![]() We made it to the plaza level, where we were directed to the side exit. It was as if he knew he was walking to his death. When I looked at his face, all I saw were what seemed like lifeless eyes. People were all asking what had happened, and he said nothing, just kept walking up the stairs. Not long after, we saw our first person going up the stairs-he was a firefighter, and he just looked straight ahead. We later learned that that was Building Two being struck by a plane. We continued down the stairs slowly and calmly-I still can’t get over how calm we were-and around the 18th floor, we felt the building shake sharply and heard a screeching noise. He was in Building One, around the 22nd floor. A week later, I saw a short piece on TV about a man in a wheelchair and his friend who died together, waiting for help. Several of us offered to carry the man in the wheelchair down, but he declined-his instructions were to wait for the fire department to come rescue him. ![]() Around the 22nd or 23rd floor, I saw a man in a wheelchair and a friend standing next to him. The stairwell was crowded, but everyone was calm and politely allowed us into to the horde that was moving, slowly and methodically, down 35 floors’ worth of stairs. I looked down the hall and saw our claims manager pointing at the windows, and I saw the reflection of our building with the top few stories aflame. (We later learned the smoke was actually drywall dust, and the smell was aviation fuel.) I started to get more concerned. When he finally finished, we rounded the corner to the main hallway and saw smoke and smelled a strange smell coming from the elevator doors. I told Dick Radsch, our chief legal counsel and good friend, “Hey, Dick, we gotta get out of here,” and he said, “Probably a good idea”-and then proceeded to pack his briefcase, slowly and methodically. I decided that it would take too long to shut down properly, and I was convinced I’d be coming back anyway, so I grabbed my Blackberry and started to leave. Back at my own office, I debated whether to take my laptop. I continued moving through the office as people packed up to leave the building. (Later, I would find out that his son was fine-he was delayed getting to the meeting, and that delay saved his life.) ![]() I saw Dennis Kane, our president, on his cell phone trying to get ahold of his son, who was supposed to be at a meeting at Windows on the World, on the top floor of our tower. I pushed Nancy into the doorway flow and went back into the office to check for others. There were several people already working their way down the stairs. I told Nancy we should get out of there and took her by the arm and walked her to the exit stairs. I looked out the window to see paper, office supplies, the occasional desk flying past. ![]() We heard a slow, loud, screeching noise as the building continued bending-it was the girders, straining to stay upright. Someone thought it was an earthquake I said it must be a boiler explosion or something on a higher floor. The skies outside my window were suddenly dark. I checked my emails and started to draft an announcement about a colleague who would be transferring to New York from our Chicago office to work at the World Trade Center.Īround 8:45 I went to talk with Nancy, and it was then that we heard a big bang and felt the building shake and sway drastically away from the Hudson. I got a cup of coffee, came back to my office, and had a quick chat with my assistant, Nancy, whom I had hired about six weeks earlier. At around 8:00 a.m., I set up my laptop in the docking station and logged in. The day had crystal-clear skies and the temperature was beautifully mild, one of the prettiest days we had had in a long time. I took the PATH train to the World Trade Center and got to my office on the 35th floor of Building One, the North Tower. for the Newark train station, and parked my car under the tracks in a parking garage. 11, 2001, I left my house in Berkeley Heights, N.J., around 6:30 a.m. ![]()
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