Most people remember exactly what they were doing on the morning of September 11th, 2001
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What does a set of pictures of the West Bottoms of KCMO have to do with 911? For one thing, that is where I was when I found out about the attacks on New York and Washington. For another, and not to sound narcissistic, it was my point of view. There are as many points of view as there were people that day. Tragically, there were way too many people who's point of view with the event was way too intimate, and who's suffering I cannot even to begin to fathom. I do what I do, which is this journal of my experiences and interests. I do not pretend that it is any more significant than the next persons. I always say that day leaves me speechless. It still does. But everyone has a shared trauma with that day, and that time, and talking through it, no matter how insignificant the experience is good therapy. My therapy is to retrace my steps of that morning, only this time with a camera.
On that day, ten years ago I live in a loft in the west bottoms of Kansas City. I got up early in the morning. I was on an exercise kick. Summer had not yet ended. That Tuesday was beautiful, with clear blue skies.
It was always hot, or always cold. The air in the West bottoms often had a weird chemical smell, or a smell of sickening sweet rolls or sometimes a smell of wet dog food. There were many trains. There used to be a crossing gate behind my window that would malfunction and ding ding ding all night. I love the trains, but I hated the crossing the kept me awake too often. The tracks and the cross buck are now gone. I had the back room of the building, with my cat Jack, who is still with us, but is now very old and frail. In the spring and in the fall, the temperature would reach the rare perfect conditions when hardy loft denizens would finally feel comfortable. September 11, 2001 was hot.
I wanted to go by a used tire place and ask about rims for my Subaru.
Many artists have studios in the West Bottoms. Most of the time, it is a pretty lonesome place. Much of the industry is gone, many of the buildings have seen better days and a lot of space is being used for storage. Most Kansas citians know this area from their visits to the haunted houses every August through Halloween.
The trains become your friends in the bottoms. We know them well. You can tell a person who has spent a lot of time down here, because they know every shortcut around the district without being stopped by a train. It is more difficult now they are rebuilding the bridge. Strangers to the area are easy to pick out -- they are the ones waiting at the crossings for the trains. I have the strange habit of waiting for trains with a camera, but that does not mean I am a stranger to the bottoms.
I past Weld Wheel, which had a huge warehouse about a block and a half from the building I was in. Weld was a huge glitzy building. It is now sad to see it empty and crumbling.
9th street in the West bottoms had a reputation then. There were a lot of hookers at night. Mark, my former roommate told me that if you ever saw one up close, you would lose all romantic notions about the trade.
The used tire place was an ugly grey single story building. I don't know why I thought they might have rims for an 88 Subaru GL. I didn't have much hope that they would, but I thought I'd try. Besides, it was another excuse to walk and explore.
I entered, and there was a help desk at the right of the door. There were many tires inside and a lot of men in grey uniforms working, sweating, hauling -- hoofing. The radio was on. I asked a guy at the desk about the rims. He had to check. For a moment, I thought they might actually have rims. While I waited, I tuned in the radio. A lot of times, you might hear music, or, usually sports. This time, it was news. I thought that was odd. I listened more. I recognized the voice -- it was Peter Jennings. It was too loud in there to hear what he was saying. Peter Jennings on the radio was really odd to me. The clerk came back -- "naw we don't have rims." I asked him if he knew why Peter Jennings was on the radio -- what was going on? He told me very nonchalantly, that a world trade center somewhere had been bombed, then he went back to work like it was nothing at all. I thought that it was odd, but I would finish my walk, and find out what news story was going to be a part of my day that day.
The west bottoms can be a very peaceful place at times -- a good place to walk and think.
As I walked, I thought more and more about Peter Jenings' voice on the radio...
The disturbing thoughts nagged at me. I felt paranoid, and tried to put it out of my head as just crazy thoughts. Peter Jennings would not be on the radio if it wasn't big. It was too late for me to turn back, I had to finish my walk.
There's desperation, loneliness, familiarity, irony, poetry, nothing and everything in the West Bottoms.
You can really think while walking down here -- perhaps too much. I quickened my pace home. I couldn't imagine that my paranoia fell way too short of the reality.
Walking this route again, at night, with a friend, is different and haunting. I haven't walked this route since that day. It was much cooler this evening. That morning, it was cool early, but started to get hot as the sun got higher.
I finally got back to the loft. I had a small tv. I got the only station I could, and I saw the first image, which was a familiar skyline with smoke rising above it. I recognized it from a trip I took a year before in October.
The twin towers were gone. I called my Dad. I woke up my roommate and had him turn on his tv. I threw a bunch of stuff in my car and bugged out. I was looking for a gas station. In a panic, I was picturing long lines and gas price gouging. The streets of Kansas City were normal, like nothing had happened. It was very surreal.
I called work. I was told to come in at noon. The news desk sounded like chaos on the phone. This was not the day I had imagined.
As an editor, it was my job to take the scripts, and match the video to the words. For the most part, the day was one of watching and rolling on News feeds from the networks. I had heard about level one cut ins from the network. I thought that is what you would see when the apocalypse happened. On this day, it was all level one.
I spent much time sweating under pressure in my edit bay. It is now under renovation. On 9-11, it was actually a fairly easy day for news editors. We took news feeds from the network. What little there was to cut locally was being done mostly in the field by the crews. When we had a chance to cut in to national news casts, everything was live. Kansas City International Airport truly became an international airport. The Runways were crowded with Jumbo jets.
Times Square, on the live feeds was completely empty. I've never seen that. We worked late that day. It was over very quickly. Things slowly returned to normal that week. We were all glued to the sets, even though the news was often repeated over and over again. I went to Kelly's in Westport. Usually there is sports on all the sets. It took a long time for sports to overtake the news.
That was my reflection on that day. I do not intend to belittle anybodies real experience with the events of that day, rather, I just wanted to write about my tiny corner of the 'Pale Blue Dot.' I would think that it in many ways is representative of many peoples experiences.
Subscribe to SvobodaKC
What does a set of pictures of the West Bottoms of KCMO have to do with 911? For one thing, that is where I was when I found out about the attacks on New York and Washington. For another, and not to sound narcissistic, it was my point of view. There are as many points of view as there were people that day. Tragically, there were way too many people who's point of view with the event was way too intimate, and who's suffering I cannot even to begin to fathom. I do what I do, which is this journal of my experiences and interests. I do not pretend that it is any more significant than the next persons. I always say that day leaves me speechless. It still does. But everyone has a shared trauma with that day, and that time, and talking through it, no matter how insignificant the experience is good therapy. My therapy is to retrace my steps of that morning, only this time with a camera.
On that day, ten years ago I live in a loft in the west bottoms of Kansas City. I got up early in the morning. I was on an exercise kick. Summer had not yet ended. That Tuesday was beautiful, with clear blue skies.
It was always hot, or always cold. The air in the West bottoms often had a weird chemical smell, or a smell of sickening sweet rolls or sometimes a smell of wet dog food. There were many trains. There used to be a crossing gate behind my window that would malfunction and ding ding ding all night. I love the trains, but I hated the crossing the kept me awake too often. The tracks and the cross buck are now gone. I had the back room of the building, with my cat Jack, who is still with us, but is now very old and frail. In the spring and in the fall, the temperature would reach the rare perfect conditions when hardy loft denizens would finally feel comfortable. September 11, 2001 was hot.
I wanted to go by a used tire place and ask about rims for my Subaru.
Many artists have studios in the West Bottoms. Most of the time, it is a pretty lonesome place. Much of the industry is gone, many of the buildings have seen better days and a lot of space is being used for storage. Most Kansas citians know this area from their visits to the haunted houses every August through Halloween.
The trains become your friends in the bottoms. We know them well. You can tell a person who has spent a lot of time down here, because they know every shortcut around the district without being stopped by a train. It is more difficult now they are rebuilding the bridge. Strangers to the area are easy to pick out -- they are the ones waiting at the crossings for the trains. I have the strange habit of waiting for trains with a camera, but that does not mean I am a stranger to the bottoms.
I past Weld Wheel, which had a huge warehouse about a block and a half from the building I was in. Weld was a huge glitzy building. It is now sad to see it empty and crumbling.
9th street in the West bottoms had a reputation then. There were a lot of hookers at night. Mark, my former roommate told me that if you ever saw one up close, you would lose all romantic notions about the trade.
The used tire place was an ugly grey single story building. I don't know why I thought they might have rims for an 88 Subaru GL. I didn't have much hope that they would, but I thought I'd try. Besides, it was another excuse to walk and explore.
I entered, and there was a help desk at the right of the door. There were many tires inside and a lot of men in grey uniforms working, sweating, hauling -- hoofing. The radio was on. I asked a guy at the desk about the rims. He had to check. For a moment, I thought they might actually have rims. While I waited, I tuned in the radio. A lot of times, you might hear music, or, usually sports. This time, it was news. I thought that was odd. I listened more. I recognized the voice -- it was Peter Jennings. It was too loud in there to hear what he was saying. Peter Jennings on the radio was really odd to me. The clerk came back -- "naw we don't have rims." I asked him if he knew why Peter Jennings was on the radio -- what was going on? He told me very nonchalantly, that a world trade center somewhere had been bombed, then he went back to work like it was nothing at all. I thought that it was odd, but I would finish my walk, and find out what news story was going to be a part of my day that day.
The west bottoms can be a very peaceful place at times -- a good place to walk and think.
As I walked, I thought more and more about Peter Jenings' voice on the radio...
The disturbing thoughts nagged at me. I felt paranoid, and tried to put it out of my head as just crazy thoughts. Peter Jennings would not be on the radio if it wasn't big. It was too late for me to turn back, I had to finish my walk.
There's desperation, loneliness, familiarity, irony, poetry, nothing and everything in the West Bottoms.
Flanged wheels on steel rails brought this area its reason for being -- that, and the long ago forgotten slaughterhouse trade. People used to live in small houses and work down here.
You can really think while walking down here -- perhaps too much. I quickened my pace home. I couldn't imagine that my paranoia fell way too short of the reality.
Walking this route again, at night, with a friend, is different and haunting. I haven't walked this route since that day. It was much cooler this evening. That morning, it was cool early, but started to get hot as the sun got higher.
I finally got back to the loft. I had a small tv. I got the only station I could, and I saw the first image, which was a familiar skyline with smoke rising above it. I recognized it from a trip I took a year before in October.
The twin towers were gone. I called my Dad. I woke up my roommate and had him turn on his tv. I threw a bunch of stuff in my car and bugged out. I was looking for a gas station. In a panic, I was picturing long lines and gas price gouging. The streets of Kansas City were normal, like nothing had happened. It was very surreal.
I called work. I was told to come in at noon. The news desk sounded like chaos on the phone. This was not the day I had imagined.
As an editor, it was my job to take the scripts, and match the video to the words. For the most part, the day was one of watching and rolling on News feeds from the networks. I had heard about level one cut ins from the network. I thought that is what you would see when the apocalypse happened. On this day, it was all level one.
I spent much time sweating under pressure in my edit bay. It is now under renovation. On 9-11, it was actually a fairly easy day for news editors. We took news feeds from the network. What little there was to cut locally was being done mostly in the field by the crews. When we had a chance to cut in to national news casts, everything was live. Kansas City International Airport truly became an international airport. The Runways were crowded with Jumbo jets.
Times Square, on the live feeds was completely empty. I've never seen that. We worked late that day. It was over very quickly. Things slowly returned to normal that week. We were all glued to the sets, even though the news was often repeated over and over again. I went to Kelly's in Westport. Usually there is sports on all the sets. It took a long time for sports to overtake the news.
That was my reflection on that day. I do not intend to belittle anybodies real experience with the events of that day, rather, I just wanted to write about my tiny corner of the 'Pale Blue Dot.' I would think that it in many ways is representative of many peoples experiences.
BEING ARTY
A Few Creative news links....
*Art Buds
*Another Art Institute Grad Featured
*Somehow, the 'Griefs' got in this lineup by (st)Ink Magazine
*Pottery (not pot) in mid-Missouri
*I went down to the crossroads...
*2nd Friday Art Drive (maybe we'll never walk for art again)
*KC Star not so reverent in this art review
*the skinny on some Crossroads Skin Art
*More found art -- WTC scraps turned into sculpture in Wichita
*Another Art Institute Grad Featured
*Somehow, the 'Griefs' got in this lineup by (st)Ink Magazine
*Pottery (not pot) in mid-Missouri
*I went down to the crossroads...
*2nd Friday Art Drive (maybe we'll never walk for art again)
*KC Star not so reverent in this art review
*the skinny on some Crossroads Skin Art
*More found art -- WTC scraps turned into sculpture in Wichita
Fly-er Wall
Of course, as always, support this blog by reading it, and emailing the link to your family and friends and support your local creatives by attending one, many or all of these fine events.
Don't Just be a Fly on the Wall!
