The Friend to the Friendless - My Brother Mike (Part 1 of the Always Remember 9/11 Series)
- Dana at Vibe Tours
- 4 days ago
- 5 min read
Mike was the oldest of our clan of five, and he most certainly had "oldest sibling energy." He firmly believed that I, his "kid sister," was spoiled beyond reason. But the truth is, he paved the way so well that my parents were finally able to relax by the time they got to me. Plus, I also learned from him what not to do in order to stay out of the parental spotlight.
Always an overachiever with endless drive, Mike was an Eagle Scout as a teen and graduated from Fordham University in just three years—having completed his first year while still a senior at Chaminade High School. I remember the first time I visited him in the Bronx; he was a senior and I was finally old enough to hang out at 16 or 17. I was absolutely appalled by the off-campus hovel he and three other guys called home (to be fair, our Mother kept an impeccable house, and she’d probably be appalled by some of the places I lived after college, too!).
But he had bigger plans, he wasn't in that hovel for long as he began his days on Wall Street just months before Black Monday, in October of 1987. While most would run in fear, he was so energized by that event he kept the cover of the Daily News framed on his wall ever since. It was as if it was a constant reminder for him.
A Wall Street Legacy
Mike’s career was deeply woven into the fabric of New York’s financial district. At various points, he worked at the New York Stock Exchange alongside our Dad, Jim, and at the American Stock Exchange with our family friend Emeric "Ric" Harvey. Ric—for whom Thames Street was later renamed—also died on September 11th at Windows on the World atop the North Tower.
By September 2001, Mike was working on the 93rd floor of the World Trade Center's Tower 1 (the North Tower) for Fred Alger Management. He was so excited to be in the World Trade Center, he'd talk about the views. He once told me about a massive telescope he bought for his office; he used it to find his house in Westchester from his 93rd floor window. Honestly, don't ask me why or how, but that is absolutely something my brother would do. It’s one of my fondest memories because it ticked two of his boxes: thinking like no one else does and executing whatever wild idea he had.
A Shared Love of Sport and the New York Yankees
He once told me I was the best athlete in the family. It wasn't true (our middle brother Jimmy was the real standout), but I think he said it because I would eagerly suit up in goalie gear just to play roller hockey with my older brothers. I didn't have skates so it was my only way into the game, and he loved that I never shied away. He even advocated for me when I wanted to play ice hockey with the boys (there were no girls leagues then), one of the few things he ever failed at, for the parents said no way!
We were both diehard Yankees fans, although he really couldn't understand how I thought Bernie Williams was the best Yankee of the 1990's. I mean, he wasn't wrong, this team had Mariano Rivera and Derek Jeter. So, years later, when I saw an ad online for a Yankee Stadium tour guide, I jumped on it. I honestly didn't think I’d get it, but when I did, I couldn't help but think Mike might have given the guy at the Stadium a little nudge from above.
That side hustle turned into a career and every time I lead a group through the park, I think about the time he knocked my glasses ten rows back as he tried to catch a Jeter foul ball through me instead of over me (Yes, I actually got the glasses back! And no he did not get the ball!).
In 1999, Mike gave me, a friend, and our Aunt and Uncle 4th-row seats to the ALCS against the Red Sox. Bernie Williams—my favorite Yankee—hit a walk-off homer in the 10th to clinch the series. It remains the most amazing live sports moment of my life, and it only happened because Mike gave us those tickets while he sat somewhere else, much further away from the action.
Friend to All, Driver for None
Mike was known by his buddies as the "friend to the friendless." He would lend a helping hand to anyone, simply because they needed it. He saw potential in everyone, always giving you a chance if you wanted one. Every year there would be a new friend invited to family Christmas, not that they always showed up but the invitation was always there.
He was also a "wild man"—all gas and no brakes. Sometimes just being around him exhausted me! At his memorial someone stopped to ask me, did you know Mike was a wild man? I just nodded, but thought to myself, this guy knows we grew up together, right? But maybe, just perhaps, he was even wilder away from the family! That would explain the hundreds of people who came to pay respects, although truth be told I have difficulty remembering many details from the first 4-5 months afterward. It might have been a thousand people, but what I do remember is the love people expressed, and that funny comment.
He was also a famously terrible driver. He once made me drive us all home from Giants Stadium when I only had a learner's permit because he (and his girlfriend at the time) knew I was the safer bet. Once again, he wasn't wrong!
The Day the World Changed
On that still-surreal day, I was stuck across the Hudson River in New Jersey, absolutely frozen. I could not comprehend what I was looking at. I refused to believe the truth I was staring into. No, not my brother. Not Mike. If anyone could survive this, it was him. I started imagining the craziest things: "Of course he has a parachute in his desk, he’s prepared for everything!" It's hard to explain the fire that my brain was in those first 102 minutes.
But when the South Tower fell—not even the tower he was in—it hit me straight in the gut. He was gone.
I am grateful there were survivors, and I know Mike would be too, even though he wasn't among them. Whatever his final moments were, I know for a fact that he was more concerned about everyone around him than he was about himself. He was likely helping someone he didn't even know, if he was even give that chance.
I try every day to be more like that part of him. Perhaps one day, I'll cross the finish line.
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