top of page

I looked around, the area near us had been peppered with flying debris, jet parts and building material.  The gunfire I thought I heard apparently was the missilizing of debris flying off 200 Liberty and adjoining buildings.  The scene of the tower being blown apart was terrible, the sounds were worse and living it first hand sucked the air out of my lungs.  I became weak-kneed, wobbly and at the same time awestruck as my eyes were glued, unblinking, on the horror before us.  There were very few people around us, maybe 100 or 125, I bet.  Others were scattered about on the street, near the coffee canteen, by the river park, and in the plaza.  I asked aloud, “Who is going to believe this?”


To my rear people were still walking to work, drinking coffee, wearing headsets, and listening to music.   They were totally oblivious to what was going on directly in front of them.  They just missed walking into the path of debris-bullets and building-material rockets.  Looking to my right, there were flattened taxis, shoes littered the ground, sneakers, a singed slipper, dress black loafers, hundreds of shoes, torn open and the twisted metal remains of a jet engine lied on the sidewalks nearby.  “It was a plane!  There’s the engine.  I think that’s a jet engine, could it bean engine?”  some fellow ranted.  Everywhere there was debris of every type and description.  An aluminum sided delivery truck was no more.  Each piece of early morning, rush hour, street-furniture was set on this very temporary stage, stuck, frozen in time in its exact location at the moment of impact.  Most of it was slammed or crushed, to varying degrees, by rubble, slabs of concrete and building materials.  “If only we had a camera, this needs to recorded forever,” I lamented.   “I don’t have a camera,” replied Scott.


Tucked aside the protection of the revolving doors, “Oh God, I need to call home”.  I called my wife and, at the sound of her voice, spit out one very long sentence, “Dawn, don’t worry I am fine.  Scott is safe too. Get a message to Susan that he is O.K. The devastation is incredible. I wish I had a camera!  There is no one here yet.  People are still walking to work and they don’t know what has happened.  A plane or a bomb just blew up the World Trade Tower.  We are across the street.  I’ve got to get out of here, I love you.”  She responded, “What are you talking about”.  “Put on the TV now”, I hung up.

bottom of page