Me and Manhattan. Part 2…. Eventually they found me a room at the Metro Hotel in Mid-Manhattan. Quick freshen up, then I set out to walk towards the disaster area. I was in exploring mode, not intending to file any reports right now, just finding my feet. First I had a beer and a sandwich in the ‘Cheers’ type bar next to the hotel. They never charged me at all when I offered to pay. They said it was 10 blocks (or was it 20) to lower Manhattan. Took me hours. At Canal Street close to Chinatown the first barrier was in place, guarded by state troopers, police and thousands of people just hanging out there. Nothing really to see apart from the smoke rising into the air some distance away. It was late so I took the subway back to Mid Manhattan. Getting out, the station was virtually empty, though in dark shadowy areas I could hear faint mutterings. Most of the gates were locked. I admit I felt afraid, and waited for a while to work out a plan B, would I leap onto the line should I be attacked, that kind of thing. I carefully walked along what seemed an endless platform and found an open gate. Back to the safety and the above ground streets of Manhattan. Early morning and work to be done so back to Canal Street and that barrier. ‘I’m a journalist from Liverpool and I need to get to Ground Zero’ I said to a cop. He pointed toward a police precinct a few hundred yards away. Strolling up the steps of what was a Police Precinct Building it was like something from Hill Street Blues, looking disorganised with people just milling around, some of them looking like they were under arrest. A desk sergeant saw me waiting and I could tell from his face he wasn’t about to smile and say …. Hey Be Careful Out There. The thought almost brought a laughing smile to my own face. Yea, and what can I do for you Sir. Oh, I need a pass to get to ground Zero. Well you ain’t getting no pass here pal and if any of you reporters come in here again I’ll go crazy. I took that as a No. Walking down the street I spotted a barrier with a sole immaculately uniformed cop manning it. ‘Excuse me Captain can you help me, I’m a journalist from Liverpool and I want to get to Ground Zero.’ ‘I’m not a captain sir!’ ‘Oh, well you sure look like a police captain’ I responded in my best ‘crawling’ voice. ‘You need an NYPD pass to go any further’ ‘So where do I get such a pass, cap ….officer? ‘From NYPD headquarters at One Plaza’ ‘So where is One Plaza?’ He pointed down the street and just said …it’s right down there, quite a few blocks away on the left’ ‘Ok, officer. Well I need to get to Ground Zero which is down there past your barrier, and to get down there I need an NYPD pass, and to get to police HQ I need to get down the road you just said I can’t go down. If I can’t go down there to get my pass, how can I get to Ground Zero.’ ‘You have a problem sir, Liverpool huh!’ ‘Well if I was to look uptown for 10 seconds and you were to walk behind me, why I wouldn’t see you, would I sir?’ ‘Yea, but if I go in there without papers and I’m spotted by troops looking for looters…..’ ‘I’m already counting sir, I’m at 9’. So off I went at what was without doubt the most incredible mile walk of my life. It was like a huge Hollywood disaster set, a time warp where time was frozen. Kerbside bagel stalls, covered in dust, with un-served bagels still visible, cars covered in dust, the roads and pavements covered in this fine dust, streets that a few days ago had been in the shadows of the twin towers. There were no people on the streets, just the occasional site of a shopkeeper behind locked doors cleaning up. I heard a vehicle approaching. It was carrying armed troops. My heart misses a few beats, what if they stop me, I don’t even have a press card. Although it is all so silent in my mind I can imagine the screams of shock and horror as though I was there on 9/11. In front of me was a second barrier with more cops and troops. I was able to reach One Plaza without trying to negotiate through this guarded area. At One Plaza there was a queue of journalists. Most like me had travelled from around the world to eavesdrop on this horror of horrors. I joined the queue and realised I would be here for hours. A female cop with a loud Brooklyn Voice walked up and down the queue making an announcement. She didn’t need a tannoy. ‘Ladies and Gentleman please have your passport, press card and a letter from your commissioning news organ. If you do not have all of this information please leave the queue as you will not be accepted for an NYPD pass.’ She repeated this so many times as, after three hours, I got close to the front. Well I have a UK passport, I have my door entry card from work and I have my mouth. I showed my passport and spoke in my best British accent (I’m British you know, etc). ‘You ain’t got no letter, no press pass, nothing? ‘ Well you see officer, in Liverpool I’m so well known nobody ever asked me for a Press Pass, but if you ring our City Hall and ask to speak to the Lord Mayor, why he’ll vouch for me straight away.” She stirs at me, says hmm, then says OK, here’s your pass. I must have had the application form with the biggest blank spaces of anybody in New York. This NYPD pass was like gold dust, opening doors closed to lesser mortals. Now for Ground Zero…… that’s next time.
Posted on: Fri, 12 Sep 2014 10:27:08 +0000
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