Photograph, Print
Photo credit: © Joe McNally
Accession Number: C.2022.24.1
Dimensions: 109 in X 44 in X 0.08 in
Dimensions (Metric): 276.86 cm X 111.76 cm X 0.2032 cm
Dimensions (Metric): 276.86 cm X 111.76 cm X 0.2032 cm
Source: Joseph McNally
Credit Line: Collection 9/11 Memorial Museum. © Joe McNally
Josephine Harris, Bookkeeper, Port Authority of New York and New Jersey
Keywords
Collapse
Evacuation
Photographer and Videographer: Professional
Port Authority of New York and New Jersey (PANYNJ)
Survivors
Collapse
Evacuation
Photographer and Videographer: Professional
Port Authority of New York and New Jersey (PANYNJ)
Survivors
Description
Life-sized Polaroid photograph taken by Joe McNally depicting Port Authority of New York and New Jersey bookkeeper and survivor Josephine Harris. Harris wears an FDNY baseball cap and holds up a jacket with the Ladder 6 emblem and "Josephine | Our Guardian Angel" embroidered on the front. She has a big smile on her face.
Life-sized Polaroid photograph taken by Joe McNally depicting Port Authority of New York and New Jersey bookkeeper and survivor Josephine Harris. Harris wears an FDNY baseball cap and holds up a jacket with the Ladder 6 emblem and "Josephine | Our Guardian Angel" embroidered on the front. She has a big smile on her face.
Historical Notes
In the weeks after September 11th, Port Authority bookkeeper Josephine Harris offered a consistently straightforward account of her extraordinary Tuesday rescue. After Flight 11 exploded into the North Tower, Harris left her 73rd floor office with co-workers and proceeded down the building’s stairwell. Wearied by the unaccustomed exercise and her recovery from a recent accident, her stamina diminished and she needed numerous stops to rest.
When Harris intersected with the Ladder 6 firefighters and PAPD Officer Lim, she felt thoroughly drained. Despite the gravity of the emergency, she had little will to push through her fatigue and discomfort until the men spoke with her. The final stretch of the group’s downward evacuation remained slow. They had almost reached the lobby when the unthinkable happened: the building began to collapse. Within seconds, Harris and the first responders were entangled together in the confined, dark remnant of Stairwell B, unaware of the catastrophic extent of the Tower’s destruction. Remarkably, Harris and her rescuers were spared serious injuries. They also kept each other’s spirits hopeful. Hours later, Harris would be extricated from the wreckage. Her uniformed guardians followed thereafter.
In recalling her experience, Harris said: “All I wanted to do was get to the lobby. I had no idea it wasn’t there.” She admitted that her outcome had only registered as wondrous when a television reporter remarked to her that “you walked down 70 flights of stairs and had 104 floors fall on top of you, and you still survived.”
Harris remained in friendly communication with the Ladder 6 firefighters for almost ten years, until she died of a heart attack in January 2011.
In the weeks after September 11th, Port Authority bookkeeper Josephine Harris offered a consistently straightforward account of her extraordinary Tuesday rescue. After Flight 11 exploded into the North Tower, Harris left her 73rd floor office with co-workers and proceeded down the building’s stairwell. Wearied by the unaccustomed exercise and her recovery from a recent accident, her stamina diminished and she needed numerous stops to rest.
When Harris intersected with the Ladder 6 firefighters and PAPD Officer Lim, she felt thoroughly drained. Despite the gravity of the emergency, she had little will to push through her fatigue and discomfort until the men spoke with her. The final stretch of the group’s downward evacuation remained slow. They had almost reached the lobby when the unthinkable happened: the building began to collapse. Within seconds, Harris and the first responders were entangled together in the confined, dark remnant of Stairwell B, unaware of the catastrophic extent of the Tower’s destruction. Remarkably, Harris and her rescuers were spared serious injuries. They also kept each other’s spirits hopeful. Hours later, Harris would be extricated from the wreckage. Her uniformed guardians followed thereafter.
In recalling her experience, Harris said: “All I wanted to do was get to the lobby. I had no idea it wasn’t there.” She admitted that her outcome had only registered as wondrous when a television reporter remarked to her that “you walked down 70 flights of stairs and had 104 floors fall on top of you, and you still survived.”
Harris remained in friendly communication with the Ladder 6 firefighters for almost ten years, until she died of a heart attack in January 2011.
Curator's Comment
In the weeks after September 11, LIFE Magazine photographer Joe McNally (b. 1952) invited rescuers, recovery workers, survivors, and bereaved family members to a studio in Manhattan’s Bowery district, not far from Ground Zero. Here, the participants were memorialized by a unique Polaroid camera—dubbed the Moby C—equipped with a lens from a U-2 spy plane. This room-sized instrument could capture an exposure of singular clarity on an eight-foot tall piece of film in the blackened studio. Each 90-second session required meticulous staging and absolute stillness. Whereas most photographers were concentrating on documenting the devastation of the attacks downtown, McNally was interested in recording the heroism and sorrow etched into the human faces at the center of this national tragedy. Those who faced the camera were mostly everyday people who sought no special recognition. “They came only with the intention of participating in a project, telling their story, and sharing in the telling of others,” McNally reflected.
In less than a month, McNally produced several hundred giant Polaroids. Early in 2002, a survey of 150 from the series was installed at Grand Central Terminal’s Vanderbilt Hall. Visitors could walk among them, confronting the figures at life-scale. A companion book published to commemorate the project gave the collection its enduring title: Faces of Ground Zero: Portraits of the Heroes of September 11, 2001. The exhibition toured widely thereafter. On the first anniversary of 9/11, a smaller assembly of the Polaroids appeared at Rockefeller Center. For the 10th anniversary, a larger exhibition was organized for the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle.
The 9/11 Memorial Museum has enjoyed a long relationship with these arresting images. In 2006, McNally donated his portrait of FDNY Ladder 20 firefighter Adrienne Walsh to support the Museum’s nascent permanent collection. When the outdoor Memorial opened to the public in 2011, a selection from the series was borrowed from the photographer and rotated onto view in the temporary Visitor Center at 90 West Street. Annual acquisitions from the Faces of Ground Zero archive have continued, often as gifts arranged by McNally. In 2017, the Museum assumed custody of the balance of the Polaroids in an agreement that will result in the collection’s completed donation by 2027.
The image in this record is the product of a color transparency from a Mamiya RZ 6x7 Pro II 120 format camera that McNally positioned to record a shot simultaneous with the Polaroid Moby C’s flash of light. The unique, original Polaroid exhibits a more subtle and creamier tonality.
HIDE
In the weeks after September 11, LIFE Magazine photographer Joe McNally (b. 1952) invited rescuers, recovery workers, survivors, and bereaved family members to a studio in Manhattan’s Bowery district, not far from Ground Zero. Here, the participants were memorialized by a unique Polaroid camera—dubbed the Moby C—equipped with a lens from a U-2 spy plane. This room-sized instrument could capture an exposure of singular clarity on an eight-foot tall piece of film in the blackened studio. Each 90-second session required meticulous staging and absolute stillness. Whereas most photographers were concentrating on documenting the devastation of the attacks downtown, McNally was interested in recording the heroism and sorrow etched into the human faces at the center of this national tragedy. Those who faced the camera were mostly everyday people who sought no special recognition. “They came only with the intention of participating in a project, telling their story, and sharing in the telling of others,” McNally reflected.
In less than a month, McNally produced several hundred giant Polaroids. Early in 2002, a survey of 150 from the series was installed at Grand Central Terminal’s Vanderbilt Hall. Visitors could walk among them, confronting the figures at life-scale. A companion book published to commemorate the project gave the collection its enduring title: Faces of Ground Zero: Portraits of the Heroes of September 11, 2001. The exhibition toured widely thereafter. On the first anniversary of 9/11, a smaller assembly of the Polaroids appeared at Rockefeller Center. For the 10th anniversary, a larger exhibition was organized for the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle.
The 9/11 Memorial Museum has enjoyed a long relationship with these arresting images. In 2006, McNally donated his portrait of FDNY Ladder 20 firefighter Adrienne Walsh to support the Museum’s nascent permanent collection. When the outdoor Memorial opened to the public in 2011, a selection from the series was borrowed from the photographer and rotated onto view in the temporary Visitor Center at 90 West Street. Annual acquisitions from the Faces of Ground Zero archive have continued, often as gifts arranged by McNally. In 2017, the Museum assumed custody of the balance of the Polaroids in an agreement that will result in the collection’s completed donation by 2027.
The image in this record is the product of a color transparency from a Mamiya RZ 6x7 Pro II 120 format camera that McNally positioned to record a shot simultaneous with the Polaroid Moby C’s flash of light. The unique, original Polaroid exhibits a more subtle and creamier tonality.
HIDE
