As a young man, I was introduced by my father to the towers of Manhattan. Instead of being daunted by those heights, I became exhilarated, challenged, excited, and inspired. Spending a good part of my youth dangling precariously from their sides, I was awestruck by panoramic views from the peaks of tall buildings like 40 Wall St, 70 Pine, and the Empire State Building full with the history of working men and women.
When I turned 40, I thought it was time for a change. On the advice of a good friend and mentor, the late Jack Meade, I came to work for the buildings department of New York City.
This was a turning point in my life. For in the employ of this great city I have come to meet some extraordinary people. I consider it a privilege to be able to work for this Emergency Response Team for this Building Department in this great City of New York. In ERT, the Emergency Response Team, I met Lloyd Cropper who in turn introduced me, one night at the scene of a minor stairwell collapse on E. 29 Street, to the Captain of FDNY Rescue 1. Terry Hatton went on to be one of the 343 New York City Firemen who raced into the burning twin towers on 9/11/01 never to return. This I can never forget.
I can not forget how the subtle, acrid stench of burnt flesh and melted plastic settled in the back of my throat. I was not a drinking man back then, but I don't believe there was any libation that could rinse the sickening taste of it from my mouth.
We who served at that time have not forgotten. Not that horrible, horrible, horrible morning. Nor the painful aftermath captured forever in images that for many of us are reminders of memories we wished we never had.
I did over night shifts at the Command Centers. First at the Police Academy on 22nd St. Then at the Pier. I shuttled often between Ground Zero and the west side. I will always remember the crowds of flag waving people lined along the road cheering every official vehicle as it passed. Day and night. They urged us on to do a task of unfathomable woe.
This scene was lovingly recreated by the organizers of a special tribute to rescue and recovery workers this past May at the 9/11 Memorial. We entered hallowed ground to the sounds of cheers of well wishers who have not, will not forget the sacrifice of ordinary working people who toil to this day and commit themselves humbly and honorably to building, tending to, and nurturing this amazing way of life.
Gone are the feelings of immediate grief and overwhelming sadness. They have been replaced by a feeling of being locked arm in arm with every other person of good faith. A feeling of determination and commitment to each day and the job we do.
Today I remember, but I also contemplate those who never knew, who can't imagine what it was like.
In some ways I envy their ignorance, in other ways I am challenged anew by a tolerance one must develop for conspiracy theorists and those who simply do not believe, for what ever reason, that New York City, Washington DC, Shanksville PA, the United States, the world, suffered a great hurt, enormous harm at the hands of evil doers. Even today, people still don’t realize how lucky we are to be alive and to have good jobs. Our work place is vibrant with the good-will and intentions of those who never forget for a second what our mission is. Any pettiness is offensive to those who deal constantly with our neighbors’, members of the tax-paying public, experiencing the worst days of their lives. When the relative peace and security of their homes has been violated by fire, collapse or worse, we are part of the civil work force, the social fabric, which ensures the fires go out, the buildings are tended to, and people are not left on their own, alone, to deal with devastation.
I was raised in New York City’s bad old days. Gas prices were not just high. There
was no gas. In 1975 the tabloid headlines blared: FORD TO CITY: DROP DEAD. Ladies and gentlemen, the Bronx was burning.
This town, like all of America, has seen some very tough times. And we have come back to be better than ever. The time changes. One World Trade rises high so people can once again live and work in the most soaring heights of New York City. I feel blessed to live and work in New York at this time of rejuvenation. And that will never change.
