ST. LOUIS (NewsNation) — The summer of 1953 in St. Louis was relentless. The heat beat down on the brick facade of Pruitt-Igoe, the air heavy, clinging to 33 concrete towers that almost seemed to hold the sun captive. Children played outside, the shouts of their games echoing between high-rises.
And then the fog would come.
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It hissed from nozzles on vehicles that rolled slowly down the streets. It drifted from rooftops, where “maintenance men” had stood installing them just days earlier, wearing protective gear. A cloud that hung thick in the air — clinging to skin, seeping into lungs, leaving behind a chemical tang.
James Caldwell, who grew up in Pruitt-Igoe, remembers chasing after it as a child.
“It was summertime, it was hot, we’d run thro