We have known Jim Larsen for as long as we have been in the air cargo business.
   Always a stand-up guy and air cargo pioneer to boot, Jimmy served at Seaboard World Airways, the great pioneer carrier that spawned many other air cargo greats like Mahoney and Boesch and Rohrmann and Chabrol, to recall a few.
   As it can happen, fate came right up and landed on Jim Larsen’s desk September 11, 2001.
   Two days later on September 13, Jim appeared at our place with a typed manuscript in his hand.
   “I just thought that you would like to pass this along,” he said.
   “Now I have to go to the airport and try and find out what happened to my friends,” he concluded.
   We are reminded of our shock and loss and sense of grief and anger, but we also celebrate the triumph of people like Jim Larsen who has the heart and desire to overcome any challenge while helping others.
   Today Jim is retired and living in New Jersey with his wife, Annette. He still leads tours of Ground Zero.

     The morning of September 11th could best be described as ideal. The sun was bright, the air was clear, and from the 65th floor of the World Trade Center I could look across, through New Jersey, almost to the Poconos in Pennsylvania. Just a few odds and ends to take care of and I would be on my way to JFK for a luncheon hosted by a cargo promotion group from the U.K.
     The office was quiet, waiting for the aviation department staff to filter in for the start of another day. Just another ordinary day. I was sitting at my computer and chuckling about a joke that someone had sent me via e-mail when it hit. It wasn’t loud; there was no explosion, no thunder, just a kind of whack. Then the building began to lean over. Things fell off the desk, furniture moved, and I made my peace with God convinced that the tower was about to topple. But miraculously it didn’t. It snapped back and slowly went the other way. Like in an earthquake, the building continued to shudder for what seemed a lifetime, but what in reality was most likely just a few seconds. There was a brief silence as debris started to stream past the windows, falling to the street below. An aircraft, I thought? But how could an aircraft collide with the building on such a clear day? No time to ponder that question, I thought, let’s get out of the building. I looked for people on my side of the building and saw no one, so I took off for the fire exit and the staircase that would lead me out of the building. Two women came out of the south side of the floor crying. I ordered them not to use the elevators. “Head for the stairs,” I said, “Everything is OK. The building is still standing so the worst is over. Take your time, it’s OK, we’re safe now.” At that point I honestly believed that was true. I also think that all the people in the stairwell thought the same thing. There was no panic, no screaming, no shouting. Everyone proceeded in an orderly manner; they kept talking to each other, they helped those who were having difficulty breathing because of the smoke, or difficulty walking for whatever reason. It was a slow walk down. We stopped every once in a while because of unknown delays below us, but all in all, the pace was fairly steady.
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