Amid the catastrophe at the World Trade Center, no sight left as powerful an impression on rescuers, officials, and evacuees as the developing tragedy of victims—trapped without escape on the Towers’ upper floors, caught amid rising, unbearable temperatures and deadly smoke—who fell or chose to jump.
Wesley Wong, assistant special agent in charge, FBI New York: This fireman said something to me that I didn’t understand—he said, “Watch out for the falling bodies.” I remember crossing West Street and thinking, What did he say about falling bodies? I said, “It’s a fire.” As I got close to the building this fireman from behind yelled, “Run! Here comes one!” I froze and I looked up over my right shoulder, up into that beautiful bright blue sky. I saw a fellow spread-eagle, coming out of the sky. He had on navy blue dress pants, a white shirt, and a tie. Dark hair. I couldn’t believe what I saw.
Det. David Brink, Emergency Service Unit, Truck 3, NYPD: There were a lot of bodies that were coming down. I saw daisy chains of four people holding hands, just leaping out of the buildings. I kept looking up, saying, “I want to help you guys. Hold on. Please hold on,” but I knew there was nothing I could do. I felt so helpless and powerless.
Dr. Charles Hirsch, chief medical examiner, City of New York: It was a sight and sound that I’ll never forget. The awful sound of people impacting.
Gregory Fried, executive chief surgeon, NYPD: You’d hear this whoosh, and then it would go crash, and then all of a sudden you’d hear a splat. One of the cops said to me, “What was that?” I looked at him and said, “That was a person.”
Quentin DeMarco, officer, PAPD: The clothes of the jumpers sounded like a flag or a sail in a windstorm.
Bill Spade, firefighter, Rescue 5, FDNY: There were motion-detector doors that opened up into the North Tower. These doors kept opening and closing with the bodies that were coming down.
Peter Moog, officer, NYPD: I did see one jumper actually hit a fireman on the corner near Vesey and West. I later found out that the fireman was Danny Suhr. He played for the fire department football team. I coach our team, and I’ve played, so I knew Danny. He was one of the first firemen to get killed.
William Jimeno, officer, PAPD: The one that struck me the most—it’s almost like my eyes could zoom in up to him—it was a blond gentleman wearing a pair of khakis and a light pink shirt, collared shirt, and when he jumped, he jumped almost like he was on a cross, like Jesus. He jumped, looking up in the air, and he went down.
Stanley Trojanowski, firefighter, Engine 238, FDNY: I must’ve blessed myself between 40 and 50 times, once for each jumper.
Bill Spade: We’ve seen death at other things, but this time it was something different. There were so many, so many.
Sgt. Mike McGovern, aide to the chief, NYPD: I had blood splatter on the cuffs of my pants from the people jumping and landing on the ground.
Rudy Giuliani, mayor, New York City: All of a sudden I saw a man at a window, must have been the 100th floor, 101st, 102nd floor, North Tower. He threw himself out the window. I froze, stopped, and watched him come all the way down. It was a totally shocking experience, unlike any I’ve ever had before. I leaned over to the police commissioner and said, “This is much worse than we thought. It’s off the charts.” We had practiced a lot of things—anthrax, sarin gas, airplane crashes, building collapses, hostage situations, derailed trains, West Nile virus. I was pretty confident that we were the most prepared place in the United States for any emergency—maybe in the world. This was beyond anything that anybody had imagined.
Bernie Kerik, NYPD commissioner: I’ve been in this business 26 years, and I’ve done everything under the sun. I’ve been involved in gun battles. I’ve had partners who were killed. But I’ve never felt as helpless as I did on that morning. You couldn’t yell to these people and ask them to stop, or make them stop.
Melinda Murphy, traffic reporter, WPIX TV, airborne over New York Harbor: Our camera’s pretty strong. I said, “What’s that dripping off the building?” It looked like something was dripping. Chet’s like, “I don’t know.” So we zoom in and we could see people jumping. We were on live TV and I remember going, “OK, that’s it, zoom out, zoom out.” I didn’t want anybody to see it.
Sunny Mindel, communications director for the mayor of the City of New York, Rudy Giuliani: I remember seeing colleagues from the police department’s press operation surrounded by television cameras with their lenses trained upward on people jumping. The first thing you learn when you do what I do is you never obscure the lens of a camera. That’s a violation of the First Amendment—to interfere with the press. I was so riveted to this moment of people making this decision to jump that my gut instinct was: This is an invasion of the most intimate moment ever. My hands started to go up to block the lenses. But then I thought, No, this has got to be recorded for history. I just stood there.
At 9:42 a.m., five minutes after the Pentagon attack, the FAA issued an unprecedented order: Every plane in the country must land immediately. Beyond the massive disruption in the airspace over the United States, more than a hundred transatlantic flights were diverted to small airports in Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, and elsewhere in Canada. Pilots, flight crews, and passengers all tried to understand what had happened in the United States, hungry for information wherever they could find it.
Ben Sliney, national operations manager, FAA Command Center, Herndon, Virginia: I said, “That’s it!” I said, “I’m landing everyone!” I remember a colleague putting his hand out to grab my shoulder, and he said, “Wait a minute! Do you want to think about that?” I said, “I’ve already thought about it, and I’m going to do it.”
Dan Creedon, departure controller, TRACON, Reagan National Airport, Washington, D.C.: As soon as Flight 77 hit the Pentagon, it was obvious that no one should get near Washington. We could not trust any crew.
Ben Sliney: I walked down to the middle of the floor, and everyone came over to me. I said, “We’re going to land everyone at the nearest airport regardless of destination.”
Maj. Gen. Larry Arnold, commander of the 1st Air Force, NORAD, Tyndall Air Force Base, Florida: Boston Center had stopped all takeoffs, then the Department of Transportation stopped all flights, and then my boss declared SCATANA, which stands for Security Control of Air Traffic and Air Navigation Aids. It means the military is taking control of all the navigation aids and of the airspace.
Lt. Col. Kevin Nasypany, mission crew commander, NEADS, Rome, New York: I feel I’m still so far behind in what’s happening, the whole situation. It’s a catch-up situation, and I don’t like being in a catch-up situation—never have, never will.
Terry Biggio, operations manager, Boston Air Route Traffic Control Center: The controllers were telling the pilots, “You’re gonna have to land.” We told them, “You’re not leaving our airspace—you gonna have to pick an airport, get a hold of your company, tell us where you’re gonna go, and tell us where you’re gonna land.”
Kristie Luedke, chief of air traffic control training, Johnstown–Cambria County Airport, Pennsylvania: Cleveland Center said, “We are bringing everybody in. Everybody’s landing.”
Gerald Earwood, pilot, Midwest Express Flight 7: Every plane was considered a threat. We were asked probably 15 or 20 times, “Are you still with us?” It was total mass confusion.
Maj. Gen. Larry Arnold: The only thing I can equate it to is when I was at Da Nang. Da Nang became known as “Rocket City” by attacks by the North Vietnamese and Vietcong. I was there during three of those attacks. If I could explain to you how it was on 9/11: we were under attack. You don’t know when it’s going to end. You’re getting calls—turned out to be 21 aircraft or 22, we were never sure whether it was 21 or 22—but we were keeping track, writing with grease pencils every time one was called “potentially hijacked,” meaning something was going on with this aircraft. I felt like we were under attack, like it was when I was hearing the rockets coming in when I was at Da Nang: When is this going to come to an end?
Ben Sliney: When the order came out to land at the nearest airport regardless of destination, I expected some pushback. Out of 4,500 aircraft in the air, I only got one request to land at an airport that was not the nearest one. I refused the request.
Dan Creedon: To put 4,500 aircraft on the ground in places where they were not supposed to go—at the same time that the military is trying to get airborne and control the chaos—is an incredible feat of air traffic controllers and air traffic managers coordinating that.
George “Bill” Keaton, air traffic controller, Cleveland Center: A couple times that day my voice did crack a little bit on frequency when I was working and it bothered me that the professionalism slipped a little bit. But it was a very emotional time. I saw people in the aisles crying.
Ben Sliney: To give some perspective, I believe 700 landed within the first 10 minutes, and 3,500 within the first hour.
Terry Biggio: They did an incredible job, under warlike conditions, with unbelievable precision.
Ben Sliney: I do not think the aviation industry got the thanks that they deserve from the American public.
Rick Greyson, passenger, ATA Airlines, Chicago to Orlando: About 30 or 40 minutes into the flight, after level off, I heard the engines throttle back to idle and felt the plane making a very rapid descent. The captain came on the PA and announced that “due to a national emergency, all airspace in the United States had been shut down” and that we would be “landing in Louisville very shortly.” My teenage daughter read the look on my face and said, “Dad! What is it?” I told her I didn’t know, but told her to lower her window shade. I guess I was expecting incoming nukes and wanted to protect her from the flash. Silly, how one’s mind thinks of such things, as though that would have done a damned bit of good!
Bob Schnarrenberger, flight attendant, US Airways, Pittsburgh to London: Our lead flight attendant came through the cabin. She said, “Bob, I need you to tighten down the galleys, put everything away, lock up all your carts, finish your service in 45 minutes.” She left for the back of the airplane, and I’m thinking: Okay, what’s going on? I pried and she took me aside and told me there was a critical situation in the U.S. and that the U.S. was “under siege.” Those were her words. I can remember them as if it was just yesterday.
We were diverted to a little town called Stephenville in Newfoundland. There were five other jumbo jets on the ground there from all over. We were the last one that landed.
Jackie Pinto, passenger, Milan to Newark: The pilot made an announcement that we were going to be delayed, our landing was going to be delayed. Then things progressed, and he made an announcement and said, “We’re not going to be landing in Newark today.” That, of course, was peculiar, but I didn’t think anything odd. As soon as we landed, they made the announcement that we landed in Gander, Newfoundland, which I had never heard of.
Gerald Earwood: We were the next-to-last aircraft to land at LaGuardia. They put us on a taxiway, pointing at the World Trade Center, watching the World Trade Center burn.
At the World Trade Center, the first crowds to evacuate the damaged buildings emerged onto the adjacent plazas and streets to find horrors anew. Few realized, though, that the clock was ticking and they had mere minutes to escape the scene.
Michael Jacobs, investment banker, May Davis Group, North Tower, 87th floor: Everyone from my company got out but one—Harry Ramos—and he died a hero’s death. Harry was the nicest guy you’d ever want to meet. He was helping my coworkers get down, and on the way, they came across an obese man who had given up. Harry and another of our workers, Hong Zhu, started down with him. They got as far as 30-something, but the guy gave up again. The firemen yelled, “Come on, get up, get up.” The firemen walking up the stairs told Hong and Harry, “If he won’t go, you guys get the hell out.” Hong got scared. He said, “Come on Harry, let’s go.” Harry said, “No, I’m going to stay with him.” He did. Hong got out. They haven’t found Harry.I
Howard Lutnick, CEO, Cantor Fitzgerald, North Tower: I stood at the door off of Church Street. People were coming out, and I was yelling at them to run. I would ask them what floor they were coming from. Someone would scream, “55!” and I would scream, “We’re at 55!” because I kept wanting to get numbers higher up the building, from my office’s floors, 101 through 105. I got to the 91st floor.
Jimmy Maio, driver for Howard Lutnick: There was nothing we could do. I wasn’t so concerned for our safety because I thought the deed had been done.
Elia Zedeño, financial analyst, Port Authority, North Tower, 73rd floor: I saw debris all along the outside perimeter of the building. I was looking and thinking, Oh my God, this is more than what I thought. My eyes start to focus a little bit more. I realized I was looking at bodies.
Joe Massian, technology consultant, Port Authority, North Tower, 70th floor: I remember stepping out of the building. My coworker Larry and I were helping our colleague, Theresa—each of us had one of her arms. I remember taking a minute, looking back and up. I said to Larry, “You’ve got to see this! Hollywood could never make this in a movie.”
Constance Labetti, accountant, Aon Corporation, South Tower, 99th floor: The debris, the blocks of concrete, the fires. I saw shoes and briefcases. We thought we were in a war zone. We all gasped. We couldn’t believe what we were seeing.
Harry Waizer, tax counsel, Cantor Fitzgerald, North Tower, 104th floor: Once I lay down in the ambulance, I did start to feel something. I literally did not feel pain before then. I started feeling chilled pain. I started trembling. I was shaking, chattering.
Bruno Dellinger, principal, Quint Amasis North America, North Tower, 47th floor: What we went through will haunt us until the end of our lives.
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Near the base of the World Trade Center, New York City’s leaders continued to search for an acceptable command post from which to oversee the rescue effort and formulate the city’s response.
Sgt. Mike McGovern, aide to the chief, NYPD: We ended up—the chief, the mayor, the police commissioner, the first deputy, the commissioner of operations, ended up in this office building on the corner of West Broadway and Barclay.
Rudy Giuliani, mayor, New York City: The police commissioner and I discussed the actions he had taken. He said, “I closed the tunnels and the bridges. Nobody else can be allowed into Manhattan.” I said, “Are we covering our priority targets?”
Joe Esposito, chief of department, NYPD: The order was: Evacuate all high-rises, protect all your sensitive locations, high-risk locations. We didn’t know where the next shoe was going to drop.
Sunny Mindel, communications director for the mayor of the city of New York, Rudy Giuliani: There was a tremendous sense of urgency, but nobody was panicked. Everybody had seen some pretty mind-staggering things, but everybody was doing what they needed to be doing.
Joe Esposito: [The mayor] was desperately trying to get on the phone and talk to Washington.
Rudy Giuliani: They got the White House on the phone, and it was Chris Hennick, who was the deputy political director for President Bush. I asked Chris how he was. He said, “Okay.” I said, “Do we have air cover?” He said, “It has already been requested and it was sent out. You should see the planes in five or 10 minutes.” I said to him, “Can I talk to the president?” He said, “You can’t; we’re evacuating the White House right now,” which was a very eerie feeling. I said, “Has the Pentagon been attacked?” I had heard that rumor. Chris said—I’ll always remember how he answered it because it was a very military answer—he said, “Affirmative.”
Bernie Kerik, commissioner, NYPD: I’ve known the mayor for about 11 or 12 years, and I’ve never seen him look as worried or concerned about anything as much as he did when he was on the phone with the White House. He put the phone down and he said, “Well, that’s not good at all. They’ve hit the Pentagon and they’re evacuating the White House.” It was a clear signal that this was no longer just about New York City. It was about the United States.
* * *
Michele Cartier, Lehman Brothers, North Tower, 40th floor: I tried calling my brother James on his cellular, but he didn’t pick up. I tried calling my parents, and I think their line was busy. I called my sister Marie at her job. I said, “Marie, I’m evacuating the building. They don’t know if it’s a plane or a bomb, but I’m leaving. You have to get in touch with James. He’s in the other building.” We’re all worrywarts for each other. We’re a very tight-knit family. James was assigned to work at Aon Corporation.
John Cartier, brother of James Cartier, electrician, who was working in the South Tower: He was on assignment for a company called P. E. Stone, had a contract to do some form of electrical work for Aon. Jimmy was there, working on the 105th floor of the South Tower, along with a few other coworkers from P. E. Stone.
Michele Cartier: When I made it to the last step I remember feeling really good, like, “All right! This is the last step, everybody!” Then I look out into the plaza, and I pretty much see a war zone.
John Cartier: I’m Michele and James’s older brother. I’m one of seven kids. I was working at the old New York Post building on the East Side, by the FDR Drive, and Jimmy called to let me know that a plane had hit Tower One, and that Michele was in there, and we needed to figure out a plan, get together, and handle the situation. I said to him, “All right. I’m going to leave now. I’m going to get to you.” I rode my motorcycle downtown, and I got to within about a block and a half of the Trade Center.
Michele Cartier: I was out there talking with my coworkers Barbara and Rob about how we’re going to get home. “Do you think the trains are running?” I’m babbling and babbling, and I see my brother John a few steps away. I remember screaming out, “John-o!” I hugged him. When I saw John, I was safe again. I knew everything would be okay.
John Cartier: In the midst of thousands and thousands of people evacuating, through the doings of my brother James calling me, getting me down there, I look out and here comes my sister. She just pops out of the crowd. The odds of that happening are probably—you’re better off hitting the Lotto.
Michele Cartier: John filled me in on what had been going on as I was walking down the stairs. He talked about the second plane hitting. I said, “Second plane? Where was the first one?”
* * *
Above the impact zone, victims phoned friends and family members, sharing final thoughts and love. Melissa Harrington Hughes, director of business development for a communications network service who was only in New York for a one-day business trip and became trapped in the North Tower, called her father in Massachusetts.
Bob Harrington, father: She was a little hysterical and I couldn’t understand what she was saying, so I said, “Slow down a minute and tell me what the problem is so I can help you out.” I said, “You get to the stairwell and get out of that building as fast as you can.” I told her that I loved her. She said, “I love you too, Dad,” and she said, “You have to do me a favor. You have to call Sean and tell him where I am and tell him that I love him.”
Minutes later, Melissa Harrington Hughes called her husband, Sean, still asleep in San Francisco, and left him a voice mail: Sean, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know I love you and I’m stuck in this building in New York. There’s lots of smoke and I just wanted you to know that I love you always.
John Cartier: We had four phone calls from Jimmy. One was to me and three went to my sister Maria that were intermittent and cut off. The last phone call that we received from him was 20 minutes before the collapse. We know that my brother was alive at that point. He said that he was with a lot of people and he was on the 105th floor. True to form, he told my sister, “Tell Mommy and Daddy that I love them, and that we’re going to try to get down.” That was the last time we heard from him.
Mary Maciejewski, wife of Jan Maciejewski, waiter, Windows on the World, North Tower, 106th floor: Jan’s normal shift was lunch, so he’d get there at 10:30 a.m. But the Friday before, his manager called and asked if he could work breakfast. My office is about 10 blocks away. The minute I got to my desk—I work on the 46th floor—people were screaming and running to the windows. Then my phone rang, and it was Jan. He told me that there was smoke, awful smoke, and that they were in touch with the fire department, who told them not to move, that they were going to come and get them. I told him to go wet a napkin and put it over his face so he could breathe. He told me there was no water anywhere so he was going to go get some from the flower vases. Then the second building was hit, and they decided to evacuate my building. Jan told me to hang up and get out, so I would be safe, and to call him back on his cell phone when I got outside. But there was no connection.
Howard Lutnick, CEO, Cantor Fitzgerald, North Tower: We have speaker-phones in each office—all of the offices across the country were connected to each other all day. The other offices heard the New York office saying, “We need help. We need help. We need help.” It wasn’t screams. There was nowhere to go. Couldn’t go down. Couldn’t go up.
Stephen Larabee, Cantor Fitzgerald, L.A. office: My son Chris worked for Cantor Fitzgerald in New York. He called me right after the airplane hit the building. It was very early in Los Angeles. He said, “Dad, did you hear our building was hit by an airplane?” I said, no, I hadn’t. Having been in that building before, I wasn’t terribly concerned because I’d seen small aircraft flying by, and that’s what I surmised had happened. I said, “Well, take care of yourself, get out of the building, evacuate with everybody else, and give me a call after that’s done.” I hung up the phone and walked to get coffee.
A couple of people in our trading room were either hooked up to CNN or CNBC, one of those stations, and started talking real loud. Then we realized what had happened. We had a speaker system that went to all our branch offices, and somebody in our New York office said, “Does anybody know we’re here? Is anybody coming to get us?” Then we all realized how horrible this thing was. Frank Harrison in our Chicago office said, “You guys, get on the floor, stay low, cover if you can with anything, don’t let the smoke get you.” There was some crowd noise, then it was static. The speaker system went dead.
Howard Lutnick: My brother, Gary, was in the building. Later that night, when I spoke to my sister, she told me that she spoke to my brother. She had said to him, “Oh, my God. Thank God you’re not there.” He said, “I am here, and I’m going to die. I wanted to tell you I love you.” He said goodbye.
Beverly Eckert, wife of Sean Rooney, VP of risk management, Aon Corporation, South Tower, 98th floor: It was about 9:30 a.m. when he called. When I heard his voice on the phone, I was so happy. I said, “Sean, where are you?,” thinking that he had made it out and that he was calling me from the street somewhere. He told me he was on the 105th floor. I knew right away Sean was never coming home.
There was a building in flames underneath him, but Sean didn’t even flinch. He stayed composed, talking to me the way he always did. I will always be in awe of the way he faced death. Not an ounce of fear—not when the windows around him were getting too hot to touch, not when the smoke was making it hard to breathe.
I wanted to use the precious few minutes we had left to talk. He told me to give his love to his family, and then we began talking about all the happiness we shared during our lives together, how lucky we were to have each other. At one point, when I could tell it was getting harder for him to breathe, I asked if it hurt. He paused for a moment, and then said, “No.” He loved me enough to lie. In the end, as the smoke got thicker, he kept whispering “I love you,” over and over.
Terri Langone, wife of FDNY firefighter Peter Langone: My husband called to let me know, “Turn on the TV, Ter. We think a plane crashed into the Towers.” Then he proceeded to talk to me like it was any other day. Then he said, “Keep the TV on and watch. I’m not going to be home anytime soon.” That was that. That was the last time I spoke to him. I’m one of the fortunate ones to have spoken to him that day.
John Cartier: You’ve got to look at the small gifts that we were given as a family. There’s a lot of families out there who didn’t get a last word or a last phone call. One of the other young ladies who lost her husband said it best. She said, “We were the lucky of the unlucky to have those last words.”
* * *
Dan Nigro, chief of operations, FDNY, inside the ground-floor lobby of the North Tower, at the FDNY command post: I said to Chief Ganci, “I am going to quickly walk around and see what the damage looks like.” When I got to the center of Vesey Street, I could see clearly the north side of the South Tower. The corner of the building was taken out. We didn’t see that when the plane hit, it sliced right through the tower. I wanted to get back to say to Pete, “I think we have less time than we might have thought we had. The South Tower looks terrible.”
Jean Potter, Bank of America, North Tower: I came out [of the World Trade Center] at 9:55. I looked at my watch. There’s flaming debris all around me. I walked one block, and I saw one of my [apartment building’s] doormen. I said, “Richard, what happened?” I turned around—the sight of the Towers flaming was unbelievable. My doorman said a plane hit the World Trade Center. Then I was trying to get contact with Dan and my family because, I thought, If anybody sees this, they’re going to think I’m dead.
Melinda Murphy, traffic reporter, WPIX TV: The Towers were on fire. My photographer Chet had been a firefighter. He said, “The buildings are going to fall.” I remember being really mad, vehemently saying, “They are not, they are not going to fall down!” He said, “They are going to fall. They’re going to pancake down.”
Dan Nigro: I heard somebody call out to me, a civilian employee of the fire department. He said, “Chief, my wife works on the 92nd floor of the South Tower and I can’t get in touch with her.” It was one of those instances where you really have your hands full with what you are doing, but I thought, Let me stop for a minute. I felt so bad for him. I knew his wife had given birth about three months before. I said, “No one’s phone is working. I am sure she got out before this even happened, and she’s probably already a few blocks away, so when the phones start working again you’ll be able to contact her. Don’t worry.”
Stopping to talk to this person inadvertently saved me and my aide, who was with me—and is also my nephew—from certain death. We were walking to go through the South Tower lobby, and whatever time it took me to say those few words would have been enough time to put me in a place where I would not have been able to get away.
Bill Spade, firefighter, Rescue 5, FDNY: We were right in front of Stairway C [in the North Tower]. The people were coming down, and we kept telling people, “You’re almost out, you’ve almost made it out.”
Lila Speciner, paralegal, Port Authority, North Tower: We got down to the Concourse level. The sprinklers were on. Everything was soggy, wet, whatever, but we started to smile because, okay, we were done.
William Jimeno, officer, PAPD: We bumped into another group of Port Authority police officers—a classmate of mine, Walwyn Stuart. He actually had his first little girl while we were in the academy. We punched each other’s fists, and we said, “Be safe.” They started walking away. That would be the last time we saw any of those Port Authority police officers.
Lt. Gregg Hansson, Engine 24, FDNY: There was a chief on the 35th floor [in the North Tower] with us. Over his radio came a “Mayday” to get out of the building—a “Mayday” basically means to run. We didn’t, at the time, have any understanding why that order was given, and it didn’t make sense to us. Within seconds, the South Tower collapsed.
I. The man Harry Ramos waited with was Victor Wald, a 49-year-old New York stockbroker with Avalon Partners and father of two. Wald had only started working at Avalon in late August. Later, Ramos’s and Wald’s families would request that their names be placed together on the 9/11 Memorial.