November 11, 1995 Web posted at: 9:30 p.m. EST
From Correspondent Greg Lefevre
The following is CNN Correspondent Greg Lefevre's journal from the hours and days following the blast.
April 19, 1995
God, I hope it's natural gas.
It wasn't. I knew it wouldn't be. Not in these times.
The driver of my cab looked back over the seat.
"You going to that?" He pointed to the radio.
"Yeah, probably."
He turned off Folsom Street near the San Francisco waterfront and zoomed up Main Street toward my office. I pulled out my pocket phone and called our Atlanta National newsroom.
Busy. A newsroom with ten thousand incoming lines and I get a busy.
This is big. And bad.
I called my office. "Let's find out where everybody is."
The reply: "They're all at O.J." Much of our San Francisco staff has been committed to CNN's coverage of the O.J. Simpson trial in Los Angeles. They and a lot of other staffers from all over CNN.
"I'll be up in a minute."
At the office I tried the Atlanta newsroom again. Earl Casey, the National Managing Editor (and my boss), was busy. The pictures were already on CNN's air. A bomb. Gosh, what a mess.
Bonnie Gannon, one of our San Francisco assignment editors on duty down in L.A., was just waking up. I called her. Could she pack quickly and get ready for Oklahoma City. She's got a better sense of field logistics than just about anyone.
Chuck Afflerbach, our bureau's video editor and studio supervisor, was due in from the gym at any time. He can put equipment anywhere and get pictures out fast. My fondest field memory of Chuck is during the Yellowstone fires in 1988. Chuck crammed a ton of edit and video processing gear into the back of the tiniest station wagon. There he was, the tailgate lashed up to a tree limb, him sitting behind on a stump, the video decks half hanging out of the back of the car, pictures going this way, sound going that. And all of it coming out as award-winning news coverage.
"Greg, it's Earl." How can his voice sound so calm and deliberate on the phone when I know he must be going crazy?
I knew we were going.
"Can you bureau chief this thing?"
"Yes, but where's Tony Clark?" Clark runs our bureau in Dallas, an hour's flight from OKC.
"Tony's en route to report."
"Do you want me to report, too?" My job has both titles. In San Francisco I run the office and report from the field.
"No, Tony's on that and Bonnie Anderson's on her way in."
I asked who I could bring with me. Casey said give him a list and move.
In the next minute of phone conversation we'd mapped out a logistics plan.
Chuck Afflerbach has rigged some of our bureau edit equipment so it can drop into shipping cases and be ready in five minutes. Our photographers always have travel cases at the ready.
Bonnie Gannon in Burbank was getting ready to go to the Los Angeles Bureau for her day on the Simpson trial. After I called, she turned right instead of left and headed for the airport.
I grabbed my laptop, briefcase and headed for the airport. Realizing my laptop printer had died just a few days before, I called ahead to a computer store for a replacement. With the cab idling outside, I bought the printer, software cables and paper, then left San Francisco. It was April 19th. I wouldn't be home again until nearly June.
The air route took me Salt Lake City. There, CNN's Los Angeles (now Miami) Correspondent Robert Vito and CNN Supervising Producer Paul Varian got on.
Vito, who has sources in the highest places in law enforcement, was wary of the then-emerging Middle Eastern terrorism theory. Varian, a master at keeping story coverage on the straight, narrow and factual, mapped out how we needed to stay on top of events as they unfolded in a city we did not know, nor have any office in. My job was to be sure the dozens of CNN staffers headed for Oklahoma City had a place to work and tools to work with when they got there.
In 24 hours CNN opened, built, wired, furnished, equipped and staffed a 92-person bureau. Overnight, the CNN Oklahoma City Bureau became one of the largest in CNN's system.
"I'm Sabrina and I'm here to see that you get the facilities you need." And she did. The catering supervisor at the Oklahoma City Medallion Hotel had a clipboard in one hand, walkie-talkie in the other. "Your space is the old Blazers office. All the ballrooms are taken."
Instead of the usual hotel meeting room space, I was taken to an office at the end of the hotel's retail promenade.
"It's perfect." A large office with street frontage for crews to get in and out quickly. Two interior rooms we rigged up for edit and private interview rooms and a large space in back for equipment.
First: Food to the front
Medallion had just taken over the hotel, formerly a Sheraton. The chef was bringing in food from out of town. Hotel staff were on their way from other properties in Dallas and Houston. A slow week at the hotel turned into a turn-away solid booking for weeks.
I needed food for the troops at the front. Tony Clark and Bonnie Anderson and their crews and producers were well past 18 hours continuous duty. They needed tarps to protect from the driving rain that night, food, and most of all, relief.
All were on their way.
"I can get you twenty now and twenty by sunrise."
The sun had just gone down on Oklahoma City. The blast knocked out much of the electricity around the Murrah Federal Building. Phone service, too. Still, Southwestern Bell installers were tapping phone circuits where they could find them, trying to get us as many lines as possible.
Twenty now. Twenty more an hour later. Some even out at the bomb site.
"Hi, I'm Sudhir."
The man with a smiling face, toting a carton of wires and ... a keyboard!
I have four computers for you. Do you have a telephone line yet?
Computers! How could I be so lucky?
Yes, Southwestern Bell got the first of our lines up in minutes. Patel rigged a multiplexer and modem to it and by midnight, we had full on-line service to CNN's worldwide computer system.
"Just like home."
I started pulling items from our office-in-a-box. We maintain a small shipping crate stuffed with telephones, a fax machine, a lamp, cords, cables, paper, pads and Power Bars.
I plugged in the biggest of the phones, a speaker phone, and called Atlanta. "National Desk, this is Oklahoma." From that moment and for the next month, we had constant, instant voice contact with the CNN National Desk.
Everything we knew, Atlanta knew. Everything Atlanta needed us to know, we got.
"Fancy digs!"
The first of the new crews began arriving around midnight. They checked in with our instant OKC desk then went on to the bombing site.
The exclamation when they arrived was not expected. Then we noticed. The hotel had equipped our work area with long tables and draped them in white tablecloths. A touch of glamour not necessary, but appreciated.
For the first 24 hours, our bureau saw that everyone got fed, that everyone got beds. From Atlanta, Rebecca Mendenhall was coordinating and moving crews from all of the CNN's U.S. bureaus, finding hotels with rooms available and auto rental agencies that had not been stripped of inventory.
Of the hundreds of CNN staffers who passed through Oklahoma City, everyone had a bed when they needed one.
'Say where?'
Susie Mock took her job as Unit Manager on CNN's National Desk and shifted to Oklahoma City. She went into action coordinating couriers, making sure we had enough meals ordered for everyone in town.
Many crews did not see the bureau for the first several days. They would report from the scene, grab some shuteye when they could and return to duty. Many had taken up semi-permanent positions around the wrecked courthouse. When it looked like they would remain there, Mock and the SW Bell folks got telephone lines dropped to them. Some of the addresses were sketchy at best. "The parking space across from the motel office." "The second telephone pole west of Harvey behind the Salvation Army mobile kitchen."
'Real people in real pain'
About once an hour, we'd look up in our makeshift newsroom and be stunned by yet another awful revelation. Tony Clark would describe the ever climbing numbers in the death toll. Bonnie Anderson gave riveting accounts of individual families struggling with unimaginable losses.
Reporters in every corner
News of an arrest. He's already in jail. Let's get crew there. Correspondent Greg LaMotte describes the scene in front of the tiny Perry, Oklahoma, facility as the jumpsuited suspect is rushed out to the boos and catcalls of residents assembled outside. Don Knapp is on the trail of suspected fellow accomplices in Michigan. Ed Garsten keeping guard outside a Michigan farmhouse. Jeff Flock in Kansas, now Missouri, retracing the steps, the purchases, the stunned faces of the innocents who came in contact with the most hunted suspect of our time.
James Polk and Robert Vito on top of the law dogs who are plainly frustrated and angry over not grabbing John Doe No. 2. Rusty Dornin in Arizona tracking down the suspect's desert pals in Kingman.
In for the long haul
As the hours grew into days, we knew we were here and going to stay here. Early May at CNN is usually when the company's bureau chiefs meet at headquarters for an annual update on policies and exchange of ideas. There would be no meeting this time: Five of the nine bureau chiefs were on the road on this story: Clark (Dallas), Lefevre (San Francisco), Garsten (Detroit), Flock (Chicago) and Zarrella (Miami). In addition, the remaining four had their hands full: Ken Chamberlain (New York, World Trade Center bombing trial), Bill Headline (Washington, D.C., the new Republican Congress and FBI investigation of the OKC bombing), Graylain Young (Southeast Bureau, the Susan Smith child murder case) and David Farmer (Los Angeles, the O.J. Simpson trial).
A letter home:
Just about everybody cries just about every day. The
excitement of covering such a huge story is overpowered by a
profound sadness and anger. How could anybody just kill 100
people?
We are busy beyond belief. I'm here at about 6 a.m.
local time and usually don't leave until close to midnight.
The first few nights were in fact all-nighters.
We flew in through a tornado front. A wild ride that was
really only the beginning. The hotel staff showed us an
abandoned storefront in a mall adjacent to the hotel. We're
in the former minor league hockey team's office.
We worried at first, but in fact, it's the best network
office of all. CNN crews were already here reporting through
affiliate satellite trucks. Tony Clark and Bonnie Anderson
were the first here. CNN had footage on the air SIX MINUTES
after the blast, thanks to a local station that had a traffic
helicopter in the air at the time.
Almost immediately, we knew how grim this was going to
be. The tiny bodies lined up outside were too much to bear.
On the day of the blast we got our bureau fully running
by midnight. The hotel had tables and chairs in the room when
we got here. The telephone company put in 20 lines by 11:30.
We're up to about 60 phones around the city in five
locations. CNN sent a computer technician with a bundle of
terminals. Computers were up and running by about 1 or 2 a.m.
Editing equipment arrived during the night. By dawn we were
cutting tape and filing stories from here. Nearly all of us
worked straight through the first three days.
Up on the monitor the net is now playing another obit
piece. No one is dry. This gets tough sometimes. Linden
Soles, our anchor, composed all the music we're using. It
seems to fit the situation here.
We're buoyed occasionally by the huge achievement
journalistically, ethically, logistically. But would that it
had occurred another way.
OKC folks are wonderful, personable and kind to a fault.
I miss you terribly.
Greg
Real Oklahomans
Everywhere we went in Oklahoma City. the people showed their true colors. Their kindness, generosity and sense of duty in time of crisis came through. For example, one midday newscast on a local station showed a reporter interviewing several survivors. On the brink of exhaustion, these rescue crews were struggling night and day, trying to find to find survivors in the bombed-out building. One rescuer mentioned casually that his crew needed blankets.
Less than half an hour later, someone in our newsroom called out. Look at the television! There was the same reporter, pointing to lines of cars, trucks and vans. In each one people had blankets, raincoats, food and water for the rescuers. The reporter said the line stretched for blocks. People wanting to help. There was disbelief in the reporter's voice. But we knew it was real. The real Oklahoma.
'God bless our affiliates'
Often times a network can live or die by its affiliates. Stations sign up to align their news operations with CNN or with other networks. Our network and our affiliates then trade video on a reciprocating basis. In Oklahoma City, KFOR and KOCO and KWTV were all on the scene within seconds of the blast. All of them CNN affiliates, all shared video with CNN and with our audiences around the world.
A month after the blast, CNN held two receptions for our affiliates and their staff. A lot of folks came. For nearly every attendee, the event was the first night out since the blast. Most had not had a day off. They wanted to stay on the big story. But more important, they felt their reporting helped support their community. Some worked through the night, night after night. Others used their journalistic connections to track down comfort and assistance for the many who survived the blast and the families of those who did not.
A letter home:
It's a balmy and beautiful day in Oklahoma City. Quite a
change from the dark days of weeks past. Both the weather and
the moods here have been gloomy and sad. Things are turning
for the better ... both the weather and the feelings.
Folks are into routines and schedules.
In the coming week we expect indictments from the
Oklahoma grand jury, Nichols will have a preliminary hearing
Thursday and we expect the demolition contractor to implode
the building next week.
The mood of staff is back up. We roller-coastered from
the adrenaline high at the onset to the deep, deep sadness in
the following weeks, now to a return to normal,
stay-on-top-of-the-story journalism.
Love, Greg
A blimp?
One of the lighter aspects of covering events like these is learning about new tools, sometimes called toys. This new tool was a camera stuck atop a hydraulic pole. Hi-Shots International of Salem, Illinois, sends its high flying units all over the world.
Hi-Shots crews rig cameras to a small tethered blimp for still shots and wire a high-definition 8-millimeter camera to the top of this hydraulic rig. CNN used the pole camera to see over some of the buildings that blocked our view of the base of the bomb site.
This knight rode in on a gray van
Within hours we were besieged by journalism students who wanted to work with us. Couriers, drivers, people who knew the fastest way there, and the best alternates when the usual routes were closed. One such candidate was seated in our newsroom when I was introduced. Starched shirt. Stylish tie. Roy Howe didn't stand; he extended his right hand, shook mine firmly.
That's when I noticed the chrome chair in which he was seated. We didn't have any chrome chairs. He brought his own, with wheels. Roy was a godsend. His van was tricked out with the necessary ramps, pulleys and pushbars. It and he always got where they needed to go. Always got back. It took me weeks to work up the nerve to ask how it happened. An avid hiker, he fell off a cliff during a routine outing.
Injuries that would have killed, or certainly caused others to quit only seemed to inspire Roy. His injuries were very much like those suffered by the blast survivors. Again and again he relived their harrowing ordeals and, I'm sure, his own.
The implosion
The blast seen around the world started as a simple industrial demolition and mushroomed into a major network pool shoot. Bage Anderson, a Dallas bureau photographer who had been on the OKC scene since day one and Tom Casale, a Chicago bureau photographer, were designated as pool video setup technicians. (1.0M QuickTime movie)
They rigged a CNN "danger cam" at the foot of the Murrah Federal Building to capture the implosion from the best possible angle. I bought an 8mm video camera from a local video store. Casale shipped in his bureau's underwater housing to protect the camera. The two set up the camera in the now-vacant lot across from the building.
They slipped the 8mm camera (which survived the blast) into the housing. They connected the camera's video output to a long video cable. That cable then ran out the back of the lot, down an alley, up Harvey Street, over a lamppost and across a vacant lot to a distribution amplifier. Out of the amplifier, some video cables were connected directly to video recorders. Others were cabled over to the CNN Chicago satellite truck. Whew!
A few feet from where Anderson and Casale set up our camera, technicians from Controlled Demolition Inc. were putting the final touches on their triggering unit. The unit would set off the charges in the building at precise intervals and bring it down right in front of our camera. By prior arrangement our camera and all others close the building were designated "pool." That is, all pictures from all cameras belong to all the stations and networks participating. In this case everyone got the same shots, including those from the Anderson-Casale Danger Cam.
Coverage of the implosion was a nightmare to produce but came with a spectacular payoff. David Steck, who has earned a reputation in our company for producing complicated and exotic live shots out of the Chicago bureau, was in charge here. His concept was to cover a very short event from many angles and separately feed as many shots as possible to Atlanta headquarters. That way, Atlanta producers could see all the options and select the most meaningful shot from their perspective.
The CNN Oklahoma crews were remarkable in their discipline and control. The camera operators, microwave technicians, satellite feed engineers all were on station and ready when the horns blasted at seven that morning.
The blast was louder than any imagined. The series of explosions sounded as one concussion, then another. As the lower floors disappeared into the billowing dust, the upper floors slumped to the center and fell forward. The elevator tower to the rear dropped down, then teetered over on top of the wreckage.
The families of victims reacted with a jolt. It was as though their loved ones were dying again. Some felt relief. Some felt they could begin closure.
Most wept.
Locked out
A week into the assignment, our electronic hotel keys stopped working. Usually people don't stay this long and the hotel security system regularly "keys out" checked-out hotel keys. That way the guest from last week can't stumble (or sneak) into your room this week.
One more sign that we were in for a long visit.
Money for nothing
I'd just come from the O.J. Simpson trial and had seen plenty of streetside and other profiteering. Not so in OKC. We found dozens of great folks who treated us fairly and well. The staging contractor who rushed out a platform for our anchors to work from ... then rushed out in the middle of the night when a violent windstorm blew it over ... the telephone guys who perched us on the best possible spot to photograph and relay the implosion of the Murrah building ... the lady who brought by a carton of pasteries because, "it's what people do."
Life on front line live shot location near the bomb site was becoming grim. Bad weather plagued us every day. Our crews and reporters needed a place to light, a place to sit and write, prepare, stay out of the weather between live shots.
After some scouring we found a retired couple who volunteered their motor home. A rolling palace on wheels, this 30-some-odd footer was grand to the max. Work site conditions went from awful to awesome. The motor home later became a remote production site with phones, fax lines, computer set-ups and dining facilities. And I'm proud to say when we returned the vehicle it was immaculate. We offered to have it detailed and the owners declined.
A letter home:
Dear Honey,
I'm booked on a Saturday morning flight to SFO.
Things here are winding down fast after the building
implosion Tuesday morning.
But what a morning it was! We were all awakened at 2
a.m. by a ferocious wind storm that knocked out ALL our
transmission equipment and cameras. We had 10 camera angles
of the building site set up for the implosion and all were
affected.
A stage for our anchors and guests blew into and damaged
a camera truck. One of our affiliate trucks suffered damage
to its satellite antenna. Another network camera high atop an
apartment building was knocked out.
We had to scramble to reconstruct everything. And did.
The demolition coverage went perfectly. It went off on
time, we were ready and got it on the air, live. LOTS of
planning paid off.
Tony's taking over the bureau. From a peak of 92 people
here, the third largest bureau in the system, we are now down
to a dozen.
I'll call before I leave here.
Love, Greg
![[imagemap]](/US/OKC/images/okc_navbar2.gif){kind=small}
Copyright © 1996 Cable News Network, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
External sites are not endorsed by CNN Interactive.