NEW YORK
By Robert Marking
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Friday Morning, September 14, 2001
A cold drizzle sprays relentlessly. There is a sense of anger at the rain and the cold for concern that it will hamper rescue efforts downtown. But the rain continues to fall lightly as if to cleanse the city of the grayish dust that has spread across the streets of all of its boroughs. That dust from downtown that somehow settled discretely into our throats - to be shared like communion - regardless of who you were, where you lived, poor or rich; blind to race and religion. An inescapable reminder that something inside all of us died on Tuesday. But much like the warm weather that melts the snow in the winter, so does today's rain wash away the dust. On day four, Manhattan is a city divided, its lower part "downtown" Closed to cars and pedestrians below Canal Street. For those of us uptown, we are witnesses to the disaster through our TVs, radios and computers, just like the rest of the world. By all appearances New York is back to normal: the traffic, the noise, the hustle and bustle of shoppers, construction cranes, drills, the sound of a transit bus door closing behind its passengers ,the subway rattle, car alarms, the lights of Broadway, steam rising from the streets, the sea of yellow taxis descending the avenues. Even laughter has returned today.
But then there are the sirens. Oh, the sirens. So accustomed are New Yorkers to sirens, but nothing like this. Why do these sound different? So many more than we've ever heard before, their urgency multiplied with each day of rescue. They herald messages of hope above the hum of the city. Where we used to cover our ears in annoyance, we now embrace the sirens as if we are doing our part to escort these emergency vehicles to their duty - vans, cars, trucks, busses, mobile units, SUVs, some hauling equipment the likes we've never seen before. One minute a convoy of 20 vehicles competes with a taxi for a lane - another minute a lone NYPD car abruptly turns and stops to cut off entry to a street. The country may be at war, but in New York we are at home. Is this the future of our city? At least today Grand Central Station hasn't been evacuated for fear of a bomb as each day prior - or at least not yet.
Although our laughter has returned it is muted for the time being. Somewhere we are all collectively depressed. It's not a depression in the traditional sense. We are not sick - rather we are sickened. We hurt -although the pain finally feels dull. Even the strongest man has cried by now. Yes we are healing, but as of today the pain is still inoperable. Everywhere around you there is a reminder that the horrible events of Tuesday happened right here in our great city. A walk to work from Columbus Circle to 42nd and Park reminds us that we are at ground zero.
Times Square: Flags are beginning to sprout like wild flowers after a forest fire. One notices on people's clothing buttons and badges and other hints of red, white and blue as New Yorkers attempt to express their solidarity with the nation. So many US flags accompanied by impromptu messages of hope painted onto large sheets and draped across scaffolding of construction sites where new skyscrapers are being born. How proud we somehow feel about our great American skyscraper. Where Broadway meets Seventh Avenue: the Morgan Stanley midtown tower is using its large outdoor signs - normally reserved for rolling stock quotes - to disseminate the toll-free telephone number where employees' loved ones can check on their status.
5th Avenue: Saks Fifth Avenue department store - the very showcase of American decadence and class distinction - is reduced to a common denominator with the city's 8 million inhabitants. Dozens of display windows at street level wrap the building's block-long faAade, but where is the Christian Dior display enticing us to envy those that can afford the frivolous scent of gold? Replaced. Replaced by flat black panels providing a solemn background; each window dressed with two simple words "With Sadness". At the corner windows at 49th and 50th streets, against the black backdrop, there are two magnificent bouquets of white lilies. To see the windows of Saks dressed in black is to imagine the Christmas and Easter displays packed into a box and stuffed away in the attic.
42nd Street: Grand Central Station - across from GlobeCast's Manhattan sales office. Busy commuters are at a stand still in front of the many entrances to the station. The station is not closed. They are taking a moment to read the growing number of posted signs that announce the missing; the kind of homemade signs you're used to seeing on telephone polls to announce a garage sale or a family kitty that's missing. But these messages are far from the occasional neighborhood bulletin. These are dire pleads to help locate a missing loved one. I too am drawn to the haunting messages that have begun to eerily wallpaper our city and our souls. I reflect on the two people missing from my own apartment building and wonder whether their names count among the notices in front of me. Allow me to share but a few of the notices that deserve our moment of pause and reflection. Missing: Amy O'Doherty Please help us locate Laurence "Larry" Nedell Please!!! If you see this person! Missing: Mario Nardone Missing: Mike Zinzi Missing: Shakila Yesner and Nural H. Miah Please!!! If you see this person! Missing: Joseph Mostrulli
Friday Afternoon: The sun is back out in Manhattan; the temperature is still cool. It is just this combination of low humidity and late afternoon sun that polishes the tops of buildings in New York, as if a jeweler dipped the skyline in silver and gold. This is the time of day when the World Trade Center towers took on their full beauty and splendor. These two magnificent towers that spanned from Church to West Streets and Liberty to Vesey Streets were more than massive skyscrapers symbolizing America's trade and economic might. They were a marvel of logistics and engineering, and among the finest examples of architecture from the "modernist" period the world has ever known; minimalist in their styling, with delicate Italian Gothic-tipped windows at the base.
The following excerpt from the book Manhattan Skyscrapers by Eric. P. Nash nobly describes the World Trade Center in all its excellence:
"Completed in 1973 and 1974 by Minoru Yamasaki and Emery Roth & Sons, its sheer bulk is difficult to take in: two sheer, flat-topped, 110-story,1,362- and 1,368-foot-tall towers, which together contain an unheard-of10million square feet of office space. Each floor takes up an entire acre because of the column-free floor plates. The list of construction materials reads like a list of war preparations:43,000 windows, or 600,000 sq. ft. of glass; 200,000 tons of structural steel (more than was used for the Verrazano Narrows Bridge that connects Staten Island with Brooklyn); 6 acres of marble; 40,000 door knobs; 200elevators; 1,200 restrooms. The aluminum-alloy skin is warm and visually engaging as a reflector for the broad skies over Lower Manhattan. At sunset, the transparent glass settles in to match the color of the sun." On Tuesday, September 11th the Empire State Building regained its crown as the tallest building in New York. She too weeps at the loss of her bigger sisters downtown. They are gone from the skyline forever and it just rips my heart out. We have all lost so much this week. With these words I have only scratched the surface of what it is like to be in New York today. Thank you to everyone for your emails and phone calls. Robert Marking
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