story670.xml
Title
story670.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-05-24
911DA Story: Story
The morning of September 11 started as an ordinary day. My husband drives me to work most mornings on the Gowanus Expressway in Brooklyn, down to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and into lower Manhattan. I worked in the World Financial Center South Tower in Merrill Lynch. This was directly across from the South Tower of the World Trade Center. That morning as we made our way down the Gowanus and into the EZ Pass lanes, we were suddenly delayed in our lane when the EZ Pass equipment didn?t work for the car in front of us. The policeman had to take the license plate number and tag number of that car, and from us, before we could proceed. As we waited for clearance, I noted it was 8:40 a.m. I became restless because I had wanted to be at work well before 9:00 a.m.
We finally proceeded into the tunnel about five minutes later. Halfway through the tunnel, half the tunnel lights went out and when we reached the Manhattan side, we were suddenly facing a burning WTC North Tower. We thought something terrible must have happened inside. It must have been a bomb.
My husband left me off in front of the tunnel across from Battery Park City, realizing he could not get through on West Street. I didn?t realize it until later, but the five minute delay at the EZ Pass could have saved us from injury or death as we would have been very near the towers if we went through the tunnel on time.
As I crossed West Street, the horror of the situation started to dawn on me. All I could think of was the people inside the Tower and how would they escape. Then I started to notice debris and hysteria along West Street, on the sidewalk and on the highway itself. I asked a few people if I could help them, but they just shook their heads no as they cried. I ran to the World Financial Center South Tower where my office was. People stood stunned and crying.
When I entered the building, I ran to a phone to call my mother-in-law to tell her I was fine and Ed (my husband) was on his way back to Brooklyn. She then told me a plane had hit the tower and wondered why I was continuing into the building. I said that I would try to get to my office, but would follow directions if I was turned away.
I went through the turnstiles of the South Tower, and I seemed to be the only person going in when everyone else seemed to be leaving. I went up to the 14th floor, to see more people leaving, but when I reached my department my manager and division director seemed to be trying to get information and make and answer calls. When I reached my office, I called my husband on the cell phone, telling him I was there and OK. At that point, he was in front of the Brooklyn Battery tunnel, heading back towards Brooklyn, and said he thought another plane was coming. I didn?t understand what he was talking about. (Later on I learned that the second plane passed right over the entrance to the tunnel, and my husband saw it crash into the second tower. He was stuck in traffic in front of the tunnel until just a few minutes before that tower fell.) The next thing I knew, we were told we had to evacuate. A group of us gathered and we were told it appeared we were under an attack.
We made our way down the stairs and exited in front of the Winter Garden, near the North Cove. There were hundreds of people there, and suddenly we would hear shouts and I suddenly realized the people were shouting as people were jumping from the Towers. I looked once, saw one person fall, and then turned my back to the Towers. It was too horrible to look at. The smoke was so black, and the towers just completely obliterated by the smoke. I couldn?t believe what was happening. I had the feeling we should get out of Manhattan altogether; that we were at terrible risk. Initially I stood by the Ferry dock, but then our management told us to begin heading home or to safety. I then had a decision to make.
Policemen were telling us to go North. However, one of our managers, who had recently relocated from London back to New York, had the use of a Corporate Apartment in Battery Park City until he moved into his permanent residence in Brooklyn. Knowing I lived in Brooklyn, as well as another one of our Associates, he offered us the opportunity to come there and make calls, and then perhaps head later on for the Brooklyn Bridge or Staten Island Ferry. I agreed to go.
We walked the few blocks south to the apartment and went up to the 14th floor. We weren?t in the apartment more than a minute when we suddenly heard what appeared to be a low flying jet plane. We thought we were under attack again. Not knowing where to run, we got away from the windows and headed towards the hallway, when it became evident, it was the sound of the South Tower falling. We heard screams of people in the street, and saw the dark cloud of debris fill everywhere outside. The apartment started to fill with smoke. We headed towards the basement, only to be told to go back up. The basement was filling with smoke. Then, we began to hear on CNN, that the Pentagon was hit, and maybe more buildings, like the Sears Tower. Suddenly, I felt like I must be dreaming. I wanted to wake up, but realized I was awake, and that this was the worst nightmare one could imagine, and that I just might not live through this. I said some silent prayers.
Then, the second tower fell. This time it became as black as night. It was truly black. Then slowly, some light started to show through, but the electricity was now out. No lights, or TV, or air in the apartment. Now, I wanted to leave when the dust settled. We sat for about 10 or 15 minutes, and then came a knock at the door that we had to evacuate. There was the danger of gas explosions.
We made our way down the stairs, in total darkness, feeling our way with the help of one of the apartment tenants who came out on the stairs in the floor below. Before we left the apartment, we wet towels to put over our nose and mouth when we got outside. Outside was nuclear winter. Debris was still falling like snow flurries. We didn?t know where to go first, but then heard the sound of a policeman directing people toward the South Cove. We ran in that direction and found several police boats. I got into a boat, and thought the others did also, but they actually began to walk North towards the Brooklyn Bridge. I was so relieved to be on the boat and heading to Jersey. As a true Brooklynite and city person, New Jersey never looked so good.
The boat took us to Liberty State Park, and I wandered around there among hundreds of people waiting for announcements. There was a large triage center there with dozens of emergency workers and dozens of ambulances. Most of us just wandered and waited. I was finally able to get through to my husband on the cell phone and tell him where I was. I finally looked at my watch. It was near 1:00 p.m. I had no sense of time.
Finally, it was announced that buses would take us, women with children first, to an old Army Reserve Center in Jersey City called Caven Point. Several buses arrived and we were driven with police escort to that location. Army men took our names at the center so that people could find us. There were several hundred people at the center and when some food arrived near 3:00 p.m., it was all gone before most of us could get to it. There were, however, cases of water and soft drinks. Then after about an hour, we were told that some of us might want to go to the Marine Ocean terminal, a former naval base, where there would be better chances for transportation home. After calling my husband about this change, he thought I should go; that it would bring me closer to home.
On my way to the bus, I finally met a Merrill colleague who had just transferred to a new department a few weeks before. I was never so happy to see someone I knew. I told him where I was going and he thought he should go there as well. He later recounted how he could have lost his life when the first tower went down. His youngest child was at the WTC child care center and he was attempting to get her after the towers were hit, but he was sent away and out of danger. Thankfully, his child was already out of the center and was fine.
We were then taken to Marine Ocean Terminal in Bayonne. We were put in a large gymnasium. There were men, women, babies, children, and many dogs. The Mayor of Bayonne was wonderful. He kept us informed and tried to make us feel comfortable, but there wasn?t a lot of good news about getting home. Our only options for that night were to walk over the Bayonne Bridge to Staten Island, or to go to Newark Penn station to points south, north or west. Some people did take advantage of those options which brought our numbers down somewhat in the gymnasium. In the end, there were probably 150+ people there. The Mayor of Bayonne, the local police, firemen and EMTs and other citizens did their best to help us through that stay. We had two priests among us offering grief counseling. We had a full course dinner donated by a local Italian eatery, cookies and milk at 10:00 p.m., and non-stop coffee, tea, sodas and water. They had put a large radio in the gymnasium that was on constantly through the night. Local boyscouts brought us mats to sleep on, sheets and pillow cases, and tee shirts from a local sanitation company. We received toothbrushes and toothpaste, paper towels and soap, and mouthwash. They got prescription drugs for those of us who needed them, since we didn?t know what time we would get home the next day. Later on into the night we received heavier blankets because it became quite cool. They had the doors open all night. They put four phones in the gymnasium where we could make phone calls. Even into the night, there were lines to the phones. We would go outside and look across the water and see the fires burning under a clear night sky.
At 4:00 a.m., I couldn?t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the burning towers. I got up from my mat, and there was every type of breakfast item you could imagine. There were many of us wandering around at 4:00 a.m. The policemen stood by the doors and asked if they could help us in any way. Did we want to talk? Shortly before dawn, newspapers were delivered to the gymnasium. We all gathered around to see the papers, and suddenly I realized what I had escaped.
Finally, at 8:00 a.m., we had a briefing. We were told that buses would arrive at 9:00 a.m. to take us to Staten Island. So, those of us living in Brooklyn and Staten Island prepared to go to the buses. Bayonne officials and one of the priests came on the bus and wished us well. The priest gave us his blessing. Once again we were escorted, all the way to the Staten Island Mall. I had called my husband and he met me at the bus and then we returned to Brooklyn. It was September 12, and our 25th Wedding Anniversary.
I am so grateful to my management who led us out of our building that day, the manager who led us to his apartment and thereby sheltered us from the worst of the debris, the Mayor and citizens of Bayonne, and last, but certainly not least, I thank you God for guiding me to all the right places.
We finally proceeded into the tunnel about five minutes later. Halfway through the tunnel, half the tunnel lights went out and when we reached the Manhattan side, we were suddenly facing a burning WTC North Tower. We thought something terrible must have happened inside. It must have been a bomb.
My husband left me off in front of the tunnel across from Battery Park City, realizing he could not get through on West Street. I didn?t realize it until later, but the five minute delay at the EZ Pass could have saved us from injury or death as we would have been very near the towers if we went through the tunnel on time.
As I crossed West Street, the horror of the situation started to dawn on me. All I could think of was the people inside the Tower and how would they escape. Then I started to notice debris and hysteria along West Street, on the sidewalk and on the highway itself. I asked a few people if I could help them, but they just shook their heads no as they cried. I ran to the World Financial Center South Tower where my office was. People stood stunned and crying.
When I entered the building, I ran to a phone to call my mother-in-law to tell her I was fine and Ed (my husband) was on his way back to Brooklyn. She then told me a plane had hit the tower and wondered why I was continuing into the building. I said that I would try to get to my office, but would follow directions if I was turned away.
I went through the turnstiles of the South Tower, and I seemed to be the only person going in when everyone else seemed to be leaving. I went up to the 14th floor, to see more people leaving, but when I reached my department my manager and division director seemed to be trying to get information and make and answer calls. When I reached my office, I called my husband on the cell phone, telling him I was there and OK. At that point, he was in front of the Brooklyn Battery tunnel, heading back towards Brooklyn, and said he thought another plane was coming. I didn?t understand what he was talking about. (Later on I learned that the second plane passed right over the entrance to the tunnel, and my husband saw it crash into the second tower. He was stuck in traffic in front of the tunnel until just a few minutes before that tower fell.) The next thing I knew, we were told we had to evacuate. A group of us gathered and we were told it appeared we were under an attack.
We made our way down the stairs and exited in front of the Winter Garden, near the North Cove. There were hundreds of people there, and suddenly we would hear shouts and I suddenly realized the people were shouting as people were jumping from the Towers. I looked once, saw one person fall, and then turned my back to the Towers. It was too horrible to look at. The smoke was so black, and the towers just completely obliterated by the smoke. I couldn?t believe what was happening. I had the feeling we should get out of Manhattan altogether; that we were at terrible risk. Initially I stood by the Ferry dock, but then our management told us to begin heading home or to safety. I then had a decision to make.
Policemen were telling us to go North. However, one of our managers, who had recently relocated from London back to New York, had the use of a Corporate Apartment in Battery Park City until he moved into his permanent residence in Brooklyn. Knowing I lived in Brooklyn, as well as another one of our Associates, he offered us the opportunity to come there and make calls, and then perhaps head later on for the Brooklyn Bridge or Staten Island Ferry. I agreed to go.
We walked the few blocks south to the apartment and went up to the 14th floor. We weren?t in the apartment more than a minute when we suddenly heard what appeared to be a low flying jet plane. We thought we were under attack again. Not knowing where to run, we got away from the windows and headed towards the hallway, when it became evident, it was the sound of the South Tower falling. We heard screams of people in the street, and saw the dark cloud of debris fill everywhere outside. The apartment started to fill with smoke. We headed towards the basement, only to be told to go back up. The basement was filling with smoke. Then, we began to hear on CNN, that the Pentagon was hit, and maybe more buildings, like the Sears Tower. Suddenly, I felt like I must be dreaming. I wanted to wake up, but realized I was awake, and that this was the worst nightmare one could imagine, and that I just might not live through this. I said some silent prayers.
Then, the second tower fell. This time it became as black as night. It was truly black. Then slowly, some light started to show through, but the electricity was now out. No lights, or TV, or air in the apartment. Now, I wanted to leave when the dust settled. We sat for about 10 or 15 minutes, and then came a knock at the door that we had to evacuate. There was the danger of gas explosions.
We made our way down the stairs, in total darkness, feeling our way with the help of one of the apartment tenants who came out on the stairs in the floor below. Before we left the apartment, we wet towels to put over our nose and mouth when we got outside. Outside was nuclear winter. Debris was still falling like snow flurries. We didn?t know where to go first, but then heard the sound of a policeman directing people toward the South Cove. We ran in that direction and found several police boats. I got into a boat, and thought the others did also, but they actually began to walk North towards the Brooklyn Bridge. I was so relieved to be on the boat and heading to Jersey. As a true Brooklynite and city person, New Jersey never looked so good.
The boat took us to Liberty State Park, and I wandered around there among hundreds of people waiting for announcements. There was a large triage center there with dozens of emergency workers and dozens of ambulances. Most of us just wandered and waited. I was finally able to get through to my husband on the cell phone and tell him where I was. I finally looked at my watch. It was near 1:00 p.m. I had no sense of time.
Finally, it was announced that buses would take us, women with children first, to an old Army Reserve Center in Jersey City called Caven Point. Several buses arrived and we were driven with police escort to that location. Army men took our names at the center so that people could find us. There were several hundred people at the center and when some food arrived near 3:00 p.m., it was all gone before most of us could get to it. There were, however, cases of water and soft drinks. Then after about an hour, we were told that some of us might want to go to the Marine Ocean terminal, a former naval base, where there would be better chances for transportation home. After calling my husband about this change, he thought I should go; that it would bring me closer to home.
On my way to the bus, I finally met a Merrill colleague who had just transferred to a new department a few weeks before. I was never so happy to see someone I knew. I told him where I was going and he thought he should go there as well. He later recounted how he could have lost his life when the first tower went down. His youngest child was at the WTC child care center and he was attempting to get her after the towers were hit, but he was sent away and out of danger. Thankfully, his child was already out of the center and was fine.
We were then taken to Marine Ocean Terminal in Bayonne. We were put in a large gymnasium. There were men, women, babies, children, and many dogs. The Mayor of Bayonne was wonderful. He kept us informed and tried to make us feel comfortable, but there wasn?t a lot of good news about getting home. Our only options for that night were to walk over the Bayonne Bridge to Staten Island, or to go to Newark Penn station to points south, north or west. Some people did take advantage of those options which brought our numbers down somewhat in the gymnasium. In the end, there were probably 150+ people there. The Mayor of Bayonne, the local police, firemen and EMTs and other citizens did their best to help us through that stay. We had two priests among us offering grief counseling. We had a full course dinner donated by a local Italian eatery, cookies and milk at 10:00 p.m., and non-stop coffee, tea, sodas and water. They had put a large radio in the gymnasium that was on constantly through the night. Local boyscouts brought us mats to sleep on, sheets and pillow cases, and tee shirts from a local sanitation company. We received toothbrushes and toothpaste, paper towels and soap, and mouthwash. They got prescription drugs for those of us who needed them, since we didn?t know what time we would get home the next day. Later on into the night we received heavier blankets because it became quite cool. They had the doors open all night. They put four phones in the gymnasium where we could make phone calls. Even into the night, there were lines to the phones. We would go outside and look across the water and see the fires burning under a clear night sky.
At 4:00 a.m., I couldn?t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the burning towers. I got up from my mat, and there was every type of breakfast item you could imagine. There were many of us wandering around at 4:00 a.m. The policemen stood by the doors and asked if they could help us in any way. Did we want to talk? Shortly before dawn, newspapers were delivered to the gymnasium. We all gathered around to see the papers, and suddenly I realized what I had escaped.
Finally, at 8:00 a.m., we had a briefing. We were told that buses would arrive at 9:00 a.m. to take us to Staten Island. So, those of us living in Brooklyn and Staten Island prepared to go to the buses. Bayonne officials and one of the priests came on the bus and wished us well. The priest gave us his blessing. Once again we were escorted, all the way to the Staten Island Mall. I had called my husband and he met me at the bus and then we returned to Brooklyn. It was September 12, and our 25th Wedding Anniversary.
I am so grateful to my management who led us out of our building that day, the manager who led us to his apartment and thereby sheltered us from the worst of the debris, the Mayor and citizens of Bayonne, and last, but certainly not least, I thank you God for guiding me to all the right places.
Collection
Citation
“story670.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed December 30, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/12609.