10.30.12 12:16 PM ET
Inside Hurricane Sandy: The Daily Beast Reports
TUESDAY, OCT. 30
Screwed in Red Hook
by Eliza Shapiro
Five feet of seawater tore through the streets of the low-lying Brooklyn neighborhood Monday night. While the owner of one flooded bar is pledging to stay open, a teary billiards-hall proprietor says she’s ruined. Eliza Shapiro reports.
Manhattanites Assess the Damage
by Matthew DeLuca
A brilliant explosion, and then darkness: the morning after the Frankenstorm, Matthew DeLuca reports on the scene in lower Manhattan.
A Trickle Of Evacuees At Brooklyn Shelter
by Michael Keller
Just 75 evacuees had arrived at a shelter in Red Hook as of Tuesday morning, but the number could rise.
NYU Hospital Evacuated
by Abby Haglage
Pouring rain, vicious wind, and a roaring line of ambulances aren't ideal conditions for newborns. But despite Hurricane Sandy, they still came—and then were evacuated. Abby Haglage reports from NYU’s Tisch Hospital.
Havoc in Alphabet City
by Lizzie Crocker
The powerful storm battered the Lower Manhattan neighborhood, submerging police cars and blocking the sewage system with debris as wary residents watched for possible looters.
Stuy Town Dark, Flooded
by Matt DeLuca
Residents of Manhattan’s Stuyvesant Town try to carry on as usual, walking dogs, going out for smokes, and checking the street in the face of a power outage and high water wrought by the superstorm.
Waiting for Sandy’s Worst
by Michael Daly
With bridges closed, transportation suspended, and power out for many, New York hunkered down Monday evening. Michael Daly reports on the damaging high tide—and the reports of building collapses.
Who’s on the D.C. Streets?
by Lauren Ashburn
The nation’s capital is deserted as Hurricane Sandy strikes. Lauren Ashburn talks to a few of the hardy souls, from tourists to construction workers to a pizzeria manager, who braved the torrential rains.
MONDAY, OCT. 29
Manhattan Battens Down (Sorta)
By Matt DeLuca
Some New Yorkers seek shelter while others blithely brave the wind and rain—and ignore police tape—to get in one more jog or stroll, or just a keepsake photo of the rising tide, Matthew DeLuca reports.