World Trade Center Stories - Day Five And Following

From: "Cheng-Jih Chen"
Subject: ch'io non avrei mai creduto che morte tanta n'avesse disfatta          Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 00:15:56 -0400
X-OriginalArrivalTime: 16 Sep 2001 04:15:57.0245 (UTC)
+FILETIME=[48D2DED0:01C13E66]


  ch'io non avrei mai creduto
    che morte tanta n'avesse disfatta
                        -- Inferno, Canto III, 56-57

The first time I was at the World Trade Center was in grade school, on
a class trip in the 1970s.  I don't remember exactly when.  I do
remember going up to one of those tall, narrow windows on the
observation deck to look down at the city below, and being badly
startled when a loose floor tile gave a quarter of an inch underneath
my feet.  I thought I was going to plunge through the window.

The first memory I have of the WTC that wasn't lost in my childhood
haze was going to the Concourse level, probably sometime late in high
school, perhaps senior year.  We were geeky teens who had just
discovered a mall to meet at, lame though it might have been as a
mall.  I remember being surprised that this underground mall even
existed in Manhattan.

The time I worked there was in 1994, a year after the bombing.  This
was for one of my SIPA internships, and it was at some small Port
Authority group that did trade promotion for New York City.  That group
was re-orged away sometime in 1995, being vaguely silly in its scope.
Locally made beauty products being shipped to Asia?  I'd be surprised
if they ever shipped more than a pallet-ful of that.  This was only for
a semester, and we were in the north tower (WTC1), I think on the
30-something floor, and the reasonable PA cafeteria I got lunch in was
at least one Sky Lobby above us.  I'll always remember the thrill of
walking out of the Concourse and into the huge, magnificent lobby of
the tower.  Compared to the florescent-lit Concourse, it was filled
with light.

Over the years, like a lot of New Yorkers, I was in, out and around the
WTC.  It's where the Broadway IRT stopped downtown, where there was a
nice Border's bookstore, the first in Manhattan I think.  In 1993, I
worked at the city's Campaign Finance Board, down at Rector Street and
under the shadow of the Towers.  Over the past couple of years, I
returned a number of times to Windows on the World to set up trade show
laptops and LCT displays for Random Walk; these were probably the first
times I'd been above the 100th floor since elementary school -- New
Yorkers don't often go to tourist attractions, and I'd forgotten what
the view was like from up there.

I heard about the first plane when I was getting ready to go to work,
listening to radio.  NPR flickered with static for a moment, and
shortly after that the radio announcer said that a plane had struck the
Twin Towers.  I turned the TV on -- it was CBS, and was just as good as
any other channel -- and made some phone calls.  I thought it was a
Cessna, but the hole in WTC1 was too big.  Someone on NPR said it was
big, like a 757.  Shit, a lot of people must have died, probably a
couple hundred.  I turned away for a bit, and there was an explosion on
the second tower, and the TV announcers started gibbering in shock.
They rewound the live feed a few seconds, and there was another plane.
The camera angle they had was bad, and it look like a small, slow
moving plane.  I realize now that the 767 had approached from behind
the Tower, and the small line I saw was the wing peeking out from
around the side of the bulding.  But at the time, I thought it was, I
don't know, a police aircraft that was doing a survey of the damage on
the first tower that had somehow lost control and slammed into the
second tower, one awful accident after another.  I didn't realize that
the explosion I saw was the jet blasting through from one side to the
other.

I got through on the phone to work.  I was going to come in after the
first plane struck, thinking there'd be some disruption downtown, but
that'd be it.  I was told not to come in, and that a bunch of people
from the office were supposed to be at Windows on the World.  I went
back to watching TV, something I'd do for the rest of the day, sort of
for the rest of the week.

When WTC2 collapsed, I just stared.  I though the newscaster was making
a mistake, that the Tower was just behind that cloud of dust, that the
cloud of dust was kicked up by some secondary explosion from jet fuel,
something.  The dust cloud began to clear, and I still thought I could
see the Tower, a shadow in the cloud.  But that's all it was, a shadow
in the cloud.  I just sat and stared for minutes.

Grace came back early: she'd been in the Kings County ER, volunteering
to help with the flood of wounded.  People were sent away after 3PM,
because there just weren't any.  That night, I didn't feel like
cooking, so we went out to dinner in a Park Slope sushi place.  Walking
down Seventh Avenue, we could see a clear sky, except for cloud-like
plume of smoke from Manhattan.  There was a smell of burning in the
air.  That evening, the wind was blowing south.

We came into Manhattan for the first time on Wednesday afternoon.  We
took the Q train in -- the trains that go through the Financial
District weren't running.  When the train crossed the Manhattan bridge,
what little conversation in the subway car stopped, and everyone
quietly moved to the south side of the train and stared out the
windows.  Through the smoke, we could see the towers of the World
Financial Center, towers that we could never see from the bridge
before.

I had a bunch of newspapers from the previous week in my apartment that
I hadn't gotten around to reading yet.  I tried to read them, but wound
up throwing them out.  These were news stories about another world, now
gone.

I remember some statistic that was thrown around in the old world about
how it's more likely for an American to be struck by lightning than to
be victim of international terrorism.  In this new world, every New
Yorker knows someone who knows someone who's been struck by lightning.
Every American knows someone who knows someone who did some sightseeing
at where the lightning struck.  I found out later that not everyone
scheduled to be at Windows on the World got there on time.  We haven't
heard from the two who were there.

I heard a funny comment yesterday: if there ever was a time to have a
gun-slinging Texan in the White House, this is it.  I don't believe we
can negotiate with people who have not reconciled themselves with the
end of the Caliphate and the arrival of Crusaders in the Holy Land, and
believe that mass murder will recall a golden age that passed before
the Pilgrims landed in Massachusetts.  This is a cancer that must be
cut out.  The conditions that allow this mentality have to be
addressed, but those possessed of this hatred of us for simply being
are probably beyond hope.  The cutting out has to be careful, so as not
to spread this cancer, but cut it out we must.  Hopefully, our policy
makers are up to that task.

I saw more American flags hanging from buildings in New York, hanging
from backpacks, purses and hats, than I've ever seen before.  Bin Laden
has called America a paper tiger that will crumple after a few blows,
and one of the Taliban recently proclaimed that these attacks have
turned the United States from a "superpower to a zero power".  This is
like what the fascists said in the 1930s.  I don't believe he and
others like him quite comprehend what they've set in motion, quite
understand the whirlwind they're about to reap.

Tomorrow, I'm going to make blueberry pancakes, and hopefully I'll
remember to spray the claims-to-be-nonstick griddle with Pam.




From: Mary Reagan 
Subject: Back From London (a little long)
Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 14:12:01 -0400

Hi All,

Well, I finally made it back. I've been stranded in London by the events
of last week. I managed to get through to Steven and got his wonderful
answering machine message that he was okay. I think I left fairly
babbling messages on his and Christopher's answering machines. As was
everyone, I was a bit overwhelmed and emotional at that point. I had
spent most of the afternoon (UK time) trying to find out about a friend
of mine who gets off the subway at World Trade (and is also 7 months
pregnant) and her husband who I had put on a plane from the UK just that
morning. Thankfully both of them were okay, although as of last night he
was still in Newfoundland where they had diverted his plane. He's been
stuck living in an ice rink since Tuesday and hopes to get out today.

It was very surreal experiencing this in London. Everyone felt so
helpless and out of touch. The UK news stations did a great job of
reporting the events. CNN, ITN (or is it ITV) and Sky News all had links
to US stations as well as their own reporters. The people of London were
very supportive. They had dropped off flowers at the American Embassy
and there were lines to sign condolence books. They had a massive
memorial service at St Pauls. You couldn't get anywhere near the place
there were so many people. Earlier in the day they had a special
changing of the guards ceremony where they played the US National anthem
and other patriotic songs. We spent most of our time watching the news,
waiting to find out when we could go home. When we did venture outside,
Londoners were so kind when they realized we were from Manhattan, or
from anywhere in the US.

Flying into the city last night was also surreal. You could see a layer
of dust over the city and the cloud rising from the site. The security
arrangements at the airlines were very strict. You weren't allowed to
bring much hand luggage on the plane and what you had was thoroughly
searched. No razors, nail files, knitting needles etc were allowed. At
the gate the men and women had to form separate lines because they
patted everyone down. On the plane you just got plastic utensils, and
flimsy ones at that. The planes out of Gatwick were filled to capacity.
But my boss flew out of Heathrow and he said that there were some empty
seats.

I caught a taxi back into the city with someone who had been on vacation
in Florida. His office in one of the buildings surrounding the WTC. He
was somewhat freaked out by the experience of seeing it firsthand. Its
not like seeing it on the news.

It was great to hear from people on list. I didn't get internet access
until Thursday since the internet cafe near my hotel was down. It made a
big difference having this contact.

That being said, I hope to see you all soon. Nothing can replace the
experience of being together with your friends.

Mary




Date: Mon, 17 Sep 2001 13:12:15 -0400 (EDT)
From: Cheng-Jih Chen 


OK, it's Monday morning, and the office is getting back together.
My regular email server is running again, so there's no need to use the
Hotmail address I'd been on for the past week.  I'll check that address
occassionally, but not regularly.

The Financial District still smells like smoke, and there's a dusty haze.
There's a whole sequence of checkpoints when you come out of the subway
station (Broad Street off the J, this morning), where you present a
picture ID and a business card to the cops and National Guard.

Electricity -- we're west of Broadway -- appears to be supplied by
diesel generators parked outside the building.  We've been told to
minimize electrical use, and the building is only running the freight
elevator for now.  We're not sure when regular power will be restored,
but probably not soon.

Internet connectivity came up about an hour ago: our ISP upstairs needed
some three hours to get to the point where they could boot their systems,
so they could see if there were any real problems.  But there didn't
seem to be anything wrong: Cable & Wireless, their upstream, apparently
doesn't route through the WTC.

A few windows on the 13th floor were left open, and there's a fine
layer of dust on some of the desks, along with the smell of smoke.
We're moving everyone downstairs, so they can work.  There's a Coast
Guard cutter outside the window, anchored in the harbor near the place
where the Liberty Island ferry departs from.

That's basically it.  I'm going to get some food now.



From: "Nova Spivack" 
Subject: Facing South                                                           Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 18:06:54 -0400
Organization: Lucid Ventures
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Facing South
Nova Spivack
9/16/01

There is almost a feeling of guilt among the living, because it doesn't feel
right to be enjoying such lovely weather in the middle of such destruction
and national emergency. It is the end of summer and there is still warmth in
the air but also a slight pinch of autumn cool. It feels surreal to walk in
the sunny beautiful weather here right now; what a gorgeous day, yet at the
tip of the island there is a huge plume of smoke and thousands buried alive.
New York City has been totally transformed by this event.

The streets are full of emergency vehicles, FBI, national guard, police,
fire men, construction and telephone workers. Every few minutes an F16
fighter jet circles over the city on patrol. Large Navy helicopters thunder
overhead on the southern tip. Processions of police cars, FBI detectives,
motorcycles and special construction crews race southwards, sirens blaring.
Occaisionally, dust and debris covered rescue and police vehicles come north
as well. People stop on the streets and applaud when fire vehicles go by. A
large fire truck went by with a huge flag billowing above it, almost like a
parade float. Everyone is wearing the flag, either a pin, a ribbon or entire
flags on their clothes. Flags hang from the windows, from cars. Taxis and
shops, and in particular those owned by muslims and immigrants, are also
displaying the flag vigoriously, and in some cases one wonders if it is
because they are afraid of being targeted for revenge. Every TV and radio is
tuned to the news. Some people are buying supplies, others are out trying to
have a good time and forget for a while. There are many more people walking
around than usual, even for New York. Everyone is looking around in a
mixture of shock, awe, grief and fear. Every conversation is about the
disaster and the coming war. There are stories about miraculous escapes---I
have met many who were on the higher floors and somehow made it out, others
who survived simply because they were outside for a 10 minute smoke or a
coffee.

A few blocks from my apartment is the New York City Armory, where the
National Guard has set up a huge staging area for the relief efforts. Around
it are thousands of boxes of water and supplies for the rescuers. Hundreds
of people mob the area: the families and friends of those lost on their cell
phones seeking information, as well as curious onlookers and those simply
mourning the dead or watching the crowd itself. Tents full of international
TV crews and their equipment line the streets. Cables snake in gutters.
Police barricades and army troops try to keep order. Trucks with satellite
dishes and microwave antennas on them beam news stories around the world.
For several blocks around the walls of every building are lined with posters
by the families of the missing: thousands of xeroxes with color photos and
posters mixed with flowers that have been put there by those seeking
information, giving vital stats. There are wedding pictures, pictures of men
with their children, pictures of executives, firemen, police men,
secretaries, window washers, chefs, waiters, laborers, stock traders: all
sorts of people of all races and nationalities were lost in this tragedy. In
fact, the names and faces are more international than American. It was truly
an attack on the world, not just America.

Every bus stop, every telephone pole, the walls at St. Vincent's Hospital,
and other walls and store windows all over the city display the posters for
the missing---they are like gravestones, each one telling a story of a life,
a person, a family, a relationship. There are also impromptu memorials, with
candles and pictures and flowers on street corners, intersections, parks.
Little groups of people, passerbys, stop to think silently around them.
Every few blocks I see an anonymous woman crying alone, sitting in a cafe,
standing in a doorway looking south. People walk holding hands or putting
their arms around each other, happy just to have each other, appreciating
the simple things in life. The entire city is a shrine for the dead. It is
strange to have such horror right here in the greatest city on earth, it is
equally strange to suddenly see such a strong sense of community appear here
in this usually-cynical in insular city not known for its friendliness. Now
not only are strangers speaking to one another like old friends, they are
helping each other without reservations and everyone has the eyes of
compassion. It seems that this city has been brought closer together by what
happened. There is also a new energy of nationalism and patriotism that I've
never experienced in my life, and certainly not among my generation of
dot-com liberal 30-somethings. In a paradoxical way this attack has made the
fabric of this city, and this country, far stronger than it has ever been in
my lifetime. Instead of weakening us it has had an opposite effect.



At the same time, people are terrified, stressed out, disgusted, and the
anger, anxiety and sadness is only starting to hit some. A friend who has
been volunteering day and night at the Armory for 3 days suddenly called me
this morning and finally broke down on the phone; she had been the picture
of strength the whole time and only now, 6 days later has she finally
succumbed to the exhaustion and the stress. Others sit in cafes and
restaurants frantically discussing the scenario, wondering what is really
going on behind the scenes and what will happen when we respond, and after.
People are making contingency plans, where to go, how to escape further
trouble. Some fear further attacks by the terrorists, others fear what we
will do to the Arab world in response. World War III may be starting, but
its not going to be what we thought, it's going to be slow and painful,
there are going to be long excrutiating pauses punctuated by shocking and
unpredictable attacks, and it could take years, even decades before it's
over. Or it could be over in months, but I doubt it. It really depends on
how America retaliates and how effectively they do it. One thing is for
sure: there are a lot of Muslims in the world, the majority of whom are
innocent and peace-loving family-oriented people just like us and don't
deserve to be punished for the insane acts of a few suicidal extremists.

Are we capable of punishing those who are responsible without accidentally
destroying the lives and livelihood of millions of innocents in other
countries in the process? Furthermore, if we retaliate imprecisely and harm
too many innocents in the process will we not only martyr those who were
responsible but also polarize the entire Muslim world against the west,
including those who are currently our allies, moderate or politically
neutral? The fact is that many of the terrorists we currently must
face---Saddam Hussein, Osama Bin Laden, and others---were originally trained
and armed by western-funded intelligence programs in the past. So we must
accept some of the responsibility for creating these monsters; we cannot
hold the Arab world solely responsible. At the very least we must avoid
sinking to the level of those who have attacked us and I pray that our
leaders will be thoughtful and measured in days to come. In this coming war
on terrorism, we must take care not to become terrorists ourselves.
Presently, as innocent victims, we have the moral high-ground in this
conflict: let's not lose it in a blind quest for revenge. At the same time
it is clear that we must respond with force as unfortunate as that may be.
Terrorism, like computer viruses, cannot be eradicated but it can be
limited: yet to succeed at this we must first disarm the world, especially
the rogue nations and terrorist groups. However, so long as selfish
governments and corporations are allowed to profit by indiscriminantly
arming any group that has the money to pay them, we will continue to
experience further problems, possibly far worse than those of last week.