Photograph by Katja Heinemann

I photographed the collapse of the Twin Towers from Jersey City’s harbor, just across the Hudson River from the World Trade Center. After the first tower had fallen, I briefly went home and saw what I had just witnessed reproduced on TV. I sensed that my experience of watching the South Tower fall was being supplanted by the repetitive, numbing loop of imagery on CNN, accompanied by the pundits’ analyses of what it all had to mean.

I arrived back at the harbor just as the second tower fell. By this time, evacuation efforts had begun and people were being ferried across the river to safety. A young woman, in shock, covered with dust, told me about seeing people jump from the towers to their deaths. Her testimony brought home how removed I felt from what was happening across the river.

Like many others in Jersey City, I had been on my way to Lower Manhattan when the attacks occurred. We were unable to cross into the city that day. All afternoon, as the Manhattan skyline burned, people came to the waterfront to take in the sight. For the first time since Pearl Harbor, an act of war and destruction, of outside aggression, had been visited upon America. Yet although we were eye witnesses to the events unfolding in time, separated from the scene only by the width of the river, there prevailed a sense of detachment that suspended onlookers in a strange limbo on this beautiful early fall day.

The following morning I was one of maybe three people who managed to get on the first – and only – passenger ferry into Manhattan.

Photograph by Katja Heinemann

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On September 11, 2001, Katja Heinemann had just moved to the NYC area from Chicago to pursue a career as a freelance photojournalist. Today she is living in Brooklyn and works on long term documentary projects while shooting reportage, portraiture and multimedia assignments for American and European clients. She joined Aurora in 2003.

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On the 10 year anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks, Aurora Photos published a series of essays on our blog by Aurora photographers and staff who were in New York, Washington, or Pennsylvania on that day, or covered the events of 9/11 in the days following the attacks.

Photograph by Klaus Reisinger

I was on the subway in Brooklyn on the way to my job as the Picture Editor for Time.com when someone stepped into the car with the news that a plane had flown into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. They spoke of it loudly and the news spread with murmurs throughout the car. We were stopped underground for a while, and when we finally emerged, crossing the Manhattan Bridge, we had a clear view of both towers with smoke pouring from both of them. The car went quiet.

When we reached midtown, I sprinted from the subway to the Time Life Building where people in the newsroom were already gathering around televisions and trying to begin to cover what was happening. I quickly put up a video grab on our site that had been taken from a television helicopter news team of the burning towers as we waited for more news and pictures. I tried to reach my aunt who worked in one of the financial buildings, but she wasn’t at home or in her office. I later found out that she had also been on the subway on her way to work, but her train was stopped and emptied, and thankfully she never made it to work that day.

We watched the television in disbelief and horror as the first tower came down. Running to the windows of someone’s corner office, looking down Sixth Avenue, we could see the cloud of dust begin to rise over lower Manhattan.

I began to put together some web galleries from the pictures that had started to come across the wires, while the magazine began to work on the special issue that would be released 2 days later. I looked at thousands of pictures that day, thousands of really horrible pictures, some we published, and some I didn’t and couldn’t.

Most of the next three days are a blur — I really don’t remember much about it. Our assistant photo editor was stuck in Brooklyn and couldn’t get in, and I couldn’t go back to Brooklyn. At some point that night I went and stayed at the apartment of a picture editor who lived in Manhattan. When I finally settled onto her couch and thought about everything that had happened — specifically the pictures of people jumping from the buildings, one of the things we didn’t publish online– I broke down.

On Wednesday or Thursday I began to put together the photo essay “Shattered” by James Nachtwey. He was at home in his lower Manhattan apartment when the first plane struck and he was one of the first photographers on the scene. The powerful images of the tragedy that Nachtwey brought back from the collapse of the Trade Centers and the aftermath had over 2 million views in the first day and became the most viewed photo essay in the website’s history.

After three days I eventually made it back to my Brooklyn apartment. Life resumed, but like many things in and outside of New York City, the morning trip over the Manhattan Bridge was never the same.

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On September 11, 2001, Karl Schatz was the Online Picture Editor for Time Magazine. Today he is the Director of Aurora Photos, and lives with his wife and 2 daughters on their 10 acre homestead in Southern Maine.

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On the 10 year anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks, Aurora Photos published a series of essays on our blog by Aurora photographers and staff who were in New York, Washington, or Pennsylvania on that day, or covered the events of 9/11 in the days following the attacks.

The phone rang, jarring my wife and I from our sleep. Dawn was just creeping under our bedroom shade, but the feeling of dread had already enveloped the room before I grabbed the handset. I had no idea why the phone was ringing, but I did know that the likelihood of the other person bearing good news was nearly nonexistent.

“Turn on the TV” my brother in Rhode Island hollered into the phone. “Quick!”

I hung up and scrambled across the house to turn on the television without waking our five-year-old son. The phone began to ring again. I managed to catch a glimpse of Tower One on fire while grabbing the handset fully expecting to hear my brother’s frantic voice again. But this time it was Martha Bardach, TIME magazine’s West Coast Photo Editor, asking that I get to downtown Los Angeles as soon as possible. No one knew where other attacks might occur, she said, but one rumor had it that a plane was heading for Los Angeles.

I made it to LA and began photographing as people assembled on the streets, talking on their cell phones, looking skyward with a sense of disbelief. The plane, thankfully, never materialized and people started to make their way home only hours after arriving for work. By this time it was being reported that the U.S. had been attacked by terrorists, yet LA had not directly been hit. I ventured across the city to the Federal Building near UCLA and found that the FBI were guarding the facility with assault rifles while listening intently to earpieces. At a nearby newsstand, a growing number of people were gathering. I stopped and began photographing as Angelenos (or were we all Americans at that point, I remember wondering), desperate for news and information, scrambled for position and thrust their money at the clerk in attempts to claim a copy of the LA Time’s extra edition published only hours after the terrorist attacks. “TERROR ATTACK” screamed the headline.

Hours later, I was sent by TIME to document citizens lining up at a Red Cross facility to donate blood for the victims and then onto a large, non denominational prayer service where tears flowed, heads bowed and prayers went out to victims and their families.

I then drove home to my wife and son who were safe and healthy. I cried along with my wife that night, knowing that the world had changed fifteen hours earlier when I reached for the phone.

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On September 11, 2001, Aurora photographer Todd Bigelow was a freelance photographer based in Los Angeles working for a variety of national and international magazines. Today, Todd continues his freelancing for Sports Illustrated, Time, Smithsonian and others while teaching digital photography a few hours each week at UCLA. He still lives in Los Angeles with his wife and (now 15 yr old) son.

To view more images from Todd Bigelow, visit Aurora Photos.

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On the 10 year anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks, Aurora Photos published a series of essays on our blog by Aurora photographers and staff who were in New York, Washington, or Pennsylvania on that day, or covered the events of 9/11 in the days following the attacks.

Photograph by Scott Goldsmith

It was 9am when I heard the news after turning on the TV as I poured a second cup of coffee. I was stunned right along with the whole country.

When ABC’s Peter Jennings mentioned that the south building had collapsed around 10am I tried to make sense out of his words. Ten years later it’s still difficult to comprehend the magnitude of that day. Despite feeling helpless, my journalistic blood started to flow, and I packed a small suitcase along with my gear to make the seven-hour drive to New York.

Around noon a friend from Arkansas called to see if I was ok. That’s when I learned United flight 93 crashed into a field in Pennsylvania. My plans quickly changed when US News & World Report called and asked me to cover the crash in Shanksville. Not knowing how long I would be there, I drove to my photo lab in the city to buy extra film. I was met with gridlock. Most of the city employees began to leave for home or to pick up their children from school.

As I sat stalled in traffic I called the photo lab to ask if they could get several bricks of film ready for pickup. Lab owner Tony Marshall walked the film to my car almost 7 blocks away. It was the first of many acts of kindness that emanated from that day as we all struggled with the known and unknown. The kindness was infectious in the days and weeks to come.

Photograph by Scott Goldsmith

I drove to Shanksville listening the radio news. Looking back, I barely remember the drive before the turnpike exit in Sommerset PA.

Upon arrival, I noticed 5 satellite TV trucks with crew had populated a soybean field along with a handful of still photographers and writers. All media was asked to wait on the side of the field for instructions about viewing the crash site. I began to scout the thick forest for a way to sneak in. I have done many ill advised things to make photos and quickly came to my senses when a policeman mentioned the arrest of 2 people trespassing in the crime scene area.

While New York was full of chaos, unfolding cataclysm and escalating human tragedy, Shanksville was the opposite. No sirens. No screaming. No smoke. No turmoil. The tranquility was eerie knowing that a plane crash had killed 40 people earlier that day. As I waited with fellow journalists, I started to photograph the surroundings until a school bus transported us about a quarter mile to a hilltop overlooking the impact site.

From the top of the hill we could see the blackened impact crater surrounded by people in white protective suits. They were scouring the rubble inside the 20-foot crater and along it’s perimeter. The tall pine tress along the edge of the forest behind the crater were blackened several trees deep. Police tape kept us quarantined to the specified hilltop area.

As the sun was setting, Pennsylvania Governor Tom Ridge landed by helicopter in the soybean field and held a press conference.

The latest Fed Ex shipping point out was at the Pittsburgh airport two hours away, and I rushed to ship my film to DC, arriving 10 minutes before the Fed EX drop closed.

When I arrived home that night, a repeat of the Governor Ridge press conference was blaring on the TV in my dark house. My black cup of coffee from the morning was still waiting.

Photograph by Scott Goldsmith

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On September 11, 2001, Aurora Contributor Scott Goldsmith was a contract photographer with US News & World Report living in Pittsburgh PA. He covered the tragedy in Pennsylvania for the magazine and has continued his work in Shanksville as a personal project. The work will be published as a book.

To view more images from Scott Goldsmith visit Aurora Photos.
To view The Forgotten Part of 9/11, visit Time Magazine.

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On the 10 year anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks, Aurora Photos published a series of essays on our blog by Aurora photographers and staff who were in New York, Washington, or Pennsylvania on that day, or covered the events of 9/11 in the days following the attacks.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was on the commuter train from my home in Katonah to New York City, about an hour ride. I was catching a little extra sleep that morning as I had been working late the night before, when my phone rang stirring me from sleep. It was Paul Melcher, the VP of sales at ImageDirect, where I was working at the time. Still half asleep, I started to understand that he was asking if I had cameras with me. Thinking that he was trying to locate some of the digital cameras the company owned, I explained that I had left everything in the office since I was only going to be home for a couple of hours. He then explained that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I should hurry in as soon as possible. As I hung up the phone, I remember thinking a small private plane had crashed. Slowly I realized that the normally quiet train was abuzz with phones ringing and nervous conversation. The news and magnitude of the event was quickly spreading through the normally isolated train car.

I arrived at Grand Central Station and immediately darted to one of the big newsstands I knew had televisions mounted on the walls. A crowd was gathered watching the towers burning from the plane impact on each tower. After a few minutes of shock, as the severity of the event sunk in, I moved toward the subway to get down to our offices at the corner of Broadway and Houston street. I must have caught one of the last subway trains before all mass transit was stopped for the day.

At the office, I rushed in to gather some cameras. Someone suggested the roof, I grabbed a camera, tripod, and 300mm lens. On the roof I took pictures of the burning towers, just visible above the rooftops of Soho. Suddenly we watched the first tower crumble, then the second. I think I just held down the shutter to capture the sequence, as words of disbelief emanated from my mouth. There was nothing but smoke left to see from the rooftop.

Back down in the office, the mood ranged from hectic activity moving the pictures, to discussions of fear about what we should be doing. Some were packing up and heading home, others staying to provide whatever news coverage possible. After a short time, I gathered up some gear and a laptop to see what I could cover from the streets. I tried to head down Broadway towards ground zero, but could only make it about a block going against the dense crowd of people walking north on Broadway. The road which is normally only vehicle traffic heading south, was filled curb to curb with people trying to get out of NYC.

I cut over west through Soho and reached Varick street where I came upon an emergency management command center vehicle. A crowd of press were gathered, someone said Mayor Giuliani was inside. I talked a bit with Craig Blankenhorn, another photographer, as we waited to see if Giuliani would come out to make a statement. After a short time, we decided to head south together towards the site of the World Trade Center.

Somewhere south of Canal Street, maybe around Church and Chambers streets, just a few blocks from ground zero, we encountered a police barricade. We quickly separated to try to blend in and get through. I was deflected west and lost track of Craig. I later saw that he produced some strong images from around ground zero. I ended up at the West Side Highway where all the emergency crews were staging. I was right by Stuyvasent High School, which was being used as an infirmary for anyone being pulled out. I spent the afternoon photographing brave crews going in or coming out of the area. I never did get all the way into ground zero.

Now late in the day, my wife got through on the phone hoping I would be on my way home. When I heard trains were running out of Grand Central again to get people home, I decided it was time to head home to be with my family.

Sometime later, when telling of my events on that day, I realized I may have been lucky not to have been carrying cameras that morning. The subway train I would have got on, would have brought me right up under the towers just moments before the collapse. Maybe I would have been there to document the scene or maybe some worse fate would have occurred. I respect all the powerful images produced that day and am thankful to be able to appreciate them.

To view more images from Gabe Palacio, visit Aurora Photos.

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On the 10 year anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks, Aurora Photos published a series of essays on our blog by Aurora photographers and staff who were in New York, Washington, or Pennsylvania on that day, or covered the events of 9/11 in the days following the attacks.

Photograph by Tom Lynn

I was standing in the kitchen of my home in Milwaukee, pouring a cup of coffee, the news on the TV playing in the background when I heard something unusual, reports of a plane hitting the World Trade Center. I sat down and watched as live images soon appeared and saw the second plane fly into the south tower.

My reaction was probably a lot like everyone else’s: disbelief, shock and anger.

I knew I would be quickly dispatched to New York. But all flights were grounded. A couple of hours later, I was driving to New York.

I drove most of the day and through the night and headed to Jersey City, N.J. From there, I knew I could see across the Hudson River into lower Manhattan. I also knew that I could catch a train from New Jersey and get quickly into the city.

I arrived before sunrise and made a few images from the river before police cleared the area. I drove down to Liberty State Park just as the filtered sun peaked through the buildings of lower Manhattan. The sun was fragmented by the smoke and ash in the air made an eerie sunrise photo. Soon after sunrise I caught a train into the city.

I remember walking up the stairs from the train to find a street that was nearly vacant, just a few pedestrians, no taxis. It was all so different and quiet, so unlike the normal bustle and hustle of America’s greatest city.

I spent a week in New York following the attacks. Even now, it’s difficult for me to sum up the experience of a city in the aftermath of an enormous disaster. I photographed people searching for lost loved ones, the candlelight vigils that dotted the island and the funeral for Mychal Judge, Chaplain of the New York Fire Department. He was the first recorded victim of the September 11, 2001 attacks.

The mood of the city is something I will never forget, the overwhelming sadness of a city and its people. They survived a catastrophe. They buried their dead.

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On September 11, 2001, Aurora Contributor Tom Lynn was a staff photographer for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, and covered the events following 9/11 for the paper. Today Tom is still working for the Journal Sentinel but works on many personal projects on his own, including his current year long book project for the International Crane Foundation documenting their 200 acre prairie.

To view more images from Tom Lynn, visit Aurora Photos.

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On the 10 year anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks, Aurora Photos published a series of essays on our blog by Aurora photographers and staff who were in New York, Washington, or Pennsylvania on that day, or covered the events of 9/11 in the days following the attacks.

Photograph by Ian Spanier

September 11th for me, like most New Yorkers started like any other day, I got up for work, (at the time as a freelance photo editor at Marie Claire and a freelance photographer as well), and started my day. I had to drop some film at the photo lab before heading to mid-town so I got dressed and walked out to the lab which was on Washington Street, 2 blocks from my apartment. Washington St faced straight down into the Twin Towers and I pretty much saw them every day leaving for work, if not from there, then again from the 7th Avenue and Christopher St Subway Station. Like the moon, out a moving car window, they almost seemed to follow me wherever I went in my neighborhood.

Outside the lab, people looking at the North Tower on fire knew nothing about what was going on. I assumed a small plane had hit the tower by accident, as I always saw them flying close to the towers. I dropped my film, and walked outside with the thought I should go up to my building’s roof and take some pictures, but being in a rush, I figured I’d just get on my way. I remember looking down 7th Ave just before I entered the subway and nothing had really changed, so I went down to the train. Thinking back, I must have literally just missed seeing the second plane hit the tower. I can’t really imagine what would have happened if I was on my roof.

Clueless and out of touch underground I reached 34th St and saw a co-worker, I couldn’t tell you now who that was. He asked if I heard what happened and then he told me. By the time I got to 57th St and up to the 3rd Fl office, the towers had collapsed. I think my mom called me to make sure I wasn’t downtown, security told us to evacuate the building, and that getting out of the city was not going to be possible. I called my buddy who worked a few blocks away as I knew he would be stuck in the city, and we decided to walk downtown, about 70 blocks to my apartment. I remember I got paid that day, so I deposited my check, which got lost in the system I recall because the city was in such turmoil the days after. A few people we saw said they were going to a bar on the way, so we went, not really being aware, or rather acknowledging what happened.

At the crowded bar, the news clips flowed, and things began to become to light, and I remember someone in the bar saying something about all the people in the buildings, and on the planes. This didn’t originally occur to me, I assumed people got out of the buildings. It just wasn’t reality. We felt kind of weird being in the bar and left. The further we got, we started to see people with dust on them, and the smoke and the smell I will never forget. We sat at a restaurant on 6th Avenue, which looked straight down into the towers, and as we tried unsuccessfully to eat, we watched people and head-level smoke travel up the Avenue.

In the following days, the death tolls rose, and stories of all the different aspects of the fateful day pounded into our heads, along with the replay of the planes and the towers burning into my eyes. Living near St. Vincent’s, sirens were constant, and I had to show ID to get to my apartment every day. I found myself feeling worse and worse about the victims, I learned one of my photo assistants and a photographer friend whom he assisted were there, and were literally under the building. Both survived but were separated, thinking for days the other was dead. I stopped watching TV, as the stories and the repeated visuals became too much to bear.

Earlier that summer I was down by the Trade Center on an oddly foggy day, and I was shooting with a refurbished Polaroid 110A, and I made a few images of the Towers as the fog swirled about the buildings revealing a piece of sky. I always think of it when I hear Springsteen’s song, Empty Sky. At the time, it was just an interesting weather pattern that I documented, but after 9/11 it became hauntingly different. I didn’t show this image for some time, it was just too uncomfortable. Time passed, and I started showing it on my website and portfolio, but I cannot help but be somewhat uncomfortable regardless of years between.

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Today, Ian lives in Long Beach, NY, with his wife and two sons. Coincidentally, Long Beach was home to many of the lost police, firefighters and paramedics that were victims of the terror attacks. This past July, he just completed shooting portraits for a tribute to firefighters in his forthcoming book, Local Heroes: Portraits of America’s Volunteer Firefighters, due out in Fall 2012.

To view more images from Ian Spanier, visit Aurora Photos.

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On the 10 year anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks, Aurora Photos published a series of essays on our blog by Aurora photographers and staff who were in New York, Washington, or Pennsylvania on that day, or covered the events of 9/11 in the days following the attacks.