I was home in Indianapolis on 9/11/2001, packed and booked on a flight to Pine Bluff, Arkansas for a Red Cross training event. I watched the coverage of the first plane that had just flown into 1 World Trade Center (WTC) and witnessed it live as the second plane flew into the second tower. That’s when we all knew it was terrorism.
My first reaction was the deep dread of knowing that this was intentional and unprecedented. I had responded to the Oklahoma City (OKC) bombing but this was so much bigger and almost unfathomable as it unfolded with word of The Pentagon attack and Flight 93 going down in Shanksville. As vulnerable as I was feeling, I also felt blessed that I had a role I could play – a way I could help.
My first action was to call Darren Irby in Disaster Public Affairs (PA) at National Headquarters. He had me book a flight to Washington, D.C., but just moments later they grounded all flights and I scrambled to find a rental car. Jill Bode, a friend and fellow PA officer from Indianapolis, called and offered her help and within a few hours we were headed to Washington. It was such a blessing to have Jill with me on that long drive. We listened to radio coverage as we drove, but also just spent time talking – distracting ourselves and in some ways preparing ourselves – as the pieces were being pulled together about what had happened that morning and what it all might mean. We arrived at the Disaster Operation Center late that night. We were given a brief orientation and a good night’s sleep before Jill was asked to go to Shanksville as the PA Officer. I spent a day with the communications team at NHQ and then was dispatched to New York City.
I remember the traffic thinning on the interstate as I approached Manhattan, and all the signs warning that only emergency vehicles were allowed. I came to the roadblock and showed my Red Cross credentials. It was so eerie to be the only car in the Lincoln Tunnel. For the first time danger gripped me. Bridges and tunnels are targets. I sped through the tunnel, faster and faster, aware of how impossible it was to be doing this where cars are rarely moving faster than a crawl as they funnel bumper to bumper into just four lanes. I came up into a Manhattan that was still and deserted. Few cars were on the streets and fewer people. And there was the unforgettable smell of burning God knows what.
Q2. What was your Red Cross role in the response to 9/11, immediately and as the days, weeks and months followed?
I juggled a couple of roles early on. I coordinated the Rapid Response Team (RRT) that handled national media; liaised with the local Red Cross chapter communications and marketing team as they worked to maintain their external priorities; and ultimately headed the Public Affairs office for Disaster Relief Operation for New York for the first five months. I later returned for anniversaries and benchmarks and in support of events and issues, as needed, for a couple of years.
New York City is a hub of national media so we kept a dozen RRT members rotating in and out during that first 30 days. We took shifts during morning, noon, evening and late news cycles, interviewing through the rows of media outlets set up around Ground Zero. Top-tier outlets had the closest and best vantage points to “the pile” and affiliates and international media lined the streets along the perimeter. I remember during those early days driving down Westside Highway and as we approached the perimeter crowds of people cheered and waved signs thanking us just for being there and bringing help.
One interview that stands out was with Bill Hemmer who was with CNN at the time. It was predawn and we stood on milk crates waiting for the live shot to come to us. I remember turning around so I could see the view that would be our backdrop from our milk crate height. The redness of the dawn and backdrop of work lights silhouetted the haunting façade of what remained of the World Trade Center that seemed to be hanging in place. At first glimpse on that morning it looked like the Murrah Building—how the OKC bombing had left it gouged and jagged. I allowed the scene to come into focus and took in the massive depth of the pile of debris and the enormity of the destruction; sparks from the welding guns that cut through the darkness and the constant raining down of water from the firehoses—rescue workers would stream to the Red Cross stations for more dry socks. And the smoke—always smoldering—and the smell of it permeating lower Manhattan and our clothes and our memories.
Q3. What one memory stands out above all others when thinking about the survivors of 9/11 who you helped or who your team helped?
I have so many poignant memories. One of the most profound was during that first week when I visited the Red Cross operations at what the city had initially organized as a Family Assistance Center—patterned after what the Red Cross had so successfully piloted following the OKC bombing for surviving family members of those who were killed or missing. That first center was set up at the Armory on the west side.
Out front were rows and rows of posters with photos of those who were missing and instructions from loved ones… “If you see this person please contact xyz….” A young lady was handing out copies of her poster. “This is my husband,” she said. “He might have been hit in the head and not know who he is.”
Inside, it was dark with black pipe and drape and uncovered tables staffed by organizations offering various forms of assistance. In addition to the Red Cross and other NGOs, there were health workers and government agencies. The FBI had a table where families were bringing items that would provide DNA from their missing loved one. I watched as people with eyes swollen shut pulled toothbrushes, razors, wads of hair from bags and dropped them into manilla envelopes marked with their loved one’s name and some sort of identifying numbers. I went to the lady’s room and every person had swollen eyes and pinched, mottled faces. They didn’t look at one another. Didn’t look in the mirrors. Didn’t speak a word. The pain was palpable.
Under Jane Morgan’s direction, the FAC was relocated to a large, bright and open facility among the piers. It had warm red carpet and cheery blue draping providing private spaces for organizations and services. It offered a 24/7 cafeteria, childcare, gathering rooms for families to support one another, and kind and caring workers ready to meet every request. Stuffed teddy bears were given to everyone who needed a soft hug—another tradition that carried over from Oklahoma. Celebrities stopped in often hoping to provide moral support. Some came regularly – Kevin Costner, Gina Gershon, Parker Posey are a few who became Red Cross volunteers.
Bette Midler came to the FAC once during the noon prayer time. She sang God Bless America as the group gathered around the flag, but she was overcome with emotion and couldn’t continue. The group tried to carry on for her, singing so badly that it made her laugh and she was able to finish it as it deserved to be sung.
Among the volunteers those early months was a Red Cross-sponsored group of family members who had lost loved ones in the OKC bombing. At the FAC, they provided support and encouragement to the 9/11 family members. “We mostly just held their hands and let them know that someone understands,” one said. One night after the Broadway shows had reopened and were offering discounted tickets to responders to help fill the theaters, a colleague and I left the office in capable hands and went to see 42nd Street. When they brought the lights up after the show, the woman sitting in front of me turned around and I saw on her jacket the Red Cross pin that we had produced as a memento of the OKC bombing response. I introduced myself and said, “I see you’ve met one of our Oklahoma City family members.” I took her hand and tears streamed down her face as she told me she lost her 24-year-old daughter on 9/11. The girl had just moved to New York for her first job out of college. “She was over the moon to be working in the World Trade Center,” she said. “The ones who came from Oklahoma City? They’re how I know I’m going to make it through this.” She said they gave her hope that one day she might be able to help someone else in that way, and that if she could do that it would give some purpose and meaning to her daughter’s death.
Q4. What are you doing now?
After 16 years with the Red Cross, I started a small communications consulting business with good friends and colleagues from the Red Cross. Five Heads Strategic Communications works to promote and advance causes that make a positive difference in the world. Carol Miller and I are the primary partners right now and have both remained connected with the Red Cross, contracting for different initiatives for them, and for other organizations. We are currently managing the communications and marketing for the newly launched American Red Cross Alumni Network, and really enjoying reconnecting with so many of you.
Q5. What work and life lessons did you learn from your role in the response? What do you do differently now than before 9/11?
Work lesson 1: When in a crisis, people need strong leadership.
Work lesson 2: The media are often working with limited resources, or sometimes just unoriginal. Few will go out of their way to find the truth if it doesn’t fit the narrative their editors want. During those rough weeks, I had a news crew tell me, “We think you’re doing great work, but the story is already written in another direction. We were just sent here to get a quote to drop in.” It’s our job to find a way to get them to see our true stories. If they choose to perpetuate the scandal instead, make them do so knowing they’re intentionally misleading their audience.
A couple of things I do differently in my work life now:
