Thursday, October 1, 2026
For many the horrors of that day have faded or at best linger in their thoughts while being prodded annually. For others such as myself, the memories of those gruesome events endure.
Most will remember the clear blue sky that morning which was a refreshing signal of the end of heat and humidity and a herald of the cool crisp days of fall that lie ahead. The early morning serenity gave no indication of the melee that was soon to take place.
Within hours the whole world would change. Throughout, history many events changed the world — wars, depression, famines and the like — but few changed the world as quickly as the terrorist events of Sept 11.
Although my attention that day was directed at a business call that began at 7 a.m., the loud bang did not go unnoticed by my colleague. In fact, not being accustomed to downtown, he asked what caused the debris to blow around on what earlier was such a calm day.
The office we had chosen for our monthly call was on the east side of the south tower looking towards Brooklyn. Although I could see the tons of debris floating in the air 59 stories up in the air, I could not see the devastation and havoc that was behind us. The tower was ablaze with people leaping to their death to escape the inferno.
As we were preparing to leave, there was a knock at the door and a very familiar voice calling out, “Bob are you in there?” It was a colleague who was assigned as a searcher. With an excited voice he said, “We must evacuate, everyone else is out already.”
It seemed that no one knew we were in this spare office until he saw my briefcase on my desk and knew that I was somewhere on the floor. He informed us that the building had been evacuated 15 minutes earlier. The floor was eerily empty when we left the office.
I had no inkling of the chaos that was about to ensue. As we began our way down the 118 flights of stairs, we were stopped halfway by a security guard who said that the building is secure you can go back to your offices. Easier said than done, when in a building that has 110 floors.
Having no understanding of the depth of the situation we foolishly decided to take an elevator. It was a quick ride to the lobby, which was the route back to the 59th floor. As the doors opened, I caught my first sense of the gravity of the situation. The acrid smell of jet fuel was apparent. I turned to my running mate and said, “jet fuel” that’s not good.” He nodded in agreement. I grew up in the 1960s across from Kennedy airport, and he having spent time in the military at an air base. The smell is distinct although not commonly recognized.
What happened after that was like a movie, a war movie, a bad war movie. We were not out of the elevator for more than a minute or two and the second plane hit at 9:03 a.m. The building shook and the debris from the impact, which included portions of the plane, fell to the ground blocking the exit. Then screaming and panic ensued.
In the crowd I came upon an employee who was older, sickly and struggling mightily with her asthma. We escorted her through the crowd and when I was trying to figure out what next an MTA officer appeared, she said softly and calmly to take her to the subway station where trains were running one stop in order to get people out.
Soon we were on the E train arriving at Canal Street, theoretically out of danger. As I reached the station level there was an unoccupied pay phone. As perfect as anything had gone that morning, I reached into my pocket and found five dimes and two pennies. It cost 50 cents to call Nassau County where I live. It was 9:15 a.m. My wife answered on the first ring she was terrified and told me she had picked up our son from school and was waiting to hear from me.
She told me that she had received over 100 calls. She also asked if I knew where our nephew was. He had begun working with the firm a year or so earlier. I calmly told her I was heading to the fallback site, and I would find him and we would both head home. I now began to recognize the scope of the situation. And then reaching the street level I had a clear view south down what I think was Sixth or Seventh Avenue. I could see the gaping holes in both buildings with flames shooting out.
As I worked my way through the crowded streets, I met a fellow employee whom I had known for several years; he was in shock and kept mumbling something about American Airlines. I did not understand but soon I would have the full picture. It was when I reached the fallback center that was bustling with activity, I was told that they had hit the Pentagon and that a plane from Newark Airport was missing.
I remember thinking how that could be coming here. It was then I realized how feeble our practice drills were and how ill-prepared we were for such an event. It proved to be true again as we were then evacuated from that building a few minutes later. At about 10:30 a.m., after deciding that two evacuations in one day were enough, I began the walk from Canal Street to Penn Station. Stopping on the way to grab a glimpse at a TV wherever I could catch one, I saw the horrible scene that continued to unfold downtown.
As I walked up Seventh Avenue, somewhere around 14th Street, I noticed ambulances and emergency vehicles sitting in traffic, trying desperately to get to the heart of the debacle. One took my breath away; it was from the Bellmore Fire Department; that firehouse was four blocks from my house, almost 33 miles away. Each of these incidents added to my realization as to the gravity of the situation.
A few hours later I was on a slow moving and packed railroad trip home. When the train exited the tunnel in Queens and daylight reappeared sometime after 3 p.m., I noticed the signs of normal life. The streets were full of cars heading somewhere, children were playing in the playgrounds. It all seemed so unreal.
The serenity of the suburbs stood in stark contrast to the havoc of Manhattan. It seemed to me that for most people, regardless of your perspective, the enormity of the event was too vast to comprehend. The enduring effects were, as yet, unforeseen.
The immediate changes were understandable: troop mobilization and deployment aimed at retribution, heightened security, metal detectors, lockdowns, shutdowns all caused the world to shrink and close in on itself.
The long-term effects such as cultural mistrust, xenophobia and heightened religious discord will unfortunately endure for at least the remainder of my lifetime if not further.
In consideration of this milestone, I reached out to some former colleagues including my running mate that day. One of my old friends offered sadly, “there is still no solution to the hate and terrorism that continues to infect the world.”
My running mate, upon reading an essay I wrote earlier this year, agreed with my cultural evaluation including the question, “Why as a society have, we strayed from the basic logic that people are inherently good and need support?” “Why is our current culture so willing to condemn, so willing to persecute, prosecute and even expel those that need the most help?”
These negative remnants are not only the result of the events of Sept. 11 but have deep roots in history. It should be all our hope that compassion transcends time, circumstances and ideologies. It should have no boundaries. It requires the basic aspect of humanity, valuing life, caring for people and accepting the flaws that others have.
It is the beginning of the solution to ending hatred and prejudice.
To read more from the Herald's Remembering 9/11, 25th anniversary special section, click here.
