A Tribute To Christopher Quackenbush

On September 11, 2001, Christopher Quackenbush, 44, was working at Sandler O'Neill & Partners in the World Trade Center. He had forty years of life stolen from him by madmen with box cutters.

Christopher was trapped in the North Tower above the gash created by the plane that struck the tower, Flight 11. Another successful businessman, Jeff Mladenik, was on that flight. Jeff was happily anticipating the adoption of his second daughter (and fifth child), Hannah, from China. His wife, Sue, is a good friend of mine.

Chris never had a chance. Did he jump? Did he die of smoke inhalation? Did he feel the ground shifting under his feet as the "safe" skyscraper crumbled to the ground?

Did he, five years earlier, watch Titanic with his wife and think ruefully of all the structures made by mortal hands that were, allegedly, "unsinkable"?

I do not know.
This I know for sure.
Christopher was a truly good guy.
Christopher's wife and children mourn him daily.
Christopher should have died in his bed sometime in the middle of the 21st century with his wife, children and grandchildren by his side.
And this much more I know for sure.

We must never forget.

Christopher Quackenbush: 'Christmas Carol' All Year
Most people think of "A Christmas Carol," the Charles Dickens classic, only during the holidays. But the tale of greed and redemption was on Christopher Quackenbush's mind his entire life. As a founding principal at Sandler O'Neill & Partners, Mr. Quackenbush, 44, thrived on sharing his wealth.

He created the Jacob Marley Foundation, which provides scholarships and programs for poor children on Long Island, including annual trips to Shea Stadium for Mets games. The Mets themselves once played Tiny Tim to Mr. Quackenbush's Scrooge: he flew some team members to Washington on his company jet last June to meet President Bush.

In keeping with the story that haunted him, Mr. Quackenbush's generosity peaked at Christmas. "He would give us all a trip somewhere," his sister, Gail, said. "A ticket to whatever we really wanted to do."

Not only that, but Mr. Quackenbush took his wife, Traci, their three children and a throng of relatives to see "A Christmas Carol" at Madison Square Garden every December, reminding them not only of the importance of spreading good fortune, but of having fun doing it. They have resolved to go without him this year. "We're not going to have a good time," Gail Quackenbush said, "but we're trying."

Profile published in THE NEW YORK TIMES on December 8, 2001.

QUACKENBUSH - Christopher. The entire NYU Law School family mourns the loss of our trustee and friend, Chris Quackenbush, a victim of the World Trade Center tragedy. Chris was a special person who combined high values with the ability to inspire others to act for the good. He was a wise businessman and counselor to the great; but still more, he was an example of the finest qualities a person can possess. Even as we use him as a model for our students, we mourn his loss and dedicate ourselves to keeping his spirit alive. Our thoughts, prayers and love are with his wife (Traci), his children (Whitney, C.J., Kelsey) and his entire family. Lester Pollack, Chair; John Sexton, Dean, New York University School of Law.

Paid Notice published in THE NEW YORK TIMES on September 20, 2001.

Over 3,000 bloggers took part in a tribute project in 2006. I was assigned the name of Christopher Quackenbush.

Thanks to Miss Cellania for letting me know about this tribute opportunity.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin,

let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last forever:

I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.
-- W.H. Auden

Death Be Not Proud

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadfull,

for, thou art not so,

For, those, whom thou think'st,

thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poore death,

nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleepe,

which but thy pictures bee,

Much pleasure,then from thee,

much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,

Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,

And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,

And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;

One short sleepe past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more;

death, thou shalt die. -John Donne

A touching picture that gets me in the gut every time I look at it--imagining the towers themselves crying and holding hands, anticipating their downfall, when they should have been around for us to show our great great great grandchildren.

Ground Zero-Spring, 2004

Much better writers than myself attempted to make sense out of a senseless act of violence.

"...big friendly flying buses.."-Dave Barry's column

"...But you're about to learn."-Leonard Pitt's column

"I Just Called To Say I Love You"-Peggy Noonan's column

"Hallowed Ground"-Dave Barry on Flight 93

originally published September 11, 2006