Jane Luther-Umstadter

September 11, 2001

My alarm went off at 4:45am and I had no trouble getting out of bed, as I was anxious
to get an early train for my new job as National Account Manager at Empire Blue
Cross Blue Shield on the 17th floor of One World Trade Center, North Tower. (1WTC).
I had just started with Empire on July 9th and was looking forward to a phone
appointment call with my first new client, JP Morgan Chase, scheduled for between
8:30 and 9:00 am. I quickly dressed and since I was going to be in the office all day, I
wore a very comfortable loose fitting dress with flat comfortable shoes. Little did I
know how important my choice of clothes and shoes would be later, on the most
horrifying day of my life.
I left the house shortly after 5:30 am so I could drive the 30 minutes to catch the 6:20
am train to Newark, connect to the Path Train, and be in my office by 7:30 am. I
picked up my coffee, from my usual vendor on the lower level of the Trade Center, and
headed for my office. As I looked north, out the three floor to ceiling windows of my
office, the early morning was filled with sunshine and a brilliant blue sky. I prepared for
my call with JP Morgan Chase and was ready with the questions we needed answers
to move forward with implementing Empire as a Health Plan choice for their fall
enrollment.
As I waited for the call to come in I can recall thinking that I was beginning to get a feel
for the responsibilities of my new job. It had been a very difficult beginning for me as I
started my new job with Empire BCBS on July 9 and learned by noon on that day that
my 81 year-old father had taken a turn for the worse with the sudden onset of an
everyday variety stomach ailment and was not expected to live.
I spent the majority of the rest of my first day on the job making arrangements for my
husband and I to be picked up at 3am the following morning for the first flight out we
could get to Michigan in hopes I would be able to see my dad before he passed away.
Fortunately, we did make it to Gaylord, Michigan, via two flights and an hour in a rental
car and were with him when he passed away on July 10.
I returned to my job on Thursday, July 19 to learn that the man I reported to just left for
two weeks of vacation. I was left with piles of reading and my own effort to orientate
myself to my new job and responsibilities. So when September 11 came I really had
only been actively working through my new position for 1 month. It was a very
stressful month, as I was trying to make up for the time lost due to my fathers death
and the family responsibilities that followed.
By September 11 we were making some progress on the various family legal issues
and I was beginning to feel my way into my new work responsibilities, although I knew

I still had much to learn and was relying on others for help every step of the way
before I would be totally self sufficient and a full contributor to the Empire team.
As I sat at my desk, working on my laptop and waiting for a 9 am conference call with
a new client, JP MorganChase, I felt a very strong shaking and movement of the
building. An explosion of some sort, I thought, perhaps someone with a pipe bomb
and machine guns above us. I jumped up from my desk, looked out my windows and
saw the debris falling from the beautiful blue morning sky.
I stepped out of my office into the administrative area and heard shouting; its an
earthquake, etc. Since it was not quite 9 am our floor was not yet full. Fortunately
most of those there with me had been through fire and evacuation drills and knew we
should head for the stairs immediately. I do not remember any sounding of alarms,
just fellow employees calmly saying, Lets get out of here. I quickly went back into
my office grabbed my briefcase/purse, palm, and cell phone.
I left everything else, laptop, files, etc., and quickly joined the group heading for the
staircase. As we opened the doors of the floor area, to staircases and elevators, we
could see and smell the smoke and fumes coming from the 60 floors above us within
just minutes. We began the walk down the 17 flights.
The crowd was mostly calm and orderly. We had no idea what had happened above
us as we moved down the staircase, which was mostly smoke free. As we came to a
stop around the 4th floor, people from below started telling us to go back up to try to
open the nearest door.
Others of us said,No, the halls were filled with smoke and we must continue down.
Some people did go through the crowd in an upward movement. At that moment a
sort of wailing began, bringing back memories of the many Black Baptist funerals I
have attended. I fully understood the emotional releases of the various folks trapped
in this enclosed staircase.
Some of us gave words of encouragement and tried to calm others down. I recall a
male voice yelling to stop the wailing and keep calm. Another memory that sticks with
me is one woman yelling, Thats it! I was here for the first explosion and now this. I
am never working in this building again! I had one quick thought race through my
mind, Am I going to die in this stairwell?
I thought of my family, specifically heard my father telling me to keep going and keep
calm. Soon we began moving downward again. When we reached what must have
been about the second floor we found ourselves in water over our ankles.
That was very puzzling, as we knew the explosion was above us on the upper floors.
(We later learned that the reason for the delay was due to the extent of the explosion
shifting the building, making it very difficult for the fireman to release the lobby door for

us to get out. And the water came from the hoses trying to put out the fires in the lobby
coming from the exploding in the elevators. The NYFD, EMS, and NYPD were also
trying to clear the lobby level of the badly burned and injured, as well as the debris that
came from the fireball elevators crashing to the lower level where we were trying to
exit.)
Once the door was opened, we began to hear instructions to move to the right and
form a single file line so the NYFD could begin their climb up the stairs. It is still eerie
to me, as I recall looking into the faces of the fireman climbing with full gear up to what
most likely was the death of many of them. This scene is still a recurring nightmare for
me and awakens me on restless nights.
As we exited into the lobby, we found it was completely destroyed. Windows had been
blown out; debris and falling glass were everywhere. I do not remember any sound. I
saw a woman who appeared to be injured with burns and was already being assisted
by medical staff. We were directed through the Marriott where I saw a woman
wandering around in a robe, barefoot, with wet hair.
We exited to the outside, on the south side of both Towers, onto West Street and were
ushered about a hundred yards away before we could stop to look back at the
building. At this point I was still with one of my Empire associates. She looked up and
screamed, There are people jumping from our building through the windows! We still
had no idea what had happened. I looked up and saw only debris and replied to
Susan that it was only debris.
As I continued to look at the fire escaping in huge masses from our building, I, too,
began to see not only the debris, but people jumping and hitting the ground. The
vision remains so very clear in my mind. It is another of the visions that still wakens
me during the night.
Then came the most horrendous, terrifying loud noise of the second plane going right
over our heads. We looked up and watched it go right into 2 WTC and explode with
such power. It was overwhelming. For a moment I thought I was an extra on a movie
set. My first thought was, What happened to the air traffic control?
And then, as I stood there in disbelief, looking at the two gaping holes, fire and
explosions, people screaming and jumping, I realized in the next seconds that this was
terrorists and remember screaming, Oh, my God, they are trying to kill us! I looked
at my friend Susan and we began to run. My first thought was to get as far away from
any large buildings as possible, so I began running south toward the Battery, the
water, the Statue of Liberty and Staten Island. I
kept yelling for Susan, but we soon became separated in the crowd. I later learned
that Susan, a small woman, was knocked down, picked up and clung to a fence until
the crowd cleared away. She, then, continued her run south, but we were separated

and did not make contact with each other again until the next day. I was alone in a
crowd, thousands of strangers.
Some people stood motionless just watching what was going on. I can recall
hundreds of cars, taxis, and trucks just sitting and waiting, for what I do not know. It
was an area of gridlock. Those who ran south, as I did, dropped briefcases, purses,
phones, beepers and women ran right out of their shoes.
I just continued to weave and dodge between the fallen items. Crowds of people still
frighten me and bring back the memory of that day. As I stand in line to enter a Giants
Game, a Rutgers Basketball or Football game, people in Penn Station or just walking
in the streets of Manhattan bring it all back.
People I saw were quite orderly and if someone fell, those behind quickly helped them
up. I saw no huge piles of people being trampled. I was focused on the Statue of
Liberty and did not once look back at either of the Twin Towers. I continuously called
numbers on my cell phone, frantically trying to reach my husband, a professor of
Science at Ocean County College in New Jersey, my sister, an administrator for a
group of Orthopedic Surgeons in Michigan, and two of my close girlfriends in New
Jersey.
I knew if I could get through to just one, they could contact the others and let them
know I had gotten out of the building. Everyone around me was doing the same and
occasionally someone would get through. No such luck for me.
As I finally got down to the Battery, I was away from any buildings and began focusing
on how to get off the Island of Manhattan and closer to New Jersey where I live.
People talked quietly among each other telling where they had been and how they got
out of their buildings.
I do not remember any other sounds, although I know the area was filled with
screaming, sirens, explosions, and falling debris. I decided to go to the entrance to
the Staten Island Ferry hoping to be one of the fortunate ones to get across the water.
I was one of the first ones in line for the Ferry.
Eventually, we were told one would come soon. As the Ferry docked to board
passengers it was a voluminous rush of people pushing to get on the ferry. Again, I
was lucky to be at the head of the line, and ran the full length of the ferry, up the stairs,
to the outside deck.
I did not want to be caught in the inside area of the boat in case it was hit or exploded.
I immediately opened the boxes under the seats and began putting life jackets on all
those around me. Just as the boat finished filling to its capacity, we heard the
explosion of Tower 2 crashing down, but did not know what it was.

The sky turned black and we could not see or breathe. I pulled my dress up over my
head to cover my face and eyes as the gray ash fell all over us. People were
screaming for the ferry to leave the dock. As it pulled away, people on shore were
climbing the fences and jumping into the river trying to get to the ferry. We were
throwing them life preservers but the ferry continued to move toward Staten Island.
Still, I had not been able to get through to my family or friends. I was scared for a
moment and thought about what I would do if the ferry was hit or sank. Somehow, I
knew I would survive, but was worried how I would hold onto by purse, cell phone and
briefcase. What a simple concern.
Someone at the rail yelled, They have hit the Pentagon!
As we moved further away from Manhattan the darkness and smoke began to lift and
the cry came out of the crowd that one of the Towers was gone. It was unfathomable
and we all were in disbelief, as these two Towers always stood for the strength of our
financial world. It was impossible to believe they were imploding.
I got up, went to the rail, and actually watched the second Tower implode. That was
1WTC, my building, from which I had just run. I wondered about all those still in the
buildings and those I ran past that just stood watching. I worried about whether the
planes had gone through the two Towers and landed on other buildings on the north
side.
Someone on board that had come from North of the Towers told me that the planes
remained contained in the two towers. The sound of the second plane exploding in
front of my eyes and in my ears still comes back when I hear a loud noise.
I finally got through on my cell phone to one of my girlfriends and got her voice mail.
When I heard her voice, I started to cry for the first time. I left her a voice mail that I
was alive, on the Staten Island Ferry, and to please call my husband and my sister, as
well as our friends. I knew once she checked her messages she would get the word
out. In the meantime, of course, everyone who knew I worked in 1WTC was frantic.
Three ladies visiting NYC from Austria comforted me. They barely spoke English and
had no idea where the boat was headed or what they would do. But they were alive
and were quite calm in unfamiliar territory. One of them spoke English fairly well and
we talked about my visits to Austria.
Most of the 45-minute trip was a daze, with thoughts going through my head,
wondering what I was doing on the Staten Island Ferry. It was very difficult to accept
what I was going through and what I was feeling. I just kept focused on one goal at a
time, with the ultimate goal to get home, one step at a time.
My husband, Bill, was conducting a science lab at the College and did not know that

anything had happened. His secretary came into his lab and told him his daughter
was on the phone. He thought that was very strange and would call her back. His
secretary said, No, Bill, I think you should take this call.
When he got to the phone it was his daughter Wendy. She quickly asked him, What
floor is Jane on? Bill answered, 1WTC, floor 17. Wendy then told him that a plane
had hit Tower 1 at about the 80th floor and Tower 2 was hit by another plane at about
the 60th floor.
In just a few seconds Bill responded to Wendy to remain calm and if anyone could get
out of the building I would find a way. He was mostly concerned that there might be
panic in the stairwells and I would get trapped. He knew if I got out of the building I
would know what to do and get myself out of harms way while most likely helping
others. His colleagues tried to send him home, but he knew it would be worse alone
at home watching the TV and waiting for a call.
He returned to his class. He stood at the front of the room and said to his class,
Terrorists have flown planes into both 1 and 2 WTC buildings and they are on fire and
exploding. My wife works in Tower 1. He allowed students to leave, or stay. Some
stayed so class continued.
When his class was finished he made the 20-minute trip home and sat in front of the
TV. It was three hours after the first plane hit before Bill received the message from
my friend that I was alive and on the Staten Island Ferry. I could not get through to
anyone to talk with them personally. The lines were jammed.
As the Ferry pulled up to Staten Island, I began to think about what I was going to do.
Just as I was thinking, I made eye contact with a young woman who appeared to know
where she was headed. I asked her if she knew how I could get a bus to New Jersey.
She was not aware of any busses but just replied, Come with me, I am taking the
Staten Island Subway (not connected to the Manhattan subways, so they were
running) to my home at the far south end of Staten Island, very close to the
OuterBridge crossing to New Jersey.
It sounded like a good plan for me since it would get me closer to my home in New
Jersey. She grabbed me by the hand and we rushed through the crowd and onto the
crowded train. Everyone made room for everyone who wanted to get on. It was quiet
at first and then we all began to talk, telling our stories as to where we were and how
we escaped the terror.
Some, like me, were in one of the Towers. Others, like my newfound friend, Jackie,
were in other downtown Wall Street area buildings, wanting to evacuate the area and
get to their homes and loved ones.
As the train continued through Staten Island, and began to thin out, I saw a man

standing quietly, leaning against one of the end doors between cars. He looked to be
in shock. His shirt and tie were askew and he looked quite distressed, almost
catatonic. I asked him if he was okay and where he had been. He was on the 80 th
floor of 2 WTC and was trying to leave the building via an elevator before it was hit.
The building was hit while he was in the elevator and the elevator stopped between
floors. He and the others in the elevator used what they had with them, and their own
hands, to break through the elevator doors, pulling them open only to find the drywall.
They, then, literally pounded through the drywall, pushed and pulled each other out,
found a stairwell, and completed their evacuation via the stairs.
Just before we got to the end of the line my cell phone rang. It was my stepdaughter,
Wendy. I spoke quickly for fear we would lose the connection. Again, I just said, I am
alive and okay, on the subway in Staten Island heading for the OuterBridge area.
Please call your dad and my sister, Patty. Wendy replied that she would and ended
the call with, I love you, Jane.
Jackies home was at the end of the line, where we exited the train and walked to her
house, got her car, and drove to a car service company where I tried to get someone
to drive me over the bridge to New Jersey. They immediately told me all the bridges
were closed and no one could leave or enter the Island via car.
So now what does she do with me? I was willing to stay at the car service and wait
until the bridges re-opened, but Jackie, said, we would go over to her parents home.
Her father, Dennis, is retired NYPD and was waiting for Jackie to get to his house.
Jackies husband was in Queens on an electrical job.
She spoke with him earlier and knew he was not in the WTC, where he was scheduled
to be for the day. Jackies sister is a NYPD Rookie, in Staten Island, and they
received a call from her saying that her unit was on the Ferry, heading for Manhattan,
to help with the disaster.
We all sat glued to the TV, watching the Towers explode over and over. It was mass
confusion and we could still not believe our eyes. Dennis was on the phone with
several of his former colleagues trying to get information. Relatives were coming and
going, checking on family members, hugging me, and comforting me as if I were one
of the family. Dennis asked if Jackie and I wanted something to drink and of course
we were both very thirsty and dry from the ash and smoke.
All I could think of was an ice-cold beer! He had only one, so Jackie and I shared it.
Can you imagine an ex-NYPD guy only having one beer in the house? Boy did it taste
good. Dennis quietly went out, was able to get through the streets and police
roadblocks, because of his status, and returned with another six-pack for us.
As the afternoon went on I was finally able to get through to Bill, my sister, Patty, and

my fathers wife, Isabel. Patty, who was at work when she first heard of the disaster,
tried watching the waiting room TV, and finally had to go home.
Isabel was doing volunteer work at the local hospital, watched a short bit on TV and
went immediately to the Hospital Chapel where she had prayed for my father, as he
was dying, just two months before. She remained in the Chapel, praying and trying to
give me strength until she heard from Patty that I was alive. Patty and Isabel then sat
together at Pattys home waiting to hear from me.
It was still very difficult to get phone calls through, even on land lines because so
much of the areas communications systems were blocked and some damaged by the
loss of the Towers. When I finally spoke with Bill, Patty, and Isabel we were only able
to talk for a few minutes. We were all crying and just thankful that I was alive.
I told them I was safe with a family in Staten Island and would try to keep them posted
as I continued to figure out how I would get home.
Jackies father, Dennis was eventually called into Manhattan by NYPD to help at what
we were already referring to as ground zero. As he left for the city, Jackie and I left to
return to her house, where her husband would soon be joining us. It took him over 6
hours to get from his work site in Queens, to Staten Island. (Normally no more than a
1-hour drive). It was mid afternoon by now and Jackies family was beginning to worry
about her sister.
Knowing now that both Towers had collapsed, and not knowing what time she arrived
at ground zero and what she was assigned to do, was of tremendous concern. Being
a long time NYPD family, they knew the uneasiness of not knowing where your loved
ones were or if they were in harms way.
Jackie said you never get over the feeling that a loved one might not return home at
the end of a shift or that another NYPD officer might show up at the door with the news
every police family dreads but lives with. Her Mother was still at school, where she
teaches in Staten Island, seeing that all the children were picked up by a parent or
relative, and was beginning to panic since she did not know the whereabouts of her
daughter.
As Jackie, her husband, Anthony and I sat in her living room, still glued to the TV; we
talked about our families and their recent wedding. They shared all their wedding
pictures and stories. I felt very much at home and like we had known each other for
years. We kept watching for announcements that the bridges were open. About 5pm
Jackie went up onto their roof and saw that the OuterBridge was just opening from
Staten Island to NJ, but it was still closed from NJ to Staten Island.
This meant, if I could find someone to take me over the bridge, I could get word to Bill
and he could drive the 45 miles from our home to pick me up. Jackie, Anthony, and I

jumped into the car and headed for the car service only to be stopped several times by
police barricades. Thankfully, they all knew Jackies family and let us through. When
we got to the car service I offered them $500 to take me over the bridge. I probably
would have gone higher but they said no to any amount, because there was no way
for the car to return to Staten Island.
So now what do I do? I asked Anthony to get me to the edge of the bridge and I would
hitchhike over. He was very hesitant, replying, Jane, I dont think I can do this. You
have just survived the WTC and I cant take the chance that any harm would come to
you on that bridge. After pleading with him, he agreed to drive to the bridge and
check out the situation.
After getting through more police checks, we got to a back way entrance to the bridge.
Cars were not yet going over. However, there was a car parked with two men in it.
Anthony said, Come on; lets see what they are doing. They were in the same
situation. One of the men wanted to get across the bridge to his car waiting at a
commuter train station and his friend, the driver, did not want to take him because he
would not be able to get back to his family.
So I said, OK this is good, Anthony, I can hitchhike with this guy and, together, we
should be okay. Anthony was still not happy about that because he did was not sure
about leaving me with an unknown man. Anthony then saw a NYPD officer; about 200
yards up on the bridge, and immediately took off for the officer. He explained the
situation and the officer told him he would personally flag down a car, check out the
driver, and make sure I was going to be safe. Anthony agreed, but still would not
leave me.
The officer flagged down the first car, a man alone, and asked him to drive us over the
bridge. The man refused. The second car was a van with 3-4 men and did not stop
as they were flagged. The third car was a woman, alone, and of course she stopped.
As coincidence would have it, she had a Secret Service Placard in the windshield.
The NYPD officer explained our situation and she immediately said, Of course, get in
and I will get you over the bridge. Anthony, the NYPD officer, and I all hugged and
into the car I went, waving to Jackie as we pulled away.
As soon as we were moving, the Secret Service person, Maggie, told us that she was
the General Office Manager for all NYC Secret Service and had the worst day of her
life. She then said, I will get you where you need to go, but I have just had too much
today, am having a panic attack, and can not drive.
She pulled over to the side of the bridge. The man traveling with us ran around to the
drivers seat, Maggie slid over to the passenger seat, and I began to hug her and
comfort her from the back seat. As she began to calm down she told us her story.

Maggies Secret Service office was in 7 WTC, connected underground to the Twin
Towers. After the second tower was hit, they began evacuating 7 WTC; she went
down the stairs with her two secretaries and two agents by her side. As they exited
the building on the north side of the Towers, they had to go through all the flying
debris, and bodies, both on the ground and jumping around them.
They went through body parts and horrendous war like scenes. Maggies feet and
legs were scratched and bleeding as they ran uptown to Chelsea Pier, where a Coast
Guard boat was waiting for them and took them to a secure underground site in
Newark, where they continued to work for the rest of the day.
About 4pm one of the agents took Maggie and one of her secretaries down the closed
NJ Turnpike, driving at over 150 miles per hour, to Maggies home in Sayreville, a town
in NJ, about 45 miles north of my home. Maggie, quickly changed her clothes and
began the trip to Staten Island, driving her secretary to her home, which just so
happened to be in the same part of Staten Island where I was.
Since she was Secret Service she was able to travel both ways over the bridge that
was being used only by emergency and law enforcement vehicles. She dropped her
secretary off and had just turned around for the return trip over the bridge when she
stopped for us.
We drove the man to Metro Park where his car was located. Maggie was still not able
to drive, so I got into the drivers seat and continued on our journey to Maggies town
home in Sayreville. Of course we talked of nothing else but the days events as we
traveled.
When we arrived at Maggies home, we sat down together, had something cool to
drink, and when I felt Maggie was calm, I asked to use the phone to call my husband,
Bill. Of course the line was busy. So I then called our very good friends, who live 5
minutes from our home. They have call waiting, so Jean took my call.
The reason our line was busy was because she was on the phone with Bill. We
quickly decided the best thing to do was to have her husband Bud get on the phone,
get the directions from Maggie, and then Jean and Bud would drive over to our house,
pick up Bill, and head north to get me.
Maggie and I sat quietly talking about our lives and our families as we waited the 45
minutes it took them to arrive. I called my sister to let her know I was very close to
home by now. I was one happy person an hour later as I saw the three of them drive
up. The tears came from my eyes as I ran out the door and into Bills arms. Then,
Jean and Buds hugs surrounded both Maggie and me. I finally felt safe.
My car was in the Middletown, NJ commuter parking lot along the Garden State
Parkway as we traveled south. I did not want to even stop for it. Of course, Bill would

have driven it, but I did not want to leave any of the three of them.
I said, Lets just leave the car and Bill and I will get it tomorrow. We all agreed and
continued on our way home. Bill and I did return to the train station the next day and
the number of cars left there was very large. It was apparent to us that so many of
those cars were owned by people who did not make it home and never would. We
learned over the next few days that Middletown, New Jersey had the greatest loss of
lives of any community in the New York metropolitan area.
I have only gone back into Manhattan a few times since 9/11; just going to the train
station, seeing the cars, getting on the train brings it all back. It is no longer something
I can do on a daily basis.
As we got closer to our home we decided to go to our favorite restaurant, Rods in Sea
Girt for dinner together. Needless to say, the restaurant was very empty and those
that were there were very solemn and quiet. Since we know all the staff, as we were
seated I began to tell my story as I quickly had two Manhattans, my favorite cocktail.
I then proceeded to order my favorite meal, shrimp cocktail, sirloin steak and onion
rings, followed by coffee and brownie la mode with vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, and
whipped cream. Good down home American comfort food, with my husband and dear
friends.
They finally dropped us off at home about 9:30 pm., more than 12 hours since the first
tower was hit. Our answering machine was loaded with calls and I started returning
them one by one. Each time I would hang up from one person the phone rang from
someone else.
I talked to Patty, Isabel, my nephews, Rick and David and their wives, Penny and
Nikki. My cousins from California, Michael and Judy called. Nikkis mother, Carolyn
called. My friends all called.
I was on the phone until almost 1 am and then tried to go to sleep, but sleep would not
come. I relived the day over and over. I may have slept fitfully for a few hours and was
back on the phone around 6am with the TV on.
It was all still unbelievable.