Sep / Oct / Nov 2024
Vol. XXXII, No. 1

Share This Article -

9/11

I write this column on the 23rd anniversary of the September 11 terrorists attacks. Our firm’s offices were then (and are now) in Lower Manhattan. Earlier today I participated in a program with several others who shared where we were on 9/11, as well as our experiences with the efforts to revitalize our downtown community.

Shared Themes

There is nothing more special about my 9/11 story than anyone else’s. In listening to others speak, I was struck by the many shared themes, even word choices: initial incomprehension, dawning awareness of what had happened, shock and sadness, efforts to get home or through to family, the resilience of New Yorkers, and the overwhelming sense that day and, for a period going forward, that we were a nation that was unified by a bond of sorrow and patriotism. 

I was not in New York on 9/11. I had flown out to Seattle the night before, a Monday, to prepare a witness to testify in the District of Columbia later in the week. I woke up the next morning still on New York time, somewhere around 5:00 a.m., and turned on the television for some background noise. I had placed my breakfast order on the hotel room doorknob the night before, requesting the earliest delivery window of 6:00-6:30 a.m. While getting ready for the day, the local programming was interrupted with a news feed from New York that a plane had crashed into the north face of the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The words were accompanied by footage of smoke billowing from the building.

Back in New York, it was the first day of first grade for my oldest and the first day of preschool for my youngest. My husband was also starting a new job, so we had asked my mother, who lives in a town of 5,000 in Massachusetts and is not much of a traveler, to nonetheless brave the city to help with childcare and logistics. She had arrived at our Brooklyn apartment by bus the day before. I knew my husband would already have left our home, so I quickly called from the hotel landline phone. “Mom, I just wanted to catch you before you leave. When you go outside, you are going to see a lot of smoke. Don’t worry, there has been an accident. A plane has hit the World Trade Center.” 

The was a knock at the door. It was my oatmeal. As the room service attendant put out flatware, the second plane hit the South Tower. The attendant and I both reflexively sat on the edge of the bed and wordlessly watched the TODAY show as news unfolded, slowly comprehending what a second plane must mean. After some minutes, he left, and I tried my mother again. The phones were no longer in service. Then the South Tower collapsed.

Eventually I met the senior partner with whom I was working, Philip Graham, in the hotel lobby, and we made our way to the offices of the client, where we tried but mostly failed to work. We were distracted and the workday ended early; the two of us returned to the hotel, and went directly to the hotel bar. Phil’s son was an emergency room doctor at St. Vincent’s Hospital, the closest hospital to the Twin Towers, which could be seen from the hospital’s front entrance. Phil had made contact and his son recounted that the medical staff was there in full force, but the emergency room was empty. Yet again, it took some time before I could process what that actually meant.

 With airspace shut down, Phil and I would spend the rest of the week in Seattle. My recollection of those first few hours is very specific, but the remainder of the week is mostly a blur. I recall checking in with impacted clients and trying to be helpful to the office, but there was not much (if anything) that I could do. I recall talking to my husband about the office papers that had floated over Manhattan and into our Brooklyn neighborhood. I recall feeling generally sad and purposeless. Our Seattle clients were very kind, inviting us into their homes for dinners and spending time with us outside of their offices, but we just wanted to get back to our families and New York, which we were finally able to do on Friday, each of us getting a seat on one of first flights to the East Coast (but not New York) after air service resumed. My husband and children met me in Philadelphia, and we drove into Brooklyn on Saturday morning, thick, dark smoke still hovering over the city.

Building Back

Over the next few weeks, we were allowed back into our downtown building, walking from designated train stops through empty streets. My office looked over the East River, and daily I could see and hear the skeletal steel remains of the Towers being loaded on to barges to be towed to Staten Island. We grieved those who were lost. Lower Manhattan was decimated, and some people and businesses left never to return. But there was a commitment to build back, to rebound, and today downtown is vital and vibrant. 

My most visceral memory of that time is exactly that – a sense of community and commitment to the downtown neighborhood where I had worked the prior decade (and would continue to for twenty-three more years, and counting). And taking a measure of comfort from the fact that in the wake of tragedy, we found unity of purpose. 

We also found, and continue to find, that the bench and bar of the Second Circuit are resilient, determined, innovative, and committed to the work we do together. Community rises and works again and again, as it did after 9/11, Hurricane Sandy, and other challenges. When I assumed the role of president of the Federal Bar Council, I was handed an organization that had been steered through the unprecedented times brought on by a global pandemic. My immediate past-presidents, Judge Mary Kay Vyskocil and Jon Moses, led the organization, known for its long-held traditions, with creativity and ingenuity, allowing the organization to thrive and continue to support both the membership and the broader legal community. That adaptability and innovation ranged from virtual courtrooms to remote CLE programs and, post-pandemic, we still embrace the new technologies that sustained our operations and enhanced our efficiency and accessibility.

Profound Gratitude

I now pen this final column as Council president with profound gratitude for the past two years. It has been a journey marked by collaboration and progress, and it has been an honor to serve the organization and to work alongside many dedicated and talented individuals.  

I was privileged to assume the mantle at a time when we could refocus on coming together and embracing new initiatives. I am particularly proud of the strides we made in promoting broad diversity within the membership, in every sense of the word. 

We have focused on making sure our doors are open to all who practice in the Second Circuit, whether new to the practice of law or sufficiently seasoned, whether in private practice or government service, whether big law or small law, and the like. 

We have broadened our initiatives and programming, and with your financial support and the exceptional hard work of Seth Levine and the Federal Bar Foundation, have devoted funds to make sure our programming is inclusive, better ensuring that all voices are welcomed and valued. 

Similarly, we have been able to grow our Access to Counsel Project, expanding pro bono representation in order to better ensure that every litigant’s voice is heard in our courtrooms.

Countless individuals have contributed to the Council’s successes. I cannot begin to acknowledge them all, but I want to extend a special thank you to the members of the Executive Committee for unwavering support and guidance, and to Aja Stephens and the Council staff for unwavering hard work and good humor. I am deeply grateful for your efforts.

As I hand the reins to Shawn Regan, I do so with great confidence that we will thrive and with excitement to see the new heights we will reach.

With gratitude, 
Sharon