. Its principal business was ferrying skydivers into the air on weekends. However, its runway ran at right angles to the new Spirit of St. Louis Airport
 runway. Both could not exist without a control tower.

 

            The small airport filed suit in the Circuit Court and received a temporary injunction. Big X’s were painted on the new landing strip, and the project waited for a decision of the Judge.

 

            The only answer to runways that crossed was a control tower that regulated traffic at both airports. The Spirit of St. Louis Airport needed a control tower. Honey appealed to a friend who manufactured guard shacks, “Can you put one of those shacks on top of four telephone poles?” The friend said he would try, and he and Haglin went to work. Telephone poles braced by cross members and anchored by steel cables went up on Spirit Airport. One top the friend constructed a control tower with slanted windows and a view of both runways.

 

            The control tower could not legally take control of traffic on both airports without the intervention of the Federal Aviation Agency. Haglin appealed to the FAA to issue a “Notem,” an order taking jurisdiction of the airspace above both airports. The FAA would not issue such a Notem unless there was active air traffic at both airports, and the Spirit Airport was temporarily shut down. Haglin had a friend with a fleet of aircraft that he rented. One night the friend announced to the press (and the FAA) that in the morning he was flying his entire fleet to land at Spirit of St. Louis Airport. The FAA issued a Notem taking jurisdiction of the airspace above both airports and authorized the control tower to be manned and to control take off and landings at both airports.

 

            The law suit was quickly settled as the state court had lost jurisdiction to the federal control of the airspace and both airports commenced operations.

 

            A grand opening was planned for the airport. Haglin went to work and arranged for hundreds of private and antique planes to be present at the ceremony. A day of festivities was capped by the Mayor of St. Louis presenting a citation to Haglin and Honey and the President of the United States sending a congratulatory telegram. Honey and his law partner’s son got to ride in an open cockpit bi-wing aircraft lean over in a steep turn and look directly at the ground below.

 

PROFITABILITY

 

            The airport quickly filled the T-hangars and ramp space. Haglin’s estimate of sales of aviation fuel of over one million gallons a year was quickly surpassed. A Mooney aircraft distribution bought land and built a hangar facing the taxiway. The Post Dispatch built a hangar and moved its corporate aircraft to the airport. The airport was growing fast but was not a large money maker. Industrial lot sales would be the key to success and paying down the loan, which was growing exponentially as interest was being added to principal.   

 

            Honey was out of his element at the gas station office. Haglin grew more and more in charge. One last effort using his skills as a promoter, Honey worked a deal with a contractor to build a 10,000 square building divided into five 2,000 square foot units. St. Louis County National Bank, where Honey had once advised the trust department, financed the building. The plans were to begin construction of an identical building as soon as the first building was fully rented, however, Haglin and the contractor began bickering, and the second building was called off.

 

            Honey left the office and went to work for Stifel Nicolaus & Company, a stock broker. Haglin carried on alone. One day Honey visited the office to find the secretary typing letters addressed to each of the Fortune 500 companies assuring them that Jesus would favor their company if they bought a lot in St. Louis Air Park. Honey tried to dissuade Haglin from mailing the letters, but the two had grown apart, and Honey realized that he could no longer influence Haglin.

 

SALE OF THE AIRPORT

 

            The lender was adding interest to the principal because industrial land sales are always lowest at the beginning of a project. The total of both now reached over seven million dollars. The First National Bank had called upon Republic National Life Insurance Company to stand by its commitment to purchase the loan after three years. The insurance company complied, and it was now the lender.

 

            It was obvious to Honey that sooner or later Republic National Life Insurance Company was going to foreclose. The breakeven point on sales of industrial lots was years away. The lender was not likely to wait that long.

 

            Honey appealed to Joe Compagna, who had first introduced them to Republic National Like Insurance Company, to use his contacts with the Mayor and Alderman of the City of St. Louis to see if they were interested in buying the airport and its approximately 200 acres, leaving the industrial park free and clear of debt. The sale was a natural for the City. It gave it the relief it sought from overcrowding at the commercial airport due to joint commercial and private use.

 

            Compagna came back with the news that the City was very interested in acquiring the  Spirit of St. Louis Airport, and that the Mayor already had indications from the FAA that it would finance a secondary airport.

 

            Honey took this proposition to Haglin. He refused to even consider it. The airport was his dream, and he was not going to give it up.

 

FORECLOSURE

 

            Word leaked to Republic National Life Insurance Company, probably through Joe Compagna.  It was not going to wait for fear the City might choose another site for a secondary airport. It sent notice to Haglin that it intended to foreclose. Haglin & Company gave the insurance company a deed in lieu of foreclosure, and the entire project, airport and industrial park now belonged to Republic National Life Insurance Company.  The lender even insisted on rescinding the protective covenants Honey had written for the park. Honey reluctantly signed off on his work.

 

            Republic proceeded to negotiate with the City of St. Louis, and the City applied to the FAA for funding. This culminated in the City paying Republic $12,000,000 for the airport facilities and approximately 200 acres. The FAA put up the bulk of the money.

 

            The City expanded the runway to 7,500 feet; the FAA built a new control tower, and eventually the City built a shorter parallel runway and more hangars. The Spirit of St. Louis Airport is now the third busiest airport in Missouri.

 

AFTERWARD

 

            The project that had occupied most of their thoughts for the past years was now gone. Haglin became a store front Evangelist. Honey bought 400 housing units in the Soulard Market area and began rehabilitating them. He went broke, moved to Puerto Rico, later Arkansas, Arizona, Virginia, Alabama and Florida, where he practiced law or taught. He was a visiting lecturer in England the day he saw on the front page of the Herald Tribune an aerial view of the Spirit of St. Louis Airport covered with flood waters of the Missouri River. 

 

END