Living in ground zero's back yard

Everyone who was alive at the time knows what they were doing when Pearl Harbor was bombed, President Kennedy was shot and, of course, when the World Trade Center and the Pentagon were attacked by Al Qaeda. What many people on the Range don’t know is the feelings of total frustration and fear that fell over the immediate area around New York City on that infamous day in September, 2001. Although we have lived on the Iron Range since 2003, at the time of the attack I, Ron Sr., was living in Robbinsville, N.J., a suburb between Trenton and Princeton, and Ron Jr. was living in Trenton, NJ.

What follows is our experience on that day and the events that unfolded immediately after the attacks. In Parts 2 and 3 we will tell you about our experiences during the aftermath.

Ron Smith, Sr.

I was driving to work that morning and I couldn’t help but noticing how crystal clear the sky was which was quite unusual for the east coast. I was running a little late and was trying to get to my job at a local newspaper before 9 a.m. I had the radio tuned to a local talk station (it was the Imus Show) when they interrupted the show to announce that an airplane had flown into one of the World Trade Center buildings. My reaction was probably the same as many other people, wondering what kind of idiot accidentally flies into something that big? Most Americans couldn’t comprehend that someone would deliberately do something that terrible.

At 8:55 a.m. I arrived at work and immediately went to my computer to check the web for an update. At that time no one in my building had heard anything yet (would you believe that this was a large daily newspaper in central New Jersey?) and they looked at me like I had a hole in my head when I told them what was happening. Being an outside advertising sales rep I usually checked in for messages and hit the road, but something in the back of my brain said to stick around that day. When I couldn’t find much info on the computer I ran down to the newsroom to see if I could find out more. I proceeded to turn all the televisions on to different stations and was puzzled why a particular New York station was off the air (they had their antenna on top of the WTC). I then called my wife to tell her what was going on. That would be the last time that day that I would be able to call her.

After a little while people started coming down to the newsroom. One person in particular started crying hys- terically that her sister was working in that building and another co-worker said they had a cousin working in building 2. It started to get pretty grim in there with a lot of sobbing. A little known fact is that of all the people killed on that terrible day, over 750 of them were from New Jersey. Only New York State had a higher number. After about a half an hour I tried to call my wife and found out that all the phone lines were tied up. It would be like that for the rest of the day up and down the east coast.

The reports coming into the paper from AP and other news services were pure speculation tinged with confusion. They were reporting that the airplane was anything from a small private plane up to a Boeing 747 and that the cause was anything from pilot error to terrorism. No one knew at this time exactly what was going on. It didn’t take long after that to know exactly what was going on when we were watching a live report on the TV and all of a sudden a 757 crashed into the second building. We all knew then what it was. The mood got pretty bad in the newsroom then and a lot of the sadness was replaced with rage and anger over who could have done such a thing. It was getting pretty crowded in the newsroom due to an all out call for all news staff to report to work to get a special edition in the works. I borrowed a TV from the publisher and we set it up in the advertising department to get out of their way and keep up on what was going on.

Shortly after that, when things were calming down as much as possible, we found out that the Pentagon was also hit. I can’t describe the feeling in the air then. A co-worker standing next to me burst out in tears and kept saying “What’s next?” I myself felt the tears starting and tried to hide it until I saw men bigger than me burst out in tears. It was then that I tried again to call my wife. No luck! Some calls were going through but not many, especially in the area that I lived in which was closer to New York. A few co-workers and I decided to go outside for a breath of fresh air and we couldn’t believe how quiet it was. The air over New Jersey is usually loaded with commercial jets making their approach to Newark and Philadelphia airports. We never realized the constant sounds they made until then when they were all grounded. After a while we were talking among ourselves about the events unfolding when all of a sudden this horrific screaming sound started getting louder and closer when what appeared were two jet fighters flying over about 1000 feet off the ground with the pedal to the metal. The sound almost made us have to change our pants. We found out later that they were F-16s from either the Maine or Minnesota National Guard patrolling the sky.

Since I couldn’t reach anyone by phone I decided to hop in my car and touch base with a couple of my customers. I was a major account rep that called on car dealers and I knew that they would want to change their ads to reflect the current events. Going down the road I couldn’t help but notice that there was no traffic to speak of. This was very unusual. The first place I stopped in, all the workers were huddled around the TV in the lounge and the manager was frantic because he had a relative that may have been there and the owner was scheduled to arrive on a flight later that day from Detroit (it took him 5 days to get back because of the canceled flights).

I couldn’t accomplish anything there.

“Of all the people killed on that terrible day, over 750 of them were from New Jersey. Only New York State had a higher number. After about a half hour I tried to call my wife and found out that all the phone lines were tied up. It would be like that for the rest of the day up and down the east coast.” – Ron Smith, Sr.

My next stop was at a large Chevy dealer and they also were watching the TV. I started watching it with them when an irate customer walked in the door and started screaming that he was there to buy a car and nobody was helping him. The General Manager asked the gentleman if he was aware of what was going on and he replied that he didn’t give a damn and it didn’t affect him. We all looked at each other in disbelief and the GM grabbed the idiot by the arm and told him to get out of his dealership or he would bodily throw him out. It was one of the few moments that day that brought satisfaction to me.

It didn’t take long to realize that I wasn’t going to get any work done that day and, quite frankly, my heart wasn’t in it anyway. I returned to work about 2 p.m. and asked the publisher if I could help in any way to get a special edition out since I couldn’t sell any ads that day. He told me that everything was under control and why not go home since nothing else could be done. Since I couldn’t get in touch with my wife all day I jumped at the chance. On my way home it was amazing all the businesses that were closed already. It seemed that the entire area had stopped dead in its tracks and started what would be a long period of grief, quickly followed up by never seen before patriotism and anger over the perpetrators. In the article for next week, I will go into detail about the good and the bad that came out of this tragedy during the following two weeks.

When I finally got home my wife was very upset because she had the same problem I had, not being able to get through by phone. She was very frightened about the events of the day and like so many other people, not knowing if more attacks would follow and if any biological or chemical agents would be used. I didn’t think of that before then and I assured her that it couldn’t happen where we were. Boy, was I ever wrong because the following week we would be ground zero for the anthrax attack, which I will discuss later in this series.

Later that evening we got in the car and drove to the train station in Hamilton, New Jersey which is a very busy station for commuters heading to and from New York. In the day time it’s very difficult to find a parking spot yet by 8 p.m. the lot is usually empty when the last commuter train comes in. We were there at approximately 8:30 p.m. and the lot was still more than half full. We hoped and prayed that it was only because people were not able to catch there trains because public transportation was not working in New York City after the attack. Unfortunately, this was only half true. Days, and even a couple weeks later, there were still cars, covered with dust, in the parking lot in the same spots they were in on Sept 11, waiting for owners that would never return.

Ron Smith, Jr.

Unlike my dad and mom who lived in a yuppy suburb of Trenton, I lived in a section of Trenton called Chambersburg. It was originally a quaint Italian neighborhood that had changed over the years and had become more diverse with Spanish, African Americans and Eastern Europeans residents and featured great restaurants, grocery stores, etc. Because of this, the reaction was very different than what my parents experienced in Robbinsville.

My normal regimen was to wake up, make coffee, and turn on the TV. I was self employed at the time and owned a small computer repair business a block from my home. For this reason I was lucky (or unlucky) enough to be watching the television when at 8:55 a.m. they broke in with the announcement that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center Tower 1. I was in total disbelief at this and immediately thought that it must have been terrorist related because an error of this magnitude could not happen. I immediately called my mom and she told me that dad had called her and told her to turn the TV on. I couldn’t take my eyes off the TV set even though I knew I had to open my shop at 10:00 a.m. It must have been 11 a.m. when I realized that I was still glued to the TV. I ran out the door to open my store and it was amazing what I saw. It seemed like everyone in the neighborhood was out on their front porches talking with their neighbors. Even people who had a grudge with each other were crying and holding each other. This neighborhood was mostly older first and second generation Italians that had children and grand children that were working in New York.

Once I opened my store I realized that I was wasting my time. The only people that came in were neighbors and fellow shop owners to talk about what was happening. Just like my father experienced, it seemed like everyone had a friend or relative that worked in the vicinity of the World Trade Center. The mood was very grim.

About 2 p.m. a young lady walked in my store and inquired about buying a computer. I showed her what I had for sale and she picked one out. She gave me her name and address and then asked if she could pay in installments. I informed her that I didn’t have a payment plan and everything was cash and carry. Then the strangest thing happened: she totally snapped, screaming at me that I wouldn’t sell it to her because she was black and Muslim. She then went totally off the wall and began to knock over my displays and racks, causing quite a bit of damage, all the time saying the same thing repeatedly - that I wouldn’t sell it to her because she was a Muslim. I managed to get her out of the store and locked the door behind her and called the police. Upon reflection, I realized she must have had a bad experience that day because of her religion and my refusing to sell her something on time must have been her final straw.

I closed the store and did not re-open until the following week. Nobody was in the mood to buy anything more than candles and American flags.

On my way home I stopped in my favorite watering hole (which I worked at part time) for a drink. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, which was totally out of character for that place. Everyone was glued to the TV except the guy I sat next to who was visibly emotionally upset. I asked if he was OK and he informed me that his girlfriend worked in Building 1 and he could not find anything at all about her whereabouts. He was sure she was gone. That will be a later story.

Editor’s note: The Smiths will share the rest of their story in Parts 2 and 3 in the Sept. 10 and Sept. 17 editions of Hometown Focus. - Jean

Ron Smith, Sr. and Ron Smith, Jr. live in Virginia, MN.