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I’m officially throwing my hat into the ring to become the new United States Press Secretary
Shoot me a dm @realDonaldTrump and let’s chat
I’m ready to serve this country 🇺🇸
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Someone is coming for my Dad's Title #FatherOfTheYear
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If Yankee fans are going to read anything we should read Howard Bryant's Substack piece on why the Yankees as we knew them died and how it is a concerted effort from MLB. howardbryant.substack.com/p/…
#GMFO SEVENTH FIRST!!
LET’S ROLL
Senator John McCain announces that United Airlines Flight 93 passengers Mark Bingham, Todd Beamer, Tom Burnett, and Jeremy Glick brought down the aircraft to prevent the terrorists from using it. He praises their actions.
This is the first time that the American public learns of the four men and their heroism.
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I am a man of my word. Getting in the Taurus right now to drive to Albuquerque
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College GameDay@CollegeGameDaySep 12
United States
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No, just no.
Twenty five years ago today, a 62 year old man with cancer in his bones walked 2,687 people out of the South Tower, and then he went back inside.
Rick Rescorla was born in Hayle, Cornwall in 1939. British Parachute Regiment in Cyprus at 18. Colonial police in Northern Rhodesia. Then he came to America, enlisted in the US Army in 1963, and in November 1965 he went into the Ia Drang Valley as a platoon leader with the 2nd Battalion, 7th Cavalry.
Hal Moore called him the best platoon leader he ever saw. His men called him Hard Core. He sang to them in the dark, Wild Colonial Boy in an Australian accent, because he had worked out that men who are singing are not men who are panicking. That is Rescorla on the cover of We Were Soldiers Once and Young, bayonet fixed.
Thirty five years later he was head of security for Dean Witter, later Morgan Stanley, in the South Tower of the World Trade Center.
In 1990 he brought in his old friend Dan Hill and the two of them walked the basement. He warned the Port Authority that the parking garage was wide open, that somebody could drive in a truck full of explosives, walk out and light it off. Nothing was done. Three years later the 1993 bomb went off about thirty feet from the spot he had flagged.
After that he told Morgan Stanley the towers were still a target and the next attack would come out of the sky. He wanted the firm to leave Manhattan. The lease ran to 2006, so they stayed. Twenty two floors of the South Tower, roughly 2,700 people.
So he drilled them. Every three months, everyone, no exceptions, down the stairwells two abreast while he stood there with a stopwatch. Traders pulling seven figures resented being marched down concrete stairs by a Cornishman with a clipboard. He kept doing it anyway.
8:46 a.m. The North Tower is hit. Port Authority comes over the South Tower loudspeakers and tells everyone the building is secure and to go back to their desks. Rescorla picks up a bullhorn and tells his people to get out.
He phones Dan Hill. "The dumb sons of bitches told me not to evacuate. They said it's just Building One. I told them I'm getting my people out of here."
9:03 a.m. The second plane hits the South Tower, floors 77 through 85. His people are already in the stairwells, moving exactly the way they had been drilled, and Rescorla is on the bullhorn singing to them. Cornish songs. A version of Men of Harlech he had rewritten for Cornwall. Men of Cornwall stop your dreaming, can't you see their spearpoints gleaming.
He called his wife Susan from the stairs. They had been married two and a half years, met jogging in New Jersey. He told her to stop crying, that he had to get these people out safely, and that if something happened to him he wanted her to know he had never been happier, that she made his life.
Someone told him to get out. He said, as soon as I make sure everyone else is out.
2,687 Morgan Stanley employees went home that day. Thirteen did not, and four of those were Rescorla and the men who stayed in the building with him: Wesley Mercer, Jorge Velazquez, Godwin Forde.
He was last seen on the 10th floor, walking up.
The South Tower fell at 9:59. They never found him.
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🇺🇲 Twenty-five years on, that footage is worth sitting with for exactly what it withholds: nothing. No smoke, no sirens, commuters and a skyline going about an ordinary Tuesday, five minutes before 8:46am changed what those buildings meant forever. The clip's entire power is that it contains zero information about what's coming, which is precisely the point historical footage like this exists to preserve, the world as it looked in the last minutes it still made sense.
We're publishing this on the anniversary itself, in a month that's carried its own weight. Nothing erases what September 11 was or what it still asks of anyone who covers conflict: that the ordinary morning and the catastrophic one are separated by nothing more than five minutes nobody sees coming.
#September11
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Cam@Cam31SchlittlerSep 3
United States
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