Dear Friend,
What follows below this paragraph is my close-up, eye witness account of the Sept. 11, 2001 World Trade Center attack. It was written two days after the 11th on Sept. 13th when events were still fresh in my memory. It is unedited. Kindly overlook punctuation errors. Thanks.

Sincerely,

Marlow Fisher
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11 Sept 2001

I had plans to meet Jennifer Hoult for breakfast at NYU at 9 a.m. 8 a.m. I woke up and Wes left for his office down the street. I showered, dressed and opened the drapes. Our room was 1710, high enough for a good view of the Hudson River beyond the World Financial Plaza buildings. I shouldíve left at 8:40 a.m. to get the A train from beneath the World Trade Center south tower. But as usual, I was late. At 8:48, I heard a loud disturbing sound. Thought it was a rooftop construction accident next door. Debris flew by the window. Horns honked below. Looking from the window I saw cars scrambling to turn and flee, crowds were looking up. I still thought it was a rooftop construction accident. Below on the pavement were red carcasses resembling sides of beef which the fleeing cars drove over. The carcasses smeared and flattened. Still, I didnít know what was happening. I called Jenniferís cell phone, left her a message, ìsomething serious has happened. I donít know w!
hat. Could be major. Iím going to be late.î

Finally, I turned on the television. A man was being interviewed by phone. Heíd called in. Heíd heard and saw a large passenger jet flying low over the village headed south. The accompanying t.v. picture was of the WTC north tower with a gaping hole in the upper third, the jet had crashed into and lodged itself inside the tower. Then it was thought to be a simple tragic accident. But only for a few minutes.

I called Veronica to tell her quickly to turn on her television and call off our plans for later in the day.

I called Wes to alert him. I think he could see the nearby tower from his office.

Then our hotel shook with great force. A great explosion was heard. Once again to the window, the panicked crowd was running. The television showed the second tower being hit from a different direction than the first.

I only saw these events on t.v., in the reactions of the people and cars on the street, and via the debris, human and scrap, that flew by the window of room 1710.

The hotel intercom crackled and gave instructions: ìDo not use the elevatorsÖ.come to the second floorÖ.stay in your roomsÖ.evacuate quickly, on orders of NYPD.î

Once down in the lobby the hotel employees asked us to remain inside. We gave the NYPD orders priority and left through the side door. Just outside the door was another red, skinless carcass half covered with a white sheet. The image of a large white bone sticking out of the red mass is stuck in my memory. I can see the cartilage on the end, was it the upper end of a thighbone. These carcasses mustíve been ejected from the north tower either from the jet or the building. They looked like sides of beef not humans.

Once outside, the police aggressively herded us from corner to corner in a south then east direction. Once south and east enough we headed north up Church Street past the rear of Trinity Church to Maiden Lane (One Liberty Plaza) then east again. The police kept up their exhortations to ìkeep movingÖ.get out of the area.î We moved slowly, staring up at flaming tower tops, animals witnessing other animals suffering.

Throughout the area and throughout the aftermath of the two jet crashes there was a gentle rain of paper, some scorched. Tax returns, loan documents, bond, insurance related, memos and one sheet on a car hood that stood out. Crumpled with bloody fingerprints, it was scrawled with, ì87th floor south. Please help.î

I was stunned and looked up to the tower, straight down the street, two, maybe three blocks away. Then it happened, an explosion in the tower, the top part tilted and began collapsing.

There was a huge ugly halo of debris in the sky. What was I doing watching. Shouldíve been running. As the building imploded the halo fell to the ground becoming a tidal wave of darkness rushing toward us like a flash flood. I ran. Everyone ran. Fearing flying metal and glass, I ducked into a side street (Liberty Lane). I turned hoping to see the debris stay on the main street and pass us by, but it turned the corner and overwhelmed us. Suddenly, Instantly, it was dark, quiet and eerie. People froze in their places. Some had fallen while running, others like myself pressed, huddled against the wall. We couldnít breathe. The air wasnít air it was substance that when coughed up was like a composite of steel wool and cotton.

Because the running stopped and we were in darkness there was a certain stillness and quiet that made the scattered moans and cries stand out in relief. Were we suffocating. I put my sweater over my head, umbrella-like creating a shelter still my inhalations drew in solid material. I covered my mouth and couldnít breathe at all. I sipped water from my water bottle hoping to get the debris into my digestive system instead of my lungs. A woman next to me cried for help, I told her to do like me, cover her head. She couldnít without taking her clothes off, her outfit was one piece. She didnít want to disrobe. My advice: be well dressed and die or disrobe, cover your head and survive. Just then a metal grate opened and an older Asian deli proprietor opened his door and took us in, about twenty of us. He gave us water, drinks, towels and free reign. He helped us live.

While outside in the cloud of dark debris unable to breathe I felt for my wallet containing my ID concerned that when theyíd recover my body Iíd be easily identifiable and save Wesley the grief of wondering if Iíd survived.

Fifteen minutes later the darkness lifted. We exited to the street, the debris seemed a foot deep. Dusty like a vacuum cleaner bag. Each footstep brought up clouds of dust. Two blocks away was a bus. Not a Metro bus, a commuter bus. The driver said he had come to help ferry people to safety. How can you thank these people. The bus was sooty with the same bad air as outside, but it took us out and away to the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge. We exited to medical or other volunteers handing us facemasks.

Covered in debris as if weíd rolled in the fireplace ashes. Gray and grateful. A nightmarish parade of survivors processing out of the terror zone. Thousands of clean onlookers stood shocked at our appearance.

At the first payphone I called Wesís cell phone, his office. No answer. I was inconsolable. I called Claudia in Los Angeles to have her make phone calls on my behalf and to leave a message on our home answering machine that Iíd made it out ok.

Walking up whatever street that was (Bowery Avenue) through Chinatown the first clothes store I came to I took off my contaminated clothes and bought quick ill-fitting clothing that I was grateful for.

I got to NYU at Washington Square (11:30 a.m.), two and a half hours late for breakfast with Jennifer Hoult. The law school guard asked me to describe JH and I pointed down the corridor, ìshe looks like that.î JH had just appeared. We huddled, cried and went to a terminal to e-mail Wes, trying every method we could to reach him.

Cell phones were still not functioning. Pay phones were also problematic, so we walked west to Argieís shop at 14th Street and 9th Avenue. Closed. We went to Jim (Wesís brother) and Argieís apartment around the corner, Jim answered the door. They took us in. Jim said Suzy (Wesís sister) had heard from Wes, but when? The timing was crucial. Events were so fast paced and deadly. Being a few yards away from where you stood or being few minutes earlier or later in your schedule determined whether you lived or died.

Around 1 p.m. Wes called from Jimís office (Morrison and Forrester) at 51st Street and Sixth Avenue. Heíd left his office, after the two jet crashes, to check on me in the hotel a block away. Iíd already been evacuated so he returned to his office and with his work associates descended to the street. (I may not have the details of his story correct, but this is more or less it.) They left their building and the first tower, three short blocks north, blew up, began collapsing and he returned with others to his buildingís atrium pushed inside by the police. More people entered the atrium, each bringing in more debris and contaminated air on each opening of the door until the air was hazardous and unbreathable. A jet plane tire with busted axel lay in front of the door. Bodies on the rooftop. When the debris settled he made his way out and boarded a bus whose final stop was 42nd Street. From there he walked to Jimís office and called us at Jimís home.

After speaking to him, through tears, Jenn and I planned to walk up Ninth Avenue until we met up with him in his walk south. First, I took a shower. I thought Iíd easily rinse out my hair, but my fingers couldnít penetrate the wet mass. My hairís texture was like steel wool, brittle, coarse, and mildly abrasive. Looking down to the drain, what washed off my body looked like fine gravel. I imagine the clouds of debris consisted of pulverized glass, metal and concrete. (Later learned it was lead, asbestos and human ash.) I washed my contaminated clothes and although appearing clean they scratched my bare skin abrasively when I put them on. I eventually threw them out. My shirt, Iíd already tossed with Jennifer at NYU. The pants, I tossed at the Morris Bros. Clothes Store, the following day, while there buying underwear, socks, t-shirts and pants. Others were shopping like me replacing abandoned apparel. My backpack, fanny pack and Monsters Inc. hat also got washed and dried while Argie prepared dinner for us and his friends who wanted to cluster in support of each other. Jim and Argieís friend, Maguy, offered us her studio apartment (15th Street and Third Avenue) for the night and we accepted. Maguy and Jim and the doggies walked us to her apartment. It was 9 p.m., the air was cool. We passed the Klieg lights at the emergency entrance of St. Vincentís Hospital. Stretchers and medical personnel waited. Few were brought in. Long line of blood donors being turned away. Throughout the night we heard emergency vehicle sirens.

Wednesday morning we went to Jimís office so Wes could use phone, fax and computer to organize the relocation of his NYC office operations. (Theyíll not be returning to Wall Street until the clean up and investigation is over.) I went to Veronicaís (Bíway and 106th Street), we lunched, I went to Morris Bros. for clothes then we reunited for festive dinner at Avenue Bistro with Veronica, Ann Roggen, Annette, Wes and myself. Pinot Noir from Bourgogne, Edamame, Ceviche, Tempura vegetables and shrimp, steak, crabcakes, beef tenderloin, vegetable napoleon, pomme frites, tarte tatin, pear frangipane, walnut tart, caramel ice cream and passion fruit sorbet. Ah!

Watched television news until 11:30 p.m. then slept at Veronicaís

Thursday, woke up congested in need of prescription remedies. Wes went again to Jimís office to work and I did errands. 1-* hours in line at American Airlines to bring my printed (Friday/JFK) ticket up to date, sandwich (smoked turkey with cornichons) and macaroon at Mangia (50 W. 57th), buy new suitcase at Innovation Luggage, looked for Cellex-C sunscreen (unsuccessfully) and Time Magazine, the special edition (sold out). Finally, picked up prescriptions, my own and Wesleyís at Duane Reade (61st & Bíway). During the one hour pharmacy wait I penned this account and finished it snacking cantaloupe on a park bench on Broadway between 63rd and 64th Streets facing One Lincoln Plaza where I spent my first year in New York in 1983, eighteen years ago. How time flies.

Written by Marlow Fisher

Thursday, 13 Sept 2001

3:45-5:45 p.m.

NYC