Icarus Done In by O.C.’s Terminal Illness

It’s a real joy to see that we finally found a problem with the new terminal at John Wayne Airport that is worthy of Orange County.

I mean, all this blather about running millions of dollars over budget and opening almost six months late got pretty boring. It took a long time, but at last we stumbled into the area of morality, which we do--and I say this in all modesty and will defend our position stoutly--better than any other place in the nation.

I’m talking, of course, about the outrageously naked figure on the artwork selected--and then rejected--by the airport arts commissioners as a poster to commemorate the opening of the new terminal building. The fact that the figure--painted by New York artist Jim Morphesis--happened to be that of a mythical Greek named Icarus and was quite appropriate, since it related rather directly to flight, didn’t negate the fact of his nakedness.

It seems that one of the airport commissioners, Bob Cashman, who is a commercial printer, offered generously to print the posters free of charge. That is, until he got a look at Icarus. Then he had some second thoughts. Cashman’s main complaint was that there were no airplanes in the painting and he was afraid that the poster might become “controversial” because of its nudity and thereby detract from the celebra tion of the new terminal. He might be right. I can envision Rep. Dana Rohrabacher (R-Long Beach) making a mailing of the poster, saying this is what we have come to even in this last bastion of morality in Orange County.

Well, Cashman’s comments resulted in an emergency meeting of the five-member Airport Arts Commission, which first said, in effect, “Let’s get on with this.” Then two days later, the commissioners reversed themselves and decided to abort the poster. Fine work of art, they said, but now it’s too late to get it printed before the opening ceremonies. The bluenoses won again, and we revert to cowboys instead of winged Greeks to symbolize our airport.

It has occurred to me that probably not very many Orange Countians are familiar with the legend of Icarus. There was this king named Minos who hired a contractor named Daedalus to build a labyrinth for him. Minos wanted to get rid of a dude named Theseus who was threatening to run for king. Minos was afraid of the political effects of just putting out a contract on Theseus, so he hit on this labyrinth that Daedalus was to design in such a way that Theseus could never find his way out.

Well, as you’ve probably guessed, Theseus did get out. And instead of being mad at Theseus, Minos took out his wrath on poor old Daedalus and ordered him locked up in a high tower on a desolate, deserted island. The only satisfaction allowed Daedalus was the company of his teen-age son, Icarus (pronounced Ick’-rus).

Icarus helped his father get out of the tower, but getting off the island was another matter entirely. By Minos’ orders, no ships were allowed to stop there, and it was much too far to swim to the mainland.

But Daedalus’ skills were not limited to labyrinths. He said: “Minos may control the land and sea, but he doesn’t control the air.” Then he told his son to gather up all the gull feathers he could find on the island. Icarus found a lot of them, and Daedalus took these feathers and used wax and thread to shape them into two sets of human-sized wings.

Daedalus tried the wings first and found they worked magnificently. Then he helped Icarus to solo, instructing him to watch the birds and copy the way they used their wings since there were no F-10s or 747s around at the time. Icarus discovered he could fly too, and turned into a hot pilot overnight, doing wingovers and outside loops with reckless abandon--so much so that before they took off for the mainland, Daedalus warned his son to stay close to his father because if he flew too low the fog and spray would clog his wings, and if he got too high, the sun would melt the wax that held them together.

Well, you know how headstrong kids can be. Icarus said, “Sure, sure,” and stayed with the old man for a while, flying low and slow. But then Icarus got bored and saw some fluffy clouds above him and thought it would be fun to play in them so he climbed through the clouds, and that felt so good he figured he’d take a quick peek at heaven before he rejoined his father.

It turned out he got more than a quick peek. The closer Icarus approached the sun, the hotter it got and the more the wax holding his wings together melted. Icarus ignored the warning feathers that began to fall out and kept climbing until his wings disintegrated and he fell into the sea and drowned.

I’m a little hazy about the moral here, but I think it is this: The people who run John Wayne Airport should be very careful not to allow too many flights in and out or all of their planes are likely to fall into the sea. Or maybe it’s that sometimes a featherhead finds his way onto an airport commission. Or maybe there was no moral at all, since the Greeks of that day were notorious for being short on morals.

At any rate, as I write this, it would appear that the poster is dead and we may never even get to see the painting, since the artist is understandably edgy about having any more dealings with the airport people in Orange County.

If someone had asked me--and clearly no one did--I could have suggested several courses of action that might well have saved the poster. We could:

1. Airbrush out whatever shows of Icarus’ genitalia. After all, this has very little to do with the symbolism of flight.

2. Dress him. Admittedly, it would be tough getting a shirt over a pair of wings, but Icarus could certainly pull on a pair of pants. They would be a definite drag while flying, but what the hell, a little compromise won’t hurt. After all, this is mythology.

3. Substitute a commercial aircraft in flight for Icarus. The landing gear, of course, should be retracted; if the gear is down, it should be discreetly covered with a breechcloth.

But now it’s too late, and we’ll celebrate airport dedication week posterless. If there is anything positive to all this, I suppose it would be that for a few brief, shining hours we allowed a little culture to intrude on our new airport terminal. But by God, we woke up in time and stayed true to our lights and traditions. No naked Greek is going to corrupt this public event. Not in Orange County.