TOUR-Whatever Happened to First Class?

The following information is used for educational purposes only.

Whatever Happened to First Class?


February 12, 2012

By JESSE McKINLEY, The New York Times


AS a longtime veteran of the coach cabin and all the horrors therein -- the battles for overhead space, the wheelie-bag traffic jams, the knee-numbing legroom -- one can only imagine my thrill when I boarded a recent American Airlines flight from San Jose, Calif., to Dallas. There I was, after all, in the first row. My seat was wide, the armrest was enormous, and the guys behind me were talking, businessman-style, about real estate and golf, bankruptcies and bogies. This was the high life, I figured, a conviction that only intensified when the flight attendant approached with a silver tray and addressed me -- unprompted -- as "Mr. McKinley." Then he handed me, well, a towel.

Or sort of. Maybe it was more of a wipe? It was basically the size of a cocktail napkin. Or perhaps it was a piece of the pilot's long-lost security blanket. Whatever it was, it was marginally warm, borderline damp, and had the unmistakable, oft-used texture of a bargain washcloth.

Ah, first class.

Once an enclave of elegance, fabulous fliers and V.I.P.'s with sights to see and places to be, these days, judging from a recent informal survey I undertook of several of the nation's bigger domestic carriers, the experience is often reminiscent of what one used to find in coach. Same kind of pillows. Same kind of blankets. Same kind of guy in sweats, a fleece and a ball-cap letting his knees expand to the widest possible angle while downing a free drink.

Indeed, what I noticed over the course of several short jaunts, hub-to-hub hauls and cross-country treks was that the airlines' gutting of almost all niceties from economy class seems to have had a perverse effect on first. Rather than be defined by the benefits it bestows, it is now defined by the deprivations it doesn't. "You go into first class," said Joe Brancatelli, the editor of JoeSentMe.com, a Web site for business travelers, "because it's less horrible than coach."

Not that there's always that much difference, mind you. Consider a recent US Airways flight I took from Charlotte, N.C., to Newark -- I bought a $75 upgrade -- whose amenities were a bigger seat, a tiny pillow, a big bottle of water and a choice of nuts or cheese snacks, delivered in what an airline spokesman later called a "relatively heavy snack basket." On my American flight from San Jose, there wasn't even a pillow, though the flight attendant noted I could rest my head against the adjustable (and that's a generous term) flap in the headrest.

And while there's ample debate as to when the Golden Age of First Class was -- the Stratocruiser '50s? The Pan Am '60s? The steak-and-silverware '70s? -- the growing consensus among airline observers is that decades of deregulation, harsh economic swings, increased competition and consolidation, and, most recently, upgrade-hungry frequent fliers, have left the domestic first-class compartment more of a letdown than a luxury.

"The style is gone, the attention to detail is gone, the amenities are gone," said Henry H. Harteveldt, a founder of the Atmosphere Research Group, a travel industry analysis firm. "The fact is that domestic first class today simply means little more than a wider seat and a better chance of getting your bag in the overhead bin."

It wasn't always thus. In the glory days of first-class travel, according to Roland H. Moore, president of the Eastern Airlines Historical Foundation, luxury was the sell. Attendants wore hats, stockings, white gloves and tailor-made suits. Passengers dressed up. Meals were an event, with high-end chefs from restaurants like the "21" Club in New York catering meals that would be served on Rosenthal china with stainless steel silverware, starched white napkins and tablecloths. The pillows were large, the cases starched white, and the candies were hard (to comfort the ears on takeoff, of course).

"Furs would be folded with the lining outside," said Frank Victor, a board member with the National Airline History Museum, who fondly recalled days of lobster thermidor and chateaubriand carved at your seat. And, he added, "The curtains were closed between first and coach." (And not those decorative hospital-style curtains you see nowadays.) Most agree that deregulation in the late '70s was the beginning of major changes for first class -- and first-class passengers -- as government-decreed fares gave way to competitive pricing. Pre-regulation fixed fares, you see, meant airlines had to compete in other ways for customers, namely through better service, not better prices.

So while deregulation has "hugely democratized" the skies, said Gary Leff, a founder of milepoint.com, a frequent flier community, it has also meant "that without high fares, the airlines don't spend on amenities the way that they used to."

There were also low-cost carriers like Southwest and People Express that didn't mess with first class at all. Later, 9/11, rising fuel costs and the recession all continued to pummel the airlines, forcing a protracted era of cost-cutting.

Airlines had also developed loyalty programs, allowing frequent fliers to pay for upgrades with miles, and letting regular Joes percolate up into first class. What really opened the flood gates, though -- and that first-class curtain -- was a more recent decision by some carriers to offer upgrades to their most frequent fliers, gratis, rather than let those seats go empty.

And that, say some, has justified the airlines' rationale in making the first-class experience less than premium. "Once they are giving it away as a perk," Mr. Brancatelli said, "why would you go out of your way to make it glamorous?"

And while Mr. Harteveldt -- like everyone else -- loves his free upgrades, he said that the practice galls him from a business standpoint. "Let's say you go to Macy's and buy a generic $49 shirt," he said. "The clerk doesn't then take that back and hand you a shirt by a name-brand designer."

But, to be frank, at these prices, who can afford to pay retail? A recent search of first-class fares on Orbitz.com, from Kennedy Airport to Los Angeles, found nonstop fares as high as $3,116 on United, $3,113 on American. And that was one way. (By comparison, both coach tickets were $149.)

Airlines won't say how many people are paying the full first-class fare -- Mr. Brancatelli estimates it to be 2 percent, while others estimate up to 10. Some first-class cabins, according to the airlines, are more stocked with customers paying full fare than others, but as a passenger it can seem that the front of the plane on many domestic flights is packed with upgraded travelers. On a recent transcontinental flight out of Philadelphia on Delta, for example, exactly 2 of 16 first-class passengers had paid full fare, according to a gate agent there. And one of those big spenders was me.

With tens of millions of upgradable frequent fliers, airlines have taken to adding seats with slightly more legroom and other perks in coach -- call it Coach Plus -- to accommodate loyal customers shut out of the front of the plane.

American, for one, is making an effort to up their number of "economy class premium," with more of such seats on its new Boeing 777-300ERs due this year. American has also kept three separate cabins -- coach, business and first -- while others have gone strictly bicameral (coach and first), and says it's intensifying its efforts to get Wi-Fi on more planes, said Alice Liu, managing director of onboard products. It is, she said, part of making first class "a seamless transition from everyday life to the airline."

"It shouldn't be an interruption," she said.

Other airlines also strongly contest the assertion that first class isn't what it used to be, saying that they've poured ample resources into maintaining and improving service with everything from new seats -- from cloth to leather, for example, on United -- to better menus and wines. There are also flashier entertainment devices, power outlets, new online services and, of course, the ever-important issues of more legroom and larger seats.

Airline officials acknowledge that some changes in the front of the plane have occurred over the years, but largely because of the changing expectations and demands of their customers. "I think it used to be that the flight was as much a part of the vacation as the beach in Hawaii or touring the Eiffel Tower," said Rahsaan Johnson, a spokesman for United. "Now people just want to get on and do what they want to do. And they are far more likely to say, I wish I had a place to plug in my laptop than I wish we had flowers in the lav."

To be sure, not all first-class experiences are created equal. On some flights, first class doesn't even mean a meal. US Airways, for example, doesn't serve prepared food in first class for any flight less than three and a half hours long. When the food comes, it does not always inspire, like an omelet-and-home-fries breakfast I had on American -- part of a $986 full-fare one-connection, one-way flight from West Coast to East -- where omelet and home fries had appeared to merge like something out of "The Fly." But the airline did better on a Dallas to Philadelphia afternoon flight: I was given a nice cold salmon salad, a bowl of warm nuts and yes, a hot towel. (By this point in my research, I was politely saying no.)

Airlines tend to load the extras onto their longer, transcontinental flights, which can feature meals designed by celebrity chefs, seats that extend to lie flat and computer tablets loaded with movies and video games. (Details on extras are in the accompanying article.)

First class also has staffing on its side -- often two flight attendants for a dozen or so people -- and its own commode, of course.

And those are just the perks on the plane. According to Fern Fernandez, managing director for marketing and customer loyalty of US Airways, for some customers they pale in comparison with the biggest prize of all: less time waiting to get on.

"Domestically, it's that ability to have an expedited experience in the boarding process," he said. "And having a little extra space."

But while avoiding the epic security lines -- reserved for those suspicious economy-class types -- is certainly a perk, the first-class treatment apparently doesn't always get you past the velvet rope. Holding a first-class ticket does not guarantee access to terminal clubs, something I discovered at Newark Liberty International Airport, where my $759.70 ticket -- one way -- wasn't enough to get me into the United lounge, despite the fact that I was wearing my best (and only) suit.

AIRLINES insist that first-class customers have always been -- and always will be -- special. "First class remained a priority," said Chris Kelly Singley, a spokeswoman for Delta. "Because the folks who are sitting in those seats are typically paying higher fares."(If, of course, they are paying.)

Sure enough, on a Delta flight from Philadelphia to Los Angeles in mid-January, the airline did well. The plane, a Boeing 737-800, came with seatback entertainment systems with free movies and television shows. The meal -- grilled chicken, fresh salad, chocolate cake -- was yummy, and the drinks were, well, ample. My aisle-mate, separated from me by a wide armrest, drank several glasses of red wine, and only spilled part of the last one on my leg. The Delta flight attendant, like every first-class flight attendant I encountered, handled it with aplomb -- and a real cloth napkin.

United Continental also did well on a San Francisco-bound jag, with a menu complete with freshly baked garlic bread, mezzaluna pasta and vanilla ice cream with hot fudge. (You could gain a lot of weight in first class, which might explain the bigger seats.)

Much depends on the type of plane you're on, with some models allowing for the ultimate in first-class elitism: the ability to turn left when you board the plane. Older planes, however, can struggle to keep up with the times. Consider an American Airlines MD-80 I recently boarded only to discover that the jack below my first-class seat was a round DC outlet like one you might find in your car's cigarette lighter. Which would have been great had I been driving, but left my PC bereft at 35,000 feet. (The airline promises that it is converting the outlets.)

Still, the view from 35,000 feet is the same no matter where you're sitting, something I was reminded of on a US Airways flight to Newark: a sunrise over the Atlantic, an eyeliner-thin trace of pink over an unmade bed of clouds. Looking out, I felt that often-forgotten sensation of wonder, of flight, and the excitement of travel to a different place. (Even if that place was in New Jersey.) My first-class amenities weren't much: a bag of cranberry nut mix and some organic Cheddar cheese snacks. But the takeoff was flawless and the scenery divine. Settling back into my wide seat, I had a deep thought: I had become spoiled. For even if first class wasn't as fine as I'd hoped, it still wasn't coach.

Kenan D. Christiansen and Rachel Lee Harris contributed reporting.

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.


Source: www.post-gazette.com