Fighting for Air: The Battle to Control America's Media - Hardcover

Eric Klinenberg, associate professor of sociology at New York University, is the author of the highly acclaimed Heat Wave: A Social Autopsy of Disaster in Chicago. The recipient of numerous academic awards and fellowships, Klinenberg has also written for Rolling Stone, The Nation, and Slate.

Introduction
 
The Empty Studio
 
At approximately 1:39 a.m. on January 18, 2002, a 112-car Canadian Pacific Railway train carrying hazardous chemicals derailed just outside Minot, North Dakota, the fourth largest city in the state. According to the operating crew, the train had been traveling at forty miles an hour, and the accident happened when they attempted to slow down after hitting a rough spot on the tracks. Thirty-one cars jumped off the rails, and several burst open, spilling about 240,000 gallons of anhydrous ammonia, a toxic compound commonly used as a fertilizer, into a woodsy neighborhood called Tierrecita Vallejo, "Lovely Land of the Valley."
 
            Minot, a quiet town with a population of nearly thirty-seven thousand nestled into a low-lying valley below the Canadian border, developed with the expansion of the rail lines and is now known for its air force base and annual state fair. In winter, arctic air grips the region, freezing winds howl through the streets, and residents hunker down. On the morning of the accident the winds were unusually gentle, and instead of dispersing, the anhydrous ammonia quickly formed a vapor plume that covered the crash site, spread to the adjacent residential area, and floated ominously toward town. Once they realized what was happening, the train crew unhitched their two locomotives and hurried into Minot. The conductor used his personal cell phone to call Ward County 911.1
 
Operator: 9-1-1, what's the emergency?
 
Caller: Uh, uh, this Minot Dispatch?
 
Operator: Yes, it is.
 
Caller: We've got an emerg, just had a derailment. We've got an explosion. Oh, it's around Tierrecita, Tierrecita Val, Vallejo, uh, CP Rail, we just had a derailment and we've got an explosive. Over.
 
Operator: Okay. Uh, do you know what kind of chemicals are on board, sir?
 
Caller: Uh, we've got hazardous material and I can smell stuff now.
 
            Although the Ward County 911 dispatchers do not see much action in the dead of winter, they had an emergency management plan in place. After taking the conductor's call, the operator paged the Minot Rural Fire Department, and within two minutes the chief and assistant chief responded. They sent six units from the rural fire hall to the accident site, requested mutual aid from the Minot City Fire Department and the Burlington Fire Department, and notified the Air Force Base Hazardous Materials Team. Ward County also sent officers from its Sheriff's Department to the scene.
 
            Local officials had to issue a public warning with information about the spill as well as instructions on how civilians could stay safe. Emergency personnel were familiar with anhydrous because local farmers use it regularly, and their advice was simple: Stay indoors, away from the spill. Cover your mouth with a wet washcloth if you have trouble breathing. Turn off your home furnace. Do not try to drive through the cloud. Anhydrous takes oxygen out of the air and is capable of shutting down car engines. In large enough doses, anhydrous shuts down the human respiratory system, too. Even limited exposure burns the eyes, the skin, and the lungs. The emergency crews feared that some civilians who smelled or saw the toxic cloud would leave their homes in hope of outrunning it, only to put themselves in harm's way.
 
            Four minutes after the train crew first reported the crash, dispatchers received a call from two panicked parents whose child had run out into the toxic air.
 
Male: We're out at, um Tierrecita Vallejo, 625 37th Street Southwest . . . We don't know what's going on. Something sparks and flew. It reeks in our background. We're gonna try, get out of the house.
 
Operator: Okay, um. What
 
Female: What is happening here?
 
Male: (talking to female: What, What is it?) It's bad. We're gonna try to go to the neighbors. What is it? . . .  It smells really bad. I don't know if, uh, a train blew up or . . .
 
Operator: Yeah, there is, there is a train derailment there.
 
Male: Okay . . . Where is Kelsey at?
 
Female: She ran.
 
Male: God damn.
 
Operator: Everybody in the room?
 
Male: No, we don't. My daugh, she sent my daughter out.
 
Operator: Outside?
 
Female: Oh, shit.
 
Male: Yell at her.
 
Male: Becky?
 
Female: Kelsey. Come back, Kelsey, come back. Kelsey, can you come back.
 
Male: God damn it, Becky. What in the hell are you doing in the middle of the night.
 
Operator: Do, do you have everybody there now?
 
Male: No, we don't. My daughter isn't there. I don't have anything on. They're all dressed and she sent her out but it smells really bad outside.
 
Operator: Okay, yeah, just.
 
Male: Is she here?
 
Female: No, honey, she's gone.
 
Operator: Ma'am?
 
Female: My daughter ran out the front door.
 
Operator: She ran out? How old is your daughter?
 
Female: She's twelve . . . Is she gonna die out there?
 
Male: I don't know.
 
Female: You guys have to hurry please . . .
 
            Two minutes later the office fielded another urgent call.
 
Operator: 9-1-1, what is your emergency?
 
Female: Hi. There's some emergency at our house at Tierrecita Vallejo. I don't know what it is but there was a huge, huge crash. There's smoke everywhere outside.
 
Operator: Right. We're aware of it. We have fire units en route, okay? You need to stay
 
Female: What is going on?
 
Operator: You need to stay calm until we can figure out what, what's going on, what to do. Okay. Stay calm. If there's gonna be any evacuations, we will announce it. Okay. But you need to stay in your house.
 
Female: We can't hear if you announce anything.
 
            Within minutes of the accident, calls to 911 were coming in by the dozen. Those who lived near the accident or were driving close by heard the explosions and saw fires burning. Some who were farther away smelled chemicals in the air and worried that there had been a bomb at the local military base. The toxic cloud grew to some five miles long, two and one-half miles wide, and 350 feet high, penetrating into the homes of approximately fifteen thousand people, waking up some and causing widespread fear and confusion among those who stumbled around their homes trying to assess what was happening.2 Minot residents complained that their eyes, lungs, and nasal passages were burning, and told dispatchers that they didn't know how to protect themselves. "What should we do?" one resident asked his wife as she spoke with the operator. She repeated the question. "What should we do?"
 
 
Instead of calling 911 to find out what had happened and what they should do, most people in Minot turned on their televisions and radios, which had proven to be reliable sources of emergency public health and safety information since the Cold War, when President Harry Truman charged broadcasters with responsibility for the service. Not only were broadcast companies then uniquely positioned to conduct crisis...