I loved the way the glass and steel and vaulted ceilings all seemed to say "We are a classy airline and this is our home base." I loved the way the noses of aircraft came right up to the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the main concourses; I remember staring in wonder at the sheer size of a nose of a Denver-bound DC-10 parked right against the glass. 
I loved the underground pedestrian walkway, with its 750-foot-long jazzy neon sculpture "The Sky's The Limit" accompanied by a new age reinterpretation of the Gershwin 'Rhapsody in Blue' melody that was a big part of the airline's marketing; the cumulative (and brilliant) effect, I thought, was to calm harried passengers even as the moving walkways sped them to the satellite concourse. I really responded to the gestures to train station architecture in a terminal that somehow seemed to celebrate travel itself, complete with views not only of planes close-up, but also the vistas of tailfins slicing past as aircraft conducted takeoff rolls on a nearby runway. 
Terminal One was all movement and excitement and precision, designed to allow tens of thousands of passengers to switch planes at once and also coordinated with the airline's recent redesign and then-new blue/gray fleet paint job. It made me feel like changing planes was a highlight of the journey, like I was part of something that really worked, that my trip mattered enough for my planes to connect in such an impressive place. Hubs, with banks of flights arriving and departing virtually in unison, were still a relatively new thing then. Terminal One made me think United had not only found a way to make hubbing work, but transform it into an experience that put some of the lost magic back into air travel. It was something on par with Eero Saarinen's great "TWA Flight Center" built in the 1960s at New York's JFK Airport. I've changed planes in Terminal One many times since, and also flown in and out to visit in-laws. And though I always enjoy passing through, over the years I've noticed a gradual erosion of many elements that made the place memorable. United Airlines itself has been in dire financial straits for much of the time, and I'm sure that's a factor. Knowing that, I guess we're fortunate that so much of architect Helmut Jahn's original conception actually still survives. But alas, this once-grand structure stands diminished, in some cases drastically, by changes that ironically act as a reflection of the reduced circumstances of Terminal One's patron.
I went through Terminal One on Tuesday, Sept. 28, 2010 and took a few photos that show how to ruin an airline terminal. Here goes.
Above is a view of a bank of Internet access kiosks topped by a promotional banner set up along the corridor on Concourse C. This serves to block the once-exciting views of aircraft, both close-up and out on the busy tarmac. Instead of the windows involving you with the action of one of the world's busiest airports, you are instead in just another shopping mall.
Above is a view of a 757 parked behind the kiosks. To get this image, I had to push my camera through a narrow opening and hope for the best. And so a building once designed to connect people with aircraft ready to carry them to the sky above now has all the impact of a bus station.
Above is another view of how retail kiosks have metastasized throughout the Terminal One's glass corridors, turning the place into more of a shopping mall than anything celebrating transportation or promoting the idea that United Airlines is different in any way from any other airline. Well, I suppose revenue is revenue, and if ways can be found for an airline terminal to generate it (especially for a financially troubled carrier), then whaddaya gonna do? It's just a shame it has to be done at the expense of ruining one of the building's distinctive elements.
While some kiosks block the view, others are just plain ugly. Don't these harmonize nicely with the terminal's blues and grays and red accents?
And if it's not kiosks, it's banners and billboards. Terminal One's impressive vistas are now spoiled by banners plastered everywhere. This one is particularly depressing, as it not only spoils the view to the outside, but also degrades the experience of the escalator ride down to the moving walkways.
Is this any different from the notorious Kodak billboard that defaced the interior of Grand Central Station for so many years? Wasn't it a cause for celebration when the Kodak thing was finally removed, helping Grand Central's original beauty come forth?
Back at O'Hare: Even worse are oversized video screens that now hang from the terminal's vaulted ceilings. These spew a constant stream of visual noise at passengers, replacing intentional majesty and dignity with random hype and tension. They cheapen any encounter with Terminal One just as much as another ubiquitous addition to the air travel experience...
The constantly blaring gate area televisions. Turn them off! I hate these things, which are now inescapable. It's like we have no reason to think or converse or read. Same with commercials at gas pumps. Please, please leave me in peace!
And right across from the blaring TV was one of the most uninviting Starbucks I've ever seen. How did this come about? The whole front is taken up by a billboard for another company; the store itself is accessible only through a narrow door with crash gates still in view at mid-day. It just looks creepy, on par with those big box pharmacy stores with large windows that are all blacked out. What's that all about?
Terminal One was built prior to the current level of passenger screening, but luckily the B Concourse was spacious enough to accommodate a big retrofit without too much trouble. There are some rough edges, however, such as this really, really ugly temporary wall and door that shout "We don't care!" to passersby. Hope they're removed soon.
Down below, the "Sky's the Limit" kinetic neon sculpture continues to wink on and off above passengers' heads, and is in surprisingly good shape after nearly 25 years. The new age Gershwin soundtrack is still pinging away, too. But a closer inspection reveals problems: some sections of the neon lights are stuck permanently on, while others (like this one) don't light anymore, diminishing the affect in the same way a broken tooth diminishes a smile. Get it fixed, United.
Here's another mystifying situation. For years, United used these bulky counters in the gate areas, which I always thought looked ugly and blocked the views. In recent years, the airline has installed a network of plasma screens that serve as the dispenser of all relevant info at each gate, eliminating the need for the bulky kiosks and their destination lists, etc. So why are the kiosk still there? Get rid of them, or if agents still need work areas, replace them with something minimal.
Despite all this, there is still plenty to admire about Terminal One. Check out this view of the connecting corridor linking Terminal One with the rest of O'Hare, gussied up not with marketing banners but colorful artwork that lends a festive touch. Nice! I guess ultimately it'll take more than neglect (the roof was leaking in one gate area the day I passed through) and bad incremental decisions to do in Terminal One. Despite the metastasizing retail kiosks and visual noise and clutter, it's still one of the best examples I know of a for-profit corporation (well, allegedly for profit, in the case of United) investing in something that celebrates the experience they're selling.
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