From left, United Auto Workers President Ron Gettelfinger, General Motors CEO Richard Wagoner Jr., Chrysler CEO Robert Nardelli and Ford Motor Company CEO Alan Mulally wait to testify in November 2008
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What really ticks us off is not that the Detroit Three flew private on a begging mission. It's that we have to fly commercial, and they don't. Anyone who has spent time seething at an airport hub, squished into a middle seat of a 737, or paid $2 for a bottle of water and some attitude has nothing but venom for those who can avoid it. The corporate fleet has mushroomed over the years as commercial service has deteriorated. Going from Grand Rapids, Mich. to Jackson, Miss.? That will only involve an entire day shoehorned into "regional" jets apparently made in a region where all the people are 4 ft. 6. It was the reduced service to secondary markets that prompted some corporations to take action. Toilet-paper and Kleenex maker Kimberly-Clark, for instance, created an airline, Midwest Express, in 1984 partly to compensate for the lack of service in Neenah, Wis. (its headquarters at the time) and to optimize the use of its owned or chartered planes. Midwest Express quickly became known for top-rated service, unsurprising coming from a company that knew a little bit about taking care of customers' tushes.
Invariably, the jets that CEOs ride — Gulfstreams, Citations, Lears — are described as luxurious by reporters who probably have never been on board. Good guess, though. Being a business journalist, I've been on a number of corporate chariots, ranging from Nike's (think new, cushy Air Jordans with wings) to Wal-Mart's (think used Chrysler minivan with wings.) Typically, you are offered a ride-along with the CEO to watch the big boss in Action Mode. I'm not really sure if this is designed to impress or if it's simply an effective use of the CEO's time. After all, he's got to get from A to B, so he can use this otherwise dead period to fill some idiot reporter's head with stuff. The joke's on them, though, because on a corporate jet, the subject is trapped. He can hardly say, "Well, I'd like to talk to you a little longer but I've got a meeting across town." Not without a ripcord. (See the Top 10 Golden Parachutes.)
The best thing about flying corporate isn't the comfy seats or the jumbo shrimp, or even the ego massage. The best thing about a corporate jet is that it's not a commercial-airline jet. The best thing is avoiding long airport-security lines and having to simultaneously untie your shoes, take off your coat, get a laptop out of a carefully packed bag and walk at the same time; it's avoiding the crummy, overpriced airport food, the packed planes, the overstuffed overhead bins and the frazzled, overworked crews. And being No. 175 for takeoff. When you fly corporate, you are driven up to the plane, you get in, and when everyone is ready, they tell the pilot to go. And then you do. That is real, unadulterated luxury.
Those complaining about the extravagant cost of winging CEOs around the world are also forgetting about the extravagant cost of CEOs. My own company, Time-Warner, at one time owned five G-5s, a couple of which were used to haul movie stars wherever it was they needed to be hauled to. They certainly were not for journalists; I've been on a company jet exactly once in the last 10 years. The shareholders paid Time-Warner CEO Jeff Bewkes $19.6 million last year. Based on a 40-hour week (and he'd better be working more than that), his hourly cost is about $9,400 — I'm guessing that's beyond the hourly run rate of a G-5. Bewkes has actually been known to fly commercial to Los Angeles. If he takes United Flight 29, he's on time 70% of the time. If he's not on time, he's cooling his heels at JFK, burning the shareholders' money. My money. So take the corporate jet, Jeff. We're not paying you to sit around airports reading People.
As for the Detroit Three, they don't have a choice this week. The weenies at Ford announced they were selling two jets (meaning, of course, that lower-ranking execs will be flying Northwest to the plant in Valencia) and driving a Ford Escape hybrid to Washington. GM has caved completely and shut down its air force, throwing 50 people out of work. (Thanks, Congressman Ackerman!) Maybe the President should send his helicopter for the GM honchos. He doesn't really have use for it now. And when some truly desperate Americans need a dramatic rescue, sending in Marine One isn't a bad idea at all.