My Nine-Eleven
This is a true account of my experience on September 11, 2001. The events are how I remember them.
Since I was still living with my parents, I would occasionally ride the morning commuter train into Hoboken, New Jersey with my dad since we both worked in lower Manhattan. Today was not one of those days. I did not ride with him on this particular Tuesday. He took the 6:22 and I opted for a few extra minutes of sleep.
6:45am
I nodded hello to a man whom I recognized as my friend Jon’s stepfather. The pleasantry was quickly followed by a brief, awkward moment where we both hesitated to indicate a possible interest in starting a conversation. Instead, that conversation never happened and we just kept walking to opposite ends of the train platform where we waited for the 6:50 to take us to Hoboken. His name was Charlie and I had met him several times before but had not seen him in a while.
7:50am
The train was on time and we arrived at Hoboken Terminal. I always took the ferry to lower Manhattan even though it cost more than the Path train — the underground subway system that connects New York and New Jersey. The ferry was always on time and the seven-minute ride also let me off about 100 feet from my place of employment, the New York Mercantile Exchange (NYMEX). The New York Mercantile Exchange was in the World Financial Center on the west side of lower Manhattan. The area in and around the building is really nice especially on days like that Tuesday when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the temperature was in the mid 70s. Many tourists flock to this area to look at the yachts, have lunch, and take pictures. In addition, the outdoor walk also provided clear views of both the Statue of Liberty and the World Trade Center.
8:40am
Working on the trading floor of the NYMEX was an exciting job. The open outcry trading platform meant during the trading hours I had to be on my feet the entire time. Bathroom breaks were a luxury. The occasional slow day was a welcome disruption from the hustle and bustle of the typical business day. In addition, working in this environment meant that every morning was the same routine: checking the statements and preparing the trading sheets for my bosses, who would arrive around 9:30am.
8:50am
However, today wasn’t going to be like any other day. It all started when I watched about 50 clerks, traders, and other NYMEX personnel simultaneously make their way out the door of the trading floor on their way to exit the building.
“What’s going on?” I asked a fellow worker who stood behind me.
“I dunno. Someone said a plane hit the World Trade Center?”
“Really?” I said with no urgency. I, like most people when told of that news, assumed a small plane must have veered off course somehow.
“I’ll be right back.” These words came from my co-worker, Emilio, who decided to follow the crowd outside.
“My dad works in the building,” I said as he was walking away.
“Which one?”
“The North Tower.”
“Do you have his number?”
“In my phone.”
“Give him a call.”
I dug my Nokia cell phone out of my pocket and found his work number. I used our landline and called his office. The phone rang but no one answered the phone. Instead, all I heard was endless ringing and no voicemail. I had never called my dad at work before so I was not even sure if he had voicemail. Regardless, now I was starting to become slightly concerned. Why isn’t someone at least answering the phone I thought to myself. I began pacing in a small area near where I was working when Emilio returned. His facial expression told me all I needed to know. He looked petrified which raised my anxiety level a little more.
“Jeff, it’s bad. You better go outside,” he said while pointing over his shoulder.
I cannot remember if I even said anything back to him but in about two seconds my trading jacket was off and thrown over the divider that separated our work space from our neighbor’s work space. I grabbed my phone and made sure I had my wallet and keys because I knew there was a good chance I was not coming back into this building.
At this point, many different scenarios were playing out in my head. There were no televisions on the trading floor so other than “it’s bad,” I did not know what to expect when I walked outside. Best case scenario, I thought, maybe there was some minimal damage and it was worth a glimpse.
That all changed as I stood on the second descending escalator. This one took me from the second floor to the lobby and eventually to the exit. As the escalator came into view of the large, thirty-foot windows that surrounded the relatively small lobby, I saw about a hundred people outside gazing up toward the top of the World Trade Center’s North Tower. It is a moment I will never forget because it was then I realized that in about five seconds I was going to witness something I really did not want to see.
8:58am
The revolving glass door circled counter clockwise and I emerged into a slighter warmer outdoor temperature than when I first arrived and the same cloudless sky.
The fire was a mix of red, yellow, and orange that I can visualize even today. What the television cameras and newspaper photographs did not capture however was the sound the flames made while burning the top 15% of the North Tower. If you have ever made a big fire either in a fireplace or on a campsite, then you know the sound a really intense fire can make. That sound was what I heard except I was about 1,000 feet below and two city blocks away.
My dad worked on the 101st floor. I counted the windows down from the top (110 stories total) and quickly realized he was directly impacted in some way.
9:01am
To this day, I do not know what compelled me to move closer to the tower and not run away from the scene. Yes, my dad was in there somewhere but what was I going to achieve by moving closer? I ventured east along the walkway where the yachts were tethered, toward the World Trade Center, and into the Winter Garden — a glass atrium that houses palm trees year-round. The Winter Garden also serves as an open area surround by stores and restaurants as well as an extension of the lobbies of the World Financial Center. I walked by the palm trees and up the marble staircase which brought me to the sky bridge that connects the World Financial Center to the World Trade Center’s lobby. Thousands of people pass through this bridge on a daily basis. It stood about one story off of the ground level and crossed over West Street in lower Manhattan. At this moment however, no one was allowed to cross.
9:03am
I was stopped as I grabbed the handle to the door. A part of me was relieved I could not get closer and a part of me was terrified. I turned around and I was able to see the area from where I had just come. I looked back through the glass atrium wall of the Winter Garden that faced west toward the Hudson River when all of a sudden, the masses, who were staring up at the North Tower, began to run in every direction and scream incredibly loudly. Immediately I knew I was in danger but I could not see what they could see which made my situation even more unnerving. I tried to gather my thoughts when all of sudden…
BOOM!!
The ground beneath my feet shook and the sound was deafening. That had to have been a bomb that just exploded across the street I quickly determined.
“EVERYBODY OUT OF HERE NOW!” yelled the security guard at the twenty or so people standing around the entrance to the sky bridge. I noticed the people outside had intensified their screams but had also stopped running.
I never experienced tunnel vision until that moment. As I started running, I had no peripheral vision and could only see directly in front of me. I ran down a hallway that was parallel to the marble stairs I had just climbed up. In front of me was another gentleman running for his life and I remember thinking to myself that if he slows down even a little, I will run right over him. Thankfully, he never slowed down and we literally ran down a frozen escalator and into a restaurant that would lead us back out to the walk way where I first entered the building a few minutes earlier.
9:04am
One of the strangest things I witnessed that entire morning occurred right after I was back on the ground floor coming off of the escalator. At the escalator’s base was a restaurant we had to walk through to get back to the outdoor walk. I was about to emerge back outside among the growing number of people and I remember passing another gentleman who was casually pouring himself a cup of coffee from an urn the restaurant had set up for its morning customers. I thought to myself, is this guy completely oblivious to the madness going on just outside this window?
As I emerged from the restaurant, I was now able to clearly see that the South Tower was also on fire. The immediate concern to me and the bystanders in the area was the glass and steel flying through the air along with the pieces of paper and any other items that were ejected from the South Tower not even a minute earlier.
I walked back toward the NYMEX, put my hands on the top of my head, and started to cry. I was at a loss and my senses were completely shot. Thankfully I was still in a survival mode and knew I could not stay and watch the destruction any longer. I had to get out of the area as quickly as possible. I never thought to get back on the ferry to go back to New Jersey. In hindsight, getting off of Manhattan Island immediately would have been the smartest move. However, at that moment, a part of me could not leave New York until I knew my dad was safe. I just could not leave him behind. I started to walk uptown.
9:20am
Growing up right outside of New York City meant I was very familiar with this town and could comfortably go anywhere. At that moment, I also knew I could potentially either meet up with my dad later or at least get back home to my mom with no trouble.
Walking north through a neighborhood known as Tribeca allowed me to maintain a safe distance from the burning buildings. It also gave me my first glimpse of the gaping hole in the north face that was formed from American Airlines Flight #11 at 8:46am. Thousands of people were in the streets staring up in horror as the day began to get even worse. The steel and other debris falling from the sky I saw 15 minutes earlier was now replaced by something totally unfathomable.
Were those people falling from the building? Why? What the hell was going on up there? I still had no idea that a commercial airline went directly INTO the building. Because the events at the time were so incomprehensible, I thought an airplane’s wing simply clipped the North Tower’s facade tearing a hole that would eventually need to be repaired. Likewise, the BOOM I felt from across the street I still thought was a bomb of some sort. Therefore, looking at the bodies falling, I honestly thought terrorists were up there throwing people out of the building. After all, why would anyone jump when there was a zero percent chance of survival?
People in the streets were beside themselves. Once the number of people jumping out of the building began to increase, more people on the ground began to take notice. I remember a woman, with tears in her eyes and her hand over her mouth, screaming “Oh my God, there goes another one!” The situation was dire and I could not take watching it anymore. In addition, the endless sounds of police, fire, and ambulance sirens were raising my anxiety level and I knew it was time to leave lower Manhattan.
I walked up West Broadway to where the street intersected with Chambers Street and easily got on the 1 train, heading uptown.
9:55am
I exited the subway at the Port Authority Bus Terminal on 42nd Street. I had seen enough and now realized it was time to go home. Unfortunately, every bridge and tunnel in and out of Manhattan was closed. I was trapped in New York City. What made this really terrible, instead of a mere inconvenience, was that I could not make a phone call with my cell phone. Neither could anyone else for that matter. This was the first time I remember the cellular network not having the ability to handle the volume of calls being made at one time.
Thankfully, I remembered my friend Scott worked on 3rd Avenue near 45th Street. I decided to walk across town to his office so I could hopefully get off the street and possibly make some phone calls using a land line. On my way to his office, I noticed lines of people, some of which were ten deep, at pay phones waiting to make a call; a sight we’ll likely never see again. In addition, electronics stores with televisions in their front windows had the broadcast of what was transpiring downtown. Crowds of people stood and watched with similar facial expressions as those a mile south. I never stopped to watch. I saw all I needed to see 20 minutes earlier.
10:25am
I arrived at Scott’s building and went to the front desk to have him paged. He came down about ten minutes later and was surprised to see me but also saw the news and understood why I was there.
“Do you work in the World Trade Center?” he asked.
“No, but my dad does.” I replied.
His facial expression showed he had no idea that that was the case.
After a moment, he said, “Jeff, I heard the buildings collapsed.”
Dismissing this almost immediately, I stated, “What? How is that possible? They’re enormous. It must be just some floors that were weakened by the fire.”
“I don’t know. I just heard some people talking. Let’s go.” We headed for the elevator.
“Is there a phone I can use? Cell phones aren’t working and I need to get in touch with my mom and sister.”
“Yeah, you can use one of the offices. When you’re done, come into the restaurant and we’ll get you anything you want.”
“Thanks so much. My nerves are totally shot. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”
10:45am
My first call was to my sister who was a junior in college about two hours north of New York City.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Jeff, Sheryl’s brother…”
“Oh my God! She’s right here, hang on.”
“Hello?”
“Hey, listen, do not turn on the TV.”
“We’re not, we’re watching the cartoon network. I have no desire to watch the news coverage.”
So far, she was handling this well and I was glad her friends were around.
“Good. Listen, it’s bad and there is going to be a chance that Daddy didn’t make it out. I don’t know anything for sure but he worked close to where the impact was. I’m gonna call mom now but just try to stay calm and I will call you back later. The cell phones don’t work here but I’m at Scott’s office in midtown so I’m totally safe. I can’t leave the city because the bridges and tunnels are closed.”
“Okay. How are you going to get home?”
“I have no idea. Scott mentioned his dad can maybe take us later on since he is working in midtown today as well. At this point I’ll walk home if I have to but things need to settle down first. I’ll call you in just a little bit. I need to call mom at school.”
10:52am
“Hi, this is Jeff, Audrey’s son.”
“Oh, thank God. Let me transfer you.”
“Hi…Jeff? Are you alright?” My mom’s tone of voice suggested she did not see any of the television coverage.
I was so relieved to hear her voice that I started to lose it a bit.
“Mom, it was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t get through to Daddy and I don’t know if he’s okay.”
“Well, maybe he will call you in a little while and meet you somewhere. Where are you now?”
“I’m in midtown in Scott’s office. I tried to catch a bus home but the bridges and tunnels are all closed.”
“Are you serious?” The gravity of the situation was starting to sink in and made her voice sound a little more desperate.
“Um…okay…maybe you can meet him in midtown later.”
I let this hang in the air for a second before I decided to say, “Mom, we may need to prepare ourselves for a possible worst-case scenario. I don’t know what else to do right now. I can’t go back down there. People are evacuating by foot uptown. I don’t even know exactly what happened but it’s a mess… Listen, let me go now and try to get some information. I have a phone so I can make calls. Take down this number just in case you hear anything from Daddy…”
5:30pm — Present Day
We never heard from my dad. We never heard anything that day and we have not heard anything twenty years later.
It is impossible to put into words the level of support we received over the days, weeks, months, and now years since. We heard from family, friends, and even complete strangers. One phone call I got shortly after was from Charlie, my friend’s dad from the train platform that Tuesday morning. I had no idea he also worked in the World Trade Center. I remember he told me to “keep the faith.” I was very relieved and happy to hear he was okay.
Whenever I saw Charlie on the train platform after that, which wasn’t too often, I always made sure to stop and chat.
— — — —
I sometimes wonder how different my life would have turned out had I not lost my dad on 9/11. As the years have gone on, I think about that less and less.
I still think of him every day, however.
— — — —
Final thought:
Each day is truly a gift; a gift that is easy to take for granted, until it punches you in the face. Hopefully, you’re fortunate enough to punch back. Embrace each day, week, month, year and build a wonderful life for as long as you can.
— — — —
Dedicated to my dad, Ron Magnuson…and Charlie.
