On the Tracks, and Out of Time

Chester Higgins Jr./The New York Times The uptown platform at Bowling Green station, where Victor Samuel helped save a man from an oncoming train.

The other day, a Philadelphia man made headlines when he saved someone who had fallen from a train platform. Back in December in New York, Victor Samuel, 43, an information-services account manager from Queens, did something similar, jumping to the subway tracks to rescue a disoriented man. Mr. Samuel tells how it feels to have 400 tons of train bearing down on you.

Around 10 p.m. on Dec. 6, I walked into the Bowling Green subway station, returning home from my company’s holiday party at a restaurant downtown, and saw several people crouched on the platform extending their hands out toward the tracks. I looked down to see a disoriented man in the center of the tracks.

I crouched down, too, and extended my hand. And I thought: “He is way too far from the platform… Why is he stumbling about and not getting closer How long has he been down there”

I looked down the tunnel - we were at the uptown end of the uptown track - and saw a train coming. I gauged that I had a little bit of time and, without thinking any further, placed my right hand on the platform and jumped down. I didn’t anticipate the uneven surfaces below, and fell. I heard gasping and screaming from above. Looking down the tunnel at the circular train lights, growing larger, I felt very small, vulnerable and terrified.

I had lost time. I got up, put my hand on the man’s back and guided him a couple of steps toward the platform. Then I bolted toward the platform myself. I had to get out of there.

Victor Samuel, second from the right, after emerging from the tracks at Bowling Green station.

I’m 6 feet tall. The platform was maybe 5 feet high. I placed both hands on it, bent my legs and propelled myself up with all the strength I could muster. I felt my knees bang the underside of the platform. My torso and waist were above the platform but I could not lift my knees and legs up there.

I dropped down and jumped up again. Again my knees stung as they smacked the underside of the platform.

At this point, as I held my position - upper body above the platform, legs dangling below, glancing to my right at the approaching train - time slowed down. I forgot all about the stumbling man. Thoughts rushed through my head:

You are in some pickle now… perhaps not such a great idea after all… If the train hits me in this position, will it rip my legs off, with my torso and arms remaining on the platform Are you kidding me Where is everyone and why isn’t anyone helping me Someone just grab my coat so I can get up onto the platform, I’m halfway there.

I knew I didn’t have much time. I made sure to concentrate, not to lift my knees too early. I put my hands on the platform and launched myself again.

I know now that the other people on the platform were trying to pull up the other man. A woman told a reporter she helped me too. That may be; I have no recollection of it. I don’t recall seeing anyone in front of me or near me as I finally made it onto the platform.

I turned to my left to see about the other man and found him on the platform beside me. People were applauding. I exchanged hugs with a few people. One woman said to me, “Thank you, God bless.” I realize it is a common saying, but at this moment, it was touching.

The man from the tracks, Jack Simmons, 64, sat on the end of a bench, and for no reason I can recall, I was sitting at the other end. Without saying a word, he got up and gave me a very brief hug and sat back down.

The trained rolled in, slower than usual. “Was there someone on the track” the conductor asked. “Yes, thank you for slowing down,” I said.

I got up from the bench again, clapped my hand on Mr. Simmons’s shoulders, told him, “I’m glad you’re O.K.,” and got on the train. I sat in contemplation, staring at my blackened hands most of the ride home.