That Awful Day
Four years later and the site of the World Trade Center is still just a vast excavation. Looking across from Church Street where the tourists gather every afternoon to take digital pictures of the emptiness, I still feel the sadness I experienced that morning when I first saw the billows of black smoke and orange bursts of flame erupting in such impossible quantities from so high up in the air from the burst windows and gashes in the sides of the buildings.
That morning, I followed a set routine of commuting to the office. I live in Brooklyn and work in Jersey City, just across the Hudson River from downtown New York City. Normally from door to door the ride used to take 50 minutes. I bought coffee at the muffin shop, walked to the subway, rode to my stop at Rector Street and stopped at the Bank of New York Branch on Broadway and Wall Street. I remember walking up Broadway after making the deposit and seeing the armored black SUV parked at the top of Wall Street and thinking, too bad security at the Exchange has to be so tight.
I continued walking up Broadway then cut across Liberty Park to the southeast entrance to the World Trade Center to catch a PATH train. The lower area of the WTC used to contain a large shopping mall. To get to the PATH Station in lowest level of the complex I walked through the lower mall, past the newsstands, NY transit hubs, GAP, Banana Republic, J Crew, flower vendors and then down an escalator. I had no idea what was happening above me.
I remember that I did not have to wait for a train that morning. I walked down to my platform, boarded my train and started reading New Yorker, unaware that a madman was at that time flying a loaded airplane into the side of the building above me. The ride to Jersey is very short – maybe 7 or 8 minutes.
When I walked out of the station in Jersey City everyone was pointing back across the river towards the city. My first thought at seeing the tremendous smoke and flames was that many people had died instantly and that many more would be burned. I also thought that this was a terrible accident involving pilot error or mechanical problems. During WWII a plane had flown into the Empire State Building on a foggy night. I thought this would be a huge cleanup project, maybe part of one of the towers would be closed for repairs, maybe the trains would run differently.
I went up to our offices on the 36th floor and gathered with a group of traders in a room overlooking the New York Harbor and downtown Manhattan. From there we could look directly across the river at the smoke and flames pouring out of the North Tower. Again, we thought it was just a terrible airplane crash. Then we saw the second plane make a sweeping turn around our building and then smash into the South Tower. We all looked at the TV tuned to CNN because we did not believe what we had seen.
I tried to call my wife to tell her I was OK but couldn’t reach her, I called my parents in California and they were already awake and watching everything unfold on TV. The markets announced a delayed open so we made arrangements for contingencies in case we had to move. Our building did not at first call for an evacuation but many people already had their bags and briefcases and were heading home. I shuttled between the room overlooking the towers and the trading room.
All of the Ferries had moved to the middle of the Hudson rather than dock at World Financial. They all sat in a row as if awaiting instructions. When the South Tower fell we gasped or screamed. As the dust and debris cloud enveloped all of lower Manhattan, the ferries moved as one away from the shore and made their way to the Jersey side. I saw grown men - gristly old traders - crying streams of tears, secretaries with their hands over their mouths, some people just shell shocked at the sight of only one of the towers standing. My assistant Carol whose brother worked in WTC was panicked. CNN was also reporting the crash at the Pentagon and speculating about more missing planes. After the first tower fell, our building announced an evacuation. I stayed with a few of the senior officers to close down our markets and secure the floor.
Thinking I was cut off from home, I made arrangements to stay with a coworker, Anthony. Anthony is a big guy who used to play football for Miami. At this point I was unsure whether the country was now at war. If we were at war, I thought it best to stay very close to Anthony for the rest of the morning. We made it downstairs and watched from the garage as the second tower fell. One of the VP’s at our firm lived close by so we arranged to meet at his house. There was so much confusion. While we drove, I remember listening to the radio announcers talking about F-18’s chasing airliners up the Potomac River in WDC, and unconfirmed reports of planes heading to the Capital and the Sears Tower in Chicago and the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. The police had closed roads near the office leading to the tunnels. Anthony spent more than an hour to make a trip that would normally take about 12 minutes.
We arrived at Steve’s house and made plans for safeguarding the business and the staff. We still had so little information to rely on. All we really knew then was that this was certainly a coordinated intentional act. I tried to leave messages with people to contact my wife. The cell phone service had abruptly stopped when the towers collapsed.
I just wanted to be home with my family at this point. Although Anthony graciously offered me a place to stay, I really needed to get to Brooklyn. One of the drivers at Steve’s house lived in Crown Heights and said if I was willing, he would see about making the trip to Brooklyn. After almost eight hours on the road, past many roadblocks, diversions and traffic jams we got to within a few miles of my house. I walked the rest of the way and will always remember the welcoming sight of my family sitting on the stoop as I walked down the block. I was never so glad to be home.
Even in Brooklyn we could smell the smoldering fires at the WTC. Every now and then pieces of paper from the site would drift down. It was an awful day.
New York closed for about a week after 9/11. We stayed very close to home, cooked, watched way too much TV and tried to stay in contact with our friends and relatives. The neighborhood bookstore turned into the local depot for news, relief efforts and support. At some point, a call went out for crowbars, socks and cigarettes for the guys working down at the site. We hauled all our crowbars out of the basement, emptied our sock drawers and even threw a carton of Marlboros into the pickup truck outside the bookstore hoping somehow these things would save a life, support a rescue worker or at the very least save a smoker from a nicotine crave.
Eventually, they let us back into Manhattan, got the subways running again and after a very long time even restarted PATH service from the World Trade Center site. I still make the same commute. Although now, when I walk through the bare bones construction shell inside the World Trade Center foundation I think about that day and all the lost lives drifting around like so many particles of magic dust.
It doesn’t really seem like four years ago…
That morning, I followed a set routine of commuting to the office. I live in Brooklyn and work in Jersey City, just across the Hudson River from downtown New York City. Normally from door to door the ride used to take 50 minutes. I bought coffee at the muffin shop, walked to the subway, rode to my stop at Rector Street and stopped at the Bank of New York Branch on Broadway and Wall Street. I remember walking up Broadway after making the deposit and seeing the armored black SUV parked at the top of Wall Street and thinking, too bad security at the Exchange has to be so tight.
I continued walking up Broadway then cut across Liberty Park to the southeast entrance to the World Trade Center to catch a PATH train. The lower area of the WTC used to contain a large shopping mall. To get to the PATH Station in lowest level of the complex I walked through the lower mall, past the newsstands, NY transit hubs, GAP, Banana Republic, J Crew, flower vendors and then down an escalator. I had no idea what was happening above me.
I remember that I did not have to wait for a train that morning. I walked down to my platform, boarded my train and started reading New Yorker, unaware that a madman was at that time flying a loaded airplane into the side of the building above me. The ride to Jersey is very short – maybe 7 or 8 minutes.
When I walked out of the station in Jersey City everyone was pointing back across the river towards the city. My first thought at seeing the tremendous smoke and flames was that many people had died instantly and that many more would be burned. I also thought that this was a terrible accident involving pilot error or mechanical problems. During WWII a plane had flown into the Empire State Building on a foggy night. I thought this would be a huge cleanup project, maybe part of one of the towers would be closed for repairs, maybe the trains would run differently.
I went up to our offices on the 36th floor and gathered with a group of traders in a room overlooking the New York Harbor and downtown Manhattan. From there we could look directly across the river at the smoke and flames pouring out of the North Tower. Again, we thought it was just a terrible airplane crash. Then we saw the second plane make a sweeping turn around our building and then smash into the South Tower. We all looked at the TV tuned to CNN because we did not believe what we had seen.
I tried to call my wife to tell her I was OK but couldn’t reach her, I called my parents in California and they were already awake and watching everything unfold on TV. The markets announced a delayed open so we made arrangements for contingencies in case we had to move. Our building did not at first call for an evacuation but many people already had their bags and briefcases and were heading home. I shuttled between the room overlooking the towers and the trading room.
All of the Ferries had moved to the middle of the Hudson rather than dock at World Financial. They all sat in a row as if awaiting instructions. When the South Tower fell we gasped or screamed. As the dust and debris cloud enveloped all of lower Manhattan, the ferries moved as one away from the shore and made their way to the Jersey side. I saw grown men - gristly old traders - crying streams of tears, secretaries with their hands over their mouths, some people just shell shocked at the sight of only one of the towers standing. My assistant Carol whose brother worked in WTC was panicked. CNN was also reporting the crash at the Pentagon and speculating about more missing planes. After the first tower fell, our building announced an evacuation. I stayed with a few of the senior officers to close down our markets and secure the floor.
Thinking I was cut off from home, I made arrangements to stay with a coworker, Anthony. Anthony is a big guy who used to play football for Miami. At this point I was unsure whether the country was now at war. If we were at war, I thought it best to stay very close to Anthony for the rest of the morning. We made it downstairs and watched from the garage as the second tower fell. One of the VP’s at our firm lived close by so we arranged to meet at his house. There was so much confusion. While we drove, I remember listening to the radio announcers talking about F-18’s chasing airliners up the Potomac River in WDC, and unconfirmed reports of planes heading to the Capital and the Sears Tower in Chicago and the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. The police had closed roads near the office leading to the tunnels. Anthony spent more than an hour to make a trip that would normally take about 12 minutes.
We arrived at Steve’s house and made plans for safeguarding the business and the staff. We still had so little information to rely on. All we really knew then was that this was certainly a coordinated intentional act. I tried to leave messages with people to contact my wife. The cell phone service had abruptly stopped when the towers collapsed.
I just wanted to be home with my family at this point. Although Anthony graciously offered me a place to stay, I really needed to get to Brooklyn. One of the drivers at Steve’s house lived in Crown Heights and said if I was willing, he would see about making the trip to Brooklyn. After almost eight hours on the road, past many roadblocks, diversions and traffic jams we got to within a few miles of my house. I walked the rest of the way and will always remember the welcoming sight of my family sitting on the stoop as I walked down the block. I was never so glad to be home.
Even in Brooklyn we could smell the smoldering fires at the WTC. Every now and then pieces of paper from the site would drift down. It was an awful day.
New York closed for about a week after 9/11. We stayed very close to home, cooked, watched way too much TV and tried to stay in contact with our friends and relatives. The neighborhood bookstore turned into the local depot for news, relief efforts and support. At some point, a call went out for crowbars, socks and cigarettes for the guys working down at the site. We hauled all our crowbars out of the basement, emptied our sock drawers and even threw a carton of Marlboros into the pickup truck outside the bookstore hoping somehow these things would save a life, support a rescue worker or at the very least save a smoker from a nicotine crave.
Eventually, they let us back into Manhattan, got the subways running again and after a very long time even restarted PATH service from the World Trade Center site. I still make the same commute. Although now, when I walk through the bare bones construction shell inside the World Trade Center foundation I think about that day and all the lost lives drifting around like so many particles of magic dust.
It doesn’t really seem like four years ago…
posted by Champurrado at 8:45 AM
4 Comments:
I wish I could say something meaningful about that day. I am profoundly grateful that at that time Innana did not work in or near the Pentagon and Mr. Foilwoman and the Foilkid were not on a plane to California from Boston, as they were scheduled to be about a week later. A miracle for us, but not for so many other people. Still, I'm grateful.
I remember that morning well, but in a very different way from you. Reading this, I kept thinking, 'you actually saw this'... I was 31 when that happened and it marked the first time I felt so vulnerable on a grand scale. I am certain you are grateful for your safety and that of your family. That day, those images, will be etched in your mind forever. Moving post.
Foil, Live:
Yeah, tough day. I also remember how unified everyone was after tyhat. We were one nation for a while. Too bad that didn't last too long.
Great post!
Wow
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