nmah5539.xml

nmah5539.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2003-06-04

Tuesday, September 11, 2001 was Election Day in New York City. We were going to the polls that gorgeous day to vote in the primaries for, as irony would have it, Mayor. As a registered Republican, I was on my way to vote in the GOP primary.

My wife was giving our eleven-month old daughter breakfast in her high-chair as I left to vote.

It was approximately 9:00 am.

Neither radio nor TV were on.

I left my apartment on 55th Street (near Ninth Avenue) and walked to the polling place on 56th, between Ninth and Tenth. I wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around me.

I voted for Herman Badillo.

After voting, I walked east on 56th on my way to work. At the corner of 56th and 9th, I saw a young woman on the corner. She was looking down 9th. I stopped and finally looked around.

Thick black smoke was billowing out of the towers, quite visible in the distance.

It was 9:15am.

My first reaction was, "fire." I hoped everything was all right. It wasn't.

Continuing my walk east on 56th, I began to hear radio from parked cars and people walking around and talking.

Planes (plural) had hit both WTC Towers. Terrorism. Danger. WTC, Pentagon, missing plane, other threats. My cell phone wasn't working, so I found an empty pay phone and called my wife and told her to stay in and not to go out at all.

I continued my walk to work and got there around 9:30/9:45. The phone started ringing immediately. My brother in Los Angeles; friends from CT and MA. "Call Dad." "Call Mom." "Are you OK?"

I was honestly bewildered at the level of concern. I was in Midtown - Park and 55th - and nowhere near the Towers. I was emotionally as well as physically removed from what was going on. I also was not watching TV; my brother told me over the phone that the towers went down. I had only my office radio. I was on the phone and internet monitoring events. Friends and family were calling non-stop. I assured them all I was not near downtown and in no danger.

I managed to get through to my mother in Hartford. She was just shy of hysterical. I calmed her down and assured her I was in no danger. Or was I?

Leaving my office after awhile (my wife wanted me to come home quickly), things began to sink in. How many people were in BOTH towers? 20,000? 40,000? 50,000? I had no idea. News reports were speculating at least 10,000 dead, probably much more.

Then the anger set in. Son of a BITCH! Hit 'em back! HARD!! But something else started nagging at me.

What was next? What would be hit next as I'm walking the crowded streets of midtown surrounded by tall buildings? I began to walk fast, looking up and around the whole time.

What could I do right now? Give blood? Volunteer for rescue or other tasks? I wasn't sure.

I should probably go to D'Agostino's first and get some food just in case. Then I'd give blood. Okay, a rough plan was in place.

I walked down 57th Street back to Ninth Avenue. People were walking briskly in all directions. Cell phones that worked were doing just that. Lines formed for all working pay phones. [Credit to Verizon for keeping them working.] At about Broadway, the first ambulances past by on their way to St. Lukes/Roosevelt.

D'Agostino's was mobbed but orderly. Very calm and quiet. Very subdued. No rushing. No shouting. I picked up essentials and joined the line already in progress (it stretched to the back wall). Again, no urgency; no huffing; no puffing. Nothing. Just quiet conversations in line. Quiet resolve. Who did it? How'd it happen? How will we respond?

After waiting I-don't-recall-how-long, I got home and saw my first TV images. Wow. Unreal. Surreal. Unbelievable.

Shortly, I convinced my wife that it was urgent for me to go back out there and give blood. I had to do something. I couldn't just sit and do nothing. I walked back to the East Side briskly and chose not to wait in the around-the-block line that had formed. I went back home.

Walking back home a little more slowly, I had to pause at 8th Avenue and 55th. Crowds of people were walking up 8th - hundreds just walking up. They looked like fleeing refugees. In a sense, they were. This crowd had been walking for most of the day, having evacuated lower Manhattan on foot. It reminded me of THE DAY AFTER.

I got home again, hugged my wife and baby, watched the continuing coverage, ate something, saw 7 WTC collapse, took more phone calls and went to bed.

Try to relax more. Take things easier; less intense.

It was a return to seriousness. The end of the '90s "Escape from reality tour" that were the Clinton years

I taped US and NY State flags to my office door. I gave the US flag I purchased at Pearl Harbor to my local firehouse (Eng. 54/Ladder 4). They lost 14 guys, including the Captain and Battalion Chief.

My feelings were unchanged concerning the American Flag.

God Bless America.