By Lina Irawan 
The devastation was immediate and catastrophic. Nearly 3,000 people died that morning across the four sites, with the overwhelming majority, 2,753 victims, perishing in New York City. The North Tower, struck first at 8:46 a.m. EDT, burned for 102 minutes before collapsing at 10:28 a.m. The South Tower, hit at 9:03 a.m., stood for only 56 minutes before its structural integrity failed, collapsing at 9:59 a.m. The sheer scale of the collapses, unprecedented in modern architectural history, sent massive plumes of dust and debris across Lower Manhattan, burying streets and buildings, and leaving an indelible scar on the city’s skyline and the nation’s psyche. The Pentagon attack killed 184 people, while all 40 passengers and crew aboard Flight 93, along with the four hijackers, perished in Pennsylvania. The heroism of first responders, who rushed into the burning towers even as others fled, and the bravery of the Flight 93 passengers, became enduring symbols of courage in the face of unimaginable horror.
The attacks reordered American life almost overnight, ushering in an era defined by heightened security concerns and a prolonged "War on Terror." Airport security was fundamentally transformed with the creation of the Transportation Security Administration (TSA), leading to stricter passenger screening, reinforced cockpit doors, and a pervasive sense of vigilance that continues to this day. On the geopolitical front, the attacks directly led to the U.S.-led invasions of Afghanistan in October 2001, targeting al-Qaeda and the Taliban regime that harbored them, and later Iraq in March 2003. Domestically, the Department of Homeland Security was established in November 2002, consolidating various federal agencies to enhance national security efforts. The psychological impact was profound, fostering a deep sense of vulnerability and unity, while simultaneously sparking debates about civil liberties, surveillance, and foreign policy.
Economically, Lower Manhattan, a vibrant financial hub, was crippled. Many firms lost not just their physical offices but a significant portion of their workforce in a single morning. The financial services industry, concentrated in and around the World Trade Center, faced unprecedented challenges, yet showed remarkable resilience in the aftermath. The human cost was immeasurable: New Yorkers of all ages, occupations, and backgrounds—from financiers and janitors to restaurant staff and first responders—were among the casualties. Beyond the immediate fatalities, thousands more suffered long-term health issues from exposure to toxic dust and debris.
Amidst the stories of devastating loss, a remarkable pattern emerged: tales of individuals who, by sheer chance, circumstance, or a twist of fate, were kept away from the World Trade Center towers, the Pentagon, or the ill-fated flights on that fateful morning. These "near misses" highlight the thin line between life and death on September 11, offering poignant reminders of the random nature of tragedy and the profound impact of seemingly minor decisions. Twenty-five years on (though the event was 20 years ago in the quoted source, and now 23 years ago in present day 2024, the sentiment remains), some of the people who were supposed to be in or near the towers continue recalling their fateful day, grappling with survivor’s guilt and a renewed appreciation for life. Among them are prominent figures like current Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick and former Senator Mitt Romney.
Howard Lutnick, then the CEO of investment bank Cantor Fitzgerald, epitomizes the profound personal and professional devastation of 9/11, coupled with an extraordinary story of survival and resilience. Cantor Fitzgerald occupied the 101st to 105th floors of the North Tower, directly above where American Airlines Flight 11 struck. Lutnick was normally at his desk by 6 a.m., a habit that would have placed him squarely in the impact zone. However, on September 11, 2001, his wife, Edie, asked him to take their son Kyle to his first day of kindergarten. "So it was my son Kyle’s first day of kindergarten," he told NPR in 2016, recalling the seemingly ordinary parental duty that became his improbable salvation. His phone kept ringing that morning, unable to connect; he later learned it was his brother, Gary Lutnick, a partner at Cantor Fitzgerald, desperately trying to reach him to say goodbye. Gary, who went to work as usual, was among the 658 Cantor Fitzgerald employees—two-thirds of its New York workforce—who died. The firm suffered the largest loss of life of any company in the World Trade Center. In the immediate aftermath, Lutnick made the agonizing decision to continue paying the salaries and benefits of his deceased employees’ families for years, a testament to his commitment to his lost colleagues. His leadership in rebuilding Cantor Fitzgerald from the ashes, and his philanthropic efforts through the Cantor Fitzgerald Relief Fund, which has distributed over $180 million to victims’ families, became a powerful narrative of compassion and corporate responsibility. Today, Lutnick serves as the U.S. Secretary of Commerce, a role he took after a distinguished career marked by this profound experience.
Larry Silverstein, the real estate mogul who had signed a 99-year lease on the entire World Trade Center complex just six weeks prior to the attacks, also narrowly escaped death. His daily routine included breakfast meetings at Windows on the World, the opulent restaurant perched on the 106th and 107th floors of the North Tower. It was an iconic venue offering panoramic views of the city, and a regular gathering place for Silverstein and his associates. On September 11, however, his wife, Klara, booked him a dermatologist appointment for that morning. "You learn early on to say, ‘Yes, dear,’" he recalled, highlighting the seemingly trivial marital compliance that saved his life. The near misses extended through his inner circle: his children, Roger and Lisa, were both running late to the same meeting in the towers, and his longtime aide, Geoffrey Wharton, cut breakfast short and rode the elevator down at 8:44 a.m., a mere two minutes before the first plane struck. Tragically, no one else at Windows on the World that morning survived. Silverstein, despite the immense personal and financial loss, became the driving force behind the arduous and complex rebuilding of the World Trade Center site, dedicating decades to transforming Ground Zero into a symbol of renewal and resilience.
Michael Lomonaco, the executive chef at Windows on the World, shared a similar brush with fate. That day, he made a quick stop at a shop on the concourse level of the World Trade Center to get his glasses adjusted. He was still there, below ground, when American Airlines Flight 11 slammed into the North Tower directly above him. "It saved my life," he said, reflecting on the mundane errand that diverted him from the restaurant where he would have been preparing for the day’s service. More than 30 of his kitchen staff died in the attack. In the years since, Lomonaco has dedicated himself to honoring their memory and supporting their families, raising nearly $25 million for restaurant workers’ families through various initiatives, including the Windows of Hope Family Relief Fund, which he co-founded. His story underscores the devastating impact on the service industry and the tight-knit community of the WTC.
Jim Pierce, a managing director at Aon Corporation and a cousin of then-President George W. Bush, was scheduled for a meeting on one of the top floors of the South Tower. Aon occupied multiple floors, and its offices were heavily impacted. Fortuitously, the scheduled meeting grew too large for the intended conference room, prompting a last-minute relocation to a nearby building. While Pierce and many others were saved by this change, a tragic oversight meant that 12 people never received word of the new location; 11 of them died. From his new vantage point next door, Pierce watched in horror as the second plane, United Airlines Flight 175, struck the South Tower. "I knew we were under attack," he said, vividly describing the horrific scene of bodies falling from the towers and the ensuing chaos on the streets below. His experience highlights the devastating ripple effect of the attacks and the arbitrary nature of who lived and who died.
Mitt Romney, then president of the Salt Lake Organizing Committee for the 2002 Winter Olympics, was slated to be in New York City on September 11 to unveil the Games’ torchbearers at a major press conference adjacent to the World Trade Center at Battery Park. A funding dispute in Congress over Olympic security money, however, kept him in Washington, D.C., for crucial meetings. "We had planned to be in New York City on the 11th," he wrote. "Our team had planned an elaborate press conference adjacent to the World Trade Center at Battery Park." This political wrangling, an unexpected bureaucratic delay, ultimately diverted him from a location that would have been engulfed in the immediate aftermath of the attacks. His escape underscores how even high-level political decisions, seemingly unrelated to the looming tragedy, played a role in who was spared.
Duchess of York Sarah Ferguson, known as Fergie, was also meant to be in the North Tower that morning. Her charity, "Children in Crisis," operated an office on the 101st floor. She missed a scheduled meeting there because an interview she was conducting ran longer than expected. "I was meant to be there that morning," she wrote, reflecting on the small professional delay that became a life-saving grace. In a poignant symbol of remembrance, her charity’s mascot doll, "Little Red," was later found remarkably intact in the rubble of the North Tower and now resides in the 9/11 Memorial & Museum, a silent testament to the lives lost and those miraculously spared.
Jimmy Dunne, a co-founder of the investment bank Sandler O’Neill & Partners, was another individual whose routine was disrupted by an innocuous event. His firm occupied the 104th floor of the South Tower, placing him in the direct path of United Airlines Flight 175. However, on September 11, Dunne was 50 miles north of the city, attempting to qualify for a golf championship. This seemingly ordinary pursuit saved him. Sandler O’Neill & Partners suffered immense losses, with 66 of its 171 employees dying in the attack. Dunne, like Howard Lutnick, faced the daunting task of rebuilding a company shattered by unimaginable grief. He still marks his golf ball with a "Q" in honor of his colleague Christopher Quackenbush, one of the 66 who didn’t make it out. His story is a powerful narrative of personal loss, corporate tragedy, and the long, painful road to recovery and remembrance.
Even Hollywood figures found themselves inadvertently dodging fate on 9/11. Actor Mark Wahlberg and cartoonist/producer Seth MacFarlane were both booked on American Airlines Flight 11, the first plane to hit the North Tower. Wahlberg canceled his seat a week early to attend the Toronto Film Festival instead. He later drew criticism for a controversial comment to Men’s Journal, stating that had he been aboard, "it wouldn’t have went down like it did," implying he would have intervened. He subsequently apologized for the insensitive remark, acknowledging the pain it caused. Seth MacFarlane, creator of "Family Guy," missed the very same flight by minutes after his travel agent mistakenly gave him the wrong departure time. "I said, ‘Yeah, I’m booked on Flight 11,’" he recalled, describing the chilling realization of how close he came to being a victim. These incidents, while less central to the immediate catastrophe in New York, underscore the widespread and random nature of the attacks, demonstrating how even individuals far removed from the World Trade Center itself were intimately touched by the day’s events.
The stories of these individuals, saved by a late alarm, a changed plan, a family obligation, or a chance appointment, stand in stark contrast to the nearly 3,000 lives tragically lost. They serve as a powerful reminder of the capriciousness of fate on a day that forever changed America. As the nation continues to reflect on 9/11, these narratives of near misses offer a unique lens through which to understand the human dimension of the tragedy, emphasizing the value of each life, the randomness of survival, and the enduring strength of the human spirit in the face of unimaginable adversity. The 9/11 Memorial & Museum stands as a solemn testament to those who perished, while the stories of survivors and near misses continue to weave into the fabric of remembrance, ensuring that the lessons and legacies of that devastating day are never forgotten.
