letter sent by

Editors Note: The best I can tell this is a real and true story.
Attempts to contact the author of this letter is still being attempted.
His name is Adam Mayblum, and he has one hell of a story to tell.

A Survivor's Story:

My name is Adam Mayblum. I am alive today. I am committing this to
"paper" so I never forget. SO WE NEVER FORGET. I am sure that this is
one of thousands of stories that will emerge over the next several days
and weeks.

I arrived as usual a little before 8am. My office was on the 87th floor
of 1 World Trade Center, AKA: Tower 1, AKA: the
North Tower. Most of my associates were in by 8:30m. We were standing
around, joking around, eating breakfast, checking emails, and getting
set for the day when the first plane hit just a few stories above us. I
must stress that we did not know that it was a plane. The building
lurched violently and shook as if it were an earthquake. People
screamed. I watched out my window as the building seemed to move 10 to
20 feet in each direction. It rumbled and shook long enough for me to
get my wits about myself and grab a co-worker and seek shelter under a
doorway. Light fixtures and parts of the ceiling collapsed. The kitchen
was destroyed. We were certain that it was a bomb. We looked out the
windows. Reams of paper were flying everywhere, like a ticker tape
parade. I looked down at the street. I could see people in Battery Park
City looking up. Smoke started
billowing in through the holes in the ceiling. I believe that there were
13 of us.

We did not panic. I can only assume that we thought that the
worst was over. The building was standing and we were shaken but alive.
We checked the halls. The smoke was thick and white and did not smell
like I imagined smoke should smell. Not like your BBQ or your fireplace
or even a bonfire. The phones were working. My wife had taken our 9
month old for his check up. I called my nanny at home and told her to
page my wife, tell her that a bomb went off, I was ok, and on my way
out. I grabbed my laptop. Took off my tee shirt and ripped it into 3
pieces. Soaked it in water. Gave 2 pieces to my friends. Tied my piece
around my face to act as an air filter. And we all started moving to the
staircase. One of my dearest friends said that he was staying until the
police or firemen came to get him. In the halls there were tiny fires
and sparks. The ceiling had collapsed in the men's bathroom. It was gone
along with anyone who may have been in there. We did not go in to look.
We missed the staircase on the first run and had to double back. Once in
the staircase we picked up fire extinguishers just in case. On the 85th
floor a brave associate of mine and I headed back up to our office to
drag out my partner who stayed behind. There was no air, just white
smoke. We made the rounds through the office calling his name. No
response. He must have succumbed to the smoke. We left defeated in our
efforts and made our way back to the stairwell. We proceeded to the 78th
floor where we had to change over to a different stairwell. 78 is the
main junction to switch to the upper floors. I expected to see more
people. There were some 50 to 60 more. Not enough. Wires and fires all
over the place. Smoke too. A brave man was fighting a fire with the
emergency hose. I stopped with to friends to make sure that everyone
from our office was accounted for. We ushered them and confused people
into the stairwell. In retrospect, I recall seeing Harry, my head
trader, doing the same several yards behind me. I am only 35. I have
known him for over 14 years. I headed into the stairwell with 2
friends.

We were moving down very orderly in Stair Case A. very slowly.
No panic. At least not overt panic. My legs could not stop shaking. My
heart was pounding. Some nervous jokes and laughter. I made a crack
about ruining a brand new pair of Merrells. Even still, they were right,
my feet felt great. We all laughed. We checked our cell phones.
Surprisingly, there was a very good signal, but the Sprint network was
jammed. I heard that the Blackberry 2 way email devices worked
perfectly. On the phones, 1 out of 20 dial attempts got through. I knew
I could not reach my wife so I called my parents. I told them what
happened and that we were all okay and on the way down. Soon, my sister
in law reached me. I told her we were fine and moving down. I believe
that was about the 65th floor. We were bored and nervous. I called my
friend Angel in San Francisco. I knew he would be watching. He was
amazed I was on the phone. He told me to get out that there was another
plane on its way. I did not know what he was talking about. By now the
second plane had struck Tower 2. We were so deep into the middle of our
building that we did not hear or feel anything. We had no idea what was
really going on. We kept making way for wounded to go down ahead of us.
Not many of them, just a few. No one seemed seriously wounded. Just some
cuts and scrapes. Everyone cooperated. Everyone was a hero yesterday. No
questions asked. I had co-workers in another office on the 77th floor. I
tried dozens of times to get them on their cell phones or office lines.
It was futile. Later I found that they were alive. One of the many
miracles on a day of tragedy.

On the 53rd floor we came across a very heavyset man sitting
on the stairs. I asked if he needed help or was he just resting. He
needed help. I knew I would have trouble carrying him because I have a
very bad back. But my friend and I offered anyway. We told him he could
lean on us. He hesitated, I don't know why. I said do you want to come
or do you want us to send help for you. He chose for help. I told him he
was on the 53rd floor in Stairwell A and that's what I would tell the
rescue workers. He said okay and we
left.

On the 44th floor my phone rang again. It was my parents. They
were hysterical. I said relax, I'm fine. My father said get out, there
is third plane coming. I still did not understand. I was kind of angry.
What did my parents think? Like I needed some other reason to get going?
I couldn't move the thousand people in front of me any faster. I know
they love me, but no one inside understood what the situation really
was. My parents did. Starting around this floor the firemen, policemen,
WTC K-9 units without the dogs, anyone with a badge, started coming up
as we were heading down. I stopped a lot of them and told them about the
man on 53 and my friend on 87. I later felt terrible about this. They
headed up to find those people and met death instead.

On the 33rd floor I spoke with a man who somehow new most of
the details. He said 2 small planes hit the building. Now we all started
talking about which terrorist group it was. Was it an internal
organization or an external one? The overwhelming but uninformed opinion
was Islamic Fanatics. Regardless, we now knew that it was not a bomb and
there were potentially more planes coming. We understood.

On the 3r floor the lights went out and we heard & felt this
rumbling coming towards us from above. I thought the staircase was
collapsing upon itself. It was 10am now and that was Tower 2
collapsing next door. We did not know that. Someone had a flashlight. We
passed it forward and left the stairwell and headed down a dark and
cramped corridor to an exit. We could not see at all. I recommended that
everyone place a hand on the shoulder of the person in front of them and
call out if they hit an obstacle so others would know to avoid it. They
did. It worked perfectly. We reached another stairwell and saw a female
officer emerge soaking wet and covered in soot. She said we could not go
that way it was blocked. Go up to 4 and use the other exit. Just as we
started up she said it was ok to go down instead. There was water
everywhere. I called out for hands on shoulders again and she said that
was a great idea. She stayed behind instructing people to do that. I do
not know what happened to her.

We emerged into an enormous room. It was light but filled with
smoke. I commented to a friend that it must be under
construction. Then we realized where we were. It was the second floor.
The one that overlooks the lobby. We were ushered out into the
courtyard, the one where the fountain used to be. My first thought was
of a TV movie I saw once about nuclear winter and fallout. I could not
understand where all of the debris came from. There was at least five
inches of this gray pasty dusty drywall soot on the ground as well as a
thickness of it in the air. Twisted steel and wires. I heard there were
bodies and body parts as well, but I did not look. It was bad enough. We
hid under the remaining overhangs and moved out to the street. We were
told to keep walking towards Houston Street. The odd thing is that there
were very few rescue workers around. Less than five. They all must have
been trapped under the debris when Tower 2 fell. We did not know that
and could not understand where all of that debris came from. It was just
my friend Kern and I now. We were hugging but sad. We felt certain that
most of our friends ahead of us died and we knew no one behind us.

We came upon a post office several blocks away. We stopped and
looked up. Our building, exactly where our office is (was), was engulfed
in flame and smoke. A postal worker said that Tower 2 had fallen down. I
looked again and sure enough it was gone. My heart was racing. We kept
trying to call our families. I could not get in touch with my wife.
Finally I got through to my parents. Relived is not the word to explain
their feelings. They got through to my wife, thank G-d and let her know
I was alive. We sat down. A girl on a bike offered us some water. Just
as she took the cap off her bottle we heard a rumble. We looked up and
our building, Tower 1 collapsed. I did not note the time but I am told
it was 10:30am. We had been out less than 15 minutes.

We were mourning our lost friends, particularly the one who
stayed in the office as we were now sure that he had perished. We
started walking towards Union Square. I was going to Beth Israel Medical
Center to be looked at. We stopped to hear the President speaking on the
radio. My phone rang. It was my wife. I think I fell to my knees crying
when I heard her voice. Then she told me the most incredible thing. My
partner who had stayed behind called her. He was alive and well. I guess
we just lost him in the commotion. We started jumping and hugging and
shouting. I told my wife that my brother had arranged for a hotel in
midtown. He can be very resourceful in that way. I told her I would call
her from there. My brother and I managed to get a gypsy cab to take us
home to Westchester instead. I cried on my son and held my wife until I
fell asleep.

As it turns out my partner, the one who I thought had stayed
behind was behind us with Harry Ramos, our head trader. This is now
second hand information. They came upon Victor, the heavyset man on the
53rd floor. They helped him. He
could barely move. My partner bravely/stupidly tested the elevator on
the 52nd floor. He rode it down to the sky lobby on 44. The doors
opened, it was fine. He rode it back up and got Harry and Victor. I
don't yet know if anyone else joined them. Once on 44 they made their
way back into the stairwell. Someplace around the 39th to 36th floors
they felt the same rumble I felt on the 3rd floor. It was 10am and Tower
2 was coming down. They had about 30 minutes to get out. Victor said he
could no longer move. They offered to have him lead on them. He said he
couldn't do it. My partner hollered at him to sit on his butt and
schooch down the steps. He said he was not capable of doing it. Harry
told my partner to go ahead of them. Harry had once had a heart attack
and was worried about this mans heart. It was his nature to be this way.
He was/is one of the kindest people I know. He would not leave a man
behind. My partner went ahead and made it out. He said he was out maybe
10 minutes
before the building came down. This means that Harry had maybe 25
minutes to move Victor 36 floors. I guess they moved 1 floor every 1.5
minutes. Just a guess. This means Harry wad around the 20th floor when
the building collapsed.
As of now 12 of 13 people are accounted for. As of 6pm yesterday his
wife had not heard from him. I fear that Harry is lost. However, a short
while ago I heard that he may be alive. Apparently there is a web site
with survivor names on it and his name appears there. Unfortunately,
Ramos is not an uncommon name in New York. Pray for him and all those
like him.