Henderson resident who worked near World Trade Center describes terror of 9/11

It had rained the previous night, so the morning air was clear and the sky was cloudless. The humidity was very low, and it was one of those exceptionally beautiful late-summer days. On my way to the train, we came over the rise of the Marine Park Bridge and we could see across Brooklyn at the glorious skyline of Manhattan. What a stunning sight before us.

I arrived in lower Manhattan around 8 a.m. as I planned to go to the farmers market at the base of the World Trade Center. Thankfully, I got anxious about my "do" list, and I decided to head directly to my office (on Wall Street — two blocks south near Broadway and the New York Stock Exchange). I arrived at my desk, started the computer and headed for the cafeteria. When I returned, I settled in with my co-worker and we heard this loud explosion echoing down the canyons of lower Manhattan. We looked at each other with, "What was that?" We then noticed all the paper flying in the air. Someone else asked, "Is there a ticker-tape parade today?" A few minutes later, another co-worker reported that "according to CNN.com, the WTC has been hit by an airplane," so we ran over to his monitor and saw the visual on the website showing a fire near the top of one of the towers. Everyone was confused, "How can a plane fly into the WTC on such a clear day?" "How will the FDNY fight the fire on those upper floors?" In the midst of this, I received a phone call from a client in D.C. asking, "What’s going on up there?" All I could say was, "Paper everywhere."

Reality Dawns

We had our answer when the second plane hit. This time, we heard the accelerated speed of the second jet and it sounded like a "zip" as the jet sliced into the building, followed by the explosion. Two of my co-workers walked up toward City Hall to see what was going on. They came back and advised that people were jumping out of the building and some were going down holding hands. When I heard people were choosing to jump to avoid the flames, I felt my legs weaken. I sat down and deposited my breakfast into the wastepaper basket. This was the day "terror" became part of my psyche.

The enormity of the situation was dawning on us, but we were still in disbelief and denial. And indeed it got worse.

Another co-worker arrived in a hysterical state. "DJ" was just walking out of the WTC PATH (train from New Jersey) when the plane sliced through the building and all the debris and body parts were raining down on the commuters. DJ managed to get through all the building debris but arrived in our office covered in jet fuel and screaming hysterically. Two women took her into the ladies room and cleaned her up and found someone’s gym clothes for her. She did not stop screaming or crying.

And then another roaring explosion shook the air. When the first tower collapsed, the shock waves traveled beneath our building like an earthquake. You could hear the building groan, and then the debris started hitting our windows. Someone suggested we pull the old heavy drapes across the windows (probably senior management). And then the rolling cloud of debris and dust hurled down the street toward us. My office was on the second floor, and I could see people running down Wall Street while Trinity Church disappeared in the cloud behind them. People actually ran out of their shoes. Security guards in various buildings were grabbing people out of the street and pushing them into the lobbies. God bless those security people who saved many people.

After the second collapse, management decided to evacuate the upper floors, and we were instructed to go to the lobby. We could not leave the building for all the debris and dust in the streets. There were more than 100 employees in the lobby. There were several people in the lobby who were collapsing as they could not get in touch with their spouses or children working at the WTC. And then there was a woman who received a "goodbye" message on her cellphone from her husband. As these people collapsed, they were taken out of the larger group and taken upstairs to conference rooms and private areas.

There was lots of chatter, and the noise level in the marble lobby was awful. There was little information, and rumors were flying that the Pentagon, White House and Capito l had been hit. We also heard that Sears Tower in Chicago had been evacuated and there was a plane crash in Pennsylvania. Several women were sitting on the floors quietly crying and shaking; others were quiet and blank. The women in the ladies room were in a worse state. And then I saw a woman in the corner in a yoga position. It certainly was an insight into how people handle trauma differently.

Communication was spotty. The Internet and the phones were overloaded, and we weren’t near a TV. (When the tower went down, the large communication tower was lost, making things worse for the firefighters and police.) Phones were ringing like crazy, but getting an outside line was difficult. Everyone was calling in, trying to check family and friends. I knew my husband was home but couldn’t get through to check in (I finally reached him when I was walking toward home later that afternoon).

Evacuating New York

After the second tower came down, Mayor (Rudy) Giuliani ordered the evacuation of lower Manhattan. But getting out of the building was a challenge. I went back to my office on the second floor to grab my stuff and find my walking shoes. I looked down Wall Street and everything was one color — dirty gray. The air was black, and the streetlights had come on in the darkness. There may have been at least a foot of debris and paper all over the cars that had managed to park there earlier in the day. The street was littered with hundreds of pairs of shoes and briefcases. Hundreds of people were walking down Wall Street (toward South Street Seaport) covered in dust and sloshing through the debris and dust, some shoeless, many holding on to each other; some being carried between two men; many were weeping and sobbing, many on cellphones.

Seven of us decided to travel as a group to Brooklyn. Before we left the building, we picked up water bottles and food. A very smart secretary had the foresight to go cut up gym towels. We soaked the towels in water as we made our way to the exit. I was the first one out the revolving door, and I was hit with the overwhelming and piercing toxic air. Fortunately, we had those wet towels to put over our faces, but our eyes were burning. Our group headed to South Street Seaport (East River), where ferries serve commuters from New Jersey, Long Island and Brooklyn. The crowds were quiet; there was order and silence as people waited in line.

The Coast Guard had radioed an alert to all boats to go to lower Manhattan. When you looked out on the East River, it looked like the photos from Dunkirk. Every tugboat, fishing charter, private yacht, etc., was idling in the river, waiting to go into the piers to load people. There was no signage as to where these boats were going. Two of us walked down the pier to inquire about the destinations. I started running back to tell our group that they should come join us on the pier. Immediately, a policeman approached me and told me not to run, as he didn’t want a panic on the pier. The seven of us ended up on a ferry boat, and it was standing-room only. Folks were sharing water with strangers whose faces and eyes were covered in dust. No one was talking. As we looked back at lower Manhattan, there was so much smoke we couldn’t see the skyline. My co-worker nudged me and said to look south down the East River and pointed out that the terrorists didn’t get the Statue of Liberty. I then looked north up the FDR Drive and could see thousands of people heading to the bridges. Thousands more were already walking across the bridges. Our boat made the five-minute trip across the river and deposited us at the historic Fulton Ferry Landing (beneath the Brooklyn Bridge).

We had a very long walk ahead of us (perhaps 10 miles). We walked through Brooklyn Heights (a beautiful and peaceful neighborhood) toward Atlantic and Flatbush avenues. The air was very bad as the wind was blowing the smoke and ash toward Brooklyn. We walked through an Arab-American neighborhood with many small shops and restaurants. I could see the fear on the faces of the small shopkeepers. NYPD is to be commended (among a long list of many accomplishments) as they ordered the police cadets to the neighborhood to show a police presence and deter any vigilantes.

Our group got smaller as we peeled off in different directions. "T" and I started down Flatbush Avenue toward Prospect Park. We joined thousands of people walking south. We started passing storefront churches whose staff kindly put chairs on the sidewalk so people could rest. The storefront medical clinics also put out seating, and doctors and nurses were taking BPs and checking people. Other businesses set up card tables to distribute water. In the midst of this evil, there was so much kindness and compassion bestowed by so many good people.

Getting Home to the Neighborhood

"T" was able to reach her husband via cellphone, and he picked us up about midway. We had to travel side streets as all the major arterials were closed for emergency vehicles only. As we approached the Marine Parkway Bridge, there was an NYPD checkpoint as only residents were allowed to cross the bridge. All of a sudden I had an extraordinary headache.

I did not see the collapse of the towers until I got home. I heard it, felt it and smelled it, but I did not see it. I am grateful I did not see people jumping out off the buildings as I don’t think I could live with that horror. My husband said the TV was reporting 1,000 police and firemen were killed in the collapse and perhaps 10,000 workers. The numbers were too hard to absorb. The neighborhood in which we lived is home to many police and fire members. We had a lovely young family on our street whose dad just transferred to the FDNY from the NYPD. I was sick at the thought that "M" might have been there. However, my husband said he was off that day but had already left for the site. Vans had arrived in the neighborhood to pick up all off-duty fire and police members.

Around 5 p.m., the security patrol came around the streets to announce that a Mass at our local church would be celebrated at 6 p.m. After the Mass, the priest went to several women in various pews. It was obvious they were missing someone.

I finally got into the shower, and when I looked down at the water, I didn’t realize how much dust and dirt washed off me. I couldn’t sleep and I felt like "my insides were dead" (I just don’t know how else to say that). F-16s were screeching up and down the coast and patrolling the area around JFK airport. As you remember, all flights were grounded, but the F-16s were accompanying authorized government flights into the New York area. The next morning, I went out onto our deck and was stunned to see an aircraft carrier off our beach. The beach was littered with paper and debris that the winds had carried from the WTC site. There were some young kids running around collecting burned checks and certificates that had blown over from the banks and brokerage houses.

My local community was in shock, and everyone spoke in hushed tones. As we learned the names of the missing from the neighborhood, I was amazed that I knew so many. The lost included not only NYPD and FDNY, but many financial and legal types who worked in the WTC. I am blessed in that I didn’t lose an immediate family member. We lost a lot from our little peninsula, and every day seemed to bring new names: former classmates; parishioners, the son of a childhood friend, neighbors, children of neighbors, etc. The New York Times started publishing the obituaries of the lost. And every day, more names surfaced, especially those at firms with which I interacted.

Afterward

I was asked to go to Hoboken, N.J., on Thursday and Friday where temporary offices had been set up. The company wanted five people from each department to keep the operations running. I wasn’t up to going into the city but needed to get away from the TV. When I got to 34th Street to make the connection to New Jersey, my hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t put the bills in the ticket machine. I started crying, but a hero behind me stepped up and got me a ticket without saying a word. Upon arrival at our temporary office, we discovered the IT people had worked for the last 48 hours to set up work stations. It was basic and rough, but we had computers and land phones. Each work station came with instructions for passwords, phone numbers, etc.

It was very hard to focus on work. People were sharing stories of how they got home, who was missing, etc. It was also hard to keep from looking out the window at the smoke from the WTC. There were rumors that more buildings were in danger of collapsing. On Friday, (9/14) President Bush arrived, so there was a lot of air cover going up and down the Hudson River. The worst part of those days was the fact that the "crazies" were calling in bomb threats. I was on the 28th floor, and we evacuated the building via the stairs. My legs felt like lead when I got to the bottom. I thought of all those workers that had evacuated the WTC from much higher floors. The bomb threats continued to come in, but everyone ignored the alarms.

I returned to Wall Street on Monday morning and the opening of the New York Stock Exchange. The police and National Guard had tight control on lower Manhattan to keep out looters and opportunists, so we had to show company ID and a pay stub in order to get out of the subway stations. The subway stations stunk because of all the smoke and dust that had rushed through all tunnels during the collapses. (You may remember that it took months to extinguish the fires at the site so the stench was always hanging in the air.)

Lessons/Observations

One of my co-workers was a young Jewish-American fellow. When the first plane hit, his mother called from Israel and said, "Get out of New York." He was walking over the Manhattan Bridge by the time the first tower came down. We were so foolish to stand around the office talking instead of acting/reacting. If the WTC had come down at an angle instead of pancaking, it would have taken out other buildings.

In a city of 8 million people, I was amazed that I knew so many names of the murdered. It is a lesson to me that we are so connected to other people and our circles of relationships reach out in so many directions.

I get angry when I hear the media talk about the "EVENT" or when other attacks are called "a man-caused disaster." Why are they trying neutralize or diminish the severity of the attack?

We need to remember the heroic police, fire, construction workers and volunteers who risked their lives working at the site. Many have developed debilitating and fatal respiratory issues.

In the midst of this evil, there was extraordinary and heroic generosity from citizens and countries of the world, extraordinary and heroic generosity from the citizens of the city and our country. Good people stepped up to do the right thing without being asked. Should you visit New York and the new WTC site and memorial, please stop at St. Paul’s Chapel. It is a testament to the workers and volunteers who came to New York from all over the world to assist us.

I am very proud of my country. I cannot sing "America" without tearing up and thinking of those tough times. May God bless the United States of America, and may God protect our sons and daughters serving in harm’s way.