Here's what was in today's NY Times.
"Even as the metal rigging high above a packed concert here began to shudder, Indiana State Fair officials were walking toward the
stage, preparing, they said, to order the crowd to evacuate to avoid an arriving storm.
“We were en route,” Cynthia Hoye, the fair’s executive director, recalled on Monday, after a somber memorial service to remember the five people who died and dozens of others who were hurt on Saturday night when the overhead rigging collapsed during the state fair show.
“All of the sudden the wind picked up,” said Ms. Hoye, who never made it to the
stage before what she and others here described as a devastating, isolated wind gust of more than 60 miles per hour.
As several state agencies, including the offices of the attorney general and the
fire marshal and the Indiana Occupational
Safety and Health Administration, tried to determine the cause of the accident and whether structural problems on the
stage had played a
role, some here, including survivors of the collapse, questioned why fair officials had not ordered the crowd of 12,000 to leave.
“I do have a concern that anyone sitting in front of a weather radar would have known that there was no way this was going to pass us by,” said Robert Klinestiver, a doctor who had been waiting in the front row with his 12-year-old daughter for the country duo Sugarland to take the
stage after 8:30 p.m.
The skies had already grown eerily dark, but when the air grew blurry with swirling dirt, a large blue tarp began ripping on the giant rigging, and a strange sound of crumpling metal began emerging, Dr. Klinestiver grabbed his daughter and ran. Part of the structure hit the
ground two feet from them, he said. The legs of someone just behind them were trapped beneath the fallen rigging, and, as people shrieked and cried and searched for relatives, Dr. Klinestiver and others began desperately trying to free scores of people.
State officials said their investigation could take weeks, but officials at the fair, which has been a tradition here for more than 150 years and draws 50,000 visitors on an average day, defended their handling of the storm threat. In a building not far from the
stage, they said that all evening a contingent of officials — including a meteorologist — had been monitoring the weather, which had, since before 6 p.m., included a severe thunderstorm watch from the National Weather Service. Over the next few hours, the fair staff contacted the Weather Service at least four times, a report issued by the Indiana State Police said.
Minutes before the accident, as the crowd waited for Sugarland to take the
stage after a warm-up act, an announcement was made warning that a storm was approaching that might delay the show and that shelter was available in three nearby facilities.
Some people left. But the announcement was not an order to evacuate. So, with no rain falling, others stayed put, particularly Sugarland’s most devoted fans, those closest to the front of the
stage in an area called the Sugarpit — the site of some of the worst damage soon afterward.
Andy Klotz, a spokesman for the fair, described the sequence of events this way: At 8:39 p.m., the Weather Service upgraded the storm threat in Marion County, where Indianapolis is, to a severe thunderstorm warning from a watch; at 8:45 p.m., a local radio host who was making announcements on
stage told the audience that an arriving storm might delay the show and named three shelters; and, at 8:49 p.m., as Ms. Hoye and a State Police official were approaching the
stage to
call for a formal evacuation for a storm that they believed was at least 25 minutes away, the rigging collapsed.
“Could we have stopped the show? Yes,” Mr. Klotz said. “But you don’t want to overreact. And you don’t want to underreact.”
The fair, which runs until
Sunday, reopened on Monday after being closed for a day after the accident. The mood here — usually one of summer cheer and carefree eating — was subdued. Some events were canceled; others meant to take place on the large
stage were moved. People stood along yellow police tape staring at the cordoned-off
stage, which remained as it had landed on Saturday night, a frightening crush of metal.
On a different, smaller
stage on the other side of the fair, the day began with a somber memorial. A bouquet of flowers was carried on
stage for each of the five who were killed, which included a teacher, a programming manager, a mother, a father and a
stagehand.
“We come today with hearts that are broken but also hearts that are full,” Gov. Mitch Daniels told the silent crowd as helicopters circled overhead.
In so much horror, Mr. Daniels said, many in the crowd had instantly and instinctively turned back to try to save others. “There was a hero every 10 feet on Saturday night.”
David Wood, who had been among those near the front of the concert
stage and had escaped the falling rigging, came back to the fair on Monday and stood, scanning the teary crowd.
On Saturday, Mr. Wood had helped a young girl — maybe 2 or 4 years old — whose arm had a severe gash, he said. In the dark chaos of that night, he had used clothing for a tourniquet, and then passed the girl, whose mother was covered in blood, along to emergency workers.
“I’m just hoping she came out O.K.,” said Mr. Wood, who did not spot the girl or her family in the crowd. “I was hoping I could get an answer here.”