I post some of these photos on 9/11 each year. My dad took them from a tour bus filled with a group of senior citizens from his church who were making their way down to lower Manhattan on the morning of September 11, 2001. You can see from the shots, taken with a basic and shoot camera, that the bus must have been quite close to the towers when the planes hit the building.
After many requests to do so, I decided to write about being in New York on 9/11/2001 on the 15th anniversary of the attacks.
Here's my story:
My parents had just arrived in New York City... I had been in New York for a few days on business. They had arrived the evening of September 10th from Alabama and were excited to tour the city. My father is originally from New York but hasn't been back much since he left to attend the University of Alabama. My parents and some of the church members I knew invited me to come with them the next morning to tour Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, and the World Trade Center but I had a big day at work and could not.
As I was getting ready for work, my nephew called from school and frantically told me to turn on the TV, that something was happening in New York.
A little after 9 AM... I turned on the TV in time to see the second plane fly into the South tower and saw that the other tower on fire. After I reassured my nephew I was fine, it dawned on me that my parents and their group would have been headed to the area. I tried to call my mom on her cell phone, but she did not answer. I remember that I began getting calls from friends who knew I was in the city--- but within 5-10 minutes, the cell phone system went completely out.
I began to worry about my parents as I watched the news in horror. Would anyone on the bus even know what was happening?
When the towers started to collapse, I decided to go look for them. I changed from my suit to jeans and left my hotel at 38th and Park and started running down Park Avenue toward downtown. I kept trying to call but the phones were not working; you would only get a fast busy. By this time, masses of people were walking away from the lower Manhattan area. In stunned silence, they walked without a word spoken. Faces were covered in soot and ash; some were bloody. Many of them were crying, tears streaming down their dirty faces. You could hear sirens in the distance, but it was eerily quiet. There were no horns honking and no traffic; not one taxi or car was on the street.
It was such a contrast. All of this terror and fear was set against the most perfect early Fall day. It was the kind of day you wait all of August for; slightly crisp, sunny and clear... with the most beautiful, perfect azure blue sky you can imagine. There was not one cloud in the sky.
Looking for my parents... I ran as fast as I could against the sea of silent people walking away from downtown. I got down to the financial district but by that time, police had blocked off the area and would not let anyone through. Without knowing what else to do, I decided to walk to the Marriott Marquis, where my parents' group was staying, to see if I could find out anything.
When I got to the hotel, I found them there. When their bus driver saw what was happening, he turned the bus around and returned to the hotel. One of the group had been late that morning and for that reason, they were later leaving than originally planned. Had it not been for that, they may have been closer to the towers or may have even been there as the planes hit.
Everything in New York came to a standstill. The roads and bridges leading into Manhattan were closed. There were no flights in or out of New York, and all of the airports were closed. There were no rental cars to be had, and the hotels were filled to capacity with stranded travelers. Because the attractions, restaurants, and theaters were closed, my parents’ church group decided to go home to Alabama. Luckily, the Governor of Alabama was able to help get my parents and their tour group out of the city very early the next morning. They were given a police escort out of the city very early the morning of September 12.
Time to do something... After I made sure my parents were okay, I returned to my hotel. After staring at the television, watching in disbelief at what was happening only a few blocks away, I decided to try to do something to help. Once there was telephone service, I started calling from the land line at the hotel-- looking for food, gloves, flashlights, water, masks, socks, buckets... and asking my friends to do the same. Wal-Mart HQ in Bentonville promised socks, gloves, and masks. My friend Tim Gannon of Outback Steakhouse told me the local Outback restaurants would set up in a church and to make hot meals for those tediously searching for survivors.
Ground Zero... There was no way I was just going to sit there and do nothing. So eventually I walked back down to the area. They said on the news you should go to a Red Cross office and sign up to volunteer, but that seemed like it would take too long. Makeshift donation centers were popping up so once I saw a spot where people were starting to organize supplies, I jumped in and started working. People were showing up with donations from all over the USA.
Nobody asked me who I was, but I had many years of experience organizing events and just started telling people what to do. If you start bossing people around, other people just assume you're supposed to be there.
As day turned into night, teams of searchers were driven into the crater to look for survivors. We were set up right beside the dirt hill which went down into “the pile”. Volunteer first responders were showing up from everywhere. They were loaded into big trucks and stopped by where we were to pick up buckets, flashlights, water, masks and any other supplies we had to offer. Cars and trucks- many with out-of-state plates and flying American flags dropped off supplies.
Even though I had been a police officer, they only allowed active duty first responders and military to search, but event organization was a skill I was able to put to use that night. We put all the like supplies together and at some point in the night, the Red Cross showed up and set up their supply trucks right beside us.
The volunteers would cheer as the trucks rolled past. The searchers were waving and cheering too--- they seemed so hopeful and excited to be able to help. When the trucks brought them back out, their faces were without expression and they were silent... all of them so devastated that there were few- in fact almost no survivors.
I remember when the word would come that they thought they heard something; a tapping noise or the search dogs alerted on something. They would call for “all quiet” and everyone would go completely silent. Trucks would stop. Radios went quiet. We'd remain that way for 10 minutes or so until word came down that nothing had been found. I believe there were only 2 people found alive during the time I was down at the pit. There may have been more, but it was very few, whatever the number. Shockingly few. I remember giving searchers multiple pairs of gloves as they went down into the pile because they would go through many pairs each shift. They were digging with their hands so they did not destroy remains or evidence.
I did not sleep much in those three days and nights after the attacks... I doubt anyone did. I would walk to the hotel to shower in the morning and go right back. I remember walking past the pictures and flyers posted on the makeshift bulletin boards-- on fences and walls all around Ground Zero-- and looking into the faces of the family members who were so hopeful. I was always so grateful that my own parents were safe- I could not imagine what these people were going through as they clung to the hope their loved ones were simply lost or in a hospital somewhere.
I worked down at Ground Zero until Friday afternoon, when I finally found an available rental car (still no flights) to drive to Chicago for my best friend's wedding. (His actual wedding, not the movie.) The New York airports opened, and I was able to fly back to the city on Tuesday. I remember being one of only seven people on the flight that day. It was strange and terrifying. I remember I had my computer with me, and I took out the cord to use it as a weapon or a restraint if the plane was compromised. That is how terrifying it was.
When we landed in New York, the city seemed very different. Quieter. Sad.
Funerals were beginning to happen for some of the first responders. I, like the rest of the country, was glued to the television at every opportunity, watching with a broken heart for the families who had to lay their heroes, husbands, wives, children, and other family members and friends to rest.
As I think back on that day, I remember the people I worked with beside the pit as we did what we could to help. I wish I had their names or a photo… I still remember them.
May the new Freedom Tower and the brave people who died there 15 years ago remind us all that it is our freedom that makes America the greatest country in the world. May God continue to bless America.