email193.xml

email193.xml

born-digital

email

unknown

yes

2002-06-19

9/12/01
Hello friends and loved ones---

I'm writing for a couple of reasons. First, to let those of you with whom I haven't yet communicated know that Paula and I, and my family in NYC, are all ok after yesterday's disaster. We are all still anxiously awaiting news of a dear friend (Greg Rodriguez) who worked in the WTC South Tower; he hasn't yet been located. We are fearful, yet holding out hope as survivors are rescued through the day. Those of you who know the Rodriguez's, please keep them in your thoughts over the next couple of days.

Second, I am writing because I don't know what else to do. I am at home, school is closed (and it would be skipped if it wasn't), the news is on in the background, and I don't want to read or watch a movie that I have. Some of you, when we spoke last night and I was exhausted, I promised details of my day from yesterday; here goes. Forgive me if this seems a little selfish; it may be that it's a therapeutic act to write. I can assure you that, from what I saw, there are hundreds of thousands of people whose days were much worse than mine.

I should have known it was going to be a different kind of day when, on my way to the train, a Marine recruiter came up to me on the street and said: "So, you ready to be a Marine yet?" I looked at him as he looked at my shaggy hair and ample mid-section and said, "uh... no." I take a commuter train into Hoboken every morning, and then connect to the PATH subway to Manhattan. The Hoboken terminal is on the Hudson River, right across from the World Trade Center. I arrived at the terminal at 8:50 am, minutes after the first plane crashed into the North Tower. People gathered on the pier from which the Hoboken ferry leaves, and were aghast at the sight, which was unlike anything I've seen before. Smoke and flames were billowing from gaping holes on two sides of the tower. Someone said that a plane or a missle had hit the tower; others verified that it was a plane, that it looked like an accident. I phoned Paula, who stayed home from work sick, and told her to turn on the news. I then stood in gasping silence and took in the sight for a couple of minutes, sure I would never see anything like it again in my life. I then got on the train to head for the city.

The PATH lets me off at 33rd St., near my office at the corner of 34th St. and 5th Avenue, kitty corner to the Empire State Building. When I got out of the subway and looked down Fifth Ave. to where the Towers were in view, it was clear that things had gotten considerably worse. Paula phoned me to say that minutes after I got off the phone with her a second plane had hit the South Tower. The southern horizon of the city was filled with a cloud of smoke. People were being evacuated (running) from the Empire St. Building, everybody was lining the streets and looking south towards the towers; people were fairly certain at this point that it was a terrorist attack. I called mom and dad and left a message saying I was ok, and then went to my office.

Of course, nobody was at the office at 9:15. I called my brother to make sure he was ok, then went to other parts of the building to look for tv or radio reports, eventually finding a weak feed of CBS (non-cable reception was affected by damage to antennas on top of the WTC), which I watched with secretaries, my boss, and professors. People were freaking out, leaving to get their kids out of school, calling loved ones-- the phones were jammed pack, circuits busy. Once the South Tower collapsed and news of the other hijackings trickled in, the level of concern deepened. We could hear sirens and people shouting on the street below. As the North Tower collapsed and there was news of unaccounted for planes, I decided I needed to get as far away from the Empire State
Building as possible. I frantically went back to my office and called my Aunt Janie, changed into my gym shoes, knowing that I was going to have to foot it downtown to her apartment on 1st St.

The scene on Fifth Avenue as I walked downtown was near chaos. People were gathering around cars, listening to radios-- I kept thinking "Pearl Harbor" and of Bobby Thompson's homerun to beat the Dodgers for the pennant in 1951, other times in NYC history when people gathered around radios like this. Misinformation abounded; someone told me they hit the White House and the Sears Tower. The cloud of smoke to the south was now considerably larger, winds blowing it to the west. Fifth Ave was closed to vehicles except for emergency vehicles. As I got further downtown, the crowd got more dense; everybody was out, talking in cell phones, trying to located loved ones... except for one guy. He was at a table set up at Union Square and, seemingly unphased, trying to get people to sign up for new MasterCards. I hope he wasn't working on commission.

It was a surreal site, walking towards this cloud of dust. People were filming and taking pictures. As I got below Sixth St., I started to see large groups of people walking in waves north from the WTC area; they were covered in soot, with masks over their faces, dazed. Some were bandaged, some a little bloody. I started to breath in some dust that had spread from the blast; I can't imagine what things were like another mile south. I got to Janie's, hugged her and Cousin Layla (who just wanted "the fire to stop... oh my gosh, this is bad..."), and spent the next couple of hours watching the news and on the phone, accounting for friends (it was at this point that I found out Greg Rodriguez was unaccounted for). At about 2:30, they said that ferries were running to NJ, and that there was limited train service... I set out for home, wanting to be with my wife, wanting to get out of the city for fear that things might get worse.

I had to walk again, from 1st and Avenue A to 23rd St and the West Side Highway. There were less people out, but the same cloud to the south...
I walked past St. Vincent's hospital, the one in the city furthest downtown... it was a mad house, supplies and ambulances were coming in, hundreds of folks were lined up to give blood. Once I reached the West Side Highway, the view of the disaster area was completely clear; emergency vehicles were racing downtown; a fighter jet was circling overhead. Police vehicles completely covered in dust and debris roared by. Looking north and ignoring the chaos, it was an incredibly beautiful day; calm, blue skies, plentiful sun. Looking south was a different story.

I finally got to Chelsea Piers, from which boats were travelling to Weehauken, NJ. I waited in line for a couple hours-- it was like being herded in some sensationalistic movie like "Red Dawn," although the herders were much more friendly. I was speaking with folks, phoning Paula for updates, worrying. People were incredibly nice and incredibly sensitive and thoughtful; water was being distributed, no one was complaining, everyone was sharing their stories. One woman standing near me worked four blocks from the WTC, and saw one of the planes fly by her window. The boat that pulled into to take us brought into the city hundreds of medical personnel, nurses and doctors in scrubs, ready for the worst. We got on the boat-- which held 600 at a time-- and pulled away from the pier. As we did, the entire southern tip of Manhattan came into view... the most unbelievable sight of the day. People were talkative until this point; and then a silence fell over the crowd, and everyone looked in horror at what used to be there. People were alternately shocked and pissed and ready for war. We moved slowly across the Hudson and pulled into Weehauken.

After getting off the boat, we were told that there were buses to take us to the Hoboken terminal... but the lines were incredibly long. I decided to walk the three miles or so rather than standing in place for
a couple of hours. The view was still there. As I walked through Hoboken I saw things that I never thought I would see in my life; two women got off a phone and found out that a loved one was unaccounted for, and crumpled on the street balling. A woman embraced her husband, crying "I thought you didn't make it out." Complete strangers looked at each other and shook their heads.

I got to the Hoboken terminal, returning to the vantage point I had in the morning. Smoke was still there, the World Trade Center was not. As the skies darkened and the view receded behind me-- although the cloud was still clearly visible at dusk from Newark-- a lot was running through my head: going atop the WTC with my grandfather in the early 1980s, traveling through the WTC to visit Paula when I still lived in Brooklyn and she was in NJ, what the future would hold and how our country and lives would be changed as a result of this, whether our friend had made it out or not. It took me another hour and a half but I eventually got home at around 8 pm, and spent the evening on the phone, watching the news, being with my wife, and being thankful for my life. It was an unforgettable day.

I hope that this email finds you all well, and that your loved ones in New York and DC are safe and sound.

Much love-
Luke

September 12, 2001

One Person's View