Memories from 9/11/01

9/12/2011

First time blogger, so where am I going with this? Loosely, I recently got the urge to post stuff related to two of my favorite things—radio and music. Here with this blog, it’s not as if I have anything vitally important to say. Just every so often I need to share my thoughts, even if only the ether is listening. And the ether is a pretty important medium for the transmission of sound, so that grounds me back to these earthly pleasures.

A bit about me-- I’m a participant, not a spectator. If something needs doing I’d rather do it myself than wait for someone else to come help me. And I have a great desire to help others. Also I’m an unrepentant procrastinator, good at starting (and sometimes not finishing) multiple projects. The intent is there. As a Gemini, the gravitational pull toward the arts and media has been very strong in me.  The ol’ split brain really works well in me, although I have a hard time explaining how. Maybe this is the time (from time to time). But don’t expect my writing to be any great work of art. This is just the place where I plan to put down thoughts about things that appeal to me (and hopefully some of you).

I didn’t intend to mark the tenth anniversary of the attacks on 9/11/01, but this is as good a place as any to start my radio story.  It’s probably a good idea to write down my memories of that day, however strong they seem just ten years afterward, because my brain is like on a sieve and one day these thoughts will be gone. Anyway…

On the brilliant blue-sky September Tuesday that was 9/11/01, I was doing my usual day-off-wake-up-slow routine. Grabbed a cup of coffee and wandered into my home office to turn on WNYC-FM for NPR news and a little classical music before starting my day. Steve Sullivan broke in to the news to report a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I thought to myself, ”What a terrible shame. I’ll bet the station’s going to go off the air.” And it did a few moments later. So I switched to WNYC-AM, and went into the living room to turn on the TV, called my parents to reassure them I was home and okay (they freaked out during the first WTC bombing because they didn’t hear from me that day), and went to tell my husband Peter what happened.

CNN was showing the tower burning, and I still didn’t register how bad things would get. Fixing breakfast, I heard that a second plane had hit. I switched the TV between CNN and NY1 with WNYC in the background to get more info. When the first tower fell, NY1’s reporter Kristen Shaughnnesy (Sp?) had been giving a live report. Her feed went dead. For several agonizing minutes the on air hosts looked despairingly at each other, calling out her name a few more times. I thought of my co-workers at WNYC and wondered if any of them had gotten injured or worse. Shaughnnesy did re-appear by pay phone, but that may have pushed me to call in to work and offer my help.

I called the WNYC newsroom, and our president Laura Walker answered the phone. She sounded truly frightened. Walker was trying to help answer phones. I asked if I could help in any way, and she handed me over to the news director Kevin (whose last name I now don’t remember). He told me the building was being evacuated and he didn’t know where they would all go. I suggested the NPR news bureau, which was in a small office off 42^nd & 2^nd.  I called NPR and Manya, a former WNYC host who works there, answered the phone. When I told her what was happening with WNYC, she said she’d have to get permission first but thought it was a good idea. She called back to say they’d agreed, and I got Kevin back on the phone in my other ear, relaying the message. After it was settled I asked if they needed more help, but Kevin said to stay by the phone at home. I didn’t hear back for an excruciating amount of time. I then called back and was told to go to the NPR bureau with my DAT recorder, mics, cables, whatever I could use for a remote kit. Peter had also decided to go in to help at the NY Times, where he was a copy editor.

Getting there from our upper west side apartment was more difficult than I thought. People were milling around, rushing off to places they felt safe. It was utter chaos public transportation-wise. Subways had been shut down. Busses were utterly jammed. I managed to cram myself into a downtown bus, then walking across town on 42^nd Street.

When I got to the bureau, lots more people were milling about but with a sense of purpose. Manya was taking care of reporters’ pieces. My friend & co-worker Ed Haber had already fashioned a makeshift studio in somebody’s office. NPR’s Manoli Wetherell and Neil Rauch were trying to figure out how to connect to WNYC’s transmitter. I helped in any way I could. WNYC’s Mark Hilan and his then fiancée Amy Eddings snuck back into the evacuated Municipal Building where the studios were and continued broadcasting for what, 12 hours straight? What a magnificent job of holding things together! (He and Amy ended up spending the night in the building, even thought the power had gone down.) Someone else eventually took over in the evening, and my DAT recorder was put into constant use archiving the events as they unfolded.

Hours flew by. Ed and I were extremely worried that our boss Steve Shultis hadn’t been heard from since the attacks. Tuesdays were his transmitter maintenance days. Luckily he’d done the work Monday and was simply stuck in a subway train for hours. Ed & I and the other engineers were trying to improve on the broadcast conditions. I also was answering phones. I vividly remember getting someone on the line who’d said that bloody papers had fallen in her family’s yard. “Where should we bring them?” the caller asked. I had no words, so I asked Kevin, who wisely advised me to tell her to take them to the police. After a while all those calls and the bureau frenzy blurred to where I can’t describe anything more specific that happened.

Shortly after 9pm I noticed there was nothing broadcasting on the AM station. We made a few calls and I think we got Mark and Amy, who told us the power went down. Ed and I thought, “That’s it. We can’t do any more from this end.” John Keefe, who would become news director, was told this and made us realize that we had to get the station back on at all costs. We got numbers from Steve of every engineer or co-worker living in NJ who might be able to drive to the transmitter in the Meadowlands and I (and I think Ed too) began calling. A few didn’t answer their phones, and one person hung up (she admitted to being deep asleep) before I reached Rich Kozoil, one of our contract engineers. Rich, understandably, didn’t want to leave his two young children home alone (his wife was stranded in another state) but he finally agreed. He rigged up a telephone handset to plug into a patchbay; we called the number and were back in business. (The line dropped once again after that and poor Rich had to go back to reconnect).

Rich Kozoil's solution to keeping WNYC-AM on air

In the wee hours of the morning John Keefe said it was okay to leave. When Ed and I got to the street it was completely deserted. What an eerie quiet for New York City. Hardly a car going down the street. Nobody was out walking either. As deserted as a scene out of a SciFi monster movie, only the monster this day was real. Couldn’t get a cab—there were few going by. Ed walked a good way with me. Just about when I thought I’d have to walk the whole way home a cab came down the street and I put my hands together as if praying, begging the driver to stop. He did, and I was so grateful I gave him a big tip. He was on his way home and afraid to stop, but something made him stop for me.

Climbing the 6 flights of stairs to my apartment I stumbled into Peter’s arms. We hugged and cried. We survived one of the most difficult days of our lives, and amazingly none of our friends and family had been injured or died. I spent the day and most of the night doing what I love doing best—helping people get through their lives via the medium of radio.

We are truly blessed, and continue to see more birthdays with music and media in our hearts.