
Behold, The Gateway. The Front Door. The Vestibule. The Welcome Mat. City planners, business leaders, and architects may have different metaphors for it, but they all amount to the same thing: The airport provides most visitors with their first glimpse of a city, and the last before they leave. At their best, airports serve the same purpose as the great train stations of old—marking departures and arrivals in a memorable way, welcoming visitors to town.Yet, until now, Indy hasn’t exactly made the best impression. In the reluctant-to-be-critical style typical of Hoosiers, those involved in creating the new Indianapolis International Airport, which opens November 11 after 30 years of planning, speak cautiously about the original building. John Kish, executive director of the Airport Authority: “It was what it was.” Bob Schultz, director of communications at the Indianapolis Convention & Visitors Association: “A forgettable regional airport.” Randall Tobias, president of the Airport Authority Board: “Just look at it.”In other words, it was plain, worn down, and overcrowded. The old Weir Cook terminal, later renamed the Indianapolis International Airport, reflected the Indy of the 1950s, a city with little to offer downtown and a lack of tourism to match. About the only reason to fly here was on business with Eli Lilly or to attend the Indianapolis 500. Sure, the old airport functioned. But that amounted to the highest praise you could give it.A small group of bureaucrats saw the city would need something more. In 1975, the Airport Authority—a municipal corporation that owns the facility—began buying land where the two main runways lie today, and planning for a terminal that would someday sit between them. But in the years that followed, planners and architects did more than simply update the facility. They created a 21st-century landmark for Indianapolis to live up to. “When I was hired,” says Ripley Rasmus, lead architect of the project, “the powers that be told me, ‘This is not about racecars or Brown County. This is about our future.’”In an era of local civic projects that have stumbled into pitfalls of overspending and unimaginative design, the new airport soars. Architecturally, the terminal, walled with glass and capped by an undulating roofline that evokes flight, welcomes in natural light from every direction. Environmentally, the structure expects to be the largest LEED-certified building in the Midwest (a national distinction for the use of “green” building materials and methods). Economically, without requiring a single local tax dollar for construction, it has already lured several advanced manufacturing companies nearby. Convention business promises to explode in conjunction with the updated Convention Center. And officials hope, perhaps against hope, to use the terminal as leverage to convince the airlines we deserve more direct flights.Lofty expectations? Maybe. Some say it’s unreasonable to expect anything more from the new airport than to provide passengers a better experience. That much is not in doubt. Herman Miller seating replaces shredded, coffee-stained chairs. Civic Plaza, the new terminal’s rotunda for local shopping and dining, provides an unmatched view of the airspace and city skyline. Almost $4 million in commissioned art, including glass murals and tile mosaics, enlivens the concourses. All these things work in concert to provide a more pleasant hour or two surrounding takeoffs and landings. And given the nature of the airport as a gateway, maybe providing that experience entices travelers to return. As Tobias says, “The way it affects passengers is the way it will change the city.”
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