
MIDTOWN SOUTH — On July 28, 1945, then-Brooklyn priest (later monsignor) Andrew Landi was in Italy directing aid distribution for Catholic War Relief Services — the precursor to Catholic Relief Services, created to help victims of World War II.
Msgr. Landi’s work was reported in The Tablet by guest writer Paul Dearing of Buffalo, a part-time New York City correspondent for his hometown newspaper, the Courier-Express, and director of public relations for Catholic War Relief Services.
That day, Dearing was at work in his office on the 79th floor of the Empire State Building when a B-25 bomber crashed into the skyscraper, where the agency’s offices were located. He was one of 14 killed in the crash. More than two dozen were injured.
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‘They’ll Need Our Help’
Dense fog concealed the building from the bomber’s pilot, Lt. Col. William Smith Jr. He originally planned to land at LaGuardia Airport, which was unusable, also because of fog, so he tried for Newark instead.
Three Catholic War Relief Service officials — Father Ed Swanstrom, Ed Cummings, and Jack McCloskey — were nearby on their way back from running errands for an upcoming trip to war-torn Europe.
They heard the crash happen, but the fog kept them from seeing it. They did, however, see the fireball belch from the misty cover, followed by cascading debris.
Cummings, in horror, turned to the priest and stammered, “Do you think it’s our offices, Father?”
“Whoever they are,” Father Swanstrom said, “they’ll need our help.”
The priest started a sprint to the building’s lobby but paused to tell Cummings to get help from St. Francis of Assisi Church two blocks away on 31st Street.
“Ask them to send over as many priests as they can,” Father Swanstrom yelled. “Tell them to bring their holy oils.”
‘The Sky is Falling’

En route to the scene was Arthur Weingarten of Brooklyn, the 10-year-old son of a New York City fire marshal, who was brought to work at City Hall with an invitation to meet the sitting mayor, Fiorello LaGuardia. The meeting had barely started when LaGuardia got word that the skyscraper had been hit by a plane.
The mayor “raced off to the scene,” Weingarten later wrote, “and so did I.”
“Overriding my father’s instructions to remain where I was, I found myself, by childish pleas squeezed into the official motorcade racing uptown,” Weingarten wrote later. “Through a car window a safe block’s distance from the crash site, I watched the aftermath of an event that even to a young boy seemed improbable.”
In his teens, Weingarten reported for a neighborhood newspaper in Brooklyn. As an adult, he wrote and produced for film and television shows, including “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.,” “The Green Hornet,” and “The Six Million Dollar Man.”
But, in the 1970s, he took a break from Hollywood to revisit his journalistic roots and report the untold stories of people caught up in the 1945 Empire State Building disaster. His interviews with survivors formed the basis of his 1977 book, “The Sky is Falling.”
Weingarten subsequently learned the fates of the nearly 20 Catholic office workers on the 79th floor. The few survivors told him that the rumbling of the approaching B-25 confused them.
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Pierced the Fog
Dearing, the reporter/public affairs director, could have been the first to see the bomber pierce the fog, according to witnesses.
“He leaped to his feet and started to turn from his desk when the plane hit,” reported Weingarten, who died in 2021. “The sudden concussion jerked him backward and hurled him through the closed window.
“His body fell seven floors before coming to rest on the roof of the 72nd-story setback.”
The Tablet reported on Dearing’s work, his death, and his funeral. He was 36, married, and the father of four daughters.
Four surviving secretaries said they believed the other workers were either killed in the crash or consumed by flames.
But they watched in horror as one man stumbled from the conflagration completely charred, blistered, and unrecognizable. But his voice, albeit raspy, was somewhat recognizable.
It was Joseph Fountain, 47, also married with four children, and another baby due any day. He was the director of aid for U.S. POWs held in Germany.
“Oh, Joe!” cried Kay O’Connor, a secretary. “Oh, Christ in Heaven! Look at what’s happened to Joe!”
‘But We’re All Catholic’
Fountain, however, summoned enough strength to take control. He guided the women into Father Swanstrom’s office, which was yet untouched by the chaos.
They slammed the door shut as smoke and intense heat permeated the space. Fountain, his voice gurgled, directed them to open the window. A secretary tried but said it was stuck.
Fountain moved past her and got it done.
“Ladies,” he croaked. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, whether we’ll live or die. But we’re all Catholic, and this is the moment the Church has prepared us for.
“Let’s pray and ask for God’s forgiveness. I want all of you to say the Act of Contrition with me.”
And they did.
The secretaries and Fountain were rescued, but he died a few days later.
The fire was under control within an hour of the crash, and just a few days later, the Empire State Building reopened for business on the undamaged floors. The famous Midtown skyscraper suffered no structural damage from the crash and was completely restored.