This post is the same one I
made on the first anniversary of 9/11.
I'm posting it today (the second Tuesday of September 2026) because
25 years ago, the 11th of September was the second Tuesday of the month. It was what should have
been a normal nondescript workday, full of dull routines and familiar normalcy, as it turned out it was
anything but.
On Tuesday September 11, 2001, I was
thankfully 700 miles away in Charlotte. I had been in the city the week before,
had lunch at "Windows" after having spent the morning listening to a long
presentation by the then recently rebranded Donaldson Lufkin and Jenrette Group. To
this day I’m haunted by those facts and this memory.
A few days after The Towers fell, a
“fax” arrived at my 6100 Fairview Road office in Charlotte.
I’ve kept Jay’s letter in my top
desk drawer ever since. The date and time notations are for clarity. Everything
else is just as Jay had written in his fax.
FDNY Ladder 118 crossing the Brooklyn Bridge
My Memories of the day, September
11, 2001
September 11, 2001, will long be
remembered as one of the darkest hours in this country’s history. It should
also be remembered as one the brightest as thousands of selfless human beings
attempted to save lives and a country rallied around all those that had be
affected by the horrific acts of cowards who acted supposedly in the name of
God. For me it was a day that I will remember for a lifetime.
I left Charlotte on September 10th
with my colleague Courtenay Miller and our client Rich Covelli to travel to
NYC. We were scheduled to meet with Moody’s Investor Service and MIBA the
following day to discuss our golf pool program. We arrived at Newark Airport on
time and were met by Concorde Limo for the short drive into Manhattan. As
approached the Holland Tunnel, the skyline of NYC towered in the distance. It
is an impressive sight.
SEPTEMBER 10, 2001, 12:30 p.m.
We checked into the Marriot Hotel
and then met up with our other colleague, Clyde Measey. We grabbed a bite to
eat in the Tall Ships restaurant right there in the Marriott. We discussed our
presentation and established the three major points to get across to each party
the following day. After lunch we all parted company until 5:00 p.m. when we
met for drinks before having dinner at Grammercy Tavern (Danny Meyer’s
restaurant) at 7:00 p.m.
During the afternoon, I decided to
run up to Central Park. Not a smart idea, as it turned out to be a lot farther
than I had remembered. After making my way up to the Park. I knew that if I wanted
to get back to the hotel in time for dinner, I had better take a subway or I
would never make it back in time. I was never so proud of myself as I found the
E train and took it down to the World Trade Center and walked through the
concourse back to the hotel. I showered, changed clothes and met everyone
upstairs before departing for the restaurant.
SEPTEMBER 10, 2001 7:00 p.m.
Dinner at Grammercy Tavern was
delicious. Each person had something different and each person raved about the
food and the service. After consuming too many chocolate desserts, we left and
headed back downtown to our hotel. Since it had been raining during our dinner,
cabs were at a premium and it took us some time to locate one. Our cab ride was
anything but uneventful. The driver was a Colombian woman who declared to all
of us that she was a part-time cabby and part-time drug runner. She told us she
would rather be a full-time drug dealer but the risk of being put in prison or
being wiped out by the drug lords scared her too much. The entire ride back to
the hotel she raged on about the United States, it’s useless attempt to curtail
the drug business, its corruption, filth and two-faced policies. While spouting
forth and driving, she continually played with her chest under her shirt and
kept putting her hand on my leg. Unsetting to say the least. As we approached
the hotel she took us in the back way, right past the garage entrance to Tower
1. For a moment I remember the bombing eight years ago and wondered to myself
if such an event would ever occur again. Little did I know what would occur the
following morning?
After several cigars and beers later
for the boys (I had another coke) at the Tall Ships bar, we adjourned for the
night deciding on the time to meet for breakfast downstairs in the Atrium
restaurant. We agreed on 8:30 a.m. instead of 8:00 a.m., as we didn’t have our
first meeting until 10:00 a.m., and the walk to Moody’s was just four blocks.
We all headed to our respective rooms.
SEPTEMBER 10, 2001, 10:30 p.m.
Dead tired from my long jog/walk to
Central Park, I crashed for the night at around 10:30 p.m. I tossed and turned
for most of the night. I kept thinking it was so strange not to be sleeping
well as I had gotten such a workout that afternoon.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 6:00 a.m.
I spent several hours watching TV
and as the sky began to lighten at past six, I rose for the day and showered
and watched the morning news.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 8:00 a.m.
I left my room at 8:10 a.m. to meet
everyone for breakfast. As I entered the restaurant, I saw Rich sitting on the
upper right-hand side. He was the only one present as the time. I sat down with
Rich, and we discussed various topics including dinner the night before and our
strategies for the meeting that day. As the clock approached 8:40 a.m., both
Rich and I agreed to go ahead and order and when Courtenay and Clyde joined us,
they could order then. Our food arrived within minutes, and Rich commented to
the waiter “What took you so long?” The waiter laughed as it only been 3 or 4
minutes since taking our order and the time the food arrived.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 8:46 a.m.
I had just began to eat my eggs when
I heard and felt a huge explosion. Within seconds there was a second blast
which was much louder and severe that the first. The impact of this blast
knocked me nearly off my chair. Not being able to comprehend what had happened,
everyone in the restaurant just looked around in disbelief. Within seconds it
became apparent that something horrific had happened as some type of debris
began crashing through the restaurant’s glass atrium onto the food and patrons
below. Being located on a raised level of the restaurant there was above us a
solid ceiling so that no glass was crashing onto our heads. This was not the
case for the other patrons and waiters and waitresses, so as debris continued
to crash through the roof, chaos broke out.
Those caught under the glass roof
began running towards us to seek cover under the ceiling portion of the
restaurant and the tables themselves. Rich and I were looking for cover under
the tables, but the tables were already jammed with wild-eyed panicked
screaming patrons.
As fireballs of debris continue to
rain down from above, reality hit both Rich and I and we agreed to make a run
for it. As we leapt over bewildered, frantic people to make our escape the
debris continued to crash through the atrium and just as we made our way to the
restaurant’s front door a body came crashing through the roof and landed on the
floor just feet from both (of) us.
As we continued our run, I noticed
the people outside the hotel in the open area between the two towers running in
all directions. All of them had their arms over their heads and totally
panic-stricken looks on their faces. The open area they were running through
was strewn with massive amounts of burning debris and what appeared to be a
whole bunch of white chalk or dust. (I didn’t realize until later that the
“dust” was pulverized concreate.) One frantic man was within feet of the door
from the outside into the hotel when he was struck and killed by a falling
piece of steel.
The scene was unimaginable and
incomprehensible. I had never seen a person die and after witnessing two people
killed within seconds and within several feet of me, my mind became filled with
an indescribable sense of terror. I realized that Rich and I were in a run for
our own lives. I began praying that I would live so that I could tell my wife,
daughters and other family members just how much I loved them. I just kept
telling myself, you cannot die; keep going, get out of the building before
something else horrendous happens.
Realizing I was in the middle of an
enormous unfolding disaster, Rich and I raced through the 2nd floor lobby
headed for the stairs that would lead us down to the ground floor lobby of the
hotel. As we made our decent down the stairs, there were hundreds of people
standing around the door looking confused, crying and screaming and not moving
anywhere. Most people appeared to be in total shock and like me unable to
comprehend what was truly happening.
As Rich and I reached the front
door, one of the hotel clerks told us not to leave the building. Another police
officer said it was safer to stay inside. I wasn’t listening. My only thought
at the moment was to get the hell out of the building because the building was
located on top of the World Trade Center garage and basement and maybe there
was another bomb about to go off. So, Rich and I raced out of the doors and
what we saw next caused us both to stop dead in our tracks.
From the top of the front steps of
the Marriott Hotel the landscape had been transformed into what I imagine the
surface of the moon to look like. The road, the sidewalks, the signs, the cars,
the cabbies and just about everything you could see in front of you was covered
with a layer of grayish white dust. Scattered among the dust were burning
fragments of paper, steel, clothing and body parts. The entire area looked like
a war zone.
As I regained my mental capacity, I
told Rich to follow me, and we began to run across the northbound lanes of West
Street. As we cleared the median separating the north and southbound
lanes, I noticed that all of the cars on the street were scattered around
facing in all different directions and of the windshields of these cars were
shattered. As we ran across the southbound lanes we came within feet of a white
car that was no longer headed southbound but instead had crashed headfirst into
the median on the right-hand side of the southbound lanes. Its driver was no
longer living as his head was hanging out the driver’s side of the car, blood
was gushing from the side of his head.
As we continued in the direction of
the Merrill Lynch building, One Financial Plaza, the carnage scattered about
was numbing. I still did not realize what had happened, as I had not yet looked
behind me back in the direction of the Trade Center. When we reached the corner
of the Financial Plaza (approximately 150 feet from the entrance to the Marriot
Hotel) Rich and I both stopped running to catch our breath and re-orient
ourselves to the situation around us. It was at this point that I looked east
back toward the Marriot and saw for the first time the inferno that was raging
80 floors up in North Tower (Tower 1). I remember thinking, oh my God how
are the ever going to put that fire out.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 9:02 a.m.
I still did not know what had caused
the fire. I thought it might have been a bomb, a transformer blowing up, a
plane off course, etc. I had no idea it had been a terrorist attack nor
did those around me. The scene for that moment was one of total pandemonium.
People were screaming, crying,
shaking and holding each other. Rich and I kept saying to each other, “we’re
okay”, “we’re oaky” but then it hit us both that we did not know where
Courtenay and Clyde were at the time of the explosion, and we wanted to find
them right away. To help locate them, we decided to stay close to the Merrill
Lynch building in hopes that we would catch a glimpse of them leaving the
building and call to them to come join us until the crisis subsided.
While standing watching the entrance
to the hotel, Rich was able to call his wife on his cell phone and leave her a
message. He told her the World Trade Center was on fire. Jay and I are okay. We
don’t know where Courtenay and Clyde are but we assume they are fine too.
Please call Suzanne, Jay’s wife and let her know he is okay”.
As we stood taking in the situation
unfolding around us, emergency vehicles began arriving at the scene and the
police were in an orderly fashion pushing people back across the street towards
the Hudson River to make room of the emergency response teams. As help arrived
at the ground level, all Hell was breaking loose in the North Tower (Tower
Number 1). Those desperate folks trapped in the burning tower were screaming
for help. They were waving towels, clothes and any other object they could use
to draw attention to themselves. Despite their frantic scream for help, no one
was able to reach them, and many were left with only one option: jump or suffer
a worse fate. It was impossible to believe but out of sheer desperation and
agony person after person leapt from the top floors to their death. As each one
jumped people on the ground began screaming and sobbing.
My emotions were reeling. At one
moment I felt helpless, another a coward – I should go help, another moment
sick to my stomach and still another this is a horrible nightmare, and I am
going to wake up soon. I truly did not know what to do, where to go or what was
going to happen next. I feared for my own life and wanted desperately to be
home with Suzanne, Lauren and Sarah. I also wanted to find my friend Courtenay.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 9:03 a.m.
As my mind and emotions attempted to
create some rational thought process, my whole being was shattered to the core
as I heard a deafening roar and then looked up to see what appeared to be a
tail of either a plane, or a missile slam into the South Tower.
The blast was deafening and the heat
emitted from the explosion could be felt on our faces – we were that close to
the blast. At this point I knew the city was under attack, and I was scared to
death. I did not know what to do or where to go. Rich and I just started
running away from The South Tower towards the Hudson River. I wanted to get
away from any building because I didn’t know which building was going to be hit
next.
As we ran to the river, I dropped
Rich’s cell phone. Desperation set in. I had lost the only thing that could
give us access at some point to our loved ones. Luckily some nice guy picked it
up and delivered it back to me and Rich reassembled the phone.
As we regrouped along the riverfront
adjacent to the marina, I knew our next route of escape was going to have to be
to jump into the river. I told Rich about the current and looked for a piling
that we could each hold onto should it ever become necessary. I figured the
water would protect us from any flames.
After several minutes of no further
attacks, I began to develop our game plan of how to get out of the city. I told
Rich that we needed to make our way north. By going north, we would avoid being
scattered with more debris as the prevailing winds that day were from the
north. We thought about taking the ferry across the Hudson River to New Jersey
but decided against is as we realized that brought us closer to Newark Airport
and all those people trying to find rides out of the metro area. I decided at
that point to attempt to make to Metro North at 125th street. I believed if we
made it there, we could get a train to White Plains and pick up a rental car
and drive back to Charlotte and Hilton Head. I did not want to go to Grand
Central because I wasn’t sure whether or not it was open or in fact whether it
was the target of another attack.
Agreeing on moving north, Rich and I
made our way around the marina. We were on the southern side of the marina
after our run from the second explosion so moving north meant moving close to
the Marriot hotel before being able to move further away. Rich was a little
apprehensive about getting close to another tall building, but we moved anyway.
As we were making these decisions, we were continually attempting to make voice
contact via cell phone with Bridget to check on the status of Courtenay and to
notify our loved ones that we were still okay.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 9:59 a.m.
As we made our way to the northern
edge of the marina, I heard another horrific blast and looked in the direction
of the noise. What I thought I saw I could not comprehend…. The shell of the
South Tower was peeling away from the core of the building, and the floors were
crumbling into each other like dominoes. The roar became a 100-foot-high wall
of glass, steel, pulverized concrete and paper and this wall of debris was
rushing toward us at an ungodly pace. In a split second we knew we had to run
to get out of the way of the crashing building.
Rich and I both took off running
parallel to the Hudson River as the cloud got closer and closer over our right
shoulders. As we ran, we lost view of each other as you had to watch your step
so as not fall over those that had fallen, those that had had a heart attack or
those there were suffering from asthmatic attacks. After running until I could
run no longer, (I had run out of sidewalk and there was nowhere else to run
except to jump into the river in front of me), I stopped to check out my
situation. Fortunately for me the majority of the cloud had continued to move
westward and not northward.
That meant the cloud around me was
just the peripheral edge of the cloud and not the black cloud which enveloped
the area right behind me. As I looked behind me, I saw the cloud race out into
the river to the shoreline of New Jersey. In its wake, there was debris
everywhere and hundreds of people dazed and confused and covered with ash and
soot. Many more were floating in the river, either forced in by the blast or
there by their own accord. No matter where you looked there were faces filled
with total disbelief, fear and terror.
While standing at the corner of the
sidewalk and river, I frantically began searching for Rich among the thousands
of other people that surrounded me. I knew Rich was as panicked as me and I
knew we were much better together than apart. He was after all not only my
client but my friend. After a few silent prayerful seconds, I spotted Rich and
yelled to him. He heard me and we were once again reunited to continue together
this horrendous ordeal.
We both looked at each other in
total disbelief. Did we just see what we saw? It could not be. The South Tower
did not just implode in less than 15 seconds. It just could not have happened!
Stunned and dazed, Rich and I
continued to attempt to walk north. By this time, we were in a massive crowd of
equally dazed and frightened people. No one could process the magnitude of the disaster,
and no one wanted to attempt to comprehend how many innocent lives had been
lost in the rubble.
As we made our way back towards West
Street, I could see for the first time, the impact side of the North Tower and
the continuing inferno that rage from the upper floors. The devastation was
more severe that I had thought, and I then knew the inevitable – the North
Tower was going to collapse as well. My thoughts continued to be with those
trapped on those upper floors. It was incomprehensible to imagine their
suffering or fate. It was unimaginable that another “human” could have done
this to thousands of innocent people.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 10:28 a.m.
Before I had time to think anymore,
The North Tower began to sink into itself. It occurred with the same
noise, cloud and chaos that had accompanied the first collapse. But this time
you were able to see that the tower was collapsing into itself and falling
straight down. This was evidenced by the descent of the radio tower which had
once stood on top of the building. The radio tower fell straight down and never
toppled over. Once again, my mind was reeling with feeling of total and
complete denial and fear. Who could have ever imagined that within two hours
the world’s largest buildings would have been reduced to a pile of burning
rubble? Who could have imagined that thousands of innocent people would lie
dying or dead underneath this rubble? I couldn’t comprehend any of it and I
simple muttered, Oh my God, Oh my God.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 10:15 a.m.
It was now 10:15 a.m. and I was
consumed with trying to reach Suzanne by phone. Rich’s phone did not work and
there were not any land lines out on the where we had run to escape the masses.
While mingling around looking in the direction of where the two towers used to
stand, we were once again assaulted with a thunderous roar overhead. People
ducked, jumped and screamed. We all thought it was another place headed for yet
another landmark building in NYC. It was not. It was rather the roar of the
engines of a United States Air Force F16. I have never been so relieved to hear
the words “those are our guys. That’s the United States Air Force. It’s all
okay.” You wanted to believe the words, but I really didn’t know if it was “all
okay.” Who knew if there was another onslaught of planes inbound for another
part of the city? What we did know is that we wanted to distance ourselves from
the area as quickly as possible.
We began our trek north towards
125th street walking up West Street along the riverfront. We were two, of
thousands doing the same thing. What struck me at this point in the nightmare
was the total calmness of those around us. There were hundreds of thousands of
people just walking in an orderly fashion, one foot after another. The
screaming and crying had subsided. In its place was the constant piercing
sirens of police, fire and other rescue vehicles.
Rich and I agreed we wanted to get
away from the masses, so we crossed over the northbound lanes and headed north
on a road in from the West Side Drive. We stopped for a bottle of water to
quench our parched mouth and throats. Unfortunately, the first place was
without any more water and it was not until several more blocks that we located
a place with water.
We just kept walking, looking for an
open landline to call our loved ones. Looking for a chance to make contract
with those we knew would be concerned. This is where I realized the old saying
was true; "sometimes it is easier to be the patient than the bystander.”
Each phone we approached had ten or more people waiting and those on the phone
didn’t appear to be having short conversations. So, we pushed on.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 11:00 a.m.
Finally, at approximately 11:00 a.m.
I was able to find a landline and call collect to Bridget in Charlotte. I knew
Suzanne wasn’t home and I knew Bridget could try lots of phone numbers and not
disconnect me. So, I called Bridget. The joy and relief I felt when I finally
got through was overwhelming. I knew now that no one would have to worry any
longer because Bridget would be able to track Suzanne down and tell her that I
was okay. I cried when I heard Bridget’s voice and she told me that Courtenay
and Clyde had called in and they were okay too. When Bridget tied in Suzanne
and I heard her voice, my adrenaline stopped momentarily, and I couldn’t do
anything but weep.
After regaining composure, Suzanne
and I talked briefly and then I returned to my number one mission: Get the hell
out of the city.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 1:00 p.m.
Rich and I continued by foot
northbound. We stopped at a little after one o’clock at an open-air-restaurant
to grab another water or possible something to eat. We were able to find a
table inside and see for the first time with our own eyes exactly what had
happened. The restaurant had at least six tv’s on the walls and every station
had another tape of the actual place going into the second tower. I remember
thinking, this is not possible. You are having the worst nightmare of your
life. You are going to wake up and some director is going to yell, “cut”.
Nothing in my life had prepared me for the four hours I had just
experienced.
After a bite or two of a grilled
chicken sandwich, conversations with perfect strangers and a hug from one of
the strangers we decided to push on. We attempted to hail a cab but to no
avail. No cabby was taking new passengers. The street below 50th street were
being left open for emergency vehicles. At this point we had 100 blocks to go
(5 miles). So, we continued to move north.
By this time, Rich’s expensive dress
shoes had given him blisters and he had resorted to putting napkins inside his
socks as to give his feet some relief from the pain. We both agreed this pain
was far less than that being suffered by so many behind us at the World Trade
Center so we stopped talking about the discomfort and pushed on.
At 79th Street we spotted a host of
rental car locations. My heart seemed, for the first time in six hours, to leap
for joy. Maybe just maybe they would have a car, and we could high tail it up
the West Side Drive and get out of NYC? Rich headed towards Hertz and I
headed toward National. To our surprise and utter disappointment and
frustration, no one had a car to rent us. Each attendant had the same answer;
“I’m sorry. There isn’t a car left in NYC.” Words we dreaded to hear.
Crestfallen, we each looked at each other and knew we only had one alternative;
keep walking.
By 86th Street, Rich was really in
great pain. We needed a ride to 125th Street or to find a shoe store where we
could replace our dress shoes with sneakers. We looked up and down block after block,
but no store was open. Every store had closed for the day and stores were now
behind those metal gates used to keep the masses out at night. Up to this point
I had not noticed this fact before. But as I looked around, it appeared that
the majority of the city had closed and the city had become a ghost town. No
wonder there weren’t any rental cars.
We keep walking. By the time we had
made it to 90th and Broadway, Rich said he just couldn’t go any further and he
would find us a ride from one of those “assholes” who were heading north and
had not stopped to help us. Rich stood at the intersection of 90th and Broadway
and asked several cars for a ride. It was not until a Porky’s meat truck
stopped at that the light did Rich have any success. The truck driver agreed to
take us to 125th and we both hopped up into the cab and shared one seat all the
way to 125th. Despite one seat and jarring from each little bump, the ride beat
walking and neither one of us even thought of complaining. It was in fact the
first time I smiled or laughed that day.
At 125th, the truck driver let us
off. We offered him $50.00 but he refused it. He told us no and said he was
only too glad to help us given what we had been through that day. We thanked
him profusely and he said God Bless you. It was yet another time that I cried
as his simple act of kindness restored my belief in humanity and a part of my
broken heart.
I thought when the driver left us
that we were at the metro north station. Oh how wrong was I. We were on 125th
but clear across on the opposite side of 125th for the station. So, we had yet
another mile plus to go to reach the train. Rich still needed sneakers, so we
found “Harlem Sneakers” and we each purchased a pair. What a sight we must have
been with both of us in business attire except for me in my black and red Nikes
and Rich in his gray and silver Air Jordan’s.
We finally reached the station,
waited several minutes and boarded the Harlem Division for the ride up to North
White Plains. We sat down for the first time in five hours and oh how good it
felt. As we rounded the bend on the train and began to cross over the Harlem
River, I could still see the smoke billowing from lower Manhattan. It hit home
once again. We had been spared from a horrific disaster. God had spared our
lives and those of Courtenay and Clyde. Why? Why were we the lucky ones and yet
so many other, thousand perhaps, were not so lucky. I couldn’t comprehend it
and I couldn’t think about it anymore because I was exhausted both physically
and mentally. It did not stop the guilt though as I sat in the air-conditioned
comfort of the soft train seat.
We arrived at the Bronxville station
and got off. We looked for a place to grab another water and a phone booth once
again to call our loved one and let them know of our status. We were able to
find a phone and I called home. I talked for the first time to my oldest
daughter Lauren. Her voice sounded so good that it took me a couple of seconds
of tears and silence to continue the conversation. Lauren used her cell phone
to call and make us reservation at the Rye Town Hilton. When she had them
confirmed, we hung up and Rich and I hailed a cab and dove to the hotel.
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 6:05 p.m.
Upon arriving at the Rye Town
Hilton, we were told there was only one room available but once we explained
what we had been through, the nice clerk gave us each a room. After checking in
we went to the gift shop, and both purchased a pair of swim trunks, t-shirts
and some toiletries. We agreed to meet back in the bar area after getting a
shower and making some calls. I was able to talk to Suzanne, Lauren Sarah, my
parents, brother and sister, and my in-laws Janet and Cowles, It was so
comforting to hear each one of their voices and know that within a short time I
would be able to be re-united with all of them.
SEPTEMBER 12, 2001, 8:00 a.m.
The next day Chip came to meet Rich
and me for breakfast. What a sight for sore eyes and what a joy to be able to
hug him. It was what I now know was the beginning of the healing process. We
ate together and then Chip took us to the North White Plains train station to
rent a car. We left with our new red Trans AM car for the long journey back to
Charlotte and then Hilton Head for Rich. A long hug, good-bye, some tears and
laughter and we were off on our 675-mile trek south.
SEPTEMBER 12, 2001, 10:00 a.m.
The car ride was filled with emotion
as Rich and I both grappled with the disaster and the events of the prior day.
I remember crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge and looking south to the city and
seeing the smoke still hovering over the tip of Manhattan. The sight sent
chills though my body and a renewed fear that something still might happen. I
accelerated faster over the bridge and remember breathing a sigh of relief as
we cleared the expanse. Now it was only a matter of hours until I was able to
wrap my arms around Suzanne and the girls.
As we drove south, I remember daydreaming.
My mind was filled with the anguish of what I had witnessed the prior day. My
emotions ranged from rage to utter devastation for the families that had lost
their loved ones. I kept asking why? Why in a world like ours could such a
horrendous act occur? How could God have allowed this to happen? Slowly but surely,
it became a little clearer. God didn’t have a hand in this act of terror.
He was probably feeling the same
sense of sadness that we all were feeling. He was probably thinking, how in the
world could one of His children have done such a thing? That realization gave
me a great feeling of comfort, but I continued to pray that my own desire for
retribution and hatred toward he cowards who carried out these acts would
subside in time.
The drive was long and arduous. The
car was silent for long periods of time and then at others there were
expressions of anger, pain, anguish and joy. The emotions ran the gamut; tears,
smiles, laughter and silence.
September 12, 2001, 9:15 p.m.
We finally made it home to Charlotte
at around 9:15 p.m. I dropped Rich off at his son’s house and watched as Rich
hugged his son Tom. It was a reunion of father and son and such a joyous one at
that. I lingered for only a short time as I longed to be doing the same thing
with Suanne, Lauren and Sarah.
September 12, 2001, 9:25 p.m.
I arrived home at 9:25 p.m. and
found the back door locked so I rang the bell. I didn’t have any keys as they
were in the rubble of the disaster in NYC. I heard Lauren’s voice and I began
to cry. I will never forget how good it was to wrap my arms around her when she
opened the door and then to be able to do that two more times with Sarah and
Suzanne.
That night I lay awake thanking God
for all that He had given me. For my safety; the love of my family; the love of
friends and colleagues; my life and for being an American. I had a lot to be
thankful for, and this event reconfirmed to me those blessings thousands of
times over.
As I regain the normalcy back into
my life, I continue to mourn like all Americans and God-fearing people across
this world. I have confidence in mankind and know that good will eventually win
out over evil. I still cannot fully process the carnage I witnessed on
September 11th. But I can share with others the heroism of other human beings
as I witnessed many selfless people attempt to save the lives of other human
beings. The memories and the love of my family and friends that I cling to and
it is this type of goodness that I cherish most about this glorious country we
all call America.
As that wonderful song says, “I am
proud to be an American” and I know America and all of its people have the
might and strength to recover from this tragedy and eventually triumph over
evil.
Jay
Cedar's Take:
2,606 people in the Twin Towers
including 343 firefighters and 71 NYPD and Port Authority Police officers
perished, more than 5,500 were injured.
A total of 2,977 deaths and more
than 6,000 injured including the Pentagon and Shanksville Pennsylvania
crash.
Because it was the 11th I swung by the apartment complex I owned at the time to check with the office staff for any last minute rent payments from tenants trying to avoid the late fee. In the parking lot I'm confronted by a tenant named Anna. Even today I'm still stunned at what happened that crystal clear Carolina morning in September and the reaction of two people apparently unmoved and so self centric that they chose that moment to, in the case of Anna Schreiber to complain about a broken towel bar in her apartment and in the case Alan Henderson, rage over the phone that I "damn sure better be in Houston on Monday, even if you have to drive".
The September 11 attacks and more so Schreiber and Henderson changed my outlook on life, work and family.
In 2001 not everyone had a cellphone and yes there were payphones all over New York.
Today in NYC there are more than 10x
the Uber and Lyft drivers, than Yellow Cabs.
The 2001 Trans AM was an awesome
car.
Harlem Sneakers at 307 West 125th
Street later became Sneaker Den, The store closed in 2026 after a forty year run.
Porky’s Trucks both “Box” and “18
Wheelers” still roll along the streets of NYC.
Rich Covelli retired to Lake Norman. He ran C2 Advisors and Pension Advisory Group which closed in 2018. He passed last August 2025 at the age of 79. Not a bad run yet he will be missed by us all.
Courtenay Miller is still active in
the business and is with Park Avenue Securities a division of Consolidated
Planning.
Clyde Measey is with Fifth Third Bank;
at the time he was director of development with Golden Bear
International.
Jay I’ve lost touch with.
I left the investment business in
2008 selling my firm to Dunn and Bradstreet in the spring of that year.
Firefighters Vernon Cherry, Leon Smith, Joey Agnello, Robert Regan, Pete Vega, and Scott Davidson rode Ladder 118 to ground zero all would parish when the south tower collapsed. Davidson would leave behind a year old son named Peter aka "Pete" of Saturday Night Live fame.
I'm haunted by my own recollection,
that of staring across the Hudson to the Statue of Liberty the week before and clearly taking
everything for granted.
To the current mayor of New York who thinks we should move on from 9/11 .....
