Despite its comradely bravado, the city's problems look immense
Sep 20th 2001
NEW YORK, outsiders like to complain, has never been typical of America. The Big Apple's over-sophisticated ways, its general unfriendliness and its rampant individualism all supposedly set it apart. The tragedy at the World Trade Centre has changed all that, unlocking the sort of community spirit for which small towns across the country are rightly famed.
Shrines of flowers and candles have been created outside the city's fire stations by well-wishers honouring the estimated 344 firefighters who lost their lives last week. Home-baked cakes and cookies have been delivered to police stations. Tons of clothing and footwear have been given to the rescuers, whose existing gear has been ruined, not least by the foul, sooty smoke which continues to hang over “ground zero”. When the Yankees and Mets, the city's major league baseball teams, resumed playing this week, the players wore caps carrying the logos of the city's fire and police departments.
The city remains numbed. Frequent bomb scares do not help. Everybody knows of somebody who died, or remains missing. Worst of all, there has been the lack of good news from the rescuers.
Nobody has been pulled alive from the rubble since the day after the attack. Worse, the slow pace of recovery of the bodies—fewer than 250 out of the 5,400 missing, after a week of searching—has led to the growing realisation that many of the victims may have been cremated, never to be identified. It may be six months before all the rubble is cleared, and the body count completed. The awareness that the lost are real people, not anonymous statistics, has been deepened by the photocopies of the missing that adorn every bus shelter, public telephone or hoarding.
Showing the flag—again something that New Yorkers tend to do less than other Americans—has become an important sign of defiance. The Stars and Stripes flies pretty well everywhere you look.
In a few cases, this has less to do with patriotism than with intolerance. In Queens, a Dunkin' Donuts and a candy store have become the target of an e-mail boycott for refusing to fly the flag. Many Arab and (turban-wearing) Indian and Pakistani taxi-drivers are prominently displaying Old Glory. One Egyptian driver, asked why he was not displaying his name-card, confessed that it was because his name is Osama. Some female Muslim students at Columbia University have discarded their hijab headscarves.
New York's leaders, notably Rudy Giuliani, have been doing all they can to stop the melting-pot boiling over. But a growing part of Mr Giuliani's job seems to be the slog of trying to revive the city's hard-hit economy. This week he urged Americans who want to help the city to visit it, “spend some money” and “go to a play”. Plummeting attendance figures have already caused four Broadway shows to announce the end of their runs.
The virtual evaporation of the city's normally plentiful tourist population has also left many restaurants and hotel rooms empty. Some hotels report occupancy rates of below 20%. Some 3,000 members of the Hotel Trades Council, a hotel workers' union, have been laid off.
Many conferences scheduled for later this year have been postponed or cancelled, including Fashion Week—a totem for the city's huge garment industry. Less glamorously, the disaster also knocked out the Fulton fish market; restaurants and other buyers are already beginning to buy their fish outside the island.
The city's leaders—and its huge property industry—must hope that the tourists and the fish are not the start of a permanent trend. There is talk that some of the financial firms which have been obliged to move their operations outside the city in the past week, notably in New Jersey, may never return. And, although they do not like to seem disloyal at this time, many New Yorkers (especially those with young children) seem to be talking privately about moving somewhere less likely to be a terrorist target
Sep 20th 2001
NEW YORK, outsiders like to complain, has never been typical of America. The Big Apple's over-sophisticated ways, its general unfriendliness and its rampant individualism all supposedly set it apart. The tragedy at the World Trade Centre has changed all that, unlocking the sort of community spirit for which small towns across the country are rightly famed.
Shrines of flowers and candles have been created outside the city's fire stations by well-wishers honouring the estimated 344 firefighters who lost their lives last week. Home-baked cakes and cookies have been delivered to police stations. Tons of clothing and footwear have been given to the rescuers, whose existing gear has been ruined, not least by the foul, sooty smoke which continues to hang over “ground zero”. When the Yankees and Mets, the city's major league baseball teams, resumed playing this week, the players wore caps carrying the logos of the city's fire and police departments.
The city remains numbed. Frequent bomb scares do not help. Everybody knows of somebody who died, or remains missing. Worst of all, there has been the lack of good news from the rescuers.
Nobody has been pulled alive from the rubble since the day after the attack. Worse, the slow pace of recovery of the bodies—fewer than 250 out of the 5,400 missing, after a week of searching—has led to the growing realisation that many of the victims may have been cremated, never to be identified. It may be six months before all the rubble is cleared, and the body count completed. The awareness that the lost are real people, not anonymous statistics, has been deepened by the photocopies of the missing that adorn every bus shelter, public telephone or hoarding.
Showing the flag—again something that New Yorkers tend to do less than other Americans—has become an important sign of defiance. The Stars and Stripes flies pretty well everywhere you look.
In a few cases, this has less to do with patriotism than with intolerance. In Queens, a Dunkin' Donuts and a candy store have become the target of an e-mail boycott for refusing to fly the flag. Many Arab and (turban-wearing) Indian and Pakistani taxi-drivers are prominently displaying Old Glory. One Egyptian driver, asked why he was not displaying his name-card, confessed that it was because his name is Osama. Some female Muslim students at Columbia University have discarded their hijab headscarves.
New York's leaders, notably Rudy Giuliani, have been doing all they can to stop the melting-pot boiling over. But a growing part of Mr Giuliani's job seems to be the slog of trying to revive the city's hard-hit economy. This week he urged Americans who want to help the city to visit it, “spend some money” and “go to a play”. Plummeting attendance figures have already caused four Broadway shows to announce the end of their runs.
The virtual evaporation of the city's normally plentiful tourist population has also left many restaurants and hotel rooms empty. Some hotels report occupancy rates of below 20%. Some 3,000 members of the Hotel Trades Council, a hotel workers' union, have been laid off.
Many conferences scheduled for later this year have been postponed or cancelled, including Fashion Week—a totem for the city's huge garment industry. Less glamorously, the disaster also knocked out the Fulton fish market; restaurants and other buyers are already beginning to buy their fish outside the island.
The city's leaders—and its huge property industry—must hope that the tourists and the fish are not the start of a permanent trend. There is talk that some of the financial firms which have been obliged to move their operations outside the city in the past week, notably in New Jersey, may never return. And, although they do not like to seem disloyal at this time, many New Yorkers (especially those with young children) seem to be talking privately about moving somewhere less likely to be a terrorist target
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