Syracuse Airport (SYR): Help wanted

A typical still life at Syracuse Airport.

It wouldn't be fair to say much about Syracuse (N.Y.) Hancock International Airport right now, as the main terminal building is undergoing a refurbishment that's scrambled the place somewhat. But during a recent visit (Sunday, March 18, 2012) while passing through the area, I found a lot that looks like it won't change anytime soon, including a monumentally ugly concrete canopy that gets my vote for the single worst feature of any airline terminal I've ever encountered in North America.

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Syracuse is a bigger city than you might expect (145,000 people in town, more than 600,000 in the area), so you'd assume the region would be eager to make a good impression to visitors. Home to Syracuse University (duh!), it's also where a lot of military personnel pass through on their way to and from Fort Drum. So you'd think Syracuse would support a robust air service.

You'd think. Well, Syracuse, like many small and mid-size airports, has seen a recent decline in air service, to the point where the majors rely on regional jets almost exclusively. It's not exactly booming, so there probably isn't a lot of revenue available for improvements. And that's too bad, because what Syracuse has now is a weird set-up: a tired main terminal from the pre-deregulation era that's been almost completely swallowed up by ill-planned add-ons, in front and on both sides.

The airlines occupy space in newer wings on either side of the original terminal. Each wing features a two-story ceiling, but any grandeur is hobbled by a series of strange-looking circular beams that stretch across the space. They're can't be structurally needed, so the question arises: "What were they thinking?"

After check-in, passengers must ascend to the second level, where they cross over the ticketing hall. Here we go up the escalator, accompanied by sad-looking vegetation in bulbous stepped planters that resemble giant urinals:

And what says upstate New York more than palm fronds?

And get a load of that white cladding, which is all over the place. It makes everything else look dirty in comparison, especially the gray flooring, which may have been washed an hour ago but would still look dirty and depressing. The white even succeeds in making the dirt in the planters look dirty, but I digress.

The escalator tops out on a walkway over the check-in area below, but you can't see anything because those white beams are positioned exactly right to block the view! Again: "What were they thinking?"

About all that white...let's see, Syracuse produced most of the nation's salt up until 1900. Is this a reference? Well, whatever the reason, all the relentless white makes the place feel like a clean room that's not really that clean.

Speaking of charm: How's this for a weird, uninviting space? What's with the bank of track lighting under the escalator?

I really don't know how much of this is temporary, but a lot of it seems the result of badly planned add-ons over the years that created weird cul-de-sacs and uninviting dank corridors — too many for a relatively small airport:

Hey, where is everybody?

Upstairs, passengers headed to the two gate piers are confined to a world of low-ceilinged security areas and gate concourses. Prior to security, each area has a single skylight, a futile gesture to open up the space which seems to somehow only add to the gloom, even on the sunny day I passed through.

Meanwhile, the original terminal, which still could be the grandest space in the airport, is completely dominated on one side by a long row of rental car counters.

Their location serves to completely block the terminal's original curbside windows, giving the space basement-like qualities and causing the ceiling to loom alarmingly overhead. Instead of a place flooded with the afternoon sun, we're in a dank cavern cut off the from outside world, especially the sky we're about to travel through.

Might this be a temporary situation due to the construction? Alas, the facilities look pretty permanent. So what should be the terminal's grandest space, a showcase for the airlines serving Syracuse, is instead a grim corridor, retrofitted for the rental car trade. Meanwhile, airlines make do with cramped quarters in either wing, with ticket counters right next to baggage claims.

Upstairs, each side of the terminal leads to its corresponding gate concourse. Judging from a sign in the old main terminal, it looks like the long-term vision is to open up the rear of the main building into one central security point, which makes sense.

But there's no evidence the airlines themselves are moving back into the central area. Instead, it'll continue to occupied by the rental car counters (at least they're convenient) and the airport's one large newsstand/coffee shop, seen below:

Both of these operations back up against the front glass wall of the original terminal, obliterating any sense of retro grandeur that might be possible in the old gal. The store, with its redundant curved ceiling, reminded me of the clamshell ticket counter installed during the latter years of New York's old Pennsylvania Station in a misguided attempt to update it.

Want to get any sense of the old terminal? Look up. The ceiling and the distinctive folded roof, with its little peaks of glass, are still there, though hardly noticeable.

Instead, the space is defined by strange vistas such as this:

Nothing says patriotism like a tiny flag mounted on a temporary wall.

Whatever the plans are to update the terminal's interior, I can't imagine they'd be enough to overcome what I consider the single most depressing feature I've seen in any U.S. airport. It's the incredibly ugly concrete canopy that partially covers the arrivals/departures roadway in front of the terminal. It has the effect of turning a trip to the airport into a ride through a ghetto warehouse district.

Even a sunny day is turned grim!

This is where you alight to begin your journey? This is where you step outside after your flight and are welcomed to the Syracuse area? Through what seems to be the lower level service entrance?

There's so much wrong with this canopy, I hardly know where to begin. Its bulk blocks the main terminal. Its roof blocks the light. It just looks ugly: bare or painted concrete beams streaked with grime, all supporting a ceiling high enough to make people feel puny and low enough to seem oppressive. Presumably intended to shield passengers from the elements, it instead covers them in gloom, along with a steady rain of pigeon poop.

And it probably doesn't do much good shielding anyone from the elements because, incredibly, parts of the supporting structure are roofless! So the result is a network of exposed beams that provide even more roosting spots for pigeons and give the whole thing a desperate, unfinished feel. What happened here? Did the city run out of money?

Arriving at the airport, the open gridwork only serves to remind us of the wonderful sky that the enclosed sections block out -- the sky that you will soon be magically flying through, but you wouldn't know that while making your way under this monstrous concrete canopy.

Strangely, the enclosure roof has tiny skylights. They let almost no light in, but do serve as nice and dry pigeon warming houses. Seen from above from the nearby parking garage, the whole contraption looks especially sad, with piles of pigeon poop visible under the skylights.

Look carefully, and you can see the old terminal's top just peeking over the canopy. What could have been a cool retro-looking building is now just hemmed in by sheer ugliness.

And what about the old main terminal's front? With the rental car concessions and the store now backing up to it, it's become nothing but a blank wall, no different from those dehumanizing chain drug store windows that for some reason are permanently blocked.

So this canopy is a truly inexplicable structure and yes, hands-down the ugliest thing I've ever seen at any U.S. airport. Even if they just got rid of it, I don't know what they could do to restore some dignity to the old terminal, what with its windows blocked and its floor space all clogged with concessions. It's a lost cause.

About the parking garage, just briefly. It's a fright, all crumbling concrete and heaving pavement, but what can you expect in upstate New York's long snowy winters? The terminal's second-level gate areas are connected to walkways directly across the arrivals/departures road to the garage. Unfortunately, both walkways don't match the garage's levels, but arrive between floors in filthy stairwells, a depressing and confusing situation. Besides, what's the point of a walkway on the second level when all baggage and ticketing functions are on the lower level?

Speaking of the walkways, look what I found in one of them:

These modular seats are placed all over the terminal, but why would anyone sit here? Also, what are they supposed to represent? The importance of the centipede to Syracuse? Someone's lower intestine?

How about this nifty arrangement?

And yes, even this hard-luck facility's stairwells are ugly, and potentially dangerous.

This one, a utilitarian box, was actually missing its door handle, and had to be opened by grabbing a sharp-edged hole in the metal housing. It slammed shut behind me with a painfully loud BANG, frightening the many poor pigeons trying to rest inside it.

Wow! Ready to fly to Syracuse? In fairness, however, it's not all bad news. One nice surprise: the terminal and gate areas are configured in such a way as to allow visitors to get closer to an actual aircraft than any airport I know. Check out this view of a JetBlue Embraer 190, taken from a walkway right outside the terminal.

Also, the old terminal contains one stroke of genius amid all the clutter: a full-size set of landing gear right there for you to inspect up close. If an effective terminal helps instill a sense of wonder about flying, then this little gesture of bringing part of an aircraft actually inside the place is a terrific idea. Just the sheer size of the hardware reminds everyone the scale of the machines involved in this experience.

Speaking of machines: Aficionados of vintage video games should check out the Syracuse Airport's game room, where time stopped about 1988:



And yes, it's not completely fair to criticize a terminal that's under construction. But judging from the drawings on display, nothing in the plans will restore the main terminal's grandeur, or give passengers any sense of what Syracuse is or hopes to be. It won't be a place that celebrates the comings and goings of a community. Instead, it's just big mishmash.

So despite the renovations, this airport will likely limp along in really rough shape. Despite the planned improvements, there's not much they can do to make the place a worthy gateway to the area, other than tear it all down and start over.

I have a feeling this won't happen, given what's in place already and how long it's been allowed to languish. So here's a hit list of what they can do to remake the place on a budget:

1. Tear down the awful canopy, restoring the old terminal's front to full view.
2. Inside the terminal, remove the false roofs over the rental car counters and the store to open the space up to the sky.
3. Ditch the white look, or at least put in accent colors. Orange? (for Syracuse University?)
4. Turn the old terminal into a grand foyer for the community.

Is this really the best first impression Syracuse can make? I don't think so, but getting anything done about it won't likely be easy. As an example of how the value of an airport is so poorly understood here, consider this sculpture that sits alongside the main road to the terminal:


It's the first thing people see when driving in or out of the airport, and as such stands as some kind of symbol for the community. Me, I found it so baffling that I pulled over for a closer look.

What I found was a cluster of metal beams stuck on a platform, the whole affair painted silver, though with rust starting to peak through. Check out that base!

There's no explanation, no context, no nothing. It just squats by the outbound roadway, saying loudly to one and all: "Welcome to Syracuse, home to pointless sculpture, confusing design, and deferred maintenance!"

Postscript: Since my visit, I've seen plans of the $50 million terminal rehab project underway. Thankfully, it appears the ugly concrete canopy will be removed! But it looks like the front windows of the main terminal will still be blocked by rental car kiosks and a restaurant. Well, let's hope these get altered so they aren't so instrusive. Removing their ceilings would be a good start.