Many, many thanks to all of you who pitched in to help an incompetent senior citizen find his baggage which was lost—no fault of the airline—during my trip to Springfield last week. Through a comedic combination of circumstances over which the airline had no responsibility, the baggage got away from me and I arrived in the state capitol without any change of clothes. Gradually I noticed old friends moving away from me as the days intervened: no, I’m kidding but the men’s store across from the Abraham Lincoln hotel is everlastingly grateful for the mishap. After arriving in Springfield I received a phone call saying the bag was at O’Hare. Then I received a call saying the bag is in Fargo, N.D., then that the bag was back at O’Hare. At O’Hare they couldn’t find it. Several days passed in Chicago when the bag was variously reported either here, in Fargo, Portland, Maine or somewhere else.
So what do you do when because of your own failings order breaks down? When the problem isn’t lost shirts, ties or shaving utensils but a notebook containing important telephone numbers? You call upon friends. I called Jay Doherty, the president of the City Club whose contacts are endless. He put me in touch with Margaret Houlihan, the airline’s vp-government affairs. Over the weekend she worked on it and produced it. But helping her along the way was Leo Miller, now of Haymarket Center and a former executive at the airline and his wife Terri, an executive at the airline. All cooperated beautifully for which I am very grateful.
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