Remembrances in many places, by many souls

AS SHOCK TURNED to mourning, friends, family and strangers gathered at memorials yesterday up and down the West Coast to recall and say goodbye to the passengers and crew of Alaska Airlines Flight 261. Bustling Seattle-Tacoma International Airport stood still for a minute of remembrance. Balloons and flowers ruffled in the wind on the beach in California. And at one of the first memorial services in Seattle, a mother cried for her lost sons.

At busy terminals, tiny airports and flower-laden ticket counters everywhere Alaska Airlines and Horizon Air fly, employees observed a minute of silence at 4:36 p.m. - the time on Monday that Flight 261 disappeared from radar.

In the main airport in Puerto Vallarta, where the flight originated, Julian Acosta, director general of Alaska Airlines Mexico, quietly gathered two dozen people at the ticket counter. Like employees throughout the company, they wore light-blue ribbons.

"We want to show the union of everybody here in Puerto Vallarta," Acosta said. "In this moment, we must support each other."

At the Glendale Pasadena Burbank Airport, about 25 miles from the crash site, the Muzak was turned off. "As you all know, we had a tragedy Monday," said customer-service manager Mark Wilkerson.

"We greatly appreciate you working with us," he said in a choked voice. "This is a very emotional time for us."

All 35 or so employees there knew the pilot, Capt. Ted Thompson, whom they called Captain Tom. "He came through all the time," said customer agent Helen Panayi.

In Seattle, an Alaska Airlines spokesman said the carrier would retire flight number 261. At the Sea-Tac gate where the plane was to have arrived, hundreds of pilots, flight attendants, maintenance workers and ground crews stood in a circle on the tarmac holding hands.

The circle grew as employees from other airlines joined in.

"This is where they should have been," said Horizon agent Don Franco.

Inside, the terminal came to a standstill out of respect for those lost and for the mourners gathered outside Gate C2. The wind tugged at the clothes of flight attendants and ground staff, some of whom seemed to stagger under the weight of sadness.

As the moment ended, Jamie Crist, a Horizon Air worker who traveled from Portland to fill in for Seattle's grieving workers, turned from the window, wiped her eyes and turned to a man standing at her counter: "May I help you, sir?" - Christine Clarridge, Eli Sanders, Dionne Searcey and Michael Ko

PORT HUENEME, Calif. - They came to the sea to be closer to their lost loved ones. Some rolled up their pants and waded into the water. Others etched messages in the sand. Some crafted shrines from rocks, seaweed and driftwood.

But what they took from the sea was a harsh dose of reality.

"When you take people and move them to a site like this, it breaks the disbelief," said Robert Scott, a clinical psychologist and American Red Cross volunteer who is counseling the victims' families. "It has been a difficult and painful day . . . but it helped to move (the survivors) forward."

The Red Cross and Alaska Airlines helped coordinate a trip for about 130 relatives from their hotel near Los Angeles International Airport to the shore, the closest point to the crash site, 7 1/2 miles away.

Families placed dozens of bouquets decorated with photographs, notes and mementos of the dead into a large basket on the sand. It was picked up and set inside a Coast Guard helicopter.

Above the crash site, a Coast Guard crewman dropped each bouquet into the sea.

Mental-health workers said yesterday was one of the toughest so far for the families. And for counselors, too.

"It is extremely difficult to be in this situation, even as a bystander, to witness the tremendous grief and anguish these people go through," said American Red Cross spokesman Chris Thomas. "It's overwhelming to see."

- Dionne Searcey and David Postman

PORT HUENEME, Calif. - Later in the evening, another set of mourners gathered at the beaches. They came on skateboards, on bikes with training wheels and with walkers. They wore Red Cross jackets and Coast Guard uniforms and Harley-Davidson shirts.

They weren't relatives or friends of the victims. This was Port Hueneme Beach - their beach and their fishing pier.

"I walk the beach every morning, every night," said Anna Mendoza. "And now I can't walk here. It's too sad. It's like, you'll walk the beach, and you'll be looking for them. Because they're out there."

At Port Hueneme, the beachgoers placed offerings near the sea and sang "Amazing Grace." Some closed their eyes. Some held hands. They stood in a small circle that grew.

At Silver Strand, 10 minutes away, the crowd celebrated life. A band played music, and people clapped and raised their hands to the sky. Children played in the long shadow of a memorial cross.

The water was the calmest it had been all week. When an airplane flew overhead, people looked up in unison.

- Kim Barker

At the center of Seattle First Baptist Church, beneath blazing candelabra and beside white tulips, the two men sat smiling in a picture.

Many in the pews were there the day the photo was taken nearly 2 1/2 years ago, when Paul Pulanco and Craig Pulanco exchanged wedding vows.

Craig Pulanco, a flight attendant who had changed his name from Craig Gruhl, died with Paul Pulanco, a director of the Northwest AIDS Foundation.

Mourners said the Pulancos enriched them.

"I'm so glad he was part of my life," said Sandy Billings, Craig's former roommate.

Jan Medford, one of several Alaska Airlines employees who came to the service in uniform, recalled a conversation she had with Craig Pulanco about how he would like to be remembered if he should die.

" `Jan, I don't want to be remembered as someone who was smart or rich or popular. I just want to be remembered as someone who was nice.'

"Well, Craig," Medford said, "you will be remembered as someone who was so much more than nice."

Paul Pulanco's mother, Nadine Clarke, tearfully recalled a son whose life she had not always accepted, whose wedding she now regrets not attending. She called both Paul and Craig her sons.

"The love they had was as strong as the love I have for my husband," she said. "It doesn't make any difference in the world when you love someone. Love that person long and hard. Because you never know when you're not going to be with them."- Joshua Robin ------------------------- Clemetson family

A memorial service for the Clemetson family will be held at 7 p.m. Tuesday at St. Anne Church, 1411 1st Ave. W. Dr. David Clemetson, 40; Carolyn Clemetson, 31; Coriander, 8; Blake, 6; Miles, 6; and Spencer, 6 months, all died in the crash of Alaska Flight 261.