Intermountain Jewish News

Larry Hankin, IJN Associate Editor

It was 1972, and I was finishing my freshman year at college. I worked full time and lived at home during that first year of school, so I had a little money saved up.

My best friend and I were planning to drive cross-country, right after school was out, from Kansas City to California in my 1969 VW bug to do whatever young people did when they made a pilgrimage to California in those days.  Needless to say, my folks weren’t thrilled about our free-spirited , lack-of-any-real-plans itinerary.

My Dad pointed out to me that I could afford a trip to Israel, and wouldn’t that be a lot more meaningful and a better use of my hard-earned money than trekking to California in my not-so-reliable car?

My initial reaction was, “why would I want to go to Israel? It’s a war zone.”

I still had television news images of the 1967 Six Day War emblazoned in my mind.  But as I thought about it, those images of Israel not only fighting to survive, but to prevail, are what convinced me to change my plans.

Little did I know that I would be a witness to history on that trip, and how that trip would ultimately set the course of my life and career.

In the interest of getting the best price on airfare, I took a charter flight from Kansas City to London, where I picked up an El Al flight to Tel Aviv. That flight wasn’t direct either. It touched down in Vienna for just enough time to pick up a large group of Soviet Jews – one of the earliest such groups. 

In high school, I had participated in walks for Soviet Jewry and I had learned about the cause in religious school, and I was vaguely aware that relatively few Soviet Jews were just beginning to be allowed to emigrate from Russia to Israel.

So, here I was, literally surrounded by history in the making. These bedraggled-looking Russian Jews in the airplane seats all around me were the reason why there was a State of Israel.  I recognized the significance of that at the time, but didn’t come to fully appreciate it until years later.

I was welcomed at Lod Airport (the former name of Ben-Gurion International Airport) by my uncle and aunt, who had made aliyah to Israel just a few years before. They would be my hosts and tour guides for the next two weeks.

Just 24 hours after my arrival in Israel, my excitement about being there was shattered by the  news reports of what would become known as the Lod Airport Massacre.

On May 30, 1972, three conservatively dressed members of the Japanese Red Army boarded an Air France flight from Paris to Tel Aviv.  Once in the Lod Airport, they opened the violin cases they were carrying and pulled out Czech assault rifles. They began to fire indiscriminately at airport staff and visitors, killing 24 people and injuring 78 others. Two of the Japanese shooters were killed from Israeli fire, and the third died when he set off a grenade outside on the airport’s tarmac.

The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine claimed responsibility for the attack.

All I knew at the time was that I missed that horrific terror attack by almost exactly 24 hours, and that my aunt and uncle stayed glued to the television as the details unfolded.  Those details included the fact that my aunt’s colleague at The Hebrew University in Jerusalem, Prof.  Aharon  Katzir, an internationally renowned protein biophysicist, had been killed in the attack.

The next day, my aunt said that other people she worked with had connections with some of the other victims of the terror attack.  I realized right then and there just how small Israel is, and how much of a personal impact a tragedy with 24 dead and 78 injured has on the people of this tiny, close-knit country.

The rest of my trip was not so dramatic, but was no less impactful. I set out to discover the meaning of  “the Jewish homeland” and  “a Jewish state.”  I saw first-hand both the interaction between and the separation of the Jews and Arabs in Israel. I experienced Middle Eastern culture.

I feel fortunate that was able to visit Israel before terrorism changed everything.

Back then, a Jew could go up onto the Temple Mount. I didn’t realize at the time that, perhaps it was appropriate for a Jew to do so, but nonetheless it was permitted, and very interesting.

Back then, you could walk through crowded streets of Jerusalem and worry only about  a pick-pocket – certainly not about suicide bombings.

A highlight for me was climbing on top of the ramparts of the walls running the perimeter of the Old City of Jerusalem, where you can take a self-guided tour of  life in the Old City from a bird’s eye view, and take in the phenomenal vistas of the new city of Jerusalem and the surrounding hills.

Outside of Jerusalem, my maiden voyage to Israel included Egged bus tours to Haifa, Tel Aviv and Masada.

When I left Israel two weeks later, security at Lod Airport was markedly tighter than it had been when I came, and it’s never loosened up since.

That trip had a tremendous impact on me as a young Jewish man. I became involved in Hillel in college, especially that next year during the 1973 Yom Kippur War. I took Hebrew language, Jewish history and thought and Middle East geography classes in college. I decided to major in journalism, and I sought an internship at the Kansas City Jewish Chronicle. That set me on my career path of Jewish journalism, which has included the opportunity to visit Israel six more times in a journalistic capacity.

When my father passed away two years ago, I spoke at his funeral, and recalled how he gently convinced me to go to Israel in that summer of 1972. Of all the gifts my father gave me, I believe that was the greatest.