This is a repost of a site I originally posted after our first experience at Ground Zero. I updated a few items and added a few new photos from recent visits to the area.
Sunday, October 14, 2001
In our effort to begin healing, Jenni and I ventured to Manhattan to see what had changed, and what had not changed.
We came in to Manhattan from the north, having spent the night in Tarrytown, NY, where we made a traditional stop at the Old Dutch Church, made famous by Washington Irving's story "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow". As we approached the city, the empty skyline was obvious.
We arrived at the Port Authority parking garage. After having our van searched by two policemen, and my I.D. checked on their computer, we were allowed to enter and park. There was a large memorial in the Port Authority concourse. Photos, flowers, candles, notes, prayers, children's drawings, etc., dedicated to the Port Authority workers who were killed. On the speakers, recorded bagpipes softly played "Amazing Grace".
Their main office was in the World Trade Center.
We walked out to the street. Passed the statue of Ralph Kramden, the character made famous by Jackie Gleason on the TV show "The Honeymooners". Ralph was a bus driver and Port Authority employee. Here the city looked unchanged, except for all the American flags. They were on the billboards in Times Square, on cars, trucks, apartment windows, store displays, painted on walls, planted in yards! There were street vendors, selling post cards and framed photos of the former World Trade Center along with Tee shirts with various slogans of peace, patriotism, and deep anger.
Now and then as we headed south, we would come upon a familiar vista which would normally point to the towers which anchored the tip of Manhattan. But instead, there was a strange emptiness. Made stranger because it's now hard to imagine what used to be there.
We walked through The Village, SoHo and Tribeca. Many of the east-west streets were blocked off by police barracades. Gradually we noticed a distinct, crunching sensation under our feet as we walked. It was the dust! The gray, dusty grit got thicker and thicker. It's still evident in the streets and gutters. Many of the buildings and windows are still unwashed. The grit and dust are the pulverized remains of everything which was in the WTC. The violence of the fires and collapse turned most of the building's mass into powder. Steel, glass, concrete, and very likely, people. I watched as a street cleaner drove by us. The water and brushes mixed up a thick, opaque, gray, milk, which washed into the clear puddles in the gutters, creating blooming clouds and swirls. Everything seemed to have a profound, double-meaning.
We walked down West Broadway and noticed another barricade a few blocks ahead. As we got closer, we could tell that what was beyond was not quite right. West Broadway ends at the World Trade Center complex. Ahead, in the middle of the street was the massive, windowless shell of WTC building 5 or 6. The barricade was covered in the familiar collection of flags, photos, prayers, ribbons and drawings. Two policemen were posted at the temporary gate, chatting with the onlookers, and occasionally opening the gate to allow recovery equipment in and out. Hanging from a second story window, was a home-made banner which read something to the effect of "NO PHOTOS! GO HOME!". I could understand their sentiment. Most of the people, including us, had cameras, although I was still uncomfortable and debating whether taking photos would be considered disrespectful. We did see people having their pictures taken with the ruins behind them. And yes, some WERE smiling, as if they were in Disneyland. But the vast majority of people were very quiet, slow moving and stunned. I decided I would take some photos, mainly because the scene was just not registering! I knew what it looked like on TV, but the actual site was too overwhelming. And frankly, I wanted to be able to prove to myself that I was actually there.
I didn't want to linger too long, or be morbid, but I needed to come to terms with the reality I was facing. I examined the scene and explained to myself what it was I was seeing. I was looking at the ruins of a place we loved and visited often. It was now a mass grave of at least 2700 people. They were still in there. Two airliners crashed here. They were still in there. A war has started over this. This used to be a pleasant, "permanent" place, now it's an international symbol of sorrow and unimaginable evil. And a month later, it was still smoldering and smoking! I had prepared myself for profound sadness at the sight of the murderous attack, but instead I found myself extremely angry. My jaw hurt from clenching my teeth every time I looked down a side street to see a new composition of destruction brought on by the intolerance and anger of religious fascists. It no longer matters to me why they feel the way they do, there is no justification for this!
I think it was at Warren Street, when we turned to walk down Broadway. I gave one last glance toward West Broadway. The gate was opened again, and a huge flatbed truck pulled out carrying a tremendous section of tower wall. The distinctive architectural details were still evident. Regularly spaced, narrow, rectangular windows. Windows people used to work under and gaze through to the city far below. We passed city hall, which was very well protected by troopers and vehicles, and we passed the Woolworth Building. In 1913 it was the tallest building in the world, and now, ironically, it is once again one of the tallest structures on lower Manhattan. It was covered with the gray dust of its fallen neighbors. We arrived at the intersection of Fulton and I had to let out a pained groan when I looked down the street!
There were the ruins of WTC 5 (The black building in the upper right of the photo). And, protruding from it, a huge section of wall from one of the towers. It was hanging as if it was frozen in time, still in the process of falling. Again, the regularly spaced, narrow, rectangular windows.
In the center distance, across the West Street Highway, you can see the shattered atrium on the Financial Center Wintergarden. If the North Tower was still there, it would have completely filled the bright, open area.
