On September 11, 2001, I was working for the Port Authority of NY & NJ in the Technology Services Department on the 71st floor in the North Tower. I managed the Technology Education Center. My office was located on the west side of the 71st floor, however my computer classrooms were located on the 78th floor. At about 8:40am I left my desk to take the elevators to the 78th floor. I wanted to check that the classrooms were ready for the start of the 9:00am training session. I didn’t get to the elevator because the building tilted from the impact of the American Airlines plane hitting the north side of the tower at 440 mph. My thought at the time was if the building falls over “I’m dead”.
No way would I survive if we hit the ground. Slowly the building returned to vertical and swayed a bit more. I looked back at the office windows and saw falling debris on fire going down outside the building. I then looked around the office and saw my coworkers running out of the office towards the stairwells. There was no public address announcement providing any directions. I didn’t go back to my desk to retrieve my cellphone, briefcase or change into my flat shoes. Instead, I turned towards the exit and took stairwell B and joined the queue going down the stairs. It was stop and go because as people entered the stairwell from the lower floors, they had to merge before we could continue down. It wasn’t until the 60th floor, a woman ran into the stairwell yelling a second plane hit the South Tower. We knew then it was another Terrorist Attack.
I often compare and contrast the differences between my experiences February 26, 1993 the first Terrorist Attack and on September 11, 2001. In 1993, we also had no public address guidance to evacuate or what had happened in the building. When the smoke started to invade the office, we headed to the nearest stairwell. At some point, we were going down a stairwell in complete darkness. So in effect, you had to deal with hoping your feet would hit the next step going down. Additionally, you didn't know if you were descending into a fire or if you would be overcome by smoke inhalation. In 1993, six people died from the explosion, and over a thousand people were injured.
In 1993, I finally emerged at the mezzanine level which led out to the plaza. I had soot all over my mouth and nasal passages because I had been inhaling smoke in the stairwell. There was an icy glaze on the plaza, and I promptly slipped and fell on my knees. I said to myself, "That's God telling you to be grateful you got out of there with your life."
As a result of what happened in 1993, the Port Authority upgraded the stairwells with battery-powered lighting, reflective tape, and improved the reverse ventilation system. So on September 11, you could still smell the jet fuel, but it was easier to climb down the stairs with the lights on. After climbing down 71 flights of stairs, I again reached the mezzanine level. But in 2001, the plaza was so covered with falling debris that it was unsafe to exit there. Ernesto Butcher was on the mezzanine level urging people to go to the lobby. I had to descend a stopped escalator to get to the lobby. When I reached the lobby, I realized I had to leave the building through the concourse shopping mall to get to the east side. The sprinkler system was activated in the shopping mall and I would have to wade through a few inches of water that was collecting on the cobblestone floor. I thought I might fall again. I told myself to just hold onto somebody, so I could get out without slipping on the floor. I stopped Ray Sanderford who I knew from the Engineering department for help to cross the concourse and thankfully he also got home safely.
I want to emphasize that although there were first responders coming up the stairs in each attack, there were also many co-workers and civilians who had no emergency training, helping people to escape. It's very important to me, when I discuss the attacks, to give people a realistic picture of what we faced while we were evacuating the building.
I exited the complex by Borders Books on Church and Vesey Streets. I made a decision not to look back at the towers when I saw the look of horror on the faces of people lining Church Street across from the complex. I didn’t want to have those images in my head.
I tried to find a public telephone to call home. The public telephone by the Post Office on Church and Vesey Street had yellow police tape around it. As I looked down Vesey street, I saw what looked like an engine from the plane had fallen off when it hit the tower and now it was on the ground.
I then decided to go to my brother’s office on Fulton and William streets so I could call home. When I got to my brother’s office, the third plane had struck the Pentagon at 9:37 am. I stayed in his office until 11:30am, about an hour after both of the towers collapsed. The news was reporting possible explosions from gas leaks and electrical sparks. I decided not to wait for my brother to leave the office. I headed down several more flights to the street. When I walked out of the office building there was a blizzard of debris in the air and an accumulation on the ground. I made my way to the base of the Brooklyn Bridge and asked a policeman if it was safe to cross. I didn’t know what other planes or targets were out there. He said it was ok to cross the bridge. I crossed the bridge and looked back for the first time. Smoke was rising where the towers once stood.
I was home by 1:30pm.
