FEATURED JOBS
So I have a Jerry Falwell story.
In October of 1985, I flew from BWI to Lynchburg, Va. to interview Jerry Falwell. Traveling with me was then-Jewish Times photographer Craig Terkowitz.
The subject of the interview was his feelings about Judaism.
I don’t remember a single thing he said about that.
What I do remember is a couple of lines that had nothing to do with our subject.
The airline of choice was a now defunct commuter service called Henson Airlines, which was part of Piedmont Airlines.
I remember getting to BWI and looking for the gate which did not have a skyway, but instead had a door that led to a staircase to the tarmac. There, what looked like a cracker box with propellers was waiting for the dozen so of us flying to Lynchburg.
When the plane’s engines started, if one had been holding a glass with two scoops of ice cream, chocolate sauce and white milk, he would had a milkshake. That’s how deep the vibration was.
The plane somehow took off and we flew to Lynchburg. Lynchburg’s airport looked like the Northwestern High School football field with the cinder track surrounding the goalposts.
We landed, rented a car, and went to the Thomas Road Baptist Church where Rev. Falwell hosted his “Old Time Gospel Hour.”
We got there, and the pulpit area was a studio, complete with sound and light boards and plenty of high intensity lighting.
Rev. Falwell greeted me.
He pointed to the makeup he was wearing for the TV production by saying, “I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of funny boy.”
I didn’t think that for a second.
But then he asked,
”How did you boys get down here? Did you drive or fly?” The word “fly” came out as “flah.”
When he was told we flew.
He asked, “Henson?”
He looked at us and said, “I bet you believe in the Lord now.”
When we returned to the airport, there was a plane waiting on the tarmac that was smaller than the one we arrived in.
We got into the plane and sat down on chairs that reminded me of my mother’s dinette set while I was growing up. You know, the red vinyl covers tacked over about 1/8th of an inch of foam padding.
We were sitting directly behind the co-pilot. I mean DIRECTLY. We could hear everything he said to the pilot, to the tower, to himself. We could have pressed buttons we were so close.
The pilot asked the co-pilot if he had ever flown into Baltimore at night before?
Words you should never hear on a small airplane.
The Rev. Falwell started to ring in my head as the plane headed for its landing at BWI.
When it touched down and cruised past the “real” planes on the tarmac, I was relieved.
But when I got off at that plane in one piece, I kissed that ground.
I believed!
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