September 11: Bearing Witness to History
Smithsonian National Museum of American History –
Museum Exhibition Review
November 2002
by Chris Orcutt

It's not appropriate or even possible to look at this exhibit objectively. It's too soon. Before seeing the show my big question was, why have this exhibit at all right now? What is there to learn? Everyone knows what happened. Everyone saw everything happening. It's valid for the Smithsonian to collect these things, these 'artifacts' from New York, the Pentagon, and Pennsylvania; they have become a part of our nation's history. But to display them now, so soon afterwards? It's described as a "commemorative exhibit." Have you forgotten anything about that day, anything that needs to be commemorated? I haven't. It's only been a year. So, again, why?

In the days following September 11th the Smithsonian placed blank books in the lobbies of each museum, and visitors were encouraged to write down their feelings. The entries were archived and have become part of the Smithsonian's permanent collection. Everybody has a personal story about that day – what they were doing when they heard, what they did, how they felt. Everyone's story is worth sharing, and that's really what this exhibit is about.

I knew it was going to be painful, and it was. The first section of the exhibit presents pictures of people seeing things as they happened, and the pain on their faces brought me right back to the moment when I saw that second plane hit. There's a picture of President Bush as he's being told what has happened and his face is a mixture of surprise, sorrow, and a hint of anger. I don't remember seeing him like that – I just remember his surprise. There are more pictures in the second section – pictures similar to the ones we've all seen – along with the stories of the photographers, amateur and professional. There's also the last photo and the camera of Bill Biggart, a journalist who was killed when the north tower collapsed. The camera is horribly mangled. And one of the photos struck me in a way that, again, surprised me: somehow, someone got a picture of the plume of smoke rising from the forest right after Flight 93 crashed in Pennsylvania. There was never anything visual in any of the media stories about this crash; all I heard was that there was nothing left. I had my own picture of what it may have looked like. But seeing that cloud of smoke closed the story for me. This was what it looked like.

The center of the exhibit is objects from each of the sites. From the World Trade Center, they've included the crushed door of a fire truck, twisted, burned steel from the building, and sections from the planes. This was where a lot of people were lingering, very quietly, many of them holding each other's hands, but it was too much for me, way too much. There were people in those fire trucks, buildings, and planes. I couldn't really get past that. I turned away and came to some of the things people have left behind as memorials in the Pennsylvania field. One of them was a stuffed bear left behind by a little kid. There are good things that came out of all this, and it's important to be reminded of that. A little kid left his stuffed bear. How incredibly compassionate.

The next room was a theater with a 10-minute video presentation of Peter Jennings talking about what that day was like for him and his colleagues. The footage was a synopsis of the day, from Diane Sawyer on Good Morning America talking about her fingernails to cutting away to the first tower to, finally, the collapse of the second. When everything was actually happening there was no reason for me or anyone else to notice the reactions of these professional newscasters but watching it again, I could see how shocked and devastated they were. Peter Jennings could not comprehend the towers falling. He asked the reporter again and again for clarification. When it did sink in-all of those lives-he, like all of the rest of us, had nothing to say. I was in pretty rough shape watching all of this all over again. When the film ended a woman got up and turned towards me to leave. I saw tears on her cheeks and she saw how shaken I was. She managed a small smile and squeezed my shoulder as she walked by.

The next room was an interactive section where you could hear accounts from eyewitnesses, survivors, rescue workers and others. One of the stories is from a man named Nino Vendome who turned his downtown New York restaurant into a relief center. He and his volunteers served hundreds of thousands of free meals to the rescue workers. Many of the workers left their organizational patches as a token of thanks, and Mr. Vendome attached them to aprons.

The final part of the exhibit is a place for visitors to contribute to the exhibition. There are sheets of paper which pose two questions: "How did you witness history on September 11?" and "Has your life changed since September 11?" Covering the walls of this section are responses from earlier visitors, and all of these responses will become part of the Smithsonian's permanent collection.

I have to say that when I left I felt it was a good thing that I had gone to see the exhibit. To the Smithsonian's credit, they didn't try to make sense out of it all – they just shared stories about that day and the ones after, just like you and I have. It's worth seeing, but if you can't get to DC it's available on the web. You can see the objects, hear the stories, and even contribute to the archive by telling your own story:

http://americanhistory.si.edu/september11/index.asp

(Chris Orcutt is a volunteer staff writer for 2 Walls Webzine)