An hour later when I left, we were a nation at war. My doctor’s office was just a few blocks north of the crash site. I saw people on the street running for their lives. Desperate, scared and some angry. I ducked into a local Crunch Fitness on Lafayette Street and saw both towers collapse on the big TV screen. A cloud of dust engulfed Lower Manhattan. It reminded me of Hiroshima. It was, to say the least, surreal. Phones weren’t working. People were walking on the street, their clothes covered with soot from the collapsed towers. And death. I knew people who were in the building at the time of impact. Some did not make it out alive. So, I began walking back to my apartment on 20th Street right off the East River to start reporting on what went down, which I did that day with my WSJ colleagues.
CANTOR FITZGERALD’S HOWWARD LUTNICK ON 9/11
395058 05: The World Trade Center Complex smolders September 26, 2001 15 days after terrorists attacked the Twin Towers with hijacked jetliners. (Brandon Brewer/U.S. Coast Guard/Getty Images)
Miraculously, they all managed to survive, and we turned around the paper remotely since our offices were destroyed, filing stories by email (WSJ production and backup facilities were located in NJ). Focusing on work was almost therapeutic because it allowed you at times to push aside the suffering all around us. But not totally. I still remember that putrid, fetid odor of the burning wires, metal and dust that made its way uptown and lingered for weeks. Nearly 3,000 people had perished.
Firefighter walks through the rubble of the World Trade Center after it was struck by a commercial airliner in a terrorist attack. (Getty Images)
The unimaginable reports started coming in from sources who were there and made it out. They saw people literally jumping to their death from the upper floors of the trade center to avoid being burned alive.
Hijacked United Airlines Flight 175 from Boston crashes into the south tower of the World Trade Center and explodes at 9:03 a.m. on September 11, 2001 in New York City. (Spencer Platt/Getty Images)
Meanwhile, my wife had gone home early and assembled there with some friends who had escaped the madness. We soon heard the roar of F-15s as they were circling Manhattan. That’s when it really struck us that our lives would never be the same again. A sort of innocence lost, probably not much different than how Israelis feel after Oct. 7, that no one is safe from the insanity of this world.
A firefighters portrait is displayed by his name at the National September 11 Memorial & Museum during observances for the 23rd anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks on Sept. 11, 2024 in New York City. (Todd Maisel/NY Daily News via Getty Images)
Of course, the country survived. New York is still here. The Trade Center has been rebuilt. An 8-acre park and memorial honoring those killed on 9/11 as well as those in the first attack on Lower Manhattan in February 1993, surrounds the area as a reminder to never forget those lost. But no one will ever be the same.
