The following is a short excerpt from the book, SKYSCRAPERMAN A True Story…
Crossing the Hudson River on the ferry from Staten Island, the attacks on the World Trade Center hit me like a spear in the chest. The Twin Towers, symbols of American prestige and dominance, and my long time friends, were just not there. In their place, two ghostlike flumes of smoke eerily drifted skyward.
I thought I’d be prepared; but I wasn’t.
The air smelled and tasted like melted plastic mixed with asbestos. Immediately my throat became sore and my eyes burned. I began having serious reservations about getting any closer. Nonetheless, once we docked, the energy of being so near the crime of our lifetime took over and I grabbed Anne-Marie’s hand and dragged her to the front of the line exiting the boat.
From the ferry building, getting to the site became its own challenge. Most of the streets were blocked by barricades manned by not so friendly looking soldiers displaying M16 rifles. Walking along a limited number of routes was the only option and many of the ferry passengers trailed behind us as we moved toward Ground Zero. Unfortunately, with each step, the stench increased. The Environmental Protection Agency and the City of New York may have proclaimed the air safe to breathe, but you could fool me. I had carcinogens just aching to enter my system. Why the government would lie about something so obvious was beyond me.
My passions were at a very high level and I volunteered to help in the dig. Anne-Marie, however, wouldn’t put up with that. “Danny, don’t do that to yourself. Let’s use our cameras and capture everything we can. Then let’s get out of here. This air has got to be really bad.”
* * * * *
I can’t point my camera fast enough. Everywhere there’s something – building fragments; mountains of pulverized concrete; a lady’s glove. All bear silent witness to the event that shook the planet.
“Hey, what are you doing? If you don’t put that camera away I’ll have you arrested!”
A booming voice jerks me back to the moment. The building I’m about to photograph has suffered major damage from when the towers collapsed. The entire face has been sheered away leaving rows of twisted steel beams protruding up to a point where they’re severed as if someone has drawn a straight line through the air.
It’s one thing to see it on TV. It’s another in person.
“Hey asshole, I’m talking to you!”
I look over to my left. Some guy in military fatigues is charging toward me, pointing his finger. What does he mean have me arrested? I’m just taking photos.
Is there something to hide?
“Did you hear what I said?” he screams in my face. Before I have a chance to react, he rips the camera from my hands and unloads the film.
“Now get the hell out of here.”
My first reaction is to give this moron a piece of my mind, but Anne-Marie grabs my arm.
“Come on Danny. Let’s go.”
She’s right, the better man walks away. Besides, Ground Zero is clearly not the place to confront an overzealous soldier. Without another word, Anne-Marie and I move on, joining a silent stream of rescue workers. The procession follows along a wall covered in photographs and messages to missing loved ones. I keep an eye out for the little girl I pulled from the wreckage in my dream, hoping to make some connection; but I’m unable to find her.
We flow with the rescue workers into a restaurant called Nino’s. Anne-Marie and I don’t feel much like eating so we just grab a couple of chairs and, like many of the people there, lean back and watch. As we’re leaving I write a note on a large sheet of canvas posted outside the door.
My thoughts and prayers to all those who died on 9/11… SpiderDan
*****
Read SKYSCRAPERMAN A True Story… It’s guaranteed to educate, surprise, and inspire you!
