White powder in my morning paper
What exactly happens when you report a possible anthrax exposure? One woman found out -- the hard way.
By Jessica Branson Oreskovic
Oct. 18, 2001 | Last Sunday, Oct. 14, in San Francisco, while waiting to go to lunch with my husband, Alexei, my sister Molly, and Babs, my mother, I open the New York Times Magazine, which is delivered along with the rest of the paper to our doorstep every Sunday morning, and about a half-teaspoon of tiny off-white granules pours onto my lap, the floor and the couch I am sitting on. All of us look at the powder, think, This is strange, then almost ignore it. Until we remember that all over the country people are getting sick from opening things with white, powdery substances inside.
We don't panic. We begin to say aloud everything that the substance could possibly be besides the dreaded anthrax. It could be sand or sugar -- but, how would either of those get in the magazine? A friend tells me that there's a powder that printers put between pages to keep them from sticking together -- it could be that, I think. But I have never seen anything like this in the New York Times Magazine before, and I have been a subscriber for a long time. A lot of weird things have been happening in the U.S. since Sept. 11, and all citizens were told to be on "high alert." So, we call the police.
When the police arrive at our house 15 minutes later, we are all waiting outside. Partly because we're antsy and partly because we don't want to be around the white powder. The police greet us and come into the house. They look calm, which is reassuring. But, oddly, neither officer wears any protective gear, such as gloves or masks. They gather us around the magazine, which is on the coffee table and open to the page with the white powder on it. The male officer runs his pen through the substance. The female officer gawks at the stuff, and says that she thinks this whole thing is probably some kind of hoax. We ask if they know any details about the white powder that have been reported in the other cases: Is the texture like talcum powder or more like sugar? Is it bright white, or off-white? No, they say, they don't know. Like us, they only know what they've heard on the news: All cases reported a white powdery substance. That was it.
Molly asks another good question: Have they received any other calls in the area about white powder in the New York Times? Their answer comes as a shock. Yes, the female officer says. One San Francisco man had indeed called and reported a white powdery substance in his New York Times that morning, but, again, she assures us, this is probably a prank. How do you know it's a prank? we ask her. She doesn't really have an answer. We say that given the current circumstances, we want the powder tested -- to rule out that it could be anthrax. She gets on her radio and calls "haz mat," the hazardous materials crew, and the fire department. Within minutes, our block is closed off at both ends by police cars, our house is roped off by red "Hazardous Materials Do Not Cross" tape and, since I have touched the substance, I am kept away from my husband, sister, mom and dog, behind the tape along with the two police officers.
The fire team and the haz mat team seem very serious. As the haz mat crew suits up in green rubber gear, the fire chief takes the two police officers and me aside, and explains to us the different stages of anthrax. If this was the "really bad kind," he says, you would be convulsing in front of me right now. It's probably nothing, he reassures, but let's just be safe and take all the precautions.
He takes clear plastic gallon jugs of what looks like water out of the truck and has a gloved fireman pour it over our hands and forearms. The two police officers now look worried. They ask questions like, "How long will it take to know once we get swabbed?" And the fire chief tells them that they should wear gloves when they investigate calls like this in the future.
Once we're washed off, the haz mat crew begins asking questions about my New York Times. I tell them that, first off, the police told us they had received another call today from someone else reporting white powder in the New York Times. Two of the firemen look at each other, and one goes over to talk to the police officers. Then, I tell what happened. I say that when I opened the magazine an off-white granular substance came out and spilled onto the floor and couch.
"Oh my god," the battalion commander says in an alarmed voice, "it fell all over!"
Next page: The haz mat man looks at his colleague with an "oh shit" look
