I DID A BAD, BAD THING

The PATCO strike of 1981 was a turning point in U.S. Labor Relations.PATCO, the Professional Air Traffic Controllers Organization, was founded in 1968. It is best-known for the strike that paralyzed travel throughout the nation in August, 1981. Some 17,000 members of PATCO, led by its president, Robert Poli, went on strike, demanding higher wages, reduced working hours, and better benefits.

I received a story recently that inspired me to go back in time to recall just what it was like.

While many Americans – myself included – sympathized with their cause, most – myself included – were so greatly inconvenienced by the strike that there was little sympathy for them when President Ronald Reagan declared the strike illegal under federal law and fired more than 11,000 of them for refusing to return to work. The union was ultimately decertified.

As with everything, there were opposing points of view regarding President Reagan’s handling of the situation. Supporters maintained his actions were necessary for national security and economic stability. Critics believed he was harsh, and anti-labor.

Following the strike, there remained significant disruptions in the U.S. aviation system. In order to safely manage air traffic with a drastically reduced workforce, the industry, including pilots, were required to comply with stricter procedures.

Airlines were required to slash their flight schedules by as much as 50% in order to relieve the burden placed on those air traffic controllers who stayed on the job. Airports began operating on slot systems in order to limit the number of departures and arrivals during specified timeframes.

Pilots were requested to use only clear and concise standard radio phraseology. This was supposed to minimize the workload on ATC, but it is doubtful it made any significant impact. More effective procedures included requiring pilots to make more frequent position reports and maintaining greater distances between aircraft in order to compensate for reduced monitoring when flying in less congested areas where controllers were spread thin.

Aircraft often had to enter holding patterns near busier airports to ensure an orderly flow of arrivals with limited oversight of controllers. This of course increased delays and burned additional fuel, adding to overall disruption of service and operating expenses.

General Aviation pilots flying under VFR (Visual Flight Rules) were often required to operate without relying on ATC and were advised to remain clear of major controlled airspace in order to reduce congestion and therefore became more autonomous, making decisions on their own without consulting ATC. 

Pilots operating IFR (Instrument Flight Rules) had to file detailed flight plans prior to departure and were required to obtain extended pre-flight briefings to stay informed on airspace updates due to limited real-time guidance. Additionally, a reservation system was implemented for IFR flights.

The objective of the IFR reservation procedures was to restrict the number of IFR flights permitted to operate in controlled airspace in order to ensure that the reduced ATC workforce consisting of replacement and non-striking controllers could safely manage air traffic.

IFR flights at all major U.S. airports were limited by requiring both airlines and private operators to reserve specific time slots for their departures and arrivals. These slots were awarded on the basis of the airport’s capacity with the diminished ATC workforce.

All aircraft operators were required to request and obtain approval for a slot before filing IFR flight plans. Reservations were coordinated by an integrated system or by contacting designated FAA offices.

Priority was given to: Emergency flights, such as law enforcement or medical evacuations; Military flights; and commercial airlines operating scheduled flights. General aviation and non-scheduled flights were given lower, more restricted priority, subject to denial of access to controlled airspace. 

Airlines were forced by economic necessity to consolidate flights and revise schedules in order to reduce the total number of their operations and comply with slot availability. 

It was a mess.

As you can imagine, a lot of pilots had to think outside the box, improvise, and do things they ordinarily would not even think about. What follows is an example, submitted anonymously:

Hey, Wayne,

I have a story for your blog. Maybe you will want to use it. Maybe not. If you do, please don’t use my name. I don’t want to end up flying a cargo plane full of plastic dog shit out of Hong Kong. Thanks.

As a corporate pilot, my job was to get company executives and clients wherever they needed to be, whenever they needed to go. I didn’t always have advance notice. So, the PATCO strike created an operational nightmare. My passengers trusted me with no-go decisions when it came to things like weather, because I could explain the situation to them and would usually have alternate solutions, such as modifying our departure time, deviating around thunderstorms and adding flight time to destination, or in some cases, going to another airport altogether. It all depended on the situation. Probably 95% of the time I was able to accommodate their requests without any inconveniences to them. Good thing, too, because most of them, especially the boss, were accustomed to having their way. All. The. Time.

Now the controllers go on strike, and I find myself having to ask them on a daily basis to make compromises in order to coordinate departure times, etc. I did my best to keep them informed on what we were dealing with. I explained the IFR reservation slot requirements. They all agreed to work with me. And in most cases, they just kept calling upon me to do the impossible. Go here. Go there. Go now. We’ll be back for the return flight home by 3 o’clock. No later than 4. And then they wouldn’t show. Back then there were no cell phones, so I had no way to call or text to request an update on departure time. I had no contact with them at all. So, all I could do was update my reservation requests on an hourly basis.

And then they would show up, ready to go … now. It was frustrating. I knew one pilot who routinely flew in the clouds like a normal IFR flight without a clearance. He flew at VFR altitudes, 8,500 feet MSL rather than 8,000, for example. Of course, he left his transponder off. Others did other things. What I did wasn’t dangerous. Just slightly (?) illegal.

I had a trip to St. Louis one day, early in the afternoon. I was to fly two passengers to Lambert Field to make an airline connection. Three others were coming in later, so I arranged to wait in STL, get a reservation to fly out after they made their way from the airline terminal to MidCoast Aviation, the fixed base operator where we parked. It should all work without a glitch.

Just prior to leaving for the first leg to STL, the hangar phone rang. I had a group of three more passengers needing to be taken to STL when I got back. OK. When I called to make reservations for that trip, no slots were available.

I’d given the matter some thought prior to that day. What would I do if such a situation presented itself. Here’s what I did …

I requested the secretary who was scheduling our flights to inform the passengers for the second trip that due to the air traffic controller strike we only had a very narrow window of time to operate within. Please be there on time and ready to go as soon as I landed from the previous trip.

As per the original plan, I flew the first leg to STL, waited for the passengers for the second leg, and departed on schedule. So far, so good.

Approaching our hometown airport – located in a remote area of southern Illinois – if weather was not good I would conduct an instrument approach unmonitored by ATC due to the fact that radar coverage was not available below about 4,000 feet MSL. Not a problem, just make position reports and remember to cancel IFR when you landed.

Weather was actually pretty good. Normally I would cancel IFR in flight and do a visual approach. What I actually did was let Kansas Center clear me for the approach and after they informed me that radar service was terminated, I turned off my transponder (as an added precaution) and proceeded straight to the airport for a visual approach.

After landing, I did an expedited taxi to the hangar, unloaded my passengers and requested my new passengers to load as quickly as we could, because our reservation would expire if we weren’t off the ground asap. I didn’t even do a bathroom break. (Couldn’t do that now that I’m older!)

We taxied expeditiously to the runway and took off. Once in the air, I turned the transponder back on – with the code from my previous flight still in the box – and called Kansas City Center, calling missed approach and requesting clearance to my alternate airport, St. Louis.

I landed in St. Louis, taxied to the MidCoast Aviation ramp, dropped off the passengers and wished them safe travels. There was nothing left to do but wait until I could get a reservation out of St. Louis and fly back home.

I have mixed feelings as I look back on that day. It wasn’t at all dangerous. It wasn’t particularly stupid. Nor was it something to be particularly proud of. I can’t help but feel I did a bad thing, but yet I don’t regret it. I don’t really know if there is a lesson to be learned here or not…