Memories of September 11, 2001
BY KAREN RANCOURT
It was early afternoon, and I was standing in the middle of the busy intersection of East 96th Street and Lexington Avenue, staring south in disbelief at the plume of whitish-gray smoke billowing up from the southern tip of Manhattan, about seven miles away. It was September 12, 2001—one day after the Twin Towers had been felled by terrorists who had flown two airplanes into them.
Some of my memories of that period are clear, while others are nonexistent or fuzzy. But this memory is crystal clear: A woman I didn’t know put her arm around me and said, “C’mon, honey, let’s get you out of the traffic.” She led me to the sidewalk and asked if I was all right. I thanked her, told her I was okay, and said I was headed to the subway.
“For days afterward, I remember strangers in New York City hugging each other and crying together…”
There were countless examples of New Yorkers—strangers looking out for strangers—during that unbelievably sad time. The attacks killed 2,977 people: 2,753 at the World Trade Center, 184 at the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, and 40 aboard United Airlines Flight 93, which crashed into a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
For days afterward, I remember strangers in New York City hugging each other and crying together as they rode the subways; gathering outside firehouses where photographs of lost firefighters were displayed; coming together to grieve in religious buildings throughout the city; and posting photographs of “missing” loved ones on the streets. Comfort among strangers was everywhere.
When my good Samaritan pulled me out of traffic that day, I was headed to the Pierre Hotel, where Cantor Fitzgerald CEO Howard Lutnick had arranged for a family-services center to be made available to the families of his 658 employees who had been working on Floors 101–105 of the North Tower. All were killed in the attack. (Readers may recognize Howard Lutnick’s name: He currently serves in President Trump’s cabinet as Secretary of Commerce.)
My husband, Gary, and I became part of the 9/11 Cantor Fitzgerald family because our son-in-law, Jordan, worked for Cantor, as did his younger brother, Todd, whom Jordan had hired. On that fateful day, Todd was in the North Tower, while Jordan was in Cantor’s London office. Todd perished that day. Their father, Herb, was working on the 77th floor of the North Tower but managed to escape.
‘Less than 24 hours after the attacks, thanks to Howard’s swift action, Cantor families began gathering at the Pierre Hotel. The hotel staff took care of us for several days, from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. They hugged us, nurtured us with food and love, sat with us, cried with us…”
Howard Lutnick may have become controversial in the years since 9/11, but I have nothing but praise for the leadership role he played in the aftermath of the attacks. He had not only lost 658 employees; he had also lost his brother. Howard himself was not in the Tower that morning because he was taking one of his young children to school.
Less than 24 hours after the attacks, thanks to Howard’s swift action, Cantor families began gathering at the Pierre Hotel. The hotel staff took care of us for several days, from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. They hugged us, nurtured us with food and love, sat with us, cried with us, and even laughed with us when family members shared memories of happy times with their loved ones. Howard had also arranged for grief counselors to be available.
Despite all the responsibilities that had suddenly fallen on his shoulders, Howard made time to spend with us at the Pierre. He shared whatever updates he had, including the devastating announcement that everyone at Cantor working in the North Tower’s upper floors had been lost. There were no survivors.
Meanwhile, our daughter Heather and her husband, Jordan, were in London as 9/11 was unfolding.
The collapse of the World Trade Center towers destroyed local cell towers, but there was some initial communication between the Cantor offices in the North Tower and the London office using direct, open-line “squawk boxes”—an open-circuit communications system commonly used on trading floors and connecting trading operations nationally and around the world. One of the most heartbreaking facts about that communication was that employees in the North Tower, recognizing the seriousness of their situation, asked their colleagues in the London office to deliver messages to their loved ones.
“The aftermath of 9/11 also resulted in many acts of generosity and kindness. Because Todd had suffered from extreme anxiety and school phobia, Andrea and Herb channeled their grief into creating the Todd Ouida Children’s Foundation, raising millions of dollars to help children and their families deal with a range of psychological challenges.”
Shortly after 9/11, Heather called me to say that she and Jordan had an hour to get to Heathrow Airport because a British Airways flight had somehow received permission to fly during the period when commercial flights worldwide had been grounded. The plane was headed to New York to pick up British citizens. Because it would be flying to New York empty, Cantor employees were given permission to travel home on it.
Heather and Jordan grabbed their passports and barely made it in time for takeoff.
During their flight, I called British Airways to get an arrival time, only to be told that the airline had grounded all flights and that there were none in the air. I persisted: “But what about the flight from Heathrow to Kennedy Airport?”
“Sorry,” I was told. They had no record of such a flight.
That was a bit worrying, to say the least. You can imagine my relief when Heather and Jordan finally joined us—and Jordan’s parents, Andrea and Herb—at the Pierre Hotel that evening.
The aftermath of 9/11 also resulted in many acts of generosity and kindness. Because Todd had suffered from extreme anxiety and school phobia, Andrea and Herb channeled their grief into creating the Todd Ouida Children’s Foundation, raising millions of dollars to help children and their families deal with a range of psychological challenges.
Howard Lutnick’s leadership focused on helping the families of his lost employees in a host of ways. Some of that support continues to this day, with more than $300 million having been dispersed to families and related causes through the Cantor Fitzgerald Relief Fund.
“For now, that video remains a precious—and heartbreaking—record of a time when these young men were alive, laughing, dancing, and looking forward to the future—a future that, for all of us who survived, continues to unfold, even as we carry their memories with us and remember those we lost on 9/11.”
In their latest Her Health Compass podcast, “Life, Loss and Legacy: 25 Years After September 11th,” which Heather co-hosts with Yonni Wattenmaker, Heather shares her personal 9/11 experiences, reflecting on the loss of her brother-in-law Todd and Jordan’s many work colleagues.
She also explores questions such as: How do we live alongside grief? How do we support someone through pain we cannot fix? What does survivor’s guilt look like? Are there ways we can help others to not let their loss define them? And how can loss, over time, become connected to purpose, service, and legacy?
I close by sharing a bittersweet memory.
Heather and Jordan’s wedding in May 2000 was attended by many Cantor Fitzgerald employees. In the wedding video, many of these young men are shown dancing and having a wonderful time. It was a time of joy, when the future was filled with hope and promise.
After 9/11, understandably, Heather and Jordan have been unable to watch that video.
Gary and I have held onto it, unable to dispose of it. Perhaps someday we’ll see if our grandsons would like to take possession of it.
For now, that video remains a precious—and heartbreaking—record of a time when these young men were alive, laughing, dancing, and looking forward to the future—a future that, for all of us who survived, continues to unfold, even as we carry their memories with us and remember those we lost on 9/11.
