Crime: "They could've killed me"

Saturday October 21 2006

'They could've killed me' Wheaton shopkeeper, friend beaten, robbed

James Fuller Daily Herald Staff Writer

Two signs taped to windows of a downtown Wheaton shop Friday afternoon spoke to traumatic events that have put two Wheaton senior citizens in the hospital.

"Closed due to a robbery & beating," the signs read.

The victims, embattled shopkeeper Robert Sandberg, 68, and his friend Robert Cooke, 86, said it all started when a man at least 6 feet tall and 300 pounds entered Sandberg's Store for Men & Boys just before 8 p.m. Thursday.

The shop at 101 W. Front St. is known mostly for discounted apparel and eccentric ties. The man was interested in leather Chicago Bulls coats.

Sandberg showed the man his stock of coats and went to check a price. That's when the situation turned violent. It was either a large fist or a pipe that delivered the first blow.

"That's when - wham -and I must've passed out," Sandberg recalled from his hospital bed Friday.

The assailant, or possibly an accomplice, then turned his attentions to Cooke.

"I remember waking up and Bob was down on the floor with his head being bashed in," Sandberg said.

Cooke sustained injuries to the left side of his head and lost consciousness. Sandberg tried to escape out the back, and took more punches for his efforts.

"They could've killed me," he said. "I think that's what they were trying to do."

"They" refers to the presence of as many as three other men who were spotted loading leather coats in the back of an older-model, white Pontiac Grand Am or Grand Prix before driving away.
Both Sandberg and Cooke regained consciousness and went for help separately. Sandberg, with his bloody face and shirt, crawled over to an adjacent space he'd recently rented out. A worker was there painting.

"I said, 'John! John! They're beating the heck out of me,' " Sandberg said.

Police were dispatched to the shop at about 8:20 p.m. When they arrived, they found several leather coats missing valued at an estimated $9,000.

Both men were taken to Central DuPage Hospital in Winfield, where they were still recovering from their injuries Friday afternoon.

Sandberg received at least five stitches and suffered cuts to his face, brow and one of his ears. He also has bruising on his jaw and nose. Cooke had bruising to the left side of his head. Both men expect to be released today.

Sandberg said he felt lucky to be alive but can't stop thinking about why someone picked his store to rob.

"Who do I have that don't like me?" Sandberg said. "I remember asking, 'Why are you doing this?' There were no answers to my questions, just a fist in my face."

Wheaton residents will recognize Sandberg's name for at least two reasons.

The first is that he's been in business for nearly 50 years. The second is his ongoing battle with city officials about his property.

Sandberg owns several storefronts downtown, all of which the city has been after him to fix up. Back in 1986, the city tried to force Sandberg to sell some of his property. Later, the city tried to take some of his buildings from him through eminent domain proceedings.

The legal battles have cost both sides thousands of dollars and appearances in courtrooms as high up as the Illinois Supreme Court.

Sandberg does not believe the city is behind the beating he received, but he does partially blame them for it happening.

"The city of Wheaton can spend (thousands of dollars) to take away my buildings, but they can't spend money for more police?" Sandberg said.

Police officials chose not to respond to Sandberg's comment, as they don't determine their own budget and staffing levels.

Wheaton police released partial descriptions of two of the suspects. The man who delivered the blows to Sandberg is described as being up to 6 feet, 1 inch tall, weighing 300 pounds and wearing a white T-shirt and gray pants. The second man, who possibly delivered the blows to Cooke, is described as about 6 feet, 1 inch tall and 180 pounds.

Sandberg's and Cooke's descriptions of the suspects differ somewhat, but both agree there were four total. Sandberg believes the robbery might be related to a shoplifting incident a couple weeks ago.

Anyone with information should call detective DeDe Magnier at (630) 260-2061.

Sunshine: Fight for public document goes to court

Thursday November 23 2006

Man sues Dist. 200 to get chief's contract Propaganda fears one reason the district says it won't give resident info

James Fuller Daily Herald Staff Writer

A clash over information regarding how much money Wheaton Warrenville Unit District 200 Superintendent Gary Catalani earns is now headed to court.

Wheaton resident Mark Stern has sought a copy of Catalani's employment contract for the past 10 months. The contract includes information about Catalani's salary structure, his employment duties and how much money he'll take to the bank when he retires next year.

The district denied all of Sterns' requests and appeals as allowed under Illinois' Freedom of Information Act.

Stern then had two fellow members of his Educate 200 community group, Joseph Mahady and Michelle Senatore, make nearly identical information requests for the contract. The district denied those requests as well.

Educate 200 is most known for opposing the district's plans to relocate Hubble Middle School to Warrenville. The opposition has fueled emotional debate and animosity in the district.

Educate 200 members say they want Catalani's contract to serve as a reference point for when a new contract is developed for whomever is hired as his successor. In short, they believe Catalani gets paid more money than the local taxpayers can, or should, shoulder.

Catalani earned about $380,000 last year, making him Illinois' highest paid superintendent.
Hence the stage is set for another heated debate about pay when a new superintendent comes to town.

District officials say that fact played into their decisions to deny Educate 200 access to Catalani's contract. But in a broader sense, they don't believe the contract is a public document.

"Such records are personnel items not subject to the Freedom of Information Act," reads the response crafted by the district's attorney, John Relias.

A public document?

Relias' opinion says that the names, salaries, titles and employment dates of all public employees and officers are public records, but actual employment contracts aren't.

His opinion relies on an Illinois Appellate Court decision involving the Peoria Journal Star's request for performance evaluations of a Peoria school superintendent and a letter from school board members to that superintendent.

Initially, a judge ruled the newspaper had a right to that information. That was reversed on appeal because the letter and evaluations were located in the superintendent's personnel file. Employment contracts can also be part of a personnel file, according to the ruling.

Relias said there's also a privacy issue involved. For example, the district might be in violation of the law if it gave copies of a contract without the employee's consent.

The contents of someone's personnel file are justifiably private because it could contain things like disciplinary actions or reprimands, Relias said.

District 200 staff members further explained that if a separate file existed just for employment contracts, then they would be public. That file doesn't exist in District 200.

Attorney Shawn Collins, who's representing Stern, said the Peoria case Relias cites is irrelevant to this matter.

"First, we're not asking for the disciplinary records of any district employee," Collins said. "Second, that's too subject to manipulation. The district can keep secret any document that it wants to simply by putting it in a personnel file."

District officials have shown they are willing to give some members of the public copies of Catalani's contract.

The Daily Herald, in a blanket request for superintendent contracts in the area, asked the district for Catalani's in March and received it with no questions asked.
Catalani said the reason the Daily Herald got a copy of his contract and Stern didn't came down to trust.

Can trust be a factor?

Catalani said Stern and Educate 200 used information in the past to distribute propaganda about the proposed Hubble school relocation.

"They haven't used information they've had access to in a fair or honorable way," he said.

"They've misused it to promote their side of the story. So if my attorney says I don't have to give it to them, why allow them to have more information?"

In contrast, Catalani said he didn't hesitate to give the information to the Daily Herald because he believed it would be used fairly. Catalani said he would release the contract to Stern if it became a big issue in the news.

When the matter goes to court, Stern will likely have the support of the Illinois attorney general's office behind him.

Terry Mutchler, the agency's public access counselor, said the employment contracts of a public official are public record and should be given to anyone who wants to see them.

"It is clear that, consistent with prior case law, the General Assembly intended the public to have access to the specified types of information concerning public employees," Mutchler wrote in an opinion for the Daily Herald.

Stern provided a similar opinion from Mutchler he sent to the district in his appeals to the district, but to no avail.

Public pressure

The next tactic was to try and create public pressure for the release of the document. So Educate 200 used public comment time at a school board meeting a couple months ago to ask for Catalani's contract.

Catalani told the audience that the district had responded to the request. He didn't say the response was "no."

There is no court date scheduled for the case as yet. Collins said he expects the matter to be expedited.

"We filed a lawsuit because we were left with no other choice," he said. "This shouldn't be in court. If this all seems like a very big deal, unfortunately, that's because the district has made it this way."

For his part, Stern said he thinks Catalani has done a good job overall. But that's not what's now at issue, he said.

"It's not for the district to screen what public information the public will have or not have," Stern said. "It's to make public information publicly available and let the community decide what's relevant. If there's not something to hide, they ought to make it public."

Alternative story telling: Spectator parade participation

Sunday October 01 2006

Lisle parade scores high Kids, candy and floats make 50th anniversary event largest in village history

James Fuller Daily Herald Staff Writer

It's a common belief that everyone loves a parade, but perhaps no one more so than a child.

With that in mind, Nikki and Sammi Mass, ages 11 and 8, joined Kelsy Nilles, 11, Michelle Krausfeldt, 10, and Emily Schillerstrom, 11, Saturday afternoon on Lisle's Main Street for the community's 50th anniversary parade.

A 10-minute downpour didn't deter them from a prime curb spot at Main Street and Burlington Avenue. It would ensure a front-row spot for any candy thrown and a solid place in the historic group photo the community will publish to celebrate its 50-year history.

First, the parade: It was billed as the largest and longest in Lisle's history. That's a big billing to live up to. The girls decided they'd judge the parade by its entries, one at a time on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the coolest.

- The Lisle-Woodridge Fire Department comes first, featuring fire trucks, sirens blaring.

"They were a little loud," Emily said. "And they didn't have any candy." Score: 2.

- Next is Bea Malloy, honorary grand marshal, followed by the Midwest Grotto Association in convertible Chrysler Crossfires.
"I like the cars," Nikki said. "I don't like how they're not doing anything in the cars." Score: 3.

- Now the clowns are sent in, a mix of happy and hobo clowns. The girls decide they're good for a few laughs. Score: 4.

- Next are mini race cars doing circles, followed by mini-motorcycles, followed by mini-Corvette-style cars: Score (averaged): 8.

"They're pretty cool, but the first little cars are the best," Michelle said. "After awhile, it gets kind of boring. They copied each other."
At this point, the girls got a bit agitated. It was several minutes into the parade and the big bags they held were empty. Their parade goals started to become clear.

"This better be candy," they all agreed, eyeing the next group of entries.
Not quite.

- Mayor Joe Broda's and the trustees' float came next. No candy, but they did throw pins. A minor victory is won for empty bag holders.

"I got one thing," Sammi shrugged. Score: undecided.

- Lisle High School marching band is next. Good music, good outfits. Score: 8.

- Then the girls see it: The B. Gunther & Co. float is approaching, raining down candy. Not only that, the floats following them are throwing candy as well.

"This is going to be a 10," Nikki decides.

"Wait, it depends on what kind of candy it is," Sammi chimes in.
Soon Tootsie Rolls and suckers are bouncing off their heads as they try to get some to land in their bags. They finally have their candy. Score: 9.

- Next comes the Lisle Lionettes Dance Team. They do a routine in which Kelsy seems intensely interested in. She ranks them on her own. Score: 5.

"I'm going to be one of those people," she explains.

Then come various groups of Cub Scouts. They have what appears to be larger bags of candy as they approach.

"Yeah, more candy," the girls shout in unison. The candy flies and the girls sprawl out, hands and knees, gathering it fistfuls at a time. Score: 10.

"They gave out good candy," Emily reasons.

Now the parade winds down. Soon the girls look perplexed. It's a political entry, a county board candidate, apparently the only one in the parade.

"Boooo," said the girls softly, but in unison. Score: 2 (even with candy).

"I'm not even voting," Nikki explains.

With that, it becomes clear the candy collecting is over. The largest and longest parade in Lisle's history lasts about 40 minutes. What's the final, overall score?

"It was OK," Nikki said. "Want a piece of candy?"

Alternative story telling: Santa for dogs

December 10 2006

A doggone good party Santa brings treats for huskies

James Fuller Daily Herald Staff Writer

'Twas two weeks before Christmas, when DuPage County Forest Preserve District staff realized a plan. Dogs can enjoy Christmas festivities as well as people can.

Owners tied their dogs to Greene Valley Forest Preserve picnic tables on Saturday with care. They hoped St. Nicholas soon would be there.

Adopt A Husky dogs nestled snugly on piles of straw, while visions of joining families occupied them all.

The huskies were joined by other breeds that had homes already. The chance to make new doggie pals made them hard to keep steady.

Dog owners wore gloves, most donned a winter cap, and settled for 40-degree weather after temperatures much lower than that.

Then out in the dog park arose such a clatter, it was Santa with dog treats, the pets couldn't have been gladder.

Up to Santa the dogs ran with a flash, barking and howling like sled dogs they dashed.

Out the dogs frolicked on the white, cold snow, while their owners gathered round a fire's red glow.

Then what to their wondering eyes did appear? The dogs pulling Santa's sleigh wore antlers like reindeer.

Ranger Annette McNeely said the sight was not weird, a club of 48 people began dog sledding in the park this year.

Most of the dogs were huskies that came, "Kodiak" and "Trinity" were among their names.

Over to other picnic tables some flew, for Petco was present to do some grooming on them, too.

And McNeely's eyes twinkled for the dogs were so merry. Their mouths held as many dog treats as they could carry.

"There's a lot of happy dogs here today," McNeely said and she'd know. She owns a husky herself that's fond of the snow.

It's not always a happy day for huskies with their ferocious teeth - they look like wolves McNeely said is a common belief.

Fear keeps people from adopting them, McNeely said. She described them as fun-loving, there's nothing to dread.

With Santa's bag of dog treats empty, it was the end of the day's Christmas work. All gathered their belongings and turned with a jerk.

One last sleigh ride through the park Santa whistled. Off his dog team flew like a missile.

Away from the forest preserve in Naperville Santa mushed out of sight, but not before saying, "Happy Christmas to all dogs, and to their owners a good night."

Alternative story telling: Half an hour in jail

October 01 2006

Half an hour in jail Tours of the jail are one part of DuPage County Safety Day


James Fuller Daily Herald Staff Writer

It's hard not to get a sinking feeling in your stomach when stepping onto a DuPage County sheriff's bus.

Outside, the signs at the DuPage County Fairgrounds on Saturday morning read "10th Annual Safety Saturday." Inside the bus, it was me and the rest of the criminals.

Alleged, that is.

I walked down the aisle looking for a friendly face, a would-be cellmate to endure the trip to the big house. I settled on a seat across the aisle from an unusually short and young looking guy toting a blue "Sheriff John Zaruba" balloon.
Talk about a criminal just asking to get arrested.

The bus was segmented into four compartments by black metal cages. The same cages adorned the windows, letting us know we weren't going anywhere but jail.

"Ready to go?" the sheriff's officer asked after yanking the bus doors closed.

"Yaaaaaaay," responded my fellow inmates. Clearly these were rookies to the criminal justice system.

Smiling officers awaited our arrival at the jail. For some reason, they took the time to show us their crime investigation facilities, perhaps mocking us for how easy we were to catch.

It was there I found my one glimmer of hope. Forensic Scientist Leroy Keith told us finding fingerprints and identifying matches is still mostly done by hand, and much more difficult than TV shows like "CSI" would have us believe.

"People really have unreal expectations on what we can do," Keith said. "We can't compete with some of the shows."

On to the lockup. Officers escorted us through the metal detectors. All the while we were conspicuously free of handcuffs or shackles. My potential 3-foot cellmate still grasped his balloon, smiling.

We were led into a small room dubbed "the mantrap" and the metal doors closed behind us.

"Now we're in trouble," said yet another unusually short criminal, holding the hand of someone named "Mom." It seemed to be an evil nickname.

An elevator ride later and we were all inside a small gym. One basketball hoop. One weight machine. One chin-up bar. We'd be able to use the facility about 10 people at a time, one hour a day.

Then came the visitation room. It's just like in the movies. No human contact. You can only stare through the glass and chat on a phone. If you're lucky, there's a bin your lawyer can pass documents to you for signatures.

Then came the dreaded cells. Two floors of rooms too small to lay on the floor width-wise and not have to scrunch your legs. The beds are green pads with thin blankets. There are rubber bins for your belongings, and an actual hole in the wall to store toilet paper. Perhaps that's where I could start digging for an escape.

The officers told us this room, and the commons area directly outside, would be where we'd spent our entire day. Checkers, chess, dominoes, Scrabble and one television are the entertainment.

Then, a miracle came. Maybe there was some legal glitch that let us fall through the cracks. We were all whisked back onto the elevator and led to an escape route out the back door.

I decide to high-tail it out of there before anyone changed their minds.

"That was cool," said the balloon-toting, short man. Apparently, he hasn't learned his lesson. I suspect a long life of crime may be ahead of him. There was even talk of going back to the fairgrounds to meet a particularly good, but dog-faced, detective named "McGruff."

Not me. Maybe the jail is nice for the 800 or so people living there, but I count myself lucky to not be one of them.

Watchdog fallout: Park director resigns, still gets paid

Here are two stories detailing the fallout from an investigation I did a few weeks earlier about the costs of remodeling the director's home being much more than the park district publicly reported.

September 21 2006

Wheaton Park District director calls it quits

James Fuller Daily Herald Staff Writer

Wheaton Park District Director Rob Robinson unexpectedly resigned Wednesday night following community backlash about taxpayer dollars pumped into his free housing at Arrowhead Golf Course.

The announcement at the start of the park board meeting fueled public comments laced with vitriol. The comments were based on two Daily Herald reports.

The first report put the cost of upgrades to Robinson's house at $83,000. The second report cited documents obtained by the Daily Herald putting the actual cost at about $180,000, resulting in an explanation from the district that no one actually looked at the hard numbers before reporting the $83,000 figure.

Labor costs and a new garage will eventually put the cost of the project at about $300,000.

Park commissioners explained they had no idea the house needed such extensive repairs because they hadn't seen the inside in many years.

Community members said Wednesday night the house isn't worth the cost or the repairs night.

"I just don't think that's the best use of the public's dollars," Aileen Haslett told the park board.

"I want to make sure we get the most for our money."

Overall, the community expressed support for Robinson's leadership. It was exactly the opposite when he came to the park board.

One resident, Don Immekus, went so far as to call for the resignation of all seven park commissioners.

"As elected officials you have all violated your fiduciary responsibility," Immekus said. "You, as a board, lied to (Robinson) to get him here. That house was (former Director) Bob Dunsmuir's dog kennel. How long have you been on the board? Not one of you was ever in that house?"

Park commissioners defended the remodeling of the house as a necessary action to attract a quality director, and as an investment in an asset.

Park Board President Paul Fullerton said it's not a major ongoing cost to taxpayers, and no park maintenance went unperformed as a result of staff time spent on the house.

"We were not constantly updating the house," Fullerton said. "The reason costs were incurred was because the home had not been updated for some time."

Robinson offered no public comment about his resignation. Fullerton read a statement that said Robinson was resigning to return to Colorado because of family issues.

In the weeks leading up to Wednesday night's resignation, Robinson expressed concern to the Daily Herald about how news reports on the housing issue were stressing out his family and causing some of his children to endure uncomfortable questioning by peers at school.

Robinson did not immediately respond to an interview request after Wednesday night's meeting.

Park commissioners met in closed session to discuss a date for Robinson's departure and any legal obligations about severance pay.

-30-

Friday December 22 2006

Ex-Wheaton park director still being paid

James Fuller Daily Herald Staff Writer

Rob Robinson isn't executive director of the Wheaton Park District anymore. He doesn't live in free park district housing. Nor does he live in Illinois.

But he'll still get paid for another month as if he was, a sum totaling a little more than $10,000, according to a copy of Robinson's resignation agreement.

Robinson's Sept. 20 resignation took effect immediately. At that moment he lost all his park district privileges. He turned in his park district cell phone. He relinquished the 2003 Ford Explorer the park district gave him to use for business purposes. And he had until the end of the year to move out of the free housing the district provided for him and his family.

Robinson is already out of that house, but he'll still see some money related to the housing down the road.

The park district places the fair market value of the free housing it provided Robinson at $25,000 for the year. Robinson must now include that as gross income on his taxes. For that, the park district will reimburse him up to $2,222 for the taxes owed.

But Robinson will receive more money for temporary housing the district provided while fixing up the park district home used to house the director. From Jan. 1 to June 30, the park district shelled out $24,000 in rent for Robinson and his family to live in temporary housing at 821 N. Wheaton Ave. That comes out to $4,000 a month in rent.

"It was basically a supply and demand thing," park board President Paul Fullerton said. "It was the only house we could find."

Robinson must also include the temporary housing payment in his gross income. The park district will reimburse him up to $9,600 for doing so.

Robinson exhausted all his personal and sick time before he left, which supports his statement about resigning because of health concerns. However, the park district did cut Robinson a check for $4,662 for 73 hours of unused vacation time.

Unless he gets a new job before then, Robinson keeps his health and dental benefits until Jan. 31. That's also the last day he'll receive a paycheck under the resignation agreement, for a total of four months of severance pay since September. Before taxes and retirement contributions, that's about $40,000.

The Daily Herald obtained Robinson's resignation agreement through a Freedom of Information request, a process some park commissioners indicated was costly and burdensome on park staff this week.

Fullerton agreed the public should know the details of Robinson's resignation agreement. However, because it is a "dicey" employment issue, the park board paid for a legal opinion on what it could and should release.

Fullerton said it does the same for all Freedom of Information requests.

"I'm into full disclosure and openness," he said.

Robinson did not respond to an interview request.

Under the resignation agreement, he is not allowed to make disparaging comments about the park district.
-30-

Sept. 11, 2006: The Stories

Men work to make sure victims of 9/11 are not forgotten

By James Fuller
Daily Herald Staff Writer

NEW YORK — Vinny Forras should be dead.

Forras, a volunteer firefighter in suburban South Salem, N.Y., went to ground zero on Sept. 11, 2001. His volunteer status detracted nothing from his desire to get there as fast as possible.
It did not diminish for the three weeks after the terrorist attacks he spent digging through the rubble.

His only departure from the site was to go home and wish his daughter Brittany happy birthday on Sept. 19.

The pile of rubble to sift through was daunting. The Twin Towers were the tallest buildings in Manhattan by far, and they were only part of the debris. Much of the pile remained on fire for weeks. Navigating around it was guesswork much of the time.

“It was like ants trying to attack a mountain,” Forras said.

While scaling one of the steep slopes of the pile, he plunged into an abyss. He found himself wedged like a cork in a bottle at the bottom.

“The pile shook and that was it,” Forras said. “I was in. It was panic city. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. I was stuffed in there like a cork. I was burning. My boots were melting because I was basically on fire.”

Images flooded his mind. The births of his three children came to him. All the sensory feelings. The smell of new babies surrounded him.

“I got to face death,” Forras said.

No one knew he was trapped. There was no way to communicate to other rescue personnel. There was no real equipment necessarily able to rescue him from his particular predicament either.

So Forras pushed and wiggled and dug himself free. It was an encounter with death that had a purpose.

Ground Zero pledge

In the aftermath of the recovery effort, Forras formed the Gear Up Foundation. The nonprofit is dedicated to bringing firefighting equipment to areas of the world that lack basics like fire trucks and ambulances. Gear Up relies on donations of funds and equipment from communities.

That’s where Barrington resident Joe Cantafio comes in.

Cantafio is a stock trader by trade, but a musician at heart.

Four years ago, he came to New York with his guitar and boxes of T-shirts on a mission with two purposes: raise money for families of fallen firefighters and, more importantly, help ease some of their pain.

It was there that Cantafio and Forras formed a friendship. Now Cantafio hopes to use his goodwill in the Chicago area fire departments to help keep the Gear Up Foundation thriving.
His first target is Schaumburg, where several firefighters connected with Cantafio during his local fundraising efforts for the families of Engine 55 four years ago.

Schaumburg Fire Department Lt. Rick Kolomay has agreed to be the Chicago-area coordinator for the effort. He spent part of Monday’s anniversary — “a wonderful day to start,” he said — appealing to area departments to donate equipment to the cause, even one set of gear.

“A lot of departments have recycled or older gear in storage or in a basement,” Kolomay said. “If every department donates one or two, that’s like 30 sets of gear to go to (a department) less fortunate. … It’s a big task, but we’ll get it.”

More 9/11 victims

Cantafio called Forras “just an unbelievable guy. He’s a hero. And what he’s doing with the foundation is just part of who he is. It’s from the heart. Everything he does is from the heart. What a great thing.”

Cantafio is considering a director’s position with the foundation. It’s partly because of Cantafio’s fundraising and event planning ability.

The other part has to do with building a leadership committee within the foundation that will outlast Forras, if need be.

He suffers a number of ailments that he traces back to his ground zero service and the “terrible, toxic cocktail” of chemicals and dust he breathed during the rescue effort.

Health and government officials proclaimed the air safe in the area at the time just after the attacks. That doesn’t explain why so many of the workers have lung problems and resulting health ailments that come with that.

“People are still dying from 9/11, even today,” Forras said.

Five years out from the terrorist attacks, Forras and Cantafio somehow find the inspiration to keep their healing missions going.

At night, the two men sit together figuring out their next steps with smiles on their faces and determination in their eyes. On the wall above Forras’ desk, in a home office cluttered with firefighting memorabilia, is a poster that describes their work: “A living memorial dedicated to doing great deeds around the world in name of those who perished in 9/11.”

Sept. 11, 2006: The Stories

Still seeking answers in New York City
People with suburban ties recall their role in September 2001

BY JAMES FULLER
Daily Herald Staff Writer
Posted Monday, September 11, 2006

NEW YORK - The rising sun streaks the morning sky, and visitors stake out spots at ground zero.

TV news reporters are stationed on the rooftop of buildings overlooking this hallowed ground. They chronicle the attacks. They interview the widows, the rescue workers sickened by the toxic dust.

America still seeks answers.

That quest draws thousands, the mourners and the curious, to the site of the nation's most lethal terror attack. Almost 3,000 people died here. Nearly half were never recovered.

Lower Manhattan bustles again, but people slow down and look as they walk by. Even New Yorkers who didn't lose most-cherished loved ones can't forget.

Janet Stevens was compelled to do something that awful day five years ago. The former Lake Zurich resident went to see if anyone could use a 55-year-old massage therapist. She soon found a gig at St. Paul's, a church near ground zero.

Wednesdays from 2 to 8 a.m. for six months, she tried to rub away the horrors for the workers. She'd go home covered in ash and dust. But she'd never go to ground zero.

Today, she finally made it.

"It's not what you expect," Stevens said. "You can't prepare for it. ... All of us, we'd do it again in a New York second. We did what we had to do."

Gone, today, is the 10-story pile of steel, ash, glass and remains. Gone are the seas of letters, trinkets and "Have you seen this person?" posters. Gone are the triage centers, the morgues, the firefighters sleeping on the streets, using helmets for pillows, searching for their brethren for weeks without going home.

What remains is the pain.

Pat Gambaro, a former Wheaton resident, is executive vice president of operations for the New York Board of Trade, which lost five people on Sept. 11. It might have been six if Gambaro hadn't gone to visit his newborn grandson.

Including the New York Mercantile Exchange, he lost 33 colleagues. His cousin Anthony Colandonato, a Cantor Fitzgerald broker, was also among the dead.

"I don't cry," Gambaro said. "I didn't cry at my dad's funeral and we were closer than close. I don't show my emotions."

Today, though, he's tearing up when the 33 names are read at a commemoration ceremony at the Board of Trade. Wives, fathers, daughters too small to reach the microphone deliver messages of love to those lost. Rudy Giuliani speaks.

Gambaro, who got the market reopened six days after the attacks, will persevere.

What's less clear is how the shaking and tearful, here and at ground zero, will persevere without their loved ones. Five years have not filled the void.

Bells toll all day long, counting off the victims. Night comes. Hearts break anew.

Five years are in the books.

America has not forgotten.

Sept. 11, 2006: The Journal

Monday in New York

Daily Herald Staff Writer James Fuller spent the 9/11 anniversary in New York City observing the commemorations. Here are some of this thoughts from the day.

By James Fuller
Daiily Herald Staff Writer
Posted Tuesday, September 12, 2006

NEW YORK - Day 2 in New York begins before dawn. Vinny Forras, my host, is scheduled to be on the “Today” show with Matt Lauer and Tom Brokaw for this morning.
That means we’re up at 5:20 a.m. I’ve logged a grand total of 2¨ hours sleep. I find it hard to rest at Forras’ home. Not because it feels unwelcome, but just from the buzz of the household, with its two high school kids, two college kids, Vinny, his wife Monica and Joe Cantafio.

Cantafio is a Barrington stock trader and musician looking to add his knowledge and passion to Vinny’s Gear Up Foundation. Cantafio has experience raising funds and providing entertainment for the families of New York firefighters who died in the attacks, and for U.S. troops overseas. Vinny wants to bring much-needed fire fighting gear and training to communities in need around the world.

NBC is operating from the rooftop of the One World Financial Center across the street from Ground Zero. As soon as we step off the elevator at the 10th floor, I get a wakeup call about what the aftermath of Sept. 11 has meant to journalists. The Wall Street Journal also has working space on the 10th floor. There is a plaque on the wall dedicated to the memory of Daniel Pearl. Journalists are not immune to death and torture even as we try to find the meaning and rationale behind it.

Vinny heads off for some last-minute beautification with the makeup crew. I step out onto the roof to see the set. CNBC, NBC and MSNBC are all broadcasting within 2 feet of each other. Chris Matthews, Matt Lauer, Tom Brokaw and some MSNBC host I don’t recognize are all working their TV magic. Behind them is the acreage that used to be the World Trade Center buildings.

Ground Zero ceremonies are already beginning. Reflecting pools have replaced the 10-story-high, mangled mass of steel and rubble and bodies. People line up to say prayers, shed tears and drop roses of various colors in the pools in memory of the dead. The last time I was here, you could still taste the dust in the air, feel it on your skin. That was 2002, less than a year after the attacks. Mourning was still in full effect. Four years later, there are still some tears, but dark sunglasses seem to have replaced watery eyes for the most part. I crack a faint smile to the thought that perhaps some healing, some peace has finally come for those carrying the grief of Sept. 11.

I can’t hear what the newscasters are saying from my vantage point. I go inside and watch a monitor, waiting for Vinny to appear. While I wait, I continue to gaze out the window. Police and fire vehicles are everywhere, standing at the ready. On the wall are four clocks with different time zones. One is New York. One is Turin, Italy. One is Asia. The last clock is stuck at 5 p.m. It’s labeled “Beer O’Clock.” Who says journalists don’t know how to have fun?

I look back to the monitor when I hear Vinny’s voice. He begins to talk about his experiences at Ground Zero. At first he came to save people. There were almost none left alive to save. Just random abysses in the pile that held the promise of saving a life, but often revealed only death when explored.

I look at the New York clock again. It’s 9:11 a.m.

At our next destination I soon find that I may have misjudged the amount of healing that has taken place.

The New York Board of Trade and New York Mercantile Exchange host a memorial tribute to 33 traders they lost when the Twin Towers collapsed. Vinny will speak here, too. He talks about how key the perseverance of the exchange was for the economy and defeating the terrorists’ goal of crippling America.

“You showed them we’re Americans, and we’re not going to let you do this to us,” Forras said. “Never forget 9/11. Keep your loved ones in your heart always.”

Then it begins. The names of the fallen stock traders are read from Evan Bauen to Elkin Yuen. One group at a time their surviving family members come to a microphone and talk about loved ones. Some bring children who aren’t even tall enough to reach the microphone. They’ve lost their daddies. Some families share memories. But some come to the podium and can barely do more than cry. They quiver with emotion, and can’t keep it all in. When their tears come, so do ours. We don’t know them, but somehow, in the hours glued to television watching those planes slam into the towers, we’ve bonded with them.

A dad cries into the microphone about how much he misses his son. His daughter rubs his arm. Next is a little girl. Next is a woman who is more composed, or so it seems. Some fight the tears. They won’t let themselves cry. So we cry for them. Finally we come to Yuen’s name, the last on the list. A little girl stretches up tiny hands to the microphone and announces she is Yuen’s daughter. The crowd loses it. I look around and everyone is whisking away a tear.

This little girl will never know her father. She’ll have only stories and most of those may be about how her dad was murdered by terrorists. Now my tears are flavored with a hint of anger. It’s wrong for this little girl to be robbed of her father. I’ve time warped back to five years ago, sitting in front of my TV. Shock and sadness mix with a simmering fury as the images of the crashes and collapses, the running and screaming play over and over.

There’s no complete outlet for such emotions, and I didn’t even lose anyone I knew.
After the ceremony I chat with one of the traders at the exchange. She tells me how depression sank in after the attacks a little more each day. Even when the market re-opened, it wasn’t the same without her 33 fallen colleagues. The audible cues were out of whack. The pit calls weren’t coming from their usual directions. No one was standing in the right place. No one knew how to fill the voids left by those 33 traders. At night she’d go home, but she couldn’t sleep unless the curtains were shut tight.

“It was sick, but I couldn’t look out onto the city, and it was almost like keeping the curtains closed would somehow stop the planes from flying into my windows,” she said, asking not to be named.

How do you get past such a fear? How long does it take to get back to “normal?” And when you do, how do you rationalize for the instant loss of 33 people who used to be part of your life five days a week?

Maybe it takes five years. Time, and picking apart things to their basic parts has helped her.
“I woke up this morning thinking about something that my son said to me when he was little and got stung by a bee,” she said. “He said it hurt, but it also hurt more because I he didn’t know bees could hurt him. He thought bees were his friends.”

Travel is part of so many New Yorkers’ lives, but planes no longer fly in the friendly skies. America has not fully recovered from Sept. 11. The stock trader’s story reveals something to me about myself that I had not considered before. Americans love America. We’ve fought wars before. We’ve even been attacked before. But it’s never been about outright hate before. Hate for America’s beliefs, values and way of life led to mass murder. Maybe part of healing is realizing that not everyone loves America.

Sept. 11, 2006: The journal

Sunday in New York

Daily Herald Staff Writer James Fuller is spending the five-year anniversary of 9/11 in New York City observing the commemorations. Here are some of this thoughts from his first day in New York Sunday.

James Fuller
Daily Herald Writer
Posted Monday, September 11, 2006

NEW YORK - I awake this morning, Sept. 10, 2006, already thinking about Sept. 11, 2001. It’s been five years since I sat transfixed in front of my TV by the images of America being attacked. I was shocked. I was angry. And, yes, a little scared. No attack on America on that scale had ever happened during my lifetime. Pearl Harbor was just a story in my history books that seemed so long ago and so impossible to recreate.

Perhaps it was a bit of that lingering fear that causes me to put on my blessed medal of St. Christopher before heading out to O’Hare airport. I rarely wear it, but he’s supposed to protect travelers. It’s not Sept. 11, but the Orange Alert status at the airport reminds me that it’s close enough.

I sit on a bench in the terminal and watch the line of United Airlines passengers waiting to check their bags. If you’re at the end of that line, you can’t even see where it begins. I’m surprised how many people are willing to travel so close to a landmark anniversary for the attacks. But then again, it is Sept. 10. Maybe all these people are just trying to avoid traveling on Sept. 11.

Me and my beat-up, green suitcase are waiting for Joe Cantafio. Today we will travel to New York, back to the main stage for the horror of Sept. 11. I have not been there since July 2002.

I spent a week with Joe living with the men of Engine 55 in New York’s Little Italy neighborhood. I spent my days and nights trying to understand the emotions the men felt in losing five of their brothers when the Twin Towers collapsed. Joe spent his days and nights trying to heal that pain. Joe was a Barrington stocktrader by trade, but a musician by heart. He’d already spent months touring the suburbs of Chicago with his guitar to raise money for the families of New York firefighters who lost their dads, brothers, husbands and cousins on Sept. 11.

Joe, like many Americans, felt like he had to do something in response to the attack. In his late 40s at the time of the attack, the Army rejected him when he tried to enlist. Joe decided his alternative outlet was his music. So he went around the Chicago suburbs playing small gigs and selling T-shirts to raise money that would benefit New Yorkers. In choosing whom should receive the money, he randomly selected Engine 55 out of a hat.

It’s four years later. Joe is still on a mission. As we chat over some airport scrambled eggs, I find he hasn’t changed a bit.

Joe is sometimes criticized for his eye-for-an-eye reaction to the terrorist attacks. If his finger was on the red button, Afghanistan and Iraq would’ve been bombed into oblivion and any survivors would spend the rest of their lives chipping the resulting glass back into sand.

Joe is so unapologetic about his stance that he once walked out of a homily at Mass when the priest began lecturing about how the current war on terror is wrong.

“Jesus didn’t have to deal with suicide bombers,” Joe explains. “They’re killing themselves to kill us. The war is the lesser of two evils.”

Joe doesn’t even pull punches with his own family. On Sept. 9, Joe played at a “Family Freedom Festival” in Barrington with a strong military theme. At the same time in Oak Park, Joe’s nephew played in a band at a peace festival. Joe’s nephew believes the war is wrong.

“I told him we’re gonna take all of our missiles and tanks at our rally and point them right at him at his peace rally,” Joe said.

When we move to our gate, Joe spots three young U.S. Navy personnel coming through the security checkpoint. They’re on their way to Connecticut for more training. When Joe sees them in line to buy coffee, he springs up to pick up the tab. Joe lost a cousin who was fighting in Iraq to the war. In some way, these young seamen seem to be adopted children to Joe. It’s the same whenever he encounters a firefighter or soldier.

“Now they know a little bit about what the American citizen thinks about what they’re doing,” Joe explains.

As we board the plane, Joe tells one of the flight attendants his seat number and advises her he’s available and ready for anything that may happen.

Vinny Forras picks us up from LaGuardia airport. Vinny is why Joe is in New York this time. Tomorrow, Vinny will ring the opening bell at the New York Board of Trade. When I find out why Vinny was bestowed the honor, it makes perfect sense that he and Joe are teaming up.

Vinny was a volunteer firefighter serving out of South Salem, New York. On Sept. 11, he responded to the World Trade Center along with his full-time brethren. While working to rescue people in the pile, he fell into a cavern and was trapped. It took well over an hour to extract him because the right equipment was not available.

“The pile shook and that was it,” Vinny says “I was in. It was panic city. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. I was stuffed in there like a cork. I was burning. My boots were melting because I was basically on fire.”

Vinny used that near-death experience as inspiration. He started the Gear Up Foundation to take fire equipment that’s being discarded and find new homes for it in areas with little to no equipment at all. That mission has taken him as far away as Ecuador to deliver that fire gear and train fire fighters.

Vinny’s work at Ground Zero has had unintended consequences. Five years later, Sept. 11, 2001, is still claiming victims. Someday, Vinny may very well be one of them. The air at Ground Zero has played havoc with Vinny’s health - so much so that he’s already worried about how much time he has left.

He’s asked Joe to get involved with the foundation because of Joe’s track record with being an apt fundraiser and organizer. Vinny is building a board of directors for the foundation that will be able to take over if he’s suddenly no longer around.

Joe serves a second purpose because of his connections with firefighters in Chicago and its suburbs. Vinny hopes Joe will help kick start an effort to get Chicagoland fire departments to donate their excess or used equipment to the Gear Up effort. Schaumburg is first on Joe’s target list of departments to give.

The banter between Vinny and Joe in the car shows me they’ve hit it off because their views on the war are so similar. Vinny’s son, Michael, enlisted in the Marines because of Sept. 11. Some parents would’ve tried to talk their son out of enlisting during and evident time of war. Not Vinny. When we arrive at his house, pictures of Michael in his uniform line the walls. Is he proud of his son’s decision to enlist?

“Oh my God, you have no idea,” Vinny responds.

Sept. 11 wasn’t about plane crashes. It wasn’t about some sort of freak accident. It wasn’t about heroic efforts.

“Sept. 11 was an attack,” Vinny says. “It was an attack against America.”

Vinny may very well be dying. His lung capacity is significantly diminished. His hair began to turn gray within weeks of the attack. He doesn’t have the same energy level. The chemicals he breathed into his lungs and swallowed everyday he worked on the pile are doing untold damage to him. This follows many affirmations my various levels of government that the air at Ground Zero was safe.

That would be enough to make anyone mad.

But factor in that he doesn’t get the same workman’s compensation the full-time firefighters receive. He has to go through insurance company doctors who always tell him nothing is wrong with him, then get overwhelming evidence to the contrary from independent doctors to get any assistance.

And yet, you’d be hard-pressed to find a bigger fan of President Bush. The walls of Vinny’s home have photos of himself shaking hands with the president. There are signed, personalized letters thanking Vinny for his service and continued efforts.

On TV interviews, you’ll never hear Vinny say anything negative about the president. All he asks in return his help with his health care and the medical needs of all the other volunteers at Ground Zero who are in his same situation.

“I blame the terrorists for this,” Vinny says about his health. “I’m assuming decisions were made for the good of Americans about work at Ground Zero and keeping the country going. Now Americans must make a commitment to take care of us and our families.”

At night, we go to Fox TV studios in New York. Vinny is interviewed about the health problems of rescue personnel at Ground Zero and Sept. 11 in general. His answers are never rehearsed. Having spent the past six hours with him, I now know they come straight from the heart.

The emotional impact of Sept. 11 on New Yorkers and people like Vinny is immeasurable. Those who deal with it the best are the ones who talk about it. Not all the time. Talking about it all the time brings the pain to a level of unhealthy obsession. Vinny admits that he feeds off interviews and the Gear Up Foundation like the one on Fox tonight to help him cope. They are distracting salves. They keep his mind from going back in the same way Vietnam War veterans have flashbacks.

“If I didn’t have this forget it,” Vinny explains. “I’d be a wreck. I’d be crying my eyes out at Ground Zero.”

Tomorrow, Vinny will go back to Ground Zero. Joe will accompany him, as will I.

My visit 10 months after the attack chilled me. I felt tears that just wouldn’t come to the surface. For others visiting the site, tears flowed unabated. I wonder what the morning will bring. I’ll pray tonight for the souls I felt there last time. I hope when I visit tomorrow I’ll feel a sense of peace.

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