The Week that Hell Brought

I was driving my daughter and her friend to school on a sunny Tuesday morning when it came over the radio. We thought it was a joke on the top 40 station. “A small plane has hit the World Trade Center.” When we realized it was real, I said, well that’s downtown, my office is midtown, I should be able to still head in. I dropped off my daughter and found myself right next to JFK Airport when they reported the second plane hitting. At that moment, all traffic on this normally busy thoroughfare came to a dead halt. As I sat there very confused about what was happening (although immediately Howard Stern said “we’re being attacked”), I remembered the ’93 Trade Center bombing and immediately called the office and closed it, telling everyone to get home and get safe. After 20 minutes of inability to move, I turned around and went home, worried about my daughter at that point. She came home about an hour later.

Our staff first gathered at the restaurant next door to our then office to watch the TV and then realized they needed to scatter. My assistant at the time walked home to Queens over the 59th St. bridge. An associate was worried about his Dad, thinking he was downtown (he was not). A partner’s wife came up out of the subway down there and saw everything (she managed to turn around and get out). Another associate walked up to the upper east side to his mother’s and did not get home to Jersey until the next day. My family and I were worried about my brother-in-law next door to the Trade Center at World Financial Center (we did not hear from him until 2pm telling us he was in the hospital treated for smoke inhalation, he got home around 1 am that night after thinking he was not going to make it as the building fell very close to him).

I spent the day watching the TV and emailing basically every person I knew to see if they were OK (it took 3 scary days to find one friend who was out of the country). The next day, with all bridges and tunnels closed, almost all of us made it in anyway. There was no point, as our phones had gone out. We sent an email to everyone we could with our cell phone numbers and such, but no one was calling. We all went for a very long liquid lunch and then went home. That afternoon I reached an old friend who worked at Marsh & McClennan on the 107th floor. Thankfully he was in Florida at a conference. He could barely speak. He told me he supervised a team of 12 people, and had ordered all of them to come in early that day, and they all died.

Then Thursday, more people on the streets, but by noon there were over 100 bomb threats in the city and rumors the trains might shut down, stranding everyone in the city. Still no phones. We closed again and said we’d stay closed until Monday. I remember literally running from the office to the Long Island Rail Road’s Penn Station with an associate, stopping only for a moment to pay $2 for a small American flag which still sits in my office. Good thing we stayed closed because hundreds more bomb threats on Friday.

I spent Friday at home wondering what to do. Our phone provider said they had no idea when the phones would be back. Their transformer was at the Trade Center. It wasn’t like you could just call Verizon and ask them to come put new lines in. The city was a mess.

Miraculously, around noon just for fun I called the office and the phone lines suddenly were working. On Monday we all came back, still shaken up but determined. Clients started calling. That deal we were working on before this, let’s get it done. It took a month or so but then things were back to humming as always.

I allowed employees to volunteer down at the site during work time if they wanted to. I offered space in our suite to attorneys whose offices had been destroyed or inaccessible. We did all we could. But we could not bring back the thousands who perished, including so many who died trying to save others.

Now that Osama has discovered Grecian Formula, you can bet he’s determined to do it again. I hope you will take a little time on Tuesday, both to remember the bravery of those who died and those who risked illness to work on the Pile for months, and to remember our need to stay vigilant and resolute in our desire to rid the world of this horrific evil. And also, to remember the wonderful things that happened as the city and our nation came together in those difficult days.

I will remember two that I knew who did not make it that day, Dave Weiss of Canter Fitzgerald and Neil Levin, head of the Port Authority.

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