Inundated by Help and Supplies, N.Y. Says It Can't Take More

By PAUL LIEBERMAN and CHARLES ORNSTEIN

Sept. 16, 2001 12 AM PT

TIMES STAFF WRITERS

NEW YORK — As soon as the hijacked jetliners tore into the World Trade Center, people began trying to volunteer: donating thousands of pints of blood from as far away as California to Israel; bringing food by the truckload to firehouses and armories; and lining up to search for survivors.

On Saturday, the city said “No More,” capping days of growing tension between eager volunteers and officials overwhelmed by the sheer number of them and by piles of unused food and underwear.

Construction workers, nurses and out-of-state firemen were being turned away from the Javits Convention Center, a gathering point for volunteers, and from staging areas next to “Ground Zero.” Garbage trucks were hauling off fruit and turkey sandwiches that couldn’t be used.

It was hard to say who was more frustrated, the volunteers with nothing to do or the authorities weary of dealing with them.

“If I had my choice, I’d be pulling rocks off of people,” said Warren Rasmussen, a psychologist from New Hampshire who hoped to serve as a grief counselor at St. Vincent’s Hospital but “couldn’t get through.” So Saturday, he came to the Javits center, offering to do manual labor.

“I haven’t had a chance to do much of anything,” he said, “except stand around and wait.”

Also unused were water, raisins, candy bars and even diapers.

“Literally tons of food is showing up from all over the country,” said First Deputy Mayor Joe Lhota. “We’re at a point right now where we are distributing the food all over the city to the homeless system and the hospitals. There is too much and it’s not being utilized. It’s getting in the way.”

Though Lhota lauded the generosity, he said it was getting in the way of the search for survivors and the effort to clear damage.

“As of today, we have enough,” Lhota declared. “As of today, we are at a saturation point.”

Police Commissioner Bernard Kerik complained that some pushy volunteers seemed more intent on satisfying their own needs than actually helping.

“In their mind, they want to come right into the site. They want to be one of the diggers,” Kerik said. “We have specialists who do this . . . Volunteers have to abide by what our needs are, not their perception of what our needs are.”

Kerik said his officers also had to remove people “posing as volunteers to get into the site and then they walk around there as tourists.”

It became evident at the blood banks first that people were desperate to help.

The New York Blood Center on Manhattan’s Upper East Side was turning away donors by Tuesday afternoon, when 1,800 lined up. By Wednesday, workers were handing them red tickets from rolls of 500 and telling them to come back the next day, and only if they had type-O blood.

“I have a yellow [ticket] from yesterday,” said an exasperated Heidi Cohen, a 35-year-old finance executive. “What is this, a concert, a Madonna concert?

“Many of my friends were in those buildings,” she said. “How could you not try to help?”

Within a day, the center had received blood by military transport from Sacramento and by truck from Florida and Rhode Island. “I’ve had Israel call us about the 25,000 units they collected,” said Dr. Robert Jones, its president. “It’s not that we don’t want it--we can’t use it.”

Firehouses were the next to be overwhelmed by donations.

At a station in the West Village, the gifts came from neighbors, restaurant owners and friends: party plates of sandwiches, cases of Poland Springs water bottles, 30 pies, loaves of fancy bread, coffee, tea, sugar. A couple wheeled in giant bottles of Gatorade and tomato juice. One woman handed the fire captain a pot with her best stew.

By the time a wall was stacked hip-high with bags and boxes of shirts and socks, the captain admitted he would probably give away the stuff to a charity or the homeless.

By the weekend, the scene at the Javits center was chaotic. Men and women wearing red-white-and-blue kerchiefs brought juice, yogurt, blankets and dog food. They helped each other, too, passing out trays of cantaloupe and bottled water.

Even skilled laborers complained that their offers of help were being ignored. “I’ve been in line all day, waiting and waiting,” said Ray Bobonagua, a steamfitter from the Bronx.

Others were discouraged by statements from officials such as Gov. George Pataki that volunteers might look to serve “in their own community.”

The same frustrations were evident a couple of miles south, where smoke continued to rise from where the Twin Towers used to be.

Bruce Tripodi, who owns an ironworks company in suburban Mamaroneck, left after five hours trying to give away a truckload of cutting torches.

“They should let all construction trades in there,” said Christopher Hayes, a 24-year-old steamfitter from Queens. “We’re the people who built those buildings.”

A search team from Mississippi’s Gulf Coast drove 24 hours only to find New York’s own fire crews reluctant to give up the job of digging for their buried comrades. “These people need a break,” implored Buck Allen, 34, by a fenced checkpoint manned by five National Guardsmen, who were signing people in--or sending them away.

A half dozen workers listened to Earl Danielson gripe how he “should be in there” with his 23 years working with steel, “not some unskilled punk who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“I don’t want any money,” said the 45-year-old Newark resident, who wore an orange hardhat with an American flag on it. “This is for humanity. This is for New York.”

Then an odd vehicle drove up: a converted Belgian field ambulance. Out came box after box decorated with hearts and little notes, such as “Thank you for saving the city” and “God bless you.”

The 33-year-old ambulance belonged to Michael Proios, a special education teacher at Rocky Point Junior-Senior High School on Long Island.

The schools assembled 520 packages by giving each grade an assignment: seventh--toothpaste; ninth--wash clothes, etc. Each included a note from a senior girl, telling recipients “it makes me proud to see people waiting hours to donate blood or . . . workers wishing to remain on duty after their shift is over.”

“It’s a community outpouring of love,” said Proios, the teacher.

But with all the donations, it was far from clear whether anyone would get their gifts.

Times staff writers Jon Peterson and Geraldine Baum contributed to this report.

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How to Help

How to contact some of the major funds accepting donations:

* Sept. 11th Fund

c/o United Way

of New York City

2 Park Ave.

New York, N.Y. 10016

(800) 710-8002