story124.xml

story124.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-03-04

Dear Friends and Colleagues:
???This is the story of one New York urban historian's
experience on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. ?At approximately 8:45AM I
was on the ninth floor of the Municipal Building in the offices of the
NYC Landmarks Preservation Commission where I serve as one of the
Commissioners. We were assembling to start our weekly hearing. We
heard the tremendous boom of the plane striking the North Tower and a
sickened staff person called out for all to see it. ?We had a clear
view of both towers over City Hall Park. ?There was a gaping black
hole in the North facade of the building and flames burning intensely.
By now you have all seen the images on television so I can't add
enough words here to describe the physical dimension. The sky was
intensely blue and winking in the sunlight were the papers that had
been blown out of the offices. A strange sight but one that was a
terrible clue to the level of destruction. Although we knew a plane
had struck, everyone thought it was an accident. That misunderstanding
was overthrown when the second plane struck creating the immense
fireball in the South Tower. We were shocked into total silence and
then we agreed to evacuate the building. Who knew what tall building
would be next? I quickly called my daughter's school in Brooklyn to
alert them since I knew of parents who worked at the WTC. I called my
husband's office -- he was on the 26th floor at 120 Broadway, the
famous Equitable Building, catty corner across Liberty Park from the
South Tower -- and learned that he too was evacuating.
???When we descended to street level, we joined many others
looking up, mesmerized at the horrific spectacle. We were roused from
our reverie by police officers who were urging people to move north,
away from the area. ?We joined streams of people walking quickly, but
calmly, talking quietly, walking north, uptown, past the state and
federal courts in Foley Square, which were bring cordoned off, and
then up through the streets of Chinatown. ?We turned constantly to
look south at the grim views of the billowing smoke rising from the
towers. We had already started to make decisions about how to get
home. The pedestrian path onto the Brooklyn Bridge is right at the
base of the Municipal Building. ?I was afraid to walk over the bridge,
something I normally do every week from Brooklyn to Manhattan. I was
afraid it would be another target. (My husband did walk over the
bridge and heard and witnessed the fall of the South tower from that
vantage point.) I, like many others, was afraid to take the subway, afraid of getting stuck or of
something worse. ?So I chose to walk to Brooklyn over the Williamsburg
Bridge, at the eastern end of Houston Street, ?knowing that there was
a pedestrian passageway there. I wasn't sure about accessibility to
the Manhattan Bridge, though of course within a short time, the
traffic on all the bridges was curtailed, either to allow emergency
vehicles to come into Manhattan, or to allow people to walk out.
???I walked across the bridge with a colleague. We turned
frequently to see the Trade Center buildings, watching the plume of
smoke grow larger and larger as it filled the sky ominously over lower
Manhattan, the harbor and south Brooklyn. ?We could not smell the
acrid odor that later became so familiar because of the direction of
the wind. At about midpoint on the bridge, we turned yet again, but
this time we couldn't see the South tower. We couldn't figure this out
-- how could our angle of vision have changed so dramatically in just
three or four minutes since our last glimpse? ?We asked a cyclist who
was sitting and watching, "Why can't we see the South Tower?" ??
???His answer, "Because it just collapsed." ?To say we were stunned
doesn't even begin to express what we felt. It was the moment that defined
the grotesque awfulness of all that was happening. ?It was the moment
when we understood that the history of our city and nation were
changed forever. It was the moment when we knew how enormous the
losses were going to be, among the workers in the towers, and among
the fire and police who had responded so quickly. Unfathomable.
Reality shifted. Despair engulfs us still.
???After a few minutes, we continued on our way, sober,
incredulous, and mourning, trying to comprehend the scale of death and
destruction. As we walked down the ramp from the bridge to the streets
of Williamsburg, a rooster crowed. ?In the heart of this wounded world
city, a rooster crowed.
???The sidewalks were filled with people. Hispanic, Hasidic, and
people from every ethnic group in the city. Everyone coming off the
bridge was focused on getting home. It was the only way, it seemed,
that people would be able to know that their friends and family were
all right because no phones were working -- cell, public and in the
stores, nothing worked. ?People from the neighborhood were listening
to radios, and standing out in the streets, talking to one another.
Ordinary life had stopped. ??
???I wasn't quite sure how to walk from Williamsburg to
downtown Brooklyn though I knew the general direction. ?The trains had
been stopped by this point, and busses were packed, even if I had
known what to take. So, finally, after some time, I was able to see a
map and plot my route. ?As we walked in one direction, we encountered
people walking the opposite way, having come back to Brooklyn over the
other bridges. It seemed as though the whole city was in motion. We
stopped at a crowd gathered around a television set and learned of the
collapse of the second tower. There was nothing one could say but to
truly, for the first time, know evil.
???After 2 ? hours of steady walking, I reached my daughter's school in
downtown Brooklyn and learned my husband had come through to get
her and then walked home. What a relief to know that they were safe. I
embraced my friends and learned that the WTC parents had not gone to work that day -
a miracle - and were safe. I went home and found the yard and stoop
gritty with ash as though a volcano had erupted. Friends of ours in
other neighborhoods found letters in their backyards, carried on the
wind from WTC firms. ?I spent the next two days with my family,
fielding phone calls from family and friends near and far, assuring
them of our well being. That's all we wanted to do - to make contact
and talk and try and understand and to comfort one another. We talked
with my daughter, who was very upset at the loss of a part of
Manhattan she has spent much time in. "When will they rebuild?" "Well
maybe they won't. Maybe they will create a memorial." "Why can't they
have new buildings and a memorial?" Who knows the answers? Who knows
anything? ??????
???Now some 72 hours later, life is not back to normal.
Concentrating on work is hard. ?Everyone feels the pall hanging over
the city, metaphysically and physically. ?As a lifelong New Yorker,
with my professional life centered on the history of the city
generally and its physical development, I feel so bereft. The
cityscape that I have known since college has been irrevocably
altered. The very first slides I took as I began to study New York's
architecture were of the great steel arches of the towers at street
level, as construction began. Now, they are bent and twisted in the
rubble. Many of the older buildings which have been designated
official city landmarks about which I and others care so passionately, are damaged. ?I have
searched the fleeting views on television, and read the newspapers
closely, to learn their fate. ?Rubble and debris fill the churchyards
of Trinity and St. Paul's, and the streets in front of the New York
Stock Exchange and Federal Hall. What is the fate of the twin Trinity
Buildings and 90 West Street , directly exposed to the blast? ?The
Woolworth Building was shielded by others but what of its foundations?
???At any place like the WTC and the World Financial Center, the
buildings are so large that on a daily basis, one experienced only
parts of them. For me, the Borders book store was a frequent
destination at the base of the North tower. There I found the
mysteries I read to relax, the children's books for my daughter, and
more arcane publications that one wouldn't expect in a mass market
stock such as a biography of Dorothy Day. ?I exited the subways into
the Lower Concourse. I visited the Farmers Market in the open space at
the foot of the South Tower and bought produce and my favorite baked
goods there. I bicycled along the brand new bicycle path in front of
the World Financial Center on my way north, and at other moments,
through the Hudson River park behind Battery Park City.
???There were times when the WTC as part of the city scape
was the object of much attention on my part. Last Sunday, the 9th of September, I
spent several hours thinking about a proposed new park at the base of
the Brooklyn Bridge while looking across the East River at Lower
Manhattan. I took pictures. ?The air was crystal clear, the sky Kodak
blue, and the skyline was perfection.
???Grieve with us for New York City. Grieve for the people who
died. Grieve for the sense of place that has been lost.
???Deborah Gardner, September 14, 2001 ?