Stories and pictures from the World Trade Center

#1

Well Marc, its been almost a month since 09-11-01.
I first heard the Trade Center had been attacked while taking my daughters Michelle (9yrs) and Megan (4yrs) to school.
I was listening to Howard Stern on the radio. When I returned home I turned on the television and watched the news coverage on ABC.
While trying to make sense of what was going on, I saw the plane hit the second tower. I watched as they fell. It was then I decided I personally had to do something.
I put out the call to some of my fellow police officers and the first to return my call was Joe Paulfrey. I explained to him I was going to New York with Miranda my k-9. He never hesitated when he answered "I'm coming with you".
We met at our department and drove straight through the night.
On the morning of September 12th we entered the outskirts of the city.
I was appalled at the view I saw.
A huge plume of smoke stretched up into the sky where the Trade Center had once stood.
In all my career as a Law Enforcement officer, (military & civilian) nor as a member of the 20th Special Forces, prepared me for what I was experiencing.
Not since Bob Gray's death have I felt such rage.
We weaved our way through the maze of check-points manned by New York's finest and arrived at ground zero.
I parked my Jeep at the corner of Duane and Greenwich.
We geared-up and walked to the site. The smoke was terrible, fires still burning, the smells in the air overpowering. Ash and soot covering every where. Vehicles on the side streets crushed from collateral damage. The people on ground level moving without direction. Many seemed still in a state of shock.
I began asking cops and firemen where the incident command post was and who was in charge?
No one knew, until one weary fire fighter turned and said
"The command post and the ones in charge are somewhere over there"
He pointed towards the pedestrian bridge which connected the twin towers. Then he said
"Use your dog in that area and see if you can find them, they were buried as the second building collapsed".
I realized the seriousness of his statement, this meant that all the experienced personal were lost with the victims inside and around the trade center park plaza.
We walked across the rubble and began searching for survivors.
My dog was trained in patrol and narcotics and was a bit confused until I put the tracking harness on her. She began working the area like a champion blood hound.
She showed interest on 8 areas or holes in the debris, no alerts as if she found a suspect, but a mild change of behavior. (I later would see this same alert at least fifty more times).
The firemen shifted their efforts to my dogs interests. After hours of digging 8 bodies were recovered.
We took a break, had some water and then began clearing the buildings adjacent to where the towers stood.
We picked the R.R. Donnelly & Sons building. It was 14 stories tall, about a block square in size.
We walked the fire escape stairs and started at the top, on the roof, worked each floor, prying doors and searching every office. We found food still set out on the tables of the cafeteria and newspapers opened as if someone was still reading them.
We encountered 2 employees on the 5th floor who were pulling apart computers. After checking identifications, it was discovered they were executives and the computers they were working on were the same network which turns on and runs the stock market each day.
They had slipped by the perimeter and wanted to take the hard drives home to try and operate the stock market.
I told them they had until we finished securing the last 5 floors. They agreed.
We finished the remaining floors and stepped out of the front doors into the street to get some air.
I saw everyone running feverously up the streets past us.
I grabbed a guy running by and asked what was wrong. He said
"The building next to you is coming down, RUN"
I looked at Joe and he read my mind. We both raced back into the Donnelly building to get the two employees who were oblivious to this news.
We reached the 5th floor running up the fire escape stairwell since there was no electricity for half a mile.
We pulled the guys out of their office carrying the computer parts under their arms. We exited the building and ran up the street where all the police, fire and rescue workers stood.
They congratulated us and called us stupid or crazy for going back in the building.
We started at 1130 hrs that day and completed our search of the building at 1745 hrs.
We found a fire truck from Providence Rhode Island a block away that was set up like a Roach-Coach. They fed us and we rested there for a few hours until night.
We walked around ground zero and looked over the site.
No pictures or video can actually describe the carnage I saw. It looked as if the city of New York was a man and we were walking among his guts, looking at the exposed ribs that was the skeleton of the Trade Center wall.
I stopped and talked to 2 Bronx firemen who said they heard that five guys were trapped in an elevator shaft under the Trade Center. They used a cell phone to call for help.
One of the guys said he knew a entrance where we could get under the Center and into the subway. We all took off and skirted the rubble, walking about a mile to reach the entrance. It was a steel double door cover on the sidewalk.
The Bronx firemen cleared the debris and found the pull-chain that opens the doors. They opened the doors and we crawled down the dark stairs. We walked down 2 flights of steps to the sub-way platform.
It was eerie to see the train sitting on the tracks with all the doors open, emergency lights on but no people.
We balanced ourselves as we traveled the tunnel cat-walks towards the centers station. We were underground about 4 or 5 floors and right under the Trade Center. It was a mall entrance where we gathered and made plans.
All around us were stores with expensive clothing, specialty shops, and even jewelry stores that had diamonds, Rolexs and other items for sale.
One of the firemen found a map of the mall and we located the elevators.
I shouted out, hoping for a response and the firemen banged a pipe with their spanner. We never heard an answer.
We checked all of the elevators except the two shafts blocked by debris and a open gas fire. The firemen tried to put it out using the wall extinguishers near by, but the gas needed to be turned off first.
Frustrated that we hadn't been able to find anyone we retraced our route back to the streets.
(We later found out that had we had the tools, the five guys were found the next day just beyond the gas fire).
I walked back to the Providence Roach Coach and had a meal.
They had dog food for Miranda.
I went up the street with Joe who needed medical aid. He had something in his eye that was giving him hell.
As we passed a NYPD officer standing at a intersection with some barrels, he called to us and asked if we needed a beer. We laughed and said
"Oh yeah that would make our day!"
He tossed us two ice cold buds from one of the barrels and smiled. Gotta love NYPD!
Joe got his eyes flushed, the doctor inspected Miranda and said she needed rest and rehidration. We walked to my Jeep and pulled out our sleeping bags. We kicked off our boots, I gave Miranda some water, drank the Bud myself and all three of us slept on the street.
That was my first day in New York City, first time ever.

#2

As you know Linda and I just came back from NY. We visited ground zero and it was very hard for both of us. I Love NY and so does Linda.
It has been where, for the last five years we have celebrated our Anniversary (#11) every year and the world trade center, Windows to the World restaurant 105 th floor, was where we ate as part of our celebration.
I just could not tell all of the guys I work with exactly what I saw and felt.
Jim Webster, my boss, had tears in his eyes as I told him all that we saw.
Then he sent me this email from his Aunt who lives there and I wanted to share this with you. It says all that I couldn't.

#3

From: Gwyneth Murphy Subject: At St. Paul's #3

Dear Friends, As I write, the weather is turning to Fall here. Any other time, I would say this with delight .... but it is so cold for the workers at the site, and this also means colds and coughs. We have had some rain, and will get more. It just makes a difficult and dangerous job (for the workers) more so. And it is confounding that 12 or 24 hours of rainy weather cannot cool down the wreckage.
That such intense and extensive heat could exist beneath these piles boggles the mind. It is what we learned about the core of the earth.
The first day I saw "ground zero" and saw smoke and even flame arise from these mountains of rubble born of destruction and misery, I couldn't help but remember that in July, Dan and I stood on a cooling volcanic lake in Hawaii and watched steam rise from vents from the earth.
That experience filled us with a joyous awe and a profound sense that the earth is alive and in creation.
We have several cots, but mostly the workers sleep on the wooden pews. We have plenty of blankets, but often people just lie down for a nap.
One very cold night, a volunteer - a guy about 6 foot three, told me he had gone around and put blankets on people. I was so grateful to him for teaching me that. (Haven't we all had the experience of being almost asleep and being cold, but not wanting to make the effort to get a blanket? And if someone covers you, you are in heaven?)
Later, as I followed his example, it was one sacred and tender moment after another -
As I write about it, I realize it was the same experience of washing feet on Maundy Thursday - an intimate moment that is almost painful because we are touching at such a vulnerable place, and so aware of our need for one another.
These were moments when I was so aware of the privilege of offering care to the people whose life's work is to care for others.
After the first full week, I worked the Saturday night shift. I had only been to the Port Authority, ridden the subway and been at Ground Zero.
When I left St. Paul's at 9 on Sunday morning, I started to walk, without any destination or reason. I was exhausted but had to walk.
Through the courts area, and Tribeca (below Canal Street), the edge of Chinatown, Soho, and the Village.
Even though New York truly is the city that never sleeps (24/7), Sunday mornings are different here, as it is anywhere.
I remembered other Sunday mornings when I had been up all night or got up very early to go back to my apartment or dorm room, and wandered the streets of New York, alone or with others. As I walked, the City became three dimensional again. I realized that this was important, that I had to experience more than just the site.
(I really hate saying Ground Zero. It sounds like something that is the center of the end.)
Not just for me, but for New York.
When a friend has a death in the family, or becomes disabled or gets a disease, and you visit them, you do need to pay attention to that, and focus on it ...
but it is also important at some point to acknowledge and sometimes quite strongly, that
"You are more than your pain, than your injury."
Anyway, that is what it seemed like to me.
When the Mayor was first asked about the number of casualties he said
"More than we can bear."
And he was right.
And I think about the expression
"God doesn't give you more than you can bear."
For years I disagreed because I knew that sometimes a person or family could not bear something, and this saying made it even worse, as if they were failing God. The saying also assumes that God gives us our suffering - and it has never been more apparent that this is a dangerous way to think and believe, because it hurts people who are already brought low.
Is this more than we can bear?
Yes and no.
What makes me believe we can bear it is the continued outpouring of compassion and care - not only from those who are not here, but among and between those who are.
I wish there were words to describe the good will (which does not capture it) which is all around St. Paul's and the site. Generosity of spirit, genuine appreciation to and from everyone, an openness. This, despite exhaustion, confusion, discomfort, and the ever present reminders of why we are here.
St. John's, the parish I recently served in Oakland, took up a collection to support my work here.
I had a bittersweet experience the first time I went to use some of this gift: I was working the night shift. It was a very cold night, and many workers were asking for cold medicine. We ran out of insoles (a popular item - they work long shifts, are on their feet the whole time; it is sometimes wet, and on the piles of wreckage it is in some places hot; the podiatrist on site needed Vaseline; we had run out of cigarettes (this is not the situation in which to make judgments about this); and we needed bandannas -- as head coverings for food workers, and some workers used them as neckerchiefs (I had tied one around the neck of one National Guard, who was not more than 19, whose hands were too cold) - We always get the supplies we need, but not necessarily right away.
There is a CVS (local drug store chain) a block from St. Paul's, so I decided to get these things in the morning before going home.
I felt good walking over there in the way you feel good when there is a concrete solution to a problem - people would have what they needed.
So, I planned to spend several hundred dollars on things for the people working at the site of the World Trade Center .... only to get to the cash register and be told that of course I could not use a credit card or debit, because (of course) there are still no phone lines, because of what happened to the World Trade Center ..... (and of course I learned as a teenager to not carry much cash in the City, and who would cash an out-of-state check).
It was just one more of those inconveniences in everyday life caused by what has happened. Over and again when someone mentions such a problem, s/he will say that of course it is nothing compared to other people's losses. And this is true.
I remember thinking this on September 15, when I was supposed to be here and wasn't. I was sad and disappointed to miss Ian David's Bar Mitzvot (- it is Ian's family that I am staying with) -, but realized this was a relatively minor loss.
However, I thought then and I think now, as I speak to people whose lives are disrupted and forever altered by September 11th, that a civilization is at least in part the sum total of the lives of its members, and our lives are shaped as much by thousands of "small" events and details and routines and assumptions than by large events.
And as we struggle to make sense of what has happened, and what our lives mean in the aftermath, I don't think we have to apologize for being aware of these small things.
In the first days of September 11 (is that what we call this? it wasn't a bombing, "war" doesn't fit), hearing reports of other buildings coming down or being condemned, and about the immediate effects on certain industries and the economy, it seemed like dominos.
It is like dominos now because of the effect on people's lives.
It may be the most obvious and widespread in Manhattan, but it spreads across the water in all directions. Some jobless, some homeless.
The man who had a coffee cart at the foot of Wall Street for 17 years, his livelihood, and it is gone.
The small business owners in Chinatown who lived hand to mouth and were closed down for days or weeks.
In our culture, we find a way to measure the economic loss, and to try to compensate for it.
Certainly the millions of dollars pouring in will help people to rebuild their lives, and this is very good. There is no way to measure the psychic loss or cost.
Many many people heard and saw and felt this happen.
Saw the second plane fly directly, intentionally, into a building where friends worked; saw the towers collapse and "the cloud" come toward them.
Heard the roar of thunder that would not stop.
Some of these people were sure they would die.
Were there other planes?
Was the smoke toxic?
The sight or sound of a plane, a siren, those reprehensible bomb scares, a sudden loud noise, can bring it back.
So I would like to ask you, each and all, to specifically pray for healing for the people who experienced September 11th - so that the spiritual equivalent of millions of dollars pours in.
Of course, we all experienced it and I do not mean to compare or measure relative pain and suffering.
We are all in this together, and just as we are enriched by monetary giving, we heal ourselves by reaching out to others in prayer.
This is beginning to sound like a sermon, so I will say only one more thing on this (can you hear Dan Webster laugh about me saying "only one more thing?"): - I have been so moved by the letters and e-mails I have received from people, and it has struck me how much everyone needs to talk about this - how it affected us, how we feel - and it continues as events continue to unfold.
This is different from discussing what the government should do, or should have done. End of this point.
This has been long, so thank you for reading this far.
I end on a more personal note.
Thank you for your support.
I feel it, and so do others.
One officer who I had seen for a couple of days asked me why I was always smiling or upbeat. (And I am not a smiley person.) He really wanted to know and I told him about all of you who pray for me - that through you the Spirit works through me to them.
That officer thanks you too - and that conversation made me understand what it means for these people to see a smile.
It's not about happy, because I am certainly not happy down there. In the midst of this horror, if we aren't reminded that there is goodness .... perhaps that is what we cannot bear.
Several of the clergy who are there for a shift have asked me if I am taking care of myself and I told them and I tell you, yes. I am so grateful to the experiences and people who taught me to care for myself.
So, I take the time off I need, so I am really there when I am there. I have to say I am a little chagrined to admit that I really am 46 and do not have the energy I once did, especially if I am awake for 24 hours. Even then, I go to bed expecting to do the crossword puzzle. Hello!
I am so glad to be staying with such good friends, whose hospitality and friendship knows no bounds, and feeds my body and spirit.
I was invited to process at the main service at St. John the Divine on Sunday, for St. Francis Day, and then to be one of those who blessed dozens of animals.
That was great, especially because my brother and his family came. I so appreciate the cards and e-mails many of you have sent. They keep me connected, they make me smile, and sometimes cry. Please understand that I cannot respond to them individually.