Windows on the World — A 9/11 Memory
Windows on the World — A 9/11 Memory

August 9, 2000, a sunny, warm summer day in downtown Manhattan. Downtown, but actually just about as high up as one could go, the 106th floor of the World Trade Center, the North Tower, Building One. The richly appointed and aptly named “Windows on the World” restaurant, a quarter of a mile in the sky, floor to ceiling windows, magnificent views of the New York harbor and beyond, a view of the curvature of the earth itself. Surreal.

I was working on Wall Street in emerging markets finance at the time, and had been invited to attend a cocktail reception to celebrate the New York Stock Exchange debut of Brazil’s largest industrial company, Petrobras. I asked my daughter, whose college summer job was downtown, and my wife to join me for a nice summer evening high up in the clouds.

The reception was packed by the Latin American finance community, including the Wall Street emerging markets sales and trading desks, many with Brazilian roots and business relationships. After a short while, spotlights flooded the space. Accompanied by an entourage of Petrobras executives, in walked Pelé, soccer legend, three time winner of the World Cup, widely recognized as one of the best of all time, Latin American superhero, international icon, the most well-known Brazilian in the world, and the newly appointed good-will ambassador for Petrobras.

My excitement to see Pelé was a whisper compared to the gasps, loud applause and great joy that erupted as he entered and was enthusiastically mobbed by the crowd. All were clamouring to greet him, to get autographs, and to just be near the international soccer legend. The “macho alfas” had met their match.

I looked at the crowd surrounding Pelé, turned to my daughter and said, “Melanie, get in there and ask Pelé to sign a note to Ben.” (Melanie’s 12 year old soccer playing brother.) With her usual confidence, Melanie walked up to the edge of the scrum surrounding Pelé and called out, “Ladies first?” Pelé somehow heard her, and responded in a commanding voice, “Ladies first!“ The seas immediately parted and Melanie, followed by just a few other intrepid women, made her way in to get an autograph.

Pelé was a star all night. After signing autographs for Melanie and her squad, he signed hundreds more. He was seated at a table, still signing for a line of well wishers, when I noticed that the waiters at the event were standing together off to the side looking over longingly at Pelé. One had a disposable camera. I asked if they would like me to take a picture of them with Pelé. ”Yes, please”. I asked for the camera and approached Pelé, interrupting the signing line. I simply showed the camera to Pelé and pointed at the waiters. Pele had grown up in the favelas in Brazil and certainly as a youth had more in common with the waiters than with the suits in the room. Without a word, he immediately jumped up and walked over, and the waiters gathered around him. Pelé with his bright smile and blue suit, and the waiters in their red jackets, in awe of being this close to their hero. I snapped the photo. It was a very sweet moment.

One year later, when the towers fell, I thought of the waiters in the picture. At least some, if not many, were likely working that sunny, crisp September morning in the beautiful restaurant on top of the North Tower, Building One. The only copy of the picture that I know of is embedded in my memory. And a bittersweet memory it is.

Howard Altarescu

September 11, 2021

#NeverForget #NYC #NeilLevin
['Howard Altarescu']
['NYC', 'Never Forget', 'September 11']