by John Albino
First there were the admonitions, paraphrased here:
Why would a blind person want to visit the top of the World Trade Center?
"You would just be wasting your time," people told me. "After all, you wouldn't be able to see anything!"
Admonitions like these served only to fuel my personal resolve: I had to go to the top of the city's tallest buildings.
And when these same people realized I was adamant about my objective, misgivings about a blind man's traveling alone to visit the top of New York City's tallest skyscraper turned into expressions of foreboding:
"A blind person traveling alone in New York is just asking for trouble! Sure hope you don't get mugged, or something!"
Before I made my first solo sojourn to the top of the Trade Center, I teamed up with Ken Stewart, who took me on a personalized tour of the Empire State Building even taking me to the observation deck on the 86th floor. Our meeting had been arranged through the Big Apple Greeters, an organization which provides guides for blind tourists. Ken encouraged me to ignore the nay-sayers and go through with my plan to visit the World Trade Center on my own. After my first visit, I was drawn to the top of Manhattan like a magnet.
Basking in the warmth of the spring sun on the morning of my final visit to the towers in late April of 2001, I remember thinking that this was everything a person could ask for. It was a perfect day. Although I knew that the World Trade Center was a "logical" target for terrorists, I had no premonition that this would be the last day I would ever visit here.
My white cane gripped firmly in hand, I strolled about the roof of Tower 2, stopping occasionally to enjoy a warm, gentle breeze brush my face as I rested an elbow on the steel barrier. The sounds of the city were no more than a distant hum from this height, 1,350 feet; in fact, from up here, Manhattan seemed a million miles away. Even though I could not see, spending quality time on the roof had always provided me with pleasure.
Having lived in Manhattan for a short while many years earlier, while still sighted, I had developed a familiarity with the layout and basic geography of the city. Angel and Robert, a pair of security guards I had befriended during repeated visits over the years, often suggested, whether in sincerity or flattery, that I become a guide for leading blind tourists around the rooftop platform. The two young men thought it ironic that a blind man from Oregon knew more about the view from the tower than most native New Yorkers.
Remembering myself hanging out on the roof of the World Trade Center on a weatherwise perfect day reminds me of an old song: "It Was Too Beautiful to Last." And of course, as we all sadly know, it was.
I shudder in sorrow, not only for those two guards who, I know, lost their lives on that tragic morning, but also for several other workers of the rooftop, the main observation deck, and the Windows on the World restaurant and lounge whom I had come to know over more than two decades of patronage.
My solo expeditions to the World Trade Center had begun partially in response to the misgivings of others. How can a totally blind visitor from out of state have the necessary skills to travel alone around Manhattan? My answer to that question was to hail a cab and hop in.
Upon arriving at the World Trade Center, usually the Liberty Street entrance to Tower 2, I could always count on a security guard or someone else employed in the mammoth structure to assist me to whatever destination I was heading for that day.
The World Trade Center, consisting of several smaller structures in addition to the twin skyscrapers, with its own area and ZIP codes, was like a city unto itself. Fifty thousand people came to work in a variety of businesses there every weekday. Another 30,000 or so visited the facilities for any number of reasons.
Underneath the complex was a major transportation hub where subway trains from all sections of New York and its environs discharged passengers by the thousands, most of whom were headed for the center or a Wall Street firm. Thousands more arrived by bus, and still more arrived in cars parked in a number of multi-level garages.
Within a block of the World Trade Center were two historic churches; each dated back to the earliest days of the city, and each cared for a graveyard containing the remains of some of the city's most revered pioneers. Luckily the two renowned churches survived the collapse of the twin towers, with only minor damage.
By the time of my last visit to the World Trade Center last spring, I had come to regard the complex as a treasured friend. On each of my visits to the City since 1973 I made it a point to visit the center regardless of weather -- that is, until my most recent visit to New York in April 2002.
As I rode the airport van from Kennedy Airport into Manhattan last April, my mind focused on the number of people who had worked in the World Trade Center with the disheartening realization that I would never see them again.
I remembered a young woman named Vicki, an immigrant from the Virgin Islands. Whenever I found myself on the roof during her working hours as a guide, Vicki would always take time to engage me in conversation. Vicki was a student at nearby Pace University. I remembered Aaron Smith, an employee of Windows on the World, located on the top floor of Tower 1. Aaron was a young man living in Brooklyn who shared his dream of advancing in the restaurant business as either a master chef or owner and, if possible, both. No matter how busy he was, Aaron always found time to talk to me.
The World Trade Center was initially envisioned in 1958. Plans for its construction were set in motion in 1960. Construction was completed and the World Trade Center was opened in 1973.
As I write this, a variety of plans are being considered for a memorial to be built on the site.