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digitalcommons.nyls.edu Academic Centers and Programs Tribeca Square Press 2011 Eight Blocks Away: Memoirs of September 11, 2001 New York Law School Follow this and additional works at: http://digitalcommons.nyls.edu/tribeca_square_press Recommended Citation New York Law School, "Eight Blocks Away: Memoirs of September 11, 2001" (2011). Tribeca Square Press. Book 3. http://digitalcommons.nyls.edu/tribeca_square_press/3 This Book is brought to you for free and open access by the Academic Centers and Programs at DigitalCommons@NYLS. It has been accepted for inclusion in Tribeca Square Press by an authorized administrator of DigitalCommons@NYLS. Eight Blocks Away Memoirs of September 11, 2001 by the New York Law School Community 2011 Note: The essays collected in this volume are unedited, except for minor spelling and punctuation errors. © 2011 by Tribeca Square Press © 2002 New York Law School Tribeca Square Press, 185 West Broadway New York, NY 10013 [email protected] Tribeca Square Press® is a registered trademark of New York Law School. Richard A. Matasar, President and Dean Jethro K. Lieberman, Vice President and Publisher ISBN: 978-0-9793354-6-4 Tribeca Square Press Book No. 8 Title page and divider pages set in Mona Lisa Recut and Mona Lisa Solid. Text type is Minion Condensed. Compiled and edited by Jethro K. Lieberman Contents Refl ections—Th en and Now . v Foreword. ix Eyewitnesses. 1 Recovery . 85 Reminiscences . .115 Reflections — Then and Now Richard A. Matasar Rereading the reflections in Eight Blocks Away has brought back many memories — bad and good. There was confusion, deep depression, worry, fear, anger, and uncertainty. There was also love, dedication, perse- verance, sharing, and optimism in the face of challenges. For many, 9/11 was the worst day of their lives, indelibly tattooed as a marker of the loss of innocence. For others it marked a day to plot retaliation, hope for revenge, and strike out at enemies within and without. For most, it brought them to colleagues and friends to share mutual support. It allowed healing of frac- tured parts of our lives, giving back, reaching out to others, and moving forward with renewed purpose. Looking back at my own words, I cannot remember writing, but I can remember feeling — sometimes alone, always challenged to act stronger than I felt and more cheerful than I wanted to be — conscious that in bad times, the Dean must be CEO, comforting parent, counselor, strategist, and even clergyman. Before 9/11, I worked at New York Law School. After 9/11, I embraced New York Law School as my home and saw our community as my family. These events remade me and our School. In the fall of 2001, I met frequently with students who wanted to drop out of law school — some to go home to be with their families, some who wanted to be anywhere but in our neighborhood (or war zone as they called it), some who were fearful, some who saw it as a chance to leverage their way into higher ranked schools, and some who simply could not cope. But when the dust settled, when faculty began teaching again, when “normalcy” returned — so too did our students. Why? vi Perhaps it was because this tragedy brought out the best in all of us. It turned our commuter school into a community. It took us away from our selfish pursuits and led us to focus on the needs of others — the legal needs of our neighbors who lost so much, the spiritual needs of those far from home, the intellectual needs of students seeking to understand how to deal with lawlessness, and the simple need to be close to those who com- fort us and to provide comfort to those who need us. My father died of a stroke in October of 2001. I felt I failed to grieve his loss properly because I needed to be at the law school and to be strong for others. Now, some ten years later, I understood that I poured all of my grief into work — redoubling my efforts to make others feel better, mak- ing sure that their needs were met, assuring our students, faculty, staff, and graduates that everything would be ok. I realize now that those were qual- ities I did not know I had — qualities my father gave to me by being the wonderful man he was and the silent and strong leader of his organization. Through our city’s tragedy, I implicitly tried to emulate my dad. Perhaps his death passed to me his strength. Now, ten years later, what of the fears we had? Our country blindly went to multiple wars that continue to this day. Governmental lawyers ran roughshod over the Constitution and liberties built over centuries. But they were rebuked by a Supreme Court made up of strong believers in Ex- ecutive power, who simply could not condone usurpation of our traditions. We returned to a system of laws. We somehow held off further attacks. Wow! Ten years later, we have learned that the anthrax attacks were the work of a home grown kook, that terrorist devastation could lead our neighborhood into being the most progressive and economically vibrant place in New York City, that students would return to New York in droves, that the country could elect an African-American as President, and that we could manage to screw up our economy all on our own! vii What of New York Law School ten years later? After the disaster, we grew stronger, more confident, more active, more committed. We took ad- vantage of the rebounding and resilience of TriBeCa to make a record sale of some of our property, used the proceeds to secure the financing that built a wonderful new building that will keep us as a downtown institution in perpetuity (see next page), enrolled the best students ever to attend the law school, expanded our programs in ways we could not have imagined before 9/11, grew our resources beyond our fondest dreams, and estab- lished a remarkably student-centric program. Was all this also an effect of 9/11? I think so. The larger meaning of 9/11 for all of us here on that day was a reminder that some things are beyond our control, that evil exists in the world, and that blindly striking out rarely is a satisfactory answer to a problem. 9/11 also taught us that we must control what we can control — our programs, our treatment of each other, our talent put to use to add value, our outreach to those in need, and our mutual respect. It taught us to make the best of those things, to learn from the past, and then to look for- ward. The chronicle contained in Eight Blocks Away decodes the DNA of New York Law School and all of us who work and study here. Though the events of 9/11 are now a decade behind us, their impact and the lessons that they have taught us will forever remain indelible. Foreword New York Law School stands in the middle of Tribeca, eight blocks north of the site of the World Trade Center in Manhattan. Tuesday, September 11, 2001, the third week of the semester, was sunny and mild. Several classes were scheduled to begin at 9 a.m., so by 8:46 several dozen students, a few faculty members, and early arriving staff were on campus or just entering when the first airplane slammed into the north tower with a shattering boom. Many rushed outside; others were on street corners in time to see the second airplane flying low and strike the south tower ten minutes later. A few, who lived at or near the site, heard and saw the entire attack unfold. Within minutes the dean, who had been in his office, was urging people off the streets and into the sanctuary of school. By shortly after 9 school was officially closed, and through the day students, staff, and faculty managed to wend their way home as best they could. Some, departing early, caught subways. Others organized carpools. Many just walked north or east. By afternoon the school buildings, which were physically intact, lost their ties to the world: electrical power ceased, phone lines went down, computers were out, Internet connection was severed. For two weeks, regular activities were suspended. For several days, very access to the campus was out of the question except for a small facilities crew, struggling to connect an external generator and to survey for damage. Regrouping, the dean, associate deans, and senior staff spent hours on the phone from their homes in daily conference calls to organize the return. By Monday, September 17, with power partially restored, faculty and senior staff found their way through the phalanx of police barricades to meet, embrace, and plan the recovery. A false bomb alert in the early afternoon, aimed at ConEdison workers laboring to repair electrical connections, sent everyone home again. A week later, on Monday, September 24, the school returned to life, with classes, teach-ins, and visiting mental health professionals on hand to greet all who were struggling to learn new ways to study, teach, and commute. Though electrical power was back, telephone and Internet service was spotty, not fully restored until after Thanksgiving. Because of byzantine cable connections beneath the streets, most telephones could not dial beyond the confines of New York City, though a few fax lines could dial out to the world. Even had it been possible for people to ignore the daily headlines, look through the hole in the sky x where the twin towers had stood, and put out of mind the inconveniences of travel, a persistent, at times overpowering foul odor permeated the air, waxing and waning with the temperature and breezes, making it impossible to forget the horror.

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