Attacks Shake Confidence in Life, Work Inside Beltway

For more than 200 years, the nation’s capital has operated with a self-confidence that was serene, almost smug. Not anymore.

Nearly three weeks after the terrorist attacks, Washington is a changed city. Bags of gas masks have been dropped off randomly, without explanation, around the Capitol. Every member of Congress has been issued a hand-held e-mail device designed to relay instructions in case of an emergency.

At the Department of Labor, assistants have been assigned to help disabled workers in the event of evacuation. At most federal buildings, security guards with mirrors search for bombs under every car, backing up traffic onto the streets and highways, where morning commute times have nearly doubled for some.

The city is on a war footing, its rhythms shaken and its nerves frayed. The very things that once made Washington such an alluring place to live and work now make it a dangerous one. For thousands of federal employees, the buildings themselves were one of the benefits of the job; walking the marble halls once trod by Daniel Webster, Henry Clay and Abraham Lincoln gave these workers a special bond with American history.

Now they carry a darker association--as a specific target of terrorists. From the White House to the Supreme Court to the Pentagon to the Smithsonian museums that hold the nation’s treasures, there is a sense that a bull’s-eye has been overlaid on Washington, punctuated by the F-16s that fly overhead 24 hours a day and underscored by the patrol boats that ply the Potomac.

“There is a tremendous amount of anxiety. There is a general sense that the Capitol was the target of the fourth [terrorist] plane, that Osama bin Laden’s MO is to pick a target and stick with it,” said Steve Elmendorf, aide to House Minority Leader Richard A. Gephardt (D-Mo.), referring to the attack on New York’s World Trade Center eight years ago that terrorists returned to finish on Sept. 11.

“Everyone isn’t looking out the window thinking another plane is coming their way. But within the Capitol complex, there is a heightened sense of vigilance about car bombs and truck bombs and everything else.”

When a car stalled in a tunnel that runs under the Department of Labor several days after the attacks, the entire building was evacuated. Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist, who usually takes his morning stroll in the neighborhood around Capitol Hill, has been seen walking the long corridors of the high court instead. Senate Majority Leader Tom Daschle (D-S.D.) was recently spotted jogging with an armed escort. And when area military supply stores ran out of gas masks, some federal workers started shopping for them on EBay.

‘People Are Really Spooked’

Fear has given rise to a dialogue about whether to stay, although few would publicly discuss thoughts of going. “My wife is nervous as hell,” confided one California congressional aide.

“This has spawned myriad conversations among colleagues and families about working in Washington. People are really spooked,” a senior Senate Democratic aide said.

At the Pentagon, everyone reports to work in a building with a big black bite in its side. Days begin earlier and end later; some workers have shifted to emergency schedules of 12 hours on duty and 12 hours off; and retirees with war-related skills are coming in to help. The Pentagon commands its own brand of loyalty; the civilian work force is famous for its stability--25 years of service is not uncommon.

“It’s hard to go into the building. You feel on edge all the time. Now, every time I come in I feel, ‘What if I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time?’ ” said Pam Nemfakos, a policy analyst who was in the Pentagon when it was attacked and lost three co-workers. She is removing her daughter from the child-care center, but like thousands of others, she keeps going back.

This is a city with a history of resilience: Caught defenseless during the War of 1812, when the White House was looted and burned, the government came back. When Robert E. Lee’s army was across the river and looking unstoppable, the wheels of Washington kept turning.

The same process seems to be taking root now. People are making adjustments, digging in, patiently queuing up while security guards peek in purses and demand multiple pieces of identification. Staffers who used to complain about routine fire drills are demanding more security, with some calling for guards to go ahead and “abridge our civil rights.”

Indeed, some low-level staffers seemed resigned to never feeling safe. Some wondered about reports of a supply of congressional gas masks--but only enough for members and leadership staff.

“What are the rest of us supposed to do, choke?” one California aide asked, while others wondered about reports that the available masks would be useless in the event of germ warfare.

But for all the anxiety, there have been few resignations or requests for transfers, workers interviewed in several federal agencies said. Many in Washington’s work force have deep roots, comfortable homes, children in acclaimed schools. And not all the jobs here are portable: “At the State Department, you can’t do what we do anywhere else,” one attorney said.

Defying Terrorism by Staying Put

But practical reasons aside, staying seems to have become another expression of the patriotism that has swelled all over the country, a way of refusing to let terrorism prevail. Even Floyd Rasmussen, a civilian worker who escaped from the Pentagon but lost his wife, was determined to stay. “If I’m going to leave, it will be on my terms, not the terrorists’,” he said.

The real challenge, some say, is to strike a balance between security and the public access that has made Washington the people’s city, where museums are free and lines of tourists snaked through the White House and the Capitol. Now, the halls are virtually empty of anyone who doesn’t have a badge, with tours limited and demand low.

The fear of living in Washington is rivaled only by the fear of visiting it. Overall tourism losses have exceeded $150 million, by some estimates. Hotels are running as low as 20% of their occupancy capacity. City officials are pondering such lures as “tax-free” shopping days. The Smithsonian is reporting daily attendance figures at one-quarter of last year’s level. The National Air and Space Museum, among the most popular museums on the planet, is virtually empty.

But for federal workers, the goal is not to get back to normal, but to figure out just what normal is.

At the Pentagon, still the largest government office building in the country, letters of encouragement have poured in from elementary school children. On a wall deep in the 29-acre warren of mostly windowless offices, the artworks glare amid the drab institutional shades of green and tan, and there are no plans to take them down.