Richard Turen
Last month, Arthur Tauck Jr. moved on to future travels in a new destination. He died at his winter home in Vero Beach, Fla., surrounded by his loving family.
In 1950, Arthur joined his father's fledgling tour company, working as a summer tour director. He served in the Air Force as a lieutenant, stationed in Germany. In 1958, he was named the president of Tauck Tours. He was 27 years old.
I never met Arthur Tauck, but I always felt I knew him. In fact, if truth be known, I always felt we were linked in some ways. He was one of my travel industry heroes.
I am so grateful that Arthur got to enjoy the company's 100th anniversary celebration last year.
Many personal Tauck memories flood my mind. There were the two couples I booked with Tauck who noticed their bus leave the main highway for a ride to a residential area in Connecticut. After ascending a long driveway, the tour group was surprised to learn they were being welcomed to a reception at Tauck's home.
On the second Tauck Tour I ever booked, the conversation over dinner in Prague the first night included "washcloths" and the fact that no one's travel agent had informed them that they were largely unavailable in hotels in this portion of Europe. The Tauck tour guide sat nearby, apparently listening. The next morning, when passengers boarded the bus, every seat was adorned with a beautiful gift package of the highest-quality washcloths.
I was in Las Vegas at a meeting of my consortium and was asked if I wanted to have dinner with Robin Tauck, Arthur's daughter. I assumed it was a supplier group dinner. It wasn't. She had flown in for the private dinner to discuss a new idea the company was considering: entering the European river cruise market. I greeted the idea with unbridled optimism.
Ten days after the tragic events of 9/11, I reserved space at a local country club and asked if a Tauck family member would consider joining me for an evening of travel hope and togetherness. Arthur's son Peter flew in, and as we approached the club, not knowing what to expect, we saw cars lining the road and then a full parking lot.
"They must be having a wedding," Peter said. But no, it turned out that almost 600 of our clients, some driving from other states, had come out in support of our travel firm and the Tauck family, with whom so many had traveled. It was an evening of hugs, tears and faith.
A few years later, I got a call that Tauck's marketing team wanted to speak with me. I offered to call the next day, but they responded, "Oh no, Richard, if you will be able to meet with us for a few hours, we will fly down to Naples to see you." They did, and it was explained that they were in a planning meeting when Arthur said something along the lines of, "Some of our tours need updating. Bring [details of the existing tours] to Turen and see what he can come up with."
Somehow, Arthur was aware that I had long been advocating that European tour operators were overestimating American travelers' fascination with the details of European history. They were, I believed, far more interested in contemporary life, food, real estate and how things worked for average citizens.
I worked on several journeys in France, and Arthur actually featured them in the European brochure. What meant the most to me was that he approved of the work I had done.
Why was a man I never met a true hero of mine? Because Arthur understood the true meaning of great travel experiences. The great ones are always shared. He once said, "It doesn't matter where you go. Your time is more dependent upon the people around you."