By Jennifer Jett
They call it the Pearl Harbor of our generation.
More than 3,000 people lost their lives on that clear September morning, and more than 400 of those lost were law enforcement and emergency responders.
With the towers falling one by one, hundreds of firemen and police officers were trapped in the wreckage of Ground Zero while hundreds more raced to a most uncertain fate, painting a portrait of raw, unsung heroism with the blood and selfless sacrifice of America’s bravest.
It was the longest and most tragic day in the history of New York, and from its ashes rose an overwhelming sense of patriotism and pride, uniting Lady Liberty’s people in a moment of tragedy while exemplifying through unrehearsed action on an international stage the untamed American spirit.
We all remember where we were on that Tuesday morning—a memory so personal that reliving it through words or even mere thoughts quickens your heart, rolls your stomach and lodges a sob in your throat.
As we approach the 10th anniversary of 9/11, we are taken back to that morning, to those moments when the only thing certain in our world was terror. We are also taken back to a moment in time when New York City’s melting pot of citizens were united with the rest of America as we lost our bravest to the fires and rubble that entrapped our neighbors, loved ones and friends.
On September 11, 2011, we will remember the tragic events that forever changed our world. We will hold in memorial the many that we lost. And we will thank those that continue to risk their lives every day under the cover of an American flag so that our freedom remains our own.
I am a native Manhattanite and was still living in New York City at the time of the terrorist attacks. On September 11, 2001, I arrived at work on 50th Street and Broadway, and shortly afterwards there was a commotion in one of the conference rooms. In moments, as I struggled with signing into my computer, news had trickled from the conference room to my desk that a plane had struck one of the World Trade Center towers.
I took this as the typical New Yorker: shocking news but life goes on. Shortly after, I noticed a stream of my co-workers making their way to the television in the conference room, and suddenly there was a tangible sense of urgency in the air. I went first into an adjoining conference room that afforded me a clear view from our 50th floor window directly onto the Twin Towers due south. It was an affront to my eyes to see how obscured by smoke the top one-third of the building was. In the main conference room where the television was, we learned that a second plane had struck, making it abundantly clear that this wasn’t an accident.
I grew up in sight of both the Trade Center and the Empire State Building and both iconic edifices always seemed as permanent to me as any mountain. When one of the towers seemed to disintegrate under the cloak of the black billowing smoke, the bedrock that had served as the hearth of my childhood, my entire life shattered. When the South Tower collapsed, there was an electrified pall of dread that spread throughout the hushed crowd in that large corporate conference room.
New York was in lock-down and we were unable to go home until further notice. Stunned and shattered, I found myself among many hundreds of other New Yorkers at street level. Some were embracing; some openly wept; others stood and stared off into an abyss of nothing. I found a spot on the curb, buried my face in my hands and wept as I began the process of grieving for my beloved city and nation.
—Alfredo Daniel, Hurricane, WV
System Administrator, Kanawha County Schools
I had flown to Washington, D.C. on September 10th to meet with Congressman Nick Rahall (WV-D). I didn’t have the television on the morning of the attack, and while I was getting ready for my meeting, Congressman Rahall’s chief of staff called to cancel the meeting because they were evacuating their building. He was shocked when I asked why, and he told me to turn on the television. There was a report of a high-jacked airliner that was turning around and heading for D.C. From my hotel room I couldn’t see the sky but would hear a jet now and then. I could never be sure if it was a military plane or that ill-fated jet. A gentleman I had made the trip with was in the Pentagon when the building was hit and he remembers the way the structure shook from the impact.
—John Dahlia, Fairmont, WV
Director of Corporate Communications, Global Science and Technology, Inc.
The day of the attack on our country, I was working in Wheeling, WV at the Samaritan House, a half-way house for adolescent boys. We were getting ready for school that morning when it came on the news. I sat the lads down and told them, “Today is your Pearl Harbor—never forget this day.”
—Jack Rice, Morgantown, WV
President, West Virginia Blues Society, Inc.
As the spokesperson to West Virginia Governor Bob Wise at the time, I literally only had a few moments in each day to take care of my own personal needs. On 9/11, I was pregnant with my first son, Joseph. I had an early doctor’s appointment for an ultrasound that day. During my appointment my pager kept going off, but I was literally speaking with my doctor and could not take the call. I soon got a “Call Office 911” page message because the state capitol was being evacuated, and the Governor began calling my cell. Joseph, who is now 9 years old, has his first official photo still on his bedroom dresser. The time stamped on the top of the ultrasound photo is 9:03 a.m., the time when the second plane hit the towers. We keep it on his dresser as a reminder of how precious life truly is and how blessed we are as a family.
—Amy Shuler Goodwin, Charleston, WV
CEO, The Goodwin Group
Tuesday morning, 9/11—I remember it almost like yesterday. At the time I was assigned as the Mobilization Officer, Operations Division at the West Virginia Army National Guard Headquarters. I had called in sick that morning and was listening to the radio when I heard about a plane hitting the World Trade Center. I switched on the television and watched in disbelief as the event further unfolded with planes hitting the second tower and the Pentagon. When I reported back to work on September 13th, there were many emotions among the staff, the most prevalent being anger and wanting to hit back. I believe it was on the 14th that I looked to the sky and saw jet contrails for the first time in several days. I commented to colleagues that that was the sight of freedom. Within three weeks, we began processing the first of many units to follow through time onto active duty. It became clear that the U.S. had entered into another realm of world engagement with a different enemy. President George W. Bush visited our Operations Center the following year. Since then, and even after my retirement, it is truly amazing to see this revitalization of patriotism and to receive thanks from strangers for military service.
—LTC (R) Tom Huxley, Cross Lanes, WV
West Virginia Army National Guard
My friend Major Chris Lemaster and I were walking through the Town Center Mall in Charleston a few days after 9/11 and we were in our military uniforms. I remember a lady stopping us and thanking us for our service to our country. No one had ever thanked me before, and I was left speechless. Chris readily replied with, “I love what I do and I love my country.” After two tours in Iraq, Chris passed away in July from a sudden illness. I never told Chris—and I should have—that I always echo his words anytime someone stops to thank me.— CPT Amanda Harrah, Ansted, WV
Pennsylvania Army Guard
On 9/11, I was at the World Trade Center Marriott Hotel, situated between the two towers, attending the annual meeting of the National Association for Business Economics, when the chandeliers in the ballroom began to shake. Sensing danger, the nearly 400 in attendance headed for the exit, leaving the building through the east side. I found a pay phone and called my office, only to look up and see the second plane fly into the South Tower. Hanging up the phone in shock and not knowing the whereabouts of my wife, who had made the trip with me, I started looking for help.
A few of us formed a group and proceeded to walk to Morgan Stanley’s Times Square offices where I was able to contact my office, only to find that they didn’t know my wife’s whereabouts. From Morgan Stanley, we traveled to the Bank One mid-town offices where we ate and made phone calls. Shortly thereafter, I learned that my wife was okay, having escaped down 10 flights of the Marriott’s fire escape. Once she reached the plaza level, she was directed to the underground shopping plaza where she felt the second plane crash. She exited the east side, walked past the Brooklyn Bridge and Chinatown, met two strangers and walked across the Manhattan Bridge to a car wash in Brooklyn where the owner let her call my office.
After I found out that my wife was alive, I spoke with the press, beginning with Beth Vorhees at West Virginia Public Broadcasting. Playing back that interview takes me back to the emotions we all felt during that time of national tragedy.
We left NYC on Thursday on a train to Pittsburgh. As we exited a tunnel in New Jersey, we saw the smoke from the WTC site, followed by our last view of the city — the Statue of Liberty. I received a package in December from the NYPD with personal effects found at Ground Zero—hardly the end to a story that lingers in my mind today.
—Tom Witt, Ph.D., Morgantown, WV
Associate Dean, WVU College of B&E
The morning of 9/11, I was working in New York City at Pier 59, a photo studio at 18th Street and the West Side Highway. We were in Studio 7; looking out the east windows you could see the Empire State Building and looking south you had a direct view of the World Trade Center site. Needless to say, the buildings were there when I went into work and gone when I left.
On the morning of September 12th, I walked out the front door of my apartment building, located next to the entrance of the Brooklyn Bridge on the Brooklyn side. The U.S. Military was all over the place, guarding the bridges and manning check-points. In the distance behind them, the thick smoke was still pouring out of the site at Ground Zero, and you could smell the smoke in the air. I happened to look down at the newspaper machine which held a copy of The New York Times. On the front page there were pictures of smiling politicians who were running for mayor and articles on issues such as smuggling nuclear arms, stem cells, reviving the economy and violence in the Middle East. It was dated Tuesday, September 11, 2001.
—K.D. Lett, Charleston, WV
K.D. Lett Photographic Productions
My wife Susan and I were in Washington, D.C. on September 11, 2001 with two staff members. Susan was to visit the Argentina Embassy, and I was to meet with Senator Robert C. Byrd and his staff. The first plane hit the first tower as we were landing and the second after we landed. Not realizing that other incidents were likely, we took separate cabs to our destinations. As my cab passed the Pentagon on the way to the Senator’s office, we felt the concussion caused by the Pentagon crash.
While communications were spotty, we were in touch with the WVU campus throughout the day, primarily through then Chief of Staff David Satterfield. Upon arriving back in Morgantown, I met with several groups, including editors of the student newspaper, who urged me to hold a campus memorial service and offer words of comfort and assurance to our campus community. Two days later, approximately 7,000 members of the WVU community gathered in Woodburn Circle to pay respects to both the victims of the attack and the emergency response workers. Many attending were from New Jersey and New York; others actually had family or friends who were presumed lost. The ceremony is among the most memorable events of my time as president at WVU.
—David Hardesty, Jr., Morgantown, WV
President Emeritus, West Virginia University
