My September 11, 2001

         I wrote the following essay on September 11, 2002 to preserve my memories of that horrible day 1 year before.

            Though I can’t imagine that I will ever forget where I was and what I saw and experienced on September 11, 2001, time does dull the memory, and I can’t avoid the inevitable fact that some day I will no longer be here to tell my story.  So I decided some time ago that I would commit my thoughts and recollections to paper and there seemed to be no better time than now – September 11, 2002, 8:45am.

            It was a beautiful fall day – the kind of day when office workers joke about playing hooky.  On September 11, 2001, I was working for Goldman, Sachs & Co. in the Washington, DC office.  I was in my office when a member of our Investment Research group announced that a plane had hit the World Trade Center.  He had access to CNN at his desk, so several of us gathered around to watch.  Initial information was very limited, and most reports indicated that it was a small plane.  I feared that it was the Washington – New York Shuttle, which typically flies a route close to the World Trade Center.  I was a very frequent shuttle traveler, and the thought of a plane crash bothered me.  Three members of our office had taken the shuttle to New York that morning.  We had heard from them just before they boarded the plane in Washington, so we were quickly able to calculate that their plane could not have reached the New York area by that time. 

While there was some talk among us that it could be a terrorist attack, I don’t believe that anyone, including myself, ever took that thought seriously.  We, like most of America, could not conceive of that possibility.  After watching the news for a while, we dispersed but occasionally wandered back to the television.  A group of us were watching when the second plane hit the tower.  However, the camera angle that we were viewing did not show the airplane.  We saw an explosion from the view of the first tower.  To us, it looked like there was another explosion in the first tower.  The coverage quickly replayed the angle showing the plane hit the tower, but we thought that it was a replay of the first plane hitting the first tower.  After a few moments, the reports were clear that a second plane hit the World Trade Center.  We all knew without a doubt that it was a terrorist attack. 

At some point after the first attack, I called Jessica to tell her that a plane had hit the World Trade Center.  We did not have a long conversation, and as we left the call, she was going to turn on the television.  At some point after the second attack, I was looking out of the window of my office in the direction of the Washington Monument.  I saw a commercial airline that appeared to be traveling slowly at an altitude and speed that would suggest that it had not just taken off from Reagan National Airport.  The plane was obviously outside of normal air traffic routes, which are very limited in Washington.  The plane was so obviously out of place that I noticed it and thought that it might be another terrorist attack.  I quickly rationalized its position thinking that as a result of the second plane hitting the World Trade Center, the authorities must have decided to close National Airport.  I supposed that this plane had just been diverted during its approach to the airport, and that is why it was outside of ordinary air traffic routes. 

Roughly a half-hour after the second plane hit the World Trade Center, I called Jessica again.  While we were speaking on the phone, I was again looking out of the window in the direction of the Washington Monument.  I very vividly remember Jessica asking me, “if they’re doing it in New York, why aren't they doing it in Washington?”  At that moment, I saw the Pentagon explode.  I did not hear anything or feel any impact.  I just saw plumes of black smoke.  My first reaction was to say to Jessica, “There has been an explosion.”  She asked me where, and I said that it was out near the Washington Monument.  The building across the street – the Old Post Office Pavilion – obstructed my line of vision, so I could not actually see the Pentagon building.  I didn't have good perspective on the distance either, so I thought that there was some sort of explosion – a car bomb I thought – on the far side of the Washington Monument somewhere on the Mall or along Independence Avenue.  I never made the connection to the plane I saw until hours later when news reports told the story about the plane circling the area before it hit the Pentagon.

Jessica started to cry when I told her that there was an explosion.  I told her to hang on and I ran out of my office and told everyone that there was an explosion and that we should all leave.  I went back to the phone, told Jessica I was leaving and got off the phone.  I was the only Vice President in the office at the time - everyone else was support staff.  During the half hour or so between the second plane and the Pentagon explosion our office administrator was trying to contact Goldman Sachs security for instructions on whether we should evacuate.  She was not able to make that decision herself.  

I decided that I would make the decision to evacuate for three reasons.  First, I felt very strongly that I BELONGED home – the right and appropriate place for me to be was home.  In fact, it very much felt like my obligation or responsibility.  Second, I believed that we were in danger of being trapped in the middle of several attack sites.  The Goldman Sachs office was on Pennsylvania Avenue very close to the Justice Department and FBI and in between the White House and the Capitol Building.  I did not fear that we were in danger of direct attack, but rather that we would be in the middle and wouldn't be able to get out.  Finally, I realized that no one felt that they had the authority to make the decision.  I do not know if I actually had the authority as a Vice President, but decided that someone had to decide so I did. 

I was surprised by some of the reactions of my colleagues.  Certain colleagues appreciated the gravity of the situation and quickly gathered their belongings and left.  Others dilly-dallied and questioned whether we should leave at all.  My sense of obligation to wait for everyone to leave before I left was battling a very strong urge to get out quickly.  I finally left when I felt that the dilly-dalliers were sufficiently in motion that I knew that they would be out soon.  I did not wait until they actual left the building because I felt that they were being foolishly slow.  As it turns out, there were no further attacks on Washington.  However, we left the city just in time.  Soon after we left, the city became grid locked with people trying to leave and roads being closed for security reasons.  I have heard stories of people waiting in traffic for hours.  My colleagues and the head of the office later thanked me for making the decision that got everyone safely where they belonged – home.  Their thanks meant a lot to me.

When I left the office I consciously took my usual route (Pennsylvania Avenue to 15^th Street to Constitution Avenue).  I took that route knowing that I would get closer to vulnerable sites, but deciding that since it was much shorter and much more direct, I would get by them quicker and with less delay.  As I turned the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and 15^th Street, I saw government employees pouring from the Commerce Department and the Treasury buildings.  All federal employees were told to evacuate the buildings immediately, and I was seeing the beginning of that evacuation.  When I turned the corner of 15^th Street onto Constitution Avenue, I again saw the smoke from the Pentagon.  While traffic was not grid locked at this point, it was somewhat slow.  I kept looking to the skies for threatening airplanes as I went through this area, and noted that this might be the last time I see the White House or the Washington Monument. I am generally not a melodramatic person, so in hindsight, my having thought such thoughts reminds me of how grave I thought the situation was.  As I approached 17th  Street and Constitution Avenue, I saw a black SUV filled with Secret Service Agents traveling toward the Washington Monument.  The agents were holding machine guns out of the windows of the truck. 

I felt somewhat relieved as I passed 17^th Street, but knew that I wouldn't feel comfortable until I reached Virginia.  I knew that I had to pass close by the State Department, another potential target.  Near the intersection of Constitution Avenue and 17^th Street, a news report came across the radio that there was a car bomb at the State Department.  I decided to go my normal route (C Street to the E Street Tunnel, which passes directly behind the State Department) again because I knew it was quicker and because I was developing a sense that the news reports were not wholly accurate.  It turns out that there was no car bomb at the State Department.  As I began to cross the Roosevelt Bridge, I got a much better view of the Pentagon.  It was much worse than I had thought.

Once I made it onto the George Washington Parkway I felt much safer and called Jessica to tell her that I was out of DC.  The only thing I particularly remember about the drive home was the news on the radio that the South Tower of the World Trade Center had collapsed.  I simply did not believe it.  I think that one of the first things I asked Jessica when I got home was whether the tower had collapsed.  She confirmed that it did and that she saw it on television.  Of course, we saw it replayed on television a hundred times, along with the collapse of the North Tower, which we witnessed live on TV. 

At home, we spent a lot of time glued to the television.  We were particularly following the stories about rerouting air traffic and closing US airways since we lived near Dulles Airport and were concerned about additional hijacked planes.  While stories about the plane that ultimately crashed in Pennsylvania were coming through, there was very little detail and it was hard to discern if it was a credible story.   At some point in the late morning or early afternoon, my sister (who lived in New Jersey) called to ask if we had heard the story that the air force was tracking a plane over Northern Virginia and might shoot it down.  I ran outside to see if I could see anything but there was nothing.  No planes, no sound.  Everything was eerily silent.  We decided that we should leave our house to go to some undetermined safer place.  Since we felt like we had some time, we agreed that we could pack clothing, toiletries, baby food, bottles, etc.  We also discussed what to do with Bubba (dog), Chimayo (cat) and Caspar (cockatoo).  Since we had time, we decided that we would take them with us so we packed food for them.  Our packing (which took no more than ten minutes) was frequently interrupted by our running outside to look for the errant plane.  By this time, fighter jets began to patrol over head.  They were very loud, and often flew so high that you couldn't see them.  Every time a fighter jet flew over, we ran outside to check.  During this time Caitlin was napping upstairs.  I wanted to wake her since I didn't want to leave her in the house when we ran outside.  Jessica wanted to let her sleep, which we did.

Once we were packed, cooler heads prevailed.  We realized that we did not necessarily have a safer place to go and that we likely would have gone west.  However, since the western side of Virginia is more rural, it seemed more likely that the military would try to shoot down a plane out there, to avoid as many ground casualties as possible.  So we decided that we would put our belongings near the door and be prepared to leave, but would otherwise stay put.  Within an hour or so, the news was reporting that all air traffic had been grounded or otherwise accounted for, so our races to the yard every time we heard a fighter jet could stop. 

The rest of the day was spent watching the reports on TV, contacting colleagues, family and friends to make sure everyone was safe, and pondering the enormous tragedy that we had just witnessed, but thankfully escaped.  

It was a beautiful fall day – the kind of day when office workers joke about playing hooky.