New
York City, Normal No More
A Photo Essay
construction.com September 27, 2001
By Judy Schriener
New York City
Wednesday, September 26, 2001
Engine 54, Ladder 4, New York Fire Dept. This
station, on 48th St. and 8th Ave. on the west side in midtown, lost
15 firefighters at the World Trade Center. More than two weeks after
the attack, the flowers are still plentiful and fresh, the candles
lit. Cookies and red, white and blue ribbons greet the visitors
who still flow through day and night to donate money and write tributes
in the oversized guest book. The firefighters greet all visitors
like the good hosts that they are. These members of "New York's
Bravest," ironically, must many times a day put aside their own
grief to comfort the scores who break into tears when they get near.
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A Sign from Happier Times
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The E train currently goes down only as far
as Canal St., a mile or more away from Ground Zero. The signs that
remain on subway platforms carry a somber message to travelers.
With phone service still not available to
about 10,000 people in the area, a portable pay phone kiosk serves
the public in need of phones. Closer to the site, AT&T Wireless
has several locations open to serve volunteers, workers and the
public.
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Police and militia quiz people more than a
mile from the site. In many cases, the mere presence of the blue
police sawhorses and police personnel keep people away, but if you
have a reason to go inside, where many businesses are struggling
to serve the public, the cops give a nod to go through. It is only
when you get closer to the site, a few blocks away, that no amount
of talking will get you by them. Only the right credentials will
get you in. Security tightens daily. One contractor reports that
all security tags are being reissued imminently due to so many volunteers
(most of whom are no longer welcome) having the red tags that have
been their ticket in. The city is also restricting vehicles entering
certain bridges and tunnels into the city in the mornings. Only
those carrying more than one passenger will be allowed to proceed,
a drastic and unprecedented move.
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A church near the former World Trade Center
now is in the restricted area. Its sidewalk is lined with portable
potties, emergency vehicles and a Verizon repair truck as the local
telephone company scrambles for the 15th day to restore service.
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Security tightens, restrictions grow and no
more tours of Ground Zero are granted to the press. First glimpses
of "the site" come half a mile away from the closest place where
officials will allow people to go. Police and militia sternly bark
at people to "keep moving" and reach out menacingly when they spot
cameras. A new ban on picture taking is only marginally effective
because it is spottily enforced and signs are sporadically placed.
What does work is a parked city bus and big plywood panels at one
intersection, designed to block the view. Press, tourists and locals
gawk while they walk, with only occasional unobstructed views every
block or two and maybe two full seconds to stare while walking.
Crowds clog the sidewalks on major streets within half a mile of
the site. People are attracted and repelled at the same time. Many
people cover their noses with hands, clothing or masks. There is
even a handful of people with gas masks. Nearly everyone seems to
look shocked and sickened at the vague alternating sickly-sweet
and coppery stench that makes it clear what has really happened
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Day 15 - Sunshine and Sorrow
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On this bright, sunshiny day, the closest
that people are allowed to get to Ground Zero is still blocks away.
No officials are there to restrain the picture takers. No signs
scare people off. Everyone stands in awe, faces uncovered, peering
between buildings, overwhelmed by the massiveness of the destruction
and the knowledge of how it got that way. Solemn and quiet, people
unobtrusively take their pictures, hold tight to their companions,
cry softly, become lost in thought as they contemplate the scene
before them…and eventually sigh and turn away to go.
Sunday,
September 16, 2001 | Saturday,
September 15, 2001
Photos
by Judy Schriener
© 2001 The
McGraw-Hill Companies - All Rights Reserved
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