ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, December 25, 1994                   TAG: 9501170012
SECTION: BUSINESS                    PAGE: F5   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BARBARA SULLIVAN CHICAGO TRIBUNE
DATELINE: CHICAGO                                LENGTH: Medium


BUSINESS FLIERS LIVE WITH JITTERS AND FEW OPTIONS

When George Krubert's secretary told him last week that he was booked on a USAir flight from Chicago's O'Hare airport to Allentown, Pa., making two stops en route, he said, ``No way.''

``I told her, `I don't want to die before Christmas.' I changed it. I'm flying nonstop to Philly and then I'll [rent a car and] drive to Allentown," about 40 miles. "Two weeks ago I probably would have gone with the two stops, but not now. I'll feel better on this flight.''

Krubert, director of product development for a major international food company, describes himself as ``the ultimate frequent flier.'' For years he traveled four days a week, flying on ``every size plane you can name.'' Although he's never had a bad incident, the wake of recent airplane crashes has left him leery of little commuter planes and flights that aren't direct.

But, like many of the 53 million passengers who flew on commuter planes last year, he really doesn't have much choice.

``It might be scary on these flights, but it would be even scarier not to be getting that paycheck,'' he says.

The Willie Lomans of the 1990s aren't out pounding the pavement in pursuit of career; today's salesmen are fastening their seat belts. With laptop in hand and air phone in place, the business traveler of today has few options. The automobile isn't going to work for the Chicagoan who has a presentation in Virginia or Ohio.

``Flying is part of my life,'' says Robert Erickson, director of internal auditing for Morton International in Chicago, whose travels recently took him to Utah one week and Spartanburg, S.C., the next. ``There's nothing as convenient as air. But if there are more crashes, I would have to consider, and have my staff consider, flying into big cities and driving the rest of the way.''

Unlike the days of Loman (the title character in Arthur Miller's play ``Death of a Salesman,'' who died in his car), business air travel has become a given - 408 million miles flown on commuter lines in 1992, up from 253 million in 1982 - but the string of four fatal air crashes in the last six months has left the flying public jittery.

Although safety experts frequently remind us that a person is more apt to be killed in a car on the way to the airport than in a plane, it's the plane crashes that generate office conversation - and concern.

``I know what the statistics show, but there's never discussion in our office about road accidents,'' says Diane Lans, who travels about 40,000 miles a year for Duff & Phelps Inc., a credit-rating company with offices in Chicago and New York.

``After every crash, we instantly think, `Who's out of the office?' People here have started rearranging their flight schedules. Now we're apt to fly to [the hub] and then drive to the smaller town. And if I'm out of town when there's a crash, I always call my parents to let them know I'm all right.''

``I was and am amazed at his strength in being able to get right back on a plane,'' said Sue Robertson of Wheaton, Ill., whose husband, William, was a survivor in the 1989 crash in an Iowa cornfield of a Chicago-bound United Airlines jumbo jet that killed 100.

``He said he couldn't not fly, ... and I think he has the attitude that lightning wouldn't strike twice. His job [with Chicago-based Amoco Oil Co.] required a lot of traveling then, and also, we didn't want to become hermits.''

Elevators and truck drivers notwithstanding, flying is an edgy business for most fliers right now - including those who do the flying.

Returning to Chicago from Des Moines, Diane Lans' traveling companion - also an employee of Duff & Phelps - got into an argument with the flight attendant.

``It was an ATR, and my friend asked if the plane had been de-iced, even though the weather didn't really warrant it. The flight attendant said there was no ice. My friend said, `Are you sure?' The flight attendant said, `Go out on the wing and look for yourself it you want to.'

``Later the flight attendant came up to us and apologized. She said she had lost a friend in the Indiana crash.''



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