At 8:45 A.M on September 11th the world changed forever when American Airlines flight 11 crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center (WTC). The irrational tragedy was compounded 18 minutes later, when a second flight, United Airlines flight 175, slammed into the WTC's other tower. The United States was grappled by fear as the politics of international terrorism hit home. It was the first ever air attack on the continental United States.
Times Square's media bazaar quickly lit up with reports of the attack, first the ones in New York and then the hit in Washington DC. In a city otherwise proud of its tough skin, shocked people gathered on streets, waterfronts and rooftops to watch a city landmark burn.
Myrna Ekmekji, 29, an investment banker who worked one block north of Ground Zero, knows the memories will never go away, "I was on the phone and there was a major explosion, I thought it may have been a bomb but I couldn't be sure. Five minutes later, people gathered by a window and watched as the first tower burned. I went to pick up a call and then the second plane hit, people started panicking and we drew back from the windows."
In the next few minutes the central PA system announced that the police requested everyone to move down to the basement until further notice.
It was a strangely familiar routine for Ekmekji who lived through much of the Lebanese Civil War, "We sat in the basement for roughly 15 minutes and people were crying and trying to contact loved ones in the WTC on their cell phones. It brought back memories of Lebanon and I knew the basement was the safest place to be. It was all the same fear factor, and not knowing what was happening. Soon we were instructed to leave the building immediately."
Ekmekji escaped outside and all around there was a shower of paper and other debris raining out from the towers, "When we went outside there were people watching, and people running for their lives from the WTC complex. I thought the top of the building was going to topple over, but I never envisioned that the building would collapse. It was very strange seeing people further north calmly watching. The further north you went the more people were standing in amazement and taking pictures along the Avenues where the Towers were visible."
Vram Jingirian, a Technical Advisor at a firm across from the WTC also escaped safely, "When the second plane hit I was on the second level trading floor watching it all on TV and I felt the ground shake." Jingirian says.
He soon fled outside and saw thousands of onlookers looking up. He stared in horror as desperate and trapped workers jumped from the towers in what was certain death.
He remembers, "I was a block and a half away when the first tower collapsed. There were huge amounts of dust and black smoke—like something you'd see in a disaster film," but the reality was something that would make even Hollywood screenwriters cringe.
"I rushed into a nail salon with 15 other people. We washed our faces and tried to recover a sense of normalcy. It turned pitch black outside for 15 minutes and when we left the salon people were covered in dust and some people were walking aimlessly," Jingirian says.
Ekmekji and Jingirian were both among the lucky ones. As the lists of those missing and dead in New York have slowly been released Armenian American names emerged along the lists of what officially has been reported as over 3000 missing and 630 confirmed dead.
Cantor Fitzgerald was one of the most seriously devastated with estimates of over 60% of the 1000 employees victims of September 11th's tragedy. When the CEO went on national television to mourn the loss, two Armenians were among those he grieved, Aram Iskenderian of Merrick, NY, and John Iskyan of Wilton, CT. Reports indicate that Iskyan called a friend in a calm voice from his office on the 105th floor of the WTC's North Tower to say he was evacuating. He was a veteran of the first WTC bombing in 1993 and his brother, Paul Iskyan, remembers, "It took him an hour and a half to get down [the stairs] from the 1993 bombing."
Anthony Basmajian who works at the New York Stock Exchange lost his wife, Alysia Basmajian who worked on the 101st floor of Tower One.
Alysia's father described Anthony's horror to a local Virginia paper, "He was a block away when the second building collapsed. He was watching for her to come out the door. And she didn’t come out."
The tragic stories are many and the pain still indescribable, but there are the stories of heroes, like firefighter Carl Bedigian, that emerged from the ranks of New York's Bravest.
Carl Bedigian arrived at the WTC shortly after the first alarms sounded across the city. There are conflicting reports on whether he remained trapped in the south tower during the collapse or he was trapped in the area between the two buildings. What is undisputable is his heroism in the face of the unimaginable.
Born in Jamaica, Queens, Bedigian grew up in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, and he joined the Fire Department seven years ago. His fellow firefighters in Brooklyn's Bed ford Stuyvesant neighborhood still avoid the press. Weeks after the tragedy, the pain remained close to the surface.
"We can't talk about it right now, it's still too recent, maybe later," one firefighter indicated still on the verge of tears before drawing back into the small brick fire house. The building continues to display the flowers and signs made by their neighbors, reminders of what they know they can’t forget.
On Metropolitan Avenue in Northern Brooklyn, a small hardware store remembers Bedigian with posters of their longtime friend and customer. The store started a campaign in support of the relief efforts and continues to sell a CD in Bedigian's memory with proceeds going to his firehouse.
Bedigian's family is still coming to grips with the death of a man who lived his life with the noble ideal of helping others. His wife Michelle is still silent in her grief, unable to talk to the media. She was happy to hear that Armenian Americans were recognizing her husband and their dead for their heroism and sacrifice, "Carl was very proud to be Armenian. As long as people know that Carl was a firefighter trying to save others, and died doing what he absolutely loved to do for me that is enough." The pictures of the missing people appeared soon after the disaster on makeshift posters that dotted the city in a desperate plea Carl J. Bedigian from the victims' families. Everyone wanted to do something, and the Daily News newspaper reported that the day after the attack, two Armenian artists erected a makeshift memorial in Union Square where candle light vigils continued for weeks after September 11th. They told the reporter that they had stayed up all night in their grief to finish.
As the weeks passed, a few posters were covered with the word FOUND in large block letters, but everyone knows most of the missing will never be coming home. Garo Vosgerijian and Peter Mardikian are some of the other Armenian American names recorded on lists, while others will undoubtedly surface.
Since the attack on the World Trade Center, New York remains traumatized. The anxiety is still tangible as anthrax becomes another threat feeding fears of something else on the horizon. Subways are frequently stopped or delayed because of unusual smoke, traces of strange white powders, or other signs of potential danger.
One night in October, the lights on top of the Empire State Building were turned off after the crimson glow of the red, white and blue that has been illuminating the building since the attack caused concern for onlookers fearing that there might be a fire raging overhead.
When the WTC was built its chief architect, Minoru Yamasaki, hoped it would be a living symbol of man’s dedication to world peace and man's belief in humanity, but today, the WTC is a symbol from another era, like the Ancient Wonders of the World. No one imagined it would become a media-savvy target for a 21st century war.
In 1928, author William Starrett made a frightening observation in his book on the new culture of the skyscraper, "Building skyscrapers is the nearest peacetime equivalent of war," he continues with a strange foresight, "The analogy to war is the strife against the elements. Foundations are planned away down in the earth alongside the towering skyscrapers already built. Traffic rumbles in the crowded high ways high above us, and the subways, gas and water mains, electric conduits and delicate telephone and signal communications demand that they not be disturbed lest the nerve system of a great city be deranged."
For New Yorkers, who worshipped skyscrapers as the cathedrals of their Culture, a new era has begun.
