The NYC Tragedies

by Alison Sawyer

Ed - This may not have much to do with skating, but it is written by a skater 
and friend in New York.  As you know, the tragedies on September 11th, 2001 
caused the cancellation of flights for the next few days, and Alison, among hundreds 
of others were not able to attend the Northshore Inline Marathon on September 
15th.  The NSIM, the largest race in the US, was expecting about 4400 skaters, 
and only about 3300 made it.  Alison works in New York City, for People Magazine. 

9/12-13
I'd like to share with you some lasting impressions from volunteering with
the Red Cross Wednesday/Thursday. At this writing, I have been up for 50
straight hours, having risen at 7:30 Wednesday morning, volunteered from
2pm that same afternoon until 8am Thursday morning (18 hours) and then went
directly to my "real" job for a full work day.

On Wednesday September 12, 2001, they were looking for volunteers to help
at the make-shift morgue at Chelsea Piers (which has several ice rinks). I
was compelled immediately as I saw on my TV people unloading supplies,
talking to families of missing people and other tasks. My boss didn't
hesitate to tell me to "go for it".

Liz Seward, Rich Rubel and I ended up working at the Red Cross Missing
Persons Hotline. Their efforts center around compiling a master list of
admitted hospital victims from all surrounding hospitals, and keeping those
lists updated. Hotline volunteers talk to the families of missing persons
and take down specific information about the person on paper forms. Other
volunteers sort the forms alphabetically and take them to conference rooms
where 10-15 volunteers per room take each form and check it twice against
the latest updated lists. When a new list arrives, the THOUSANDS of forms
get checked all over again. Meanwhile, forms keep multiplying as phone
calls pour in. Between 6am and 6pm our room found 10 matches and 4 possible
matches. Similar numbers came from the other conference rooms.

After four hours we finished the round two checks. Liz moved to the data
entry room and I set out to do what I really wanted to do--phones. The
phones are in another conference room with three tables containing 6-8
phones. And constant ringing. I manned my phone for the next 16 hours.
Sometimes I could barely hear the person on the other end with all 24
volunteers talking at the same time. A little while into my phone
experience, yet another new experience. A bomb threat in the Empire State
Building near by. We were immediately evacuated and led toward the Hudson
River on the West side. Soon declared unfounded, the evacuation was lifted
and it was back to work.

The courage I witnessed in the victim's families was striking. I expected
almost every caller to be crying, frantic, impatient. Instead nearly every
one was gracious, stoic, attentive, calm. And for those who did start to
cry, I was glad I could be there to offer some comfort and listen to their
stories.

I got many inquires about volunteer work. Where do we go? Who do we call?
Where can I bring my heavy machinery? A Firefighting Company in Texas was
all packed up and are probably here in NYC by now. A heavy equipment
operator from California was on his way to deliver shovels, axes and other
equipment and needed driving directions to Chelsea Piers. Another out of
towner just couldn't sit still anymore and had to do something, anything...

People called about their pets, which are still stranded in evacuated
apartments downtown. And then the victims families themselves, one heart
wrenching story after another. Brave, brave people, hoping and trying
everything they can think of to find their sisters, mothers, brothers,
fathers.... Many took the time to thank us for the hard work we were doing,
even though they had much more important things on their minds.

On my way to work I made one more stop at the nearby Police Precinct to get
a phone number for command central at ground zero. I had promised a
victim's wife that I would try to relay some information. The night crew
was just coming in from ground zero all dusty, sweaty, tired, with helmets,
masks and gloves. They were all accounted for at the end of their shift.
They offered me coffee and an egg sandwich.

And one last bit of excitement happened as the McGraw Hill building across
from my office building had a fire and was evacuated. It appears to have
been an isolated incident, not related to the disaster.



Ground Zero
After my 50 hour day on Wed/Thurs, I got a much appreciated 8 hour sleep.
At 6am on Friday 9/14, Doug (Fessenden) and I were supposed to fly to
Duluth for the North Shore Inline Marathon, but of course airports were
still closed here. Instead we used the day to further our volunteer
efforts.

Doug stopped by our local fire house to find out what was needed. It had
been thunderstorming and raining from the middle of the night and wasn't
due to stop until the evening. Rain gear was the biggest concern. At Home
Depot Doug bought a dozen heavy-duty rain suits. He decided that he wanted
to deliver them himself so we packed them up in our Transpacks and headed
down to Ground Zero.

We had to park and walk a ways, but as we got closer to Canal street, (the
"border") we began smelling the burning and seeing the smoke from the
smoldering mess. We had special credentials that gave us access to the
area, and began looking around for any fire fighters or policemen that were
in need of rain gear. One impeccably dresses officer was cold to the core
and had goose bumps. He was so thankful to have something to put on.

We traveled deeper and deeper through astounding levels of security. At
each level, the personnel changed from police, to volunteer workers,
engineers, medical teams and supplies, volunteer diggers, and finally the
hard hat area with FBI, firefighters and police. We stood directly in front
of the enormous pile that used to be the Twin Towers. We saw burned file
folders with documents still inside. Melted phone booths. Melted Walk/Don't
Walk signs. Gnarled industrial gauge steel beams. Cars burned so badly that
they appeared to have shrunken. Part of a building burying a fire truck.
Parts of melted doughnut carts that still had doughnuts in them.
Surrounding buildings with windows blown out but with the desks, papers and
personal effects still in tact. These are just a few small impressions of
an overwhelmingly huge, unthinkable sight. Words aren't sufficient. I just
keep shaking my head over and over. Every time I look at my boots, which
are covered with the light gray ashes/cement dust that is covering the
area, I wonder: whose desk is on my shoes? Whose telephone? Whose office
walls?

Doug, who had been frustrated by not being able to do something, was glad
to find something he could do. So after we handed out all of the rain gear
he went out to buy us hard hats, and got some of our local hardware stores
to donate some supplies. Then he came home to rest up for tomorrow's
effort.

I went directly home to shower, change, and Doug drove me back to the
subway so I could start my night shift at the Missing Persons Hotline.
Fellow skaters Liz Seward, Rich Rubel, Barrie Hartman and Henoch Getz all
showed up at the Hotline center. This time I worked on the outgoing calls.
Outgoing calls happen when we have checked the name against the latest
hospital patient list and the person still is not found. At that time we
call the family back to keep them updated, and to get additional
identifying features like tatoos, height, weight, etc. Occasionally we get
to do an outgoing call because we have found a possible match. I didn't get
to any of those last night. The overall tone in the families is that of
exhaustion, and in some cases desperation. Hope is still there, but they
are holding on by threads. As the days wear on, likelihood of rescue
diminishes.

After the outgoing call center shut down for the night (we don't call after
10pm) I returned to the incoming calls. Those phones were much less active
than they have been. I guess (hope) that most missing people have already
been reported. The Hotline is starting to become more of a general
information line. In that vein, people have had time to think and now we
are getting calls from people who are trying to come up with creative
solutions to digging through the pile. With due respect, some of the ideas
are a little far fetched, but the fact that people around the country are
spending time thinking these things through is a testament to the spirit
and support we are receiving.

Since the phones were slow, I moved to name checking. I found an exact
match! But as of yet it is inconclusive. The hospital we had listed for the
person doesn't have record of them so we may have the wrong hospital or the
wrong spelling of the name.

At around 3:30am I was too tired to continue and made my way home on the
subway. I rode the train with two police officers from my Queens precinct
and we spent the ride talking about what they were being asked to do, our
impressions, our thoughts. The whole NYPD is working 12 hour shifts every
day...on their feet. We ended the conversation by observing how this
tragedy has brought New Yorkers together in a way that is unprecedented,
and all smiled at the same time when we realized that we were talking about
ourselves. We never would have spoken to each other under normal
circumstances. Before parting they said, "you know where to find us if you
ever need anything".

It is now Saturday morning and Doug has already left for Ground Zero. I am
supposed to be sleeping, but I want to get out there so badly to continue
the effort that I can't sleep, and at the same time I'm too tired to be
useful. It's like the last third of a long race...you're tired and you feel
like stopping, but great things could happen if you just ignore all of that
and keep going. It's only temporary tiredness, but these are now the
crucial days. So, I'll probably relax a little while longer and eat some
breakfast, and then call Doug to go join him.

Saturday 9/15/01
I was too exhausted to be of any good today, and I couldn't get a hold of
Doug (Fessenden) on his cell phone down at Ground Zero.
Doug stayed the whole day by himself at Ground Zero and helped as much as
he could. He says that for every item that has been needed, people have
donated 100 times the amount they will ever need. Mounds and mounds of dog
food for the 10 or 20 dogs that are there. Piles and piles of snacks,
water, Gatorade that would take the whole city a year to eat and drink.
Boxes and boxes of T-shirts that could probably clothe every homeless guy
in the USA.

He also observed that there are so many people there trying to help that
they are starting to get in the way. Doug wants to dig. He wants to carry
buckets. He wants to be a hands-on worker, which is totally his nature.
Instead he came home early because he didn't want to be in the way. He was
dissappointed, but recognized that in this case, leaving WAS helping.

He brought home with with him impressions that will never leave him, and
that have been troubling him ever since.

Sunday 9/16/01
Renewed from my day of rest, I wanted to head down to Ground Zero. These
are the crucial days. If anyone is still alive, they have to be found soon,
and I wanted to do all I could to facilitate those who are capable of doing
that.

They opened more streets today, giving the public closer access to the
site. They still couldn't see anything, but people were flocking down to
the borders. A certain block radius has been frozen off as the crime scene
and is being guarded heavily by military and metal fencing. I think people
wanted to come there to feel connected to it and to reinforce the reality
of it. I can understand that, but I did notice that it really complicated
matters at the borders for the military and the police.

Despite my credentials, getting in to the newly Frozen Zone was very
difficult. I finally found a Red Cross station that needed help. It was a
public school that had been taken over by the Red Cross a block and a half
away from Building 7 (the third building to collapse). Since it is a major
Red Cross station, we were serving Firefighters, Police, FBI and Special
Services from all of the digging sights and from the landfill site. The
school cafeteria is being used to serve hot meals, cold drinks, coffee and
tons of snack food. The second floor is lined with military style cots and
blankets. The hallways are lined with massive amounts of everything
imaginable: soap, shampoo, toothbrushes and paste, baby powder, baby wipes,
deodorant, hair brushes, lotion, medical supplies, Advil, Bayer, T-shirts,
underwear, shirts, pants, work boots, work gloves, masks, goggles,
flashlights, hard hats, batteries...the list goes on and on. The only thing
we didn't have enough of was shoe innersoles. Lots of guys were asking for
those. And small work gloves for the women. They are working on getting
both of those items from the drop-off locations to the site today.

These brave, tireless crews that came to us were appreciative, polite, and
tough. "No innersoles? Oh well, let's go." "No hot food left? Okay, I'll
take a sandwich." "No cots available? I'll just use this chair." One guy
couldn't find a pair of work boots in his size to replace his holy, worn
out pair, so he grabbed some rubber Firefighter boots, added an arched
innersole and said, "This'll do. Thanks for your help". I felt bad that we
didn't have work boots for him. He was just happy to find something he
could make due with. Stamina, patience and tolerance...even after 6 days of
24 hour shifts. Every one of them had a smile to give and a sincere "thank
you". Many of them said that we were working as hard as they were and
thanked us for that. That can't be true, but it tells us that we are at
least helping.

Around 8pm the new Red Cross crew came in and some of us loaded into the
Red Cross van to be taken out of the Zone and up to the headquarters. It
was like negotiating a war zone, driving up on the sidewalks and going the
wrong way up one way streets to get out. We passes three different areas
where huge crowds were gathered to cheer every time they saw workers,
Police, Firefighers, Red Cross, Salvation Army, Military...it was really
touching to hear them cheering us as we left. And I thought to myself: I
can't dig. I can't work heavy equipment. But I can serve a hot plate of
food. Sift through boxes of gloves to find a small pair. Look at someone
limping and run to them with Advil. I can keep the cooler filled with
Gatorade and the tables stocked with energy bars. If it's helpful, I will
do it. And that's what those crowds were there doing, too. And it was heart
warming.

I stopped by the Missing Persons Hotline after that to see if I could help
out. I was again put on the call back phones where I had to call the
families and tell them that we still hadn't found their loved ones. With
some we were able to laugh a little. Others wanted to talk about how they
were coping. Others wanted practical information like phone numbers and
websites. One man, who's wife is missing, has a message for us all: instead
of thinking about the tragedy, go home and hug your loved ones and tell
them you love them. Let's all remember to do that since we are lucky enough
to be able.

The night ended playfully at Penn Station, where, without communicating, I
and two boys on the other platform played a life-sized musical instrument
together that spans both platforms. They didn't know that it was on both
sides, so it took them a while to figure out why their side was making
sounds even when they weren't touching it. Several people on my platform
were watching me "mess" with them and were giggling with me as the boys
walked around looking confused. Again, another indication of how New
Yorkers are a little more united. Under normal circumstances they may have
been amused, but never would have made eye contact with me and shared the
experience.

Monday September 17, 2001
After work at my "real" job, I went over to the Missing Persons Hotline.
Some changes have taken place over there. There are much fewer incoming
calls and many more outgoing call backs. The call backs themselves are
becoming more intense as families express their frustration, anguish,
devastation. In the data entry room, for the first time in a week, the TV
channel was temporarily switched to a movie instead of WTC coverage.
Debriefings of the Mental Health Care professionals are getting longer
(debriefing is something that the Red Cross does at the end of each shift
to give the Mental Heath Care folks a chance to talk about, and receive
support for, their own feelings after hours spent helping the families).
Time marches on and with it goes the possibility of finding people alive.
It's starting to sink in that soon it will no longer be a rescue operation
and everyone will have to turn their energy to healing, in spite of so many
unanswered questions. But it's hard to have to let go of that hope and the
energy it provides. The transition can be a little confusing.

On my way to the Hotline tonight, about a block away, I saw one of the many
missing person signs taped to a store front window. It had a picture of a
very handsome young man with a vibrant smile and laughing eyes. On the
poster was a description of him and what he was wearing on the terrible
Tuesday. I already knew all of the information. I had spoken to his brother
last night. But to see his face in the picture, full of life... There are
5000 of him now. It's inconceivable.

Ever dedicated and tireless skaters Liz Seward, Barrie Hartman, Rich Rubel
and Henoch Getz were already working by the time I arrived. Tonight we were
all entering data or checking names against hospital lists. I widen my name
searches by playing with spellings, reversing lastnames and firstnames,
using the middle name as a firstname...anything possible. Each time I move
a missing person form to the "done" pile I wonder, "Did I check every
possibility? Did I do enough?"

To get home tonight I splurged on a taxi. My driver was Pakistani and I had
25 minutes to talk with him. He has been in America for 11 years. I first
asked him how he has been treated since Tuesday. He said that people have
been polite and friendly. He expressed his sadness about the tragedy. Then
I asked him what he thought this whole thing was about. Who does he think
is responsible? He said he believes the Israelis did it as a set up to make
the Muslims look guilty. He told me that his family reports from Pakistan
that the two men we have seen plastered on our newspapers are "still
alive". Meaning that they weren't involved. Of course he talked about how
powerful the USA is and how some party's are angry that we are not using
that power to help them. He talked a lot about Middle Eastern history. He
also said that he and others like him would never be in America driving a
cab (a "low job" in his opinion) if Pakistan could find a leader who wasn't
corrupt, but that there isn't one to be found. He has a house on some
"beautiful land" in Pakistan and instead he is here driving a taxi far away
from home. When I paid him we shook hands and wished each other good luck.

Tuesday September 18, 2001
I was too tired to go to the Hotline after work today, but I know that
Barrie Hartman and Rich Rubel were there. I haven't heard if Henoch Getz or
Liz Seward were, but I suspect so. They are extremely dedicated. I used the
night to rest up so I can get back to it on Wednesday. One thing they keep
telling us is that we have to take care of ourselves so we can be effective
volunteers. I saw that theory in full play this weekend at one of the
Ground Zero Red Cross stations. The manager at this particular station has
not been home since Tuesday September 11 and refuses to leave until "this
whole thing is over with". Very admirable. On the other hand, he is biting
people's heads off, making some "interesting" decisions, and is unable to
stay organized. Clearly he needs some rest, but I completely understand his
sentiments. Every time I take a rest day from volunteering, I feel
frustrated that I have such limitations. If only I didn't have to eat and
sleep I could just keep going.

One call I took last night was from a daughter missing her mother, who is
in her 70's but refused to stop working. She has angina, emphysema and at
5'1", weighs 225 lbs. She was on one of the lower floors, I believe. The
daughter and her brother have a theory that their mother couldn't make it
down the stairs, said "screw it" and didn't bother. Limitations are hard to
accept in a situation like this.