"Decaying American Infrastructure"
When Broad Street collapsed in July 1986, it caught a gold Mercedes Benz driven by a lawyer looking for a way around traffic, which had suddenly stopped in front of him. I made this photo from an upper level of the Leveque Tower.
The AP office was in the Columbus Dispatch building, only a few blocks away, so my travel time to the location was very quick. However, it took me more time to find an open window to lean out of to take the photo than to walk the short distance.
The photo received front-page play across the world.
My favorite report on its use came from Columbus reporter Paul Alexander, who was taking Russian language courses. His long-term plan was to work in the Moscow AP bureau, and understanding the language was a key element in the assignment. (He eventually got the job.)
Paul would go to the Ohio State Library to read Izvestia, the official newspaper of the Soviet government. Paul would read the paper to familiarize himself with the language outside the classroom.
He told me my photo was published in the newspaper with a caption pointing out the “decaying American infrastructure,” which wasn’t far from the truth. An old brick sewer collapsed beneath Broad Street, causing the road to collapse and trapping the car.
My favorite photo, above, is from the next day as workers figure out how to remove the car.
The street was closed to everyone but the work crew. Police officers stood at the street corners telling gawkers to move along and keeping them from clogging the sidewalks and stepping into the side streets, which were still open.
I knew I wanted to get in the street to take this photo with the city in the background. My conversation with the police officer began with, “I guess this isn’t how you planned to spend your day, is it?” Most of the time, this type of duty, corralling stragglers and news photographers, is assigned to rookies who haven’t yet had time to form tough skins and, by their look alone, say, “No way you’re getting beyond me.”
I promised that I wouldn’t get close to the hole, stay long, or get him in any trouble with the sergeant who wasn’t anywhere near us. I explained who I was and implied the importance of the photo, which required me access inside his perimeter, and that within a few minutes after I made the photo, it would be seen worldwide.
I don’t know how long I stayed at the hole, but it wasn’t very long. I remember watching the two men in the background and waiting long enough for them to move into a position that contributed to the composition.
Less than a minute later, I was back at the office to fulfill the promise I’d made to the officer, getting the photo seen worldwide.
I don’t know if it ever made Izvestia.
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