Won't Get Fooled Again

History has shown us that, when tensions escalate enough over a contentious issue, there will be attempts made to come to some sort of agreement to head off disaster.

And, as is often the case, that agreement does little to forestall the inevitable.

The issue of slavery continued to vex our young republic into the 19th century, particularly in light of the addition of new territories to the United States after the Mexican-American War.

Enter the Missouri Compromise of 1850, which allowed new territories such as Utah and New Mexico sovereignty over the slavery issue while including the Fugitive Slave Act which required citizens to assist in apprehending runaway slaves and denied enslaved people the right to a trial by jury. Something for everyone, right?

Alas, it wasn't enough to prevent the Civil War.

In 1938, with Adolf Hitler threatening war if his territorial demands on the Czech Sudetenland weren't met, British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain flew to Germany and, after prolonged negotiations with Der Fuhrer, the Munich Agreement was crafted, ceding the Sudetenland to Nazi Germany in exchange for Hitler's promise not to go to war. "Peace for our time," declared the British PM.

One year later, Hitler went to war.

In "Thank You And God Bless You, Toni Harp," and, "Joe Carfora's Dangerous Game," I touched briefly on two past "agreements" between the City of New Haven and the Town of East Haven in their efforts to deflate the ongoing conflict over Tweed-New Haven Regional Airport. I put "agreements" in quotes because if you examine their substance, you'll find that the airport usually got the worst of it, with the lion's share of the benefits going to East Haven.

The airport's operations had been a bone of contention to the town and New Haven's Morris Cove neighborhood ever since Eastern Air Lines introduced jet service in 1967, prompting airport management to embark on improving the airport to accommodate more modern jet aircraft. From that time forward, the airport has flirted with jet service in each of the following decades, with lawsuits and countersuits making their way through various levels of the courts, and every attempt by the airport to improve itself seen by the opposition as "expansion."

In 1983, United Air Lines proposed jet service from New Haven to Chicago's O'Hare International Airport. At that time, New Haven mayor Biagio "Ben" DiLieto, the former chief of police, came out against the proposal, resulting in him receiving much flak from the business community.

There were a few reasons behind his stance. For starters, the mayor lived in a house on Townsend Terrace, one that provided, shall we say, a breathtaking view of Tweed's main runway. One can only imagine the thought of having a front row seat to United's 737s coming and going not sitting well with Mr. DiLieto.

Then there was the matter of the mayor's "public-private partnership," wherein the city would work with entrepreneur and developer Joel Schiavone on downtown's revival, including the Schubert Theater and the Taft Hotel. Mr. Schiavone had his finger in a number of commercial pies, including "alchemy" (scrap metal). But the "cash cow" of his that fueled his development plans was---wait for it---Connecticut Limousine!

Ask yourself this: Where was the money to be made? In driving passengers 5 miles to Tweed? Or 75 to 90 miles to the New York airports? Surely Mayor DiLieto couldn't let his goombah's best performing business get hurt, which in turn would hurt the mayor's plans for downtown.

And as if all this wasn't enough, it was also intimated that Ben DiLieto was afraid to fly, which would explain his drive to resurrect New Haven's dilapidated Union Station. (Credit where credit is due; Union Station is indeed quite beautiful, harkening back to the days when train travel ruled, and successfully combining the historic with the modern.)

So it was small wonder that, in 1983, in the wake of the United kerfuffle, Mr. DiLieto and East Haven's Anthony A. Proto, Jr., a rabid airport opponent, fashioned an agreement recognizing Tweed as a "commuter airport," which is to say the only commercial aircraft serving operating would be planes such as the DeHavilland Twin Otter and the Dash-8, 19-to-37-seat planes that only the most determined air travelers would use due to the planes' small size. No jets. ( Have you seen any Otters or Dashes operating lately? I haven't.) In addition, the agreement called for a new passenger terminal to be built in place of the original building. How did that work out? (This was about the same time East Haven bought excess airport land at bargain basement prices to complete their industrial park.)

Two years later, Air Wisconsin shows up, also proposing Tweed-O'Hare service with BAE-146 jets, quieter than anything Eastern could have had in its fleet.

Not wanting to go through the same imbroglio he did with the United fiasco, DiLieto reluctantly agreed to support the new service, in effect scuttling the 1983 agreement. Airport opponents were visibly upset about Air Wisconsin nullifying the "commuter airport" status. About the new terminal not being built? Not so much.

"Aha," I thought, "they'll never do this to us again."

Well, in 2009, they did it to us again. Only this time it was worse. Much worse.

This time the airport was embroiled in a legal battle with East Haven over the addition of "safety overruns" at each end of Runway 2/20, their purpose being to stop planes in danger of overshooting. East Haven saw it as a "back door" attempt at expansion.

Now, the airport had one distinct advantage over the town in that 95% of its legal fees were being picked up by the Federal Aviation Administration. East Haven was shouldering its legal costs alone, its appeal for state aid having been rejected.

So, what happened?

Out of nowhere appeared a mediator by the name of Charlie Pillsbury, scion of the food empire, channeling his inner Neville Chamberlain to broker a compromise between the two municipalities. (Sidebar: In 2002, Mr. Pillsbury ran for Congress in Connecticut's 3rd District as a "Green Party" candidate.) The resulting "agreement" gave the airport the safety overruns (which they would have won in court anyway), but at a tremendous cost:

The main runway would be frozen at 5,600 feet.

Airline departures would be no more than 30 per day.

There would be a maximum of six airlines allowed.

Passenger departures would be capped at 180,000 per year.

Parking would be limited to 700 spaces.

Attention must be paid to the last two. Any commercial airport worth its salt earns its keep from two sources: Passenger Facilities Charges (paid by enplaning passengers) and parking fees. The more you get of both, the healthier your airport's operations and maintenance. Why, why, why would a mayor voluntarily limit his city's airport's two chief sources of revenue, keeping it forever beholden to the kindliness of the taxpayers? At best, this was incompetence. At worst, it was sabotage. (At about the same time, the airport bought excess land East Haven couldn't use at somewhat inflated prices, paying so much that the town's projected deficit actually became a surplus.)

And who agreed to this deal with rookie East Haven mayor April Capone? That would be mayor John DeStefano, who served as economic development czar under---you guessed it---Ben DiLieto! Like Mr. DiLieto, Mr. DeStefano also had ties to New Haven's East Shore. In fact, the team for his failed gubernatorial campaign included a Morris Cove resident who was quoted in the New Haven Register as saying, "Tweed Airport has no business in the Morris Cove!" Could that be why the DeStefano campaign's economic development platform included improving Bradley Airport, but not Tweed?

Suffice it to say that Mayor DeSefano set out to finish the job Mayor DiLieto started, in effect giving away the store and getting precious little in return.

(It was under this agreement which throttled Tweed that there were not one, but two private plane crashes near the airport, costing the lives of four people, one of them a child. This agreement was literally fatally flawed.)

Fortunately, this time there was an "escape clause" inserted, stating that either municipality could withdraw from the agreement with thirty days notice. It was New Haven mayor Toni Harp who did just that to East Haven mayor Joe Maturo, putting an end to a decade of the airport being stalled in its progress. (The opposition still maintains that Mayor Harp "broke" the agreement when in reality she followed it to the letter.)

Which brings us to the present day.

The major difference in Tweed's setup now is that it is no longer under the management of the city. The city still owns the airport, but has outsourced its operation to Avports, a private firm that successfully manages other airports, including Westchester County, meaning Tweed is no longer under New Haven taxpayer subsidy. A major step forward; while other U. S. cities were modernizing their airports, New Haven's mayors focused almost exclusively on downtown.

Since 2021, Tweed has been enjoying a renaissance of sorts with the addition of Avelo Airlines, sending passenger boardings into the stratosphere, and filling the airport's parking lot to bursting. This and the impending arrival of Breeze Airways has moved Avports to embark on a bold improvement plan, including extending the runway from 5,600 to 6,500 feet for safer navigation, and building a much-needed new modern 70,000 square-foot passenger terminal on the east side of the field, with expanded parking to boot.

Current East Haven mayor Joe Carfora was originally in favor of the new building before a group of 50 anti-Tweed protesters appeared in front of Town Hall forcing him to do an about-face.

Which is not to say he's flat out opposed. The mayor has some conditions to be met if East Haven is to be on board, among them creation of an "enterprise zone" for the town.

Understandable. Mr. Carfora wants to come out of this a hero and I don't blame him. There's plenty to be realized in the form of revenue from parking fees, terminal concessions and the state's PILOT program. Why Team Carfora has not already entered into negotiations with Avports and the Airport Authority is a mystery.

But Joe Carfora has to remember this: The next agreement won't be with a New Haven mayor with East Shore sympathies. It will be with a private management firm that has its eye on the bottom line. He will not get the sweetheart deal that mayors Proto and Capone got because their New Haven counterparts also hated Tweed.

As of this writing, East Haven and the Save The Sound environmental group have filed an appeal of the airport's Environmental Assessment, which was given final approval by the FAA. Should the appeal be denied or dismissed, Carfora will come to the table with nothing. Presently, with the appeal's outcome uncertain, Mr. Carfora still has some bargaining power to make Avports and the Authority more open to his demands. Should the decision go the airport's way, then all bets are off. Because what will the town do then? Deny the building permits for the terminal? On what grounds? "The environment"? The FAA has already agreed there will be minimal impact on the environment with Avports' plan. And East Haven has already paid out $250,000 to "airport legal consultants," a number that is sure to rise. Oh, and the mayor will be up for reelection in 2025, after having already raised property taxes two mills, and offering a 50% property tax discount to any new business willing to locate there. Sounds like the town could use new long-term sources of revenue. Newly-appointed economic development director Rich Coppola has been silent on the issue, as was his predecessor, Michelle Benivenga. Hmmmm.

I expect the next airport agreement will put a permanent end to the airport issue and be a balanced one, beneficial to all parties involved, not just East Haven and those residents who chose to buy or build near the airport.

Because Tweed-New Haven Regional Airport is for everyone.