Deutsche Bank Fire : Burning Money and Lives on Wall Street

Saturday, August 18-
This past Saturday afternoon found me standing around for hours in lower Manhattan, working a long day after a sleepless night. Very exhausted and approaching the long awaited check-out time, myself and others around me began to notice a peculiar smell of fire, then billows of smoke drifting high across the surrounding buildings. Soon it became apparent that the Deutsche Bank building was on fire.

The 40-story building, located at 130 Liberty Street (A.K.A. World Trade Center Tower 5) was devastated during the attacks on the World Trade Center. It has earned the moniker of the "Widow", due to the black net that has shrouded the structure since September 11, 2001. It has since served (other than the huge, 6-year undeveloped chasm in the ground of course) - as one of the last haunting reminders of 9/11. In March 2007, contractors Bovis Lend Lease began dismantling the skyscraper floor by floor. This method was in response to public concerns over toxic air quality and the fact that controlled implosions aren't permitted within New York City. The contractors job was to first clear the areas of asbestos and other potentially hazardous materials before dismantling the current level of the building, at approximately a rate of a floor a week. As of the afternoon of August 18, 2007, 14 of the 40 floors had already been cleared and taken apart. Work was halted this Saturday when a seven-alarm fire broke out on the 17th floor.


Sadly, and quite unnecessarily, two firefighters unfortunately lost their lives. Joseph Graffagnino, 33, of Brooklyn, and Robert Beddia, 53, of Staten Island were found on the 14th floor, where upon being taken to the hospital they both succumbed to smoke inhalation. The eight and 23-year FDNY veterans respectively, were caught inside what the FDNY characterized as "maze-like conditions" as a result of polyurethane sheets enclosing asbestos and other hazardous materials inside the building. This, along with panels of plywood sealing off rooms and hallways apparently created tunnels which made an easy path for the fire to travel between floors and made this inferno a nightmare situation for anyone inside.

What the fuck was I doing there in the first place? First off, I want you to know that my intention isn't to take anything away from the tragedy of this day, but in the vein of documenting my life on this blog I have to stick to my current format.

I had been booked on a commercial as an extra a few days prior, or as I would like to call it "Wall Street Executive no. 8". This was to be an all day shoot, with a call time of 6:30 AM. A good friend of mine, and fellow struggling actor (he's moving to L.A. soon, so hopefully the struggle will soon end for him) had been at my house late the previous night. I love to drink beer when I'm nervous, so the obligatory correcting of the drunk guy's double Windsor knot was in order prior to departure. That trip across the Williamsburg Bridge to these things always inspires my nervous crazy neurotic tick every time.

The commercial was for a Korean insurance company, financial institution or fund of some sort. We were supposed to be young professional Wall Street executive types doing whatever they do. My days trading the British pound verses (ironically) the German Deutsche Mark at the 40 Wall address were well behind me, providing absolutely no research value or inspiration for the intense role I was about to take on. Now I smell smoke. We had been using large sprinkler systems for this shot, so that it seemed like it was raining. A water filled truck drove down the block periodically to soak down asphalt and sidewalk. The smoke now begins to be an issue for my delicate lungs. I wonder aloud if the water we're using in excess (some of it through fire hydrants) would affect the current fire fighting (water pressure or whatever). The day is done now. Cast and crew move on to DUMBO for remainder of shoot.

I run to the car to grab my camera. I had that little bit of adrenaline going as I walked around taking pictures. I'm pretty familiar, and almost in love with this area of Manhattan. This is one of the sections I've always preferred over others because of it's simplicity, it's aesthetics, and it's long history. Narrow streets, little to no services, and it's difficult to give directions to people you aren't that crazy to see in the first place. There's foot traffic that dies down dramatically after 5pm, and you're a hop, skip and a jump away from the South Street Seaport. Combine that with a cramped street grid that is unfriendly to both English invaders and young couples with children, and you've got yourself my ultimate residential nirvana. I always wanted to live in that area of the city.

I assumed that if a fucking firecracker went off accidentally or if a plane was flying uncomfortably low, especially in this neighborhood people would freak out and the streets would erupt in mayhem. I was wrong this day. I took a few pics, then dragged my ride home to take photos of other angles of the building. This friend you see, can be a little of a loud mouth. A real character. We learned a new trick to get through dense crowds quicker. When you're wearing a dapper looking suit, just hold on to your right hip or talk into your sleeve and firmly say "Excuse Me!" People think you're federal agents and promptly move out of your way. On Carlisle Street, photographers and news cameras are gathered about. It is here that I witness something that disgusts me, although I didn't realize just how much at the moment. I'm taking pictures from a third view of the building now. There is the ominous and loud strange sound of glass breaking, plywood being axed through, and the sound of building materials and debris tumbling down long distances. Like surround sound for things you're not supposed to hear during the course of a regular day. About 12 feet from us I hear a couple, obviously from some other vile state in the union, ask a nearby lady to take a picture of her and her boyfriend as she put it, "in front of the burning building". The strange, sick smirk that came across their corn-fed evil lips was remarkable by itself. Now is the part I must have missed something. My friend suddenly says out loud "Yeah, use that for your Christmas card, you douchebags!". Impressed by his New York pride and boldness, I did what any good friend would do, and that is briskly walk backwards away from them to avoid further conflict. My friend is about 6'2", and the male half of said asshole couple was closer to his height and size so I figured why let a good thing (my physical well being) go to waste? On the way home, I came to learn the reason why he said that was because that's what this couple (with their dog too, mind you) had said to the woman taking their picture. "We're going to use this as our Christmas card".

It's my opinion, but in conclusion this is a fucking insurance job, this whole fire. I find it unbelievable that the lingering results from 9/11 have now killed two more New Yorkers, two more firefighters, and it's six years later! It'll be quickly brushed away, under the carpet of bullshit, along with the ridiculous notion that they ever cared about the fate of these two firefighters. The Daily News obtained the radio transmissions from the FDNY detailing the desperate fate they faced. The sprinkler systems were inoperable, and for some fucking reason or another the standpipe outside didn't work. Firefighters had to drag hoses up into a building that's supposed to be empty anyway. A high ranking official is heard yelling about he doesn't give a shit about the building anymore, let's just get those guys out. Looking on the fire in person, [I remarked] to a fucking stranger: "It's gotta be ridiculous to send anyone too high into that building, it looks like a trap". I thought the possibility was out of the question, and just letting it burn wasn't an option. Some say workers may have been smoking where the fire started. Debris had littered the hallways for weeks. Earlier this year in May, a 22 foot section of metal piping fell off the building, crashing through the roof of the local firehouse across the street. Over 700 human bone fragments have been found in or around the site, 300 small pieces discovered just last year. The building is considered an eyesore by some, a curse on the city by others. The kicker is that the contractor responsible for the dismantling of the building would get a six-million dollar bonus if the project was completed by December 31. They would've had five months to finish twice as much of the building as they've already done in seven months. No worries, thankfully JP Morgan Chase has won the bid to develop on the site. They'll open their new building in 2012. It'll be so pretty and shiny with an extra large trading floor for the really big money. Maybe they'll have a plaque in their new ultra-modern plaza. Before you know it, the financial district will be dotted with memorials. A reflecting pool here, a tiny little tree signifying 'hope' over there. Some huge multi-million dollar shard of glass designed by some Japanese guy jutting out of the ground, really capturing that air of 'defiance'. You'll be so impressed at how fast you get home to Jersey via the new super train terminal, you couldn't possibly bring yourself to think about anything else other than kittens and sunshine.

Just sleep, and forget.