Cleveland (CLE): Still a hub, barely

Hopkins International Airport in Cleveland will have to wait another day for a full exploration, as I just changed planes there (on Monday, Feb. 27, 2012) with little time to spare, and my camera's batteries ran out in the process. But a few thoughts.

The airport, formerly the smallest hub in Continental's network, is now a really small hub within the gigantic United/Continental network. With no international flights (except to Canada and Mexico), and with powerhouse globally connected hubs all around it (Newark, Dulles, O'Hare), it's only a matter of time before Cleveland goes the way of Pittsburgh, I think – no connecting banks of flights, just each carrier with a handful of routes to other hubs.

Spring 2014: Just to update, United has indeed pulled the plug on the Cleveland hub. As of June, the D Concourse will be mothballed, and most of the C gates abandoned as well. I last flew through this hub in February/March 2014, and I'll miss it. So much for not having to connect in Newark.

The place already has that kind of feel to it. Changing planes took me from the C to the D Concourse, and virtually every plane in sight was a regional jet—mostly extra-small Embraer 145 twin jets, or turboprops. I think I saw two “mainline” 737s of United/Continental in the whole airport, fewer than what Southwest had parked at its gates! The passenger counts for United must be abysmal.

And that's odd, because Cleveland was once a major city for the old pre-deregulation United. In the early 1970s, the airline flew DC-10s non-stop to Los Angeles and San Francisco. But United abandoned Cleveland in 1985 in favor of building up a hub at Dulles in Washington D.C., which prompted Continental Airlines (then under Frank Lorenzo) to move in.

Now, all these years later, United and Continental have merged, and Cleveland is back as a United hub—the smallest in the network, not counting Guam. And yes, United once again flies non-stop to the west coast, but now with 737s: two each day to LAX, one to SFO. Other than that, it's mostly regional jets: about 80 percent of UAL's flights out of Hopkins. Some hub! From the look of things when I passed through (the mid-morning lull), you'd be lucky to get a full-sized jet on any leg out of Cleveland.


The C concourse, where we pulled in, seems tired and uninspired, as unwilling to face the week as the few people stumbling through it were. Upon exiting the jet bridge, I found myself in a circular pod with low ceilings, beat-up carpeting, and weird signage that directed me clockwise (the long way around) the pod to get to the D concourse tunnel. With virtually no other gates occupied, the place was deserted except for a trio of security officers, who of course immediately swarmed me when I pulled out my camera.


“Did you get a photo the guitars?” one asked in that slightly-too-helpful tone used when they're checking for nutjobs. She was referring to a display promoting Cleveland's Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. Could have been a tie-in with the canned music I was hearing in the quiet C concourse, but no—that was some kind of hangdog country music tune. In our brief chat, the officer at least provided a helpful suggestion: that I should come back and take photos of the “new terrazzo floor” due to go in.

And about time, I thought. Cleveland is burdened with a lot of carpet in high traffic areas, and much of it looks ready for a trip to the dump: dirty, stained, and in some places sporting waves of wrinkles.


Out in the C Concourse's long corridor, the white linoleum floor was in the process of being pulled up, revealing the original flooring, which looked a lot classier, I thought. Must have been nice to get on one of those DC-10s to LAX back in the day.

I then took the long escalator down to the underground tunnel leading to the D concourse, of much more recent vintage and added when Continental was building its Cleveland hub in the 1990s.




The tunnel is nothing special (especially when compared to United's spectacular walkway in O'Hare's Terminal One), but does sport some “Time Flies” metal artwork in a space otherwise dominated by paid advertising. Unfortunately, the grey metal artwork is barely visible to passengers moving through the mostly grey tunnel. (Here's where the camera's batteries gave out, but I eventually managed to find my spares.)

Strangely, the tunnel is anchored at both ends by odd bulging lighthouse-like structures that remind me of the portals used in older 19th century tunnels, such as Isambard K. Brunel's celebrated pedestrian walkway under the Thames.

Not sure what the reasoning is in Cleveland, but the shafts, topped only by a narrow band of windows around the top, are visually jarring and perhaps a little frightening. What were they thinking?


The good news in Cleveland is that the D concourse shows at least a little imagination and concern for design. Where the C concourse (and the others at Cleveland, from what I can tell) are mostly window-less corridors that do nothing to link travellers to the tarmac and the aircraft on it, the D concourse sports wide open windows with generous views all around. Also, they're tilted forward a bit, which, coupled with an angled ceiling line, creates some nice energy. It's not a big place (just a handful of gates), but it's certainly sporty.


The gate areas play off the overall shape, with doorways tilting in the opposite direction of the windows, providing a satisfying balance.


And between gates, there's room for interesting amenities such as a massage service and three-seat shoeshine stand, unmanned when I passed by.


Here and there, you'll find details that mimic the overall design.


Alas, there's carpeting, and in some places it looks just as tired what's in the C concourse across the tarmac. Replace it or use something different! And one big complaint about the D concourse is that stores and amenities are concentrated in the middle of the structure, blocking views and light from the other side. Maybe there's no easy way around this.


Worse, one restaurant I went in had the windows totally blocked at eye level by over-sized booth seating, as if to say that no one in their right mind would want to be reminded he or she is at an airport. Pity!

I was surprised to see birds flying through the D concourse, but something tells me they're not supposed to be there. Maybe they're looking for all the earthworms. (See "interesting fact" below.) And below is an example of that pesky airline terminal bugaboo, the "window without a view." Why bother?


Interesting fact about Hopkins, courtesy Wikipedia: In September 1972, hundreds of thousands of earthworms crawled onto the airport's longest runway. Four pilots complained that the worms caused poor braking. Heavy rains apparently brought the worms to the surface, creating enough of a safety hazard for the strip to be closed for a half-hour for earthworm removal. Workmen used a motorized broom to sweep the squirming mass away.