OF BOSTON COLLEGE ALUMNI WHO DIED IN THE TERRORIST ATTACKS OF
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001.
are arranged chronologically by the victims' graduating years.
by Elizabeth Gallishaw '01
was deeply moved by the article in the [Fall 2001] BCM
concerning the horrific events of September 11th, and shocked
to hear of Joe Visciano '01. I met Joe in the first weeks of
my freshman year at B.C. We were living in the same dorm, and
I would frequently run into him on the steps of Cushing where,
many times, we would sit and talk. I remember the way that he
listened so intently to stories of my adjustment to college.
He had a solid presence, and a kind and wonderful smile. After
our freshman year, I only saw Joe a few times around BC. And
although we never sat down and talked as we had that first year,
we always exchanged a smile and a "hello" with a certain nostalgia
of those few special moments that we shared together our first
year of college. I know that he was a very special man because
I never forgot those moments, and I feel blessed that I had
the opportunity to meet him. My condolences to his family, I
will keep you in my thoughts and prayers.
R. CROWTHER 99
by Brian Fox '99
Crowther was the first person in my class that I met at BC.
We were assigned to be freshman year roommates. I spoke to
him on the phone, and we agreed to meet outside Giants Stadium
prior to the Kickoff Classic game that we were both attending
as our first activity as BC students. My first impression
of him, after realizing that he was a Yankees fan and wondering
how I was going to live with such a person for a whole school
year, was, to my relief, that he was a laid back guy who almost
always kept a smile on his face. I learned that day that he
played lacrosse and hockey in high school, that he was going
to be on the lacrosse team at BC, and that in his spare time
he was a trained volunteer firefighter.
only lived together for a little over a semester, as Welles
moved out of our Newton Campus room during the spring semester
to live on Upper Campus to be closer to his lacrosse parctices.
We didn't become close friends, but we got along very well
as roommates. I have several memories of that time: baseball
arguments, a late night trip to St. E's, a ridiculously enormous
sub sandwich, Welles' generosity in sharing everything he
had, and more.
didn't see each other very much after he moved out, but it
still came as a shock when I heard that he had lost his life
on September 11th. It did not come as a shock, however, when
I found out later that he had a chance to escape, but he sacrificed
himself and used his volunteer firefighter skills to help
many others reach safety. It wasn't surprising at all. He
was trained and he was generous with everything he had.
R. CROWTHER 99
by Jane Lerner, The
March, the body of Welles Crowther '99, an equities trader
in the South Tower, was found among those of firefighters
and rescue workers in the lobby of the building. Crowther
was himself a volunteer fireman, and it has since come to
light that he joined the rescue efforts on the morning of
September 11, rather than evacuate. Below is a story from
the Journal News of southwestern Connecticut.
Victim's Heroism Saved Lives
Jane Lerner, The Journal News (Original
publication: June 10, 2002)
was a habit he picked up from his father and maintained until
the last day of his life.
Crowther always carried a red bandanna in his back pocket.
had it with him during his years at Nyack High School, friends
at Boston College noticed it and fellow volunteer firefighters
at Empire Hook & Ladder in Upper Nyack teased him about it.
red bandanna was tucked in his pocket the morning of Sept.
11 when the 24-year-old equities trader set out for his office
at Sandler O'Neill & Partners on the 104th floor of the World
it was the red bandanna that helped identify Crowther as the
rescuer who saved countless people trapped on the top floors
of the burning south tower that morning before losing his
man, a bandanna tied around his face, stepped out of the swirling
clouds of smoke and crushing debris high up in the burning
tower and led groups of wounded to safety, survivors recall.
spoke with such authority," recalled Judy Wein, who encountered
the man on the rubble-strewn 78th floor. "He was calm, he
showed us where the stairs were, he found a fire extinguisher,
he carried people down the stairs and then went back up to
one knew his name at the time, but the people who survived
those harrowing moments between the plane crash and the building
collapse said they would never forget him.
face is always in my mind," said Ling Young, one of a handful
of people who escaped from the floors above the plane's impact.
"He saved my life."
Crowther suspected her son was at the center of the mystery
as soon as she began hearing reports of survivors ushered
to safety by a man in a red bandanna.
made sense," she said. "All the pieces of the puzzle came
with his years of training as a volunteer firefighter, assumed
the role of rescuer to help the injured and trapped reach
safety following the terrorist attack on New York City, his
who encountered the man in the red bandanna that morning confirmed
Crowther contacted Young and sent her a recent picture of
soon as I saw it, I knew it was him," said Young, a New Jersey
resident who is still undergoing treatment for burns she suffered.
She met Alison Crowther for lunch last week at a Manhattan
don't forget a face like that," Young said.
that their son was the civilian who came to the rescue of
people trapped beyond the reach of emergency workers has brought
comfort to the bereaved Upper Nyack family.
looked the devil straight in the eye that day and fought with
all the strength and fiber of his being," Alison Crowther
said. "He died saving others."
and his father, Jefferson Crowther, made a habit of keeping
a bandanna with them at all times. Jefferson Crowther favored
blue; his son, red.
monogrammed hanky is for show," the pair would joke. "The
bandanna is for blow."
his father, Welles became a volunteer firefighter as soon
as he was old enough to qualify. He joined Empire Hook & Ladder
in Upper Nyack when he was 16 and spent countless hours learning
to be a firefighter at the Rockland Fire Training Center in
we were cleaning down the truck or working, I'd see him wipe
his brow with the red bandanna," said Dave Low, a longtime
family friend and fellow Empire volunteer.
put his heart into his firefighting training, Low said.
all accounts, he used that expertise on Sept. 11.
the first plane hit the north tower that morning, he called
friends and left a message for his mother that he was going
That should have given the strapping former lacrosse and hockey
player enough time to reach safety, his parents reasoned.
didn't know his fate until his body was recovered in March.
No sign of the bandanna was found.
officials told the Crowthers that Welles was found on the
ground in the south tower lobbyÑone of only two civilians
in a staging area where the bodies of numerous firefighters
and emergency workers were recovered.
did what he did out of his sense of duty as a firefighter,"
Alison Crowther said. "He was not Welles Crowther, equities
trader, that day. He was Welles Crowther, firefighter."
recall the hellish scene on the 78th floor where they encountered
the man in the red bandanna.
Wein had made her way from her Aon Corp. office on the 103rd
floor to the 78th, which had a lobby and a bank of elevators
that workers took to lower levels. She reached the 78th floor
just as the plane hit.
impact was so strong that I was thrown so far Ñ I don't even
know how far Ñ but it felt like I was airborne forever," the
Queens resident said.
landed on her arm, shattering it. Seconds later, a shock wave
threw her back in the other direction, this time breaking
her ribs and puncturing her lung.
She battled unconsciousness and woke to a hellish scene.
were everywhere. Severed limbs littered the floor. She recognized
co-workers hopelessly pinned beneath steel beams and chunks
of debris. Flaming embers were falling all around.
were lying there dead," Wein recalled. "Some were sitting
up, dazed, some were whimpering."
and small groups of people who survived the plane's initial
impact made their way to an area that seemed better lighted.
didn't know where we were. We didn't know what to do," she
said. "Then Welles shows up out of nowhere."
man had his nose and mouth covered with the bandanna as protection
against the smoke and dust.
pointed out the stairs and issued instructions.
who can walk, walk down the stairs. Anyone who can walk and
help someone else, help. There are people here you cannot
help anymore, so don't try to," survivors recall Crowther
accompanied Wein, a woman with one broken arm and one burned
arm, and a man with a severed arm to the 61st floor. From
there, he instructed them to continue down the stairs.
have to leave you here," he said. "I have to go back up and
recalled seeing a fire extinguisher lying against a wall.
was a strange place for a fire extinguisher," she said.
didn't know at the time that Ling Young had left the fire
extinguisher there minutes before, when the man in the red
bandanna accompanied her downstairs before going back up to
the 78th floor.
was also dazed and injured after the plane struck. She had
made her way to the 78th floor from her office at the state
Department of Taxation and Finance on the 86th floor.
"My glasses filled with blood, I wiped them so I could see,"
she said. "There was nothing but dead people. My head was
numb. I was afraid to move. We didn't know what to do."
the authoritative young man she later identified as Crowther
appeared to show her the way.
man removed the bandanna from his face on the way down, so
Young got a good look at him.
instructed her to carry a fire extinguisher in case they encountered
flames, she recalled.
with Young, Crowther also accompanied a tall, thin, middle-aged
white man. He carried a tall, thin, light-skinned black woman
on his back.
does not know if either of those two victims made it out of
the building alive.
left Young's small group around the 61st floor, telling them
he had to go back for more people.
is unclear how many trips up and down Crowther made or how
many lives he saved that day before losing his own.
the people he saved, identifying the man in the red bandanna
has been bittersweet.
saved so many people, but he didn't save himself," said Young,
who has a 24-year-old son.
Young met with Alison Crowther last week, she looked through
a family album showing a smiling youngster fishing with his
grandfather, an impish schoolboy dressed for Halloween, a
beaming brother with his two younger sisters, Honor and Paige,
on Christmas morning.
whole life was ahead of him," Young said. "It's such a tragedy."
embraced Alison Crowther and "thanked her for raising such
a wonderful son." Both women recalled the instance.
Wein, who is still undergoing treatment for her injuries,
also hopes to meet the Crowther family. "He was a hero for
doing what he did," she said. "It's amazing that in this day
and age someone could give of himself in a dangerous situation
like that. Totally amazing."
people who knew Welles say they aren't surprised by the feats
he performed that terrible morning.
talk all kinds of talk," said Dave Low, a Vietnam War veteran
who has known the Crowthers for years. "But when the moment
of truth comes, you either do it or you don't do it. There
was never any doubt in my mind that when the moment of truth
came, Welles would do what needed to be done."
The Journal News. Reprinted with permission.
W. McNEAL 94
Dave Dering '92
knew Dan McNeal from several activities at BC that Dan was involved
in, including the Fulton Debating Society and the Residence
Hall Association, and as a fellow RA with the housing office.
I will always remember Dan as what we hope the prototypical
Boston College student will be: intelligent, with the ability
to communicate the fruits of that intelligence to others; studious,
with the ability to understand the importance of occasionally
leaving the studies behind for awhile; and one who understood
that there are as many valuable experiences to be had outside
the classrooms at BC as there are inside. Unquestionably, Dan
was always proud and happy to be a BC student, and I am sure
that he remained a happy, proud BC alum.
Before I graduated, Dan gave me a biography of a famous trial
lawyer, which I have always kept with me in my office. When
I found out about Dan's passing from the most recent Boston
College Magazine, I retrieved that book and once again turned
to read the message he had written inside the cover page. When
he wrote it, the words were meant to wish me well on my way
from BC. I now rewrite what he wrote to me, to return those
wishes to Dan and his family in this troubled time: "May the
sun shine warm upon your face, may the wind be always at your
back, and may God hold you in the palm of his hand. . . ."
W. McNEAL 94
Alex Houston 94
Blakefield High School in Towson, MD, is home to the Dons. Technically,
a "Don" is "a Spanish lord or nobleman," but at the all-male
school it is the embodiment of the Jesuit ideal: a man for others.
In 1986, I came to Loyola a scared, lonely freshman, the few
grade-school friends who came with me scattered randomly among
the class of 1990. I don’t remember the first time I met Dan
McNeal, because he was the type of guy who made you feel like
you’d known him all your life after speaking with him for five
minutes. He had been there two years already, coming as a seventh
grader and immediately making a name for himself as a scholar
and a gentleman. Within the first week, I knew that as a close
friend or not, Dan would always be around with a joke, a kind
word, or a reassuring comment. Over the years, our circles of
friends sometimes overlapped and sometimes touched only on the
edges, but like all who knew him, I considered Dan a friend.
"Dan the Man" as we called him, was a true Don, a class leader,
extremely competitive, a shoe-in for every student government
position for which he ran, but always modest. Deflecting praise
from himself to the people who participated in any of the myriad
successful programs he organized was a knee-jerk reaction. Though
he didnt claim to excel as an athlete, he managed the
football team and went to nearly every game in every other possible
sport, often leading the war chant: "Roll, Dons, Roll!" (clap-clap-clap).
On campus, he was everywhere, breathless on some important errand
but always able to stop, smile, and make a witty remark, or
recite, word for word and tongue-in-cheek, the "greed is good"
monologue from the movie Wall Street. Dan followed the stock
market, and the Wall Street Journal was often under his arm.
Once during a free period before my Senior year photography
class, I heard whispers that he was, at that very instant, secretly
donating in the blood drive he organized. I grabbed my camera
and made a beeline for the nearby building to capture this Kodak
Moment. There I found the president of our student government
far in the back, trying his best to be inconspicuous, giving
body and soul to the school as usual. To this day I can still
hear him saying, "Oh, no. Houston, dont you dare!" and
with a click of the shutter and a twinkle in my eye, he was
immortalized in the yearbook (being visibly annoyed at the time,
I hope he has since forgiven the transgression), hard evidence
of what all 180 of us in the class already knew: Dan always
gave all he could. Something as mundane as adherence to the
dress code wasnt exempt from his philosophy of excellence.
While many of us slacked by keeping our ties loose, barely buttoning
our top shirt buttons, Dan tied his tie in a full Windsor knot
and wore a tie clip. He told me once while discussing the finer
points of Loyola fashion statements, "If Im going to tie
a tie, I might as well do it the right way."
He and I were the only two from Loyolas class of 1990
to attend Boston College. In a classic housing snafu, BC accepted
him early but assigned him to the freshman overflow housing
on nearby Newton Campus, ten minutes away. He should have lived
on Main Campus instead of me. On second thought, Dan probably
opted for Newton Campus so that another student would be closer.
Still, it was comforting to know his familiar Towson accent
would be local. During move-in weekend, I remember we rolled
our eyes together when our mothers commiserated about their
sons going away to school. Their hand-wringing seemed needless.
After all, we were Dons. We could take care of ourselves. I
went to my first BC party with Dan the night they left; a Mods
party Mission Impossible for two freshman guys. Thanks
to Dans charismatic diplomacy, we managed to get in, and
he held the door for me. The entire night we watched each others
backs like two anthropologists surrounded by a ring of dancing
cannibals. Roll, Dons, Roll.
Now we were Eagles, Lets Go Eagles (clap! clap! clap-clap-clap!),
Dan in the Carroll School of Management and I in the School
of Arts and Sciences. In the quirky kaleidoscope of the BC social
scene, our circles of friends drifted apart as we made our own
ways and pursued our own collegiate identities over the next
six semesters. Then early in Senior year, Dan started popping
up everywhere, first as a volunteer of the walking escort service
the blue humor of the scholar and gentleman becoming
an "escort" is not lost on those who knew him then at
football tailgates and games where he showed the same school
spirit I remembered from high school; at the Kells once or twice,
and the rare party when he had a weekend off from his RA duties.
We began playing racquetball at the Plex regularly. Dan was
always generous to a fault, but he was just as competitive.
He won every time, but never gloated on his victory or talked
any trash. Instead he highlighted my one or two good shots as
evidence of an improving game.
It didnt matter why we began to move in some of the same
circles. Maybe it was because we were Dons; the Blakefield spirit
still coursed through our veins and pulled stronger than the
random shifts in BC culture that had separated us in the first
place. Maybe it was chance. Maybe it was Dans ability
to make a name for himself as a scholar and a gentleman wherever
he was. No matter, it was great to hang out with him again,
but time was running short. Dan was graduating early in order
to get the jump on the job market, ever to excel, and we lost
touch for a while.
We both returned to live in Maryland and talked on occasion.
When Dan asked how you were doing, telling him good news never
felt like bragging. Dan always said "Thats fantastic!"
and he always meant it, because he knew the whole time you could
do well and he was happy when his friends were achieving. He
always played down his outstanding accomplishments so that your
own small steps toward success seemed like giant leaps for mankind.
Again we drifted apart, until I learned at a Washington, D.C.,
BC alumni event two years ago he was in the area making (not
surprisingly) quite a name for himself as a scholar and a gentleman
in Georgetowns MBA program. I was excited at the chance
to get back in touch, but never did except through the grapevine.
Though we kept just missing each other, Dan was often in my
thoughts. I never knew he had moved out of the area after graduating
from Georgetown that spring.
On the very day weary heroes found his body lying on a New York
City street amidst the dust and rubble of an unspeakable horror,
(before I heard it spoken) I was thinking it would be a good
idea to track down his number, and come hell or high water,
give him a call once and for all. It was finally time to catch
up, damn it. I had accumulated plenty of good news to share:
I had done well in my career, finally met that girl who might
be "the one," and followed his footsteps to graduate work at
Georgetown. I hoped hearing some of what would surely be good
news from him would help us both forget, for a while, the senselessness
of recent events and put needed smiles on both of our faces.
I wanted to have that beer in downtown Baltimore we were supposed
to have, way back when. I wanted to introduce him to my girlfriend.
I wanted to introduce him to a friend of hers. But hell came.
Would that there were waters high enough to drown the inferno.
So with a click of the keyboard and a tear in my eye, I try
in vain to immortalize Dan once again for those who did not
know him (not caring whether he forgives this transgression),
wishing I knew him as well as others; better than when he rolled
as a Don, better than when he flew as an Eagle, and better than
when, with the final slam-dunk leap of a Hoya, he made it to
the top of the world, a hundred-odd floors up. Better as a friend,
though I call him that anyway and am honored to think he once
called me the same, "This is Alex, my friend from high school.
You should hear him play guitar!" Yet even those who counted
him in their circle of friends for only a short while knew beyond
a shadow of a doubt that Dan was the epitome of the Jesuit ideal:
a man for others. His death affects them profoundly. They know
he now soars as an angel in that different, but widest and most
inclusive of perfect circles, far above the smoke and ruin of
our own confused sorrow.
Now more than ever I will follow in his footsteps, as a man
for others. I will be modest and giving. I will work hard, laugh
often, do it right, hold the door for people, and tie my tie
in a full Windsor knot. I will make sense of this senseless
event by telling the story I know of Dan the Man (the Myth,
the Legend) to all who will hear it so that they, like me, will
have the chance to be better people for having remembered even
the smallest part of who he was. I hope some of them share memories
with me. For in grief, we mourn not our memories, but the lost
opportunity to make new ones: the jokes, kind words, and reassuring
comments we will never hear. It is a loss beyond measure, the
deepest wound bandaged only by reminiscing, and a scar for life.
When my time comes, I hope our circles will become tangent and
Dan will hold the door for me again to the greatest party in
all eternity. I know this much: He had better have his racquetball
racket with him, ready for a few grudge matches in that big
Plex up in the sky.
Until then, Dan, I promise to stay in touch.
A memorial Web site for Daniel W. McNeal is located at www.danmcneal.com
Kevin Mahoney '90
remember the summer after our freshman year at BC when I went
to California with John, Sean Gavin '90 and Brian Charbonnier
'89. We started out in Los Angeles and worked our way down to
San Diego and Tijuana, Mexico. Whenever I think of John I remember
the great time we had during those two weeks.
J. FITZPATRICK 87
by James McEleney
enduring friendships with his BC classmates was evident at
his memorial service in NY in September. More than 30 BC colleagues
were in attendance and countless others have reached out to
his family in the months following this tragedy. Personally,
I will remember Tom as:
another native New Yorker from the other Jesuit high school
in New York City;
- my next door neighbor from Duchesne West who I met on my
first day at BC;
- the roommate who lived with me for the next three years
and shared so many college memories;
- the friend who grew closer long after we graduated;
- the connection that enabled me to know his wife Marianne
and his children, Brendan and Caralyn;
- the person I talked to almost weekly on the phone right
up until September 11th.
J. FITZPATRICK 87
by Peter Pacella '87
all of Fitz's family and friends. . . All my best.
by John Edwards '86
Ray, Jim and I were roomates junior year. Always the best
dressed of us at the Rat, Brad loved to dance (a huge Michael
Jackson fan) and had the prettiest girlfriend. I remember
our food runs to the local market, filling
his old Mercedes with ice pops and mac 'n cheese, the staples
of our diet.
Brad called me out of the blue about two years ago after stumbling
across my phone number and filled me in about his job, new
home on the water and the obligatory wave runner he scooted
When I read his father's account of Brad's final phone calls
from the WTC, I remembered the many calls between he and his
dad while we lived together at BC. I remembered the sound
of his voice and how close he and his dad were. I cannot imagine
how heartbreaking those final moments were for the two of
them. Peace to you Mr. Vadas and rest well Brad.
S. MCGOWAN 85
by Cathy Beyer DeFilippo '85
I sit down to write this, I am filled with such sorrow that
I am doing what I am doing. It seems so wrong to be writing
words about Stacey because she is no longer with us. I had
the privilege and pleasure of being Staceys roommate
in the Mods during my senior year at BC. While we knew each
other before senior year, we got to be great friends during
that year. Stacey was an incredible personshe truly
knew how to love life and she showed me how to enjoy it to
its fullest. One of my very fondest memories of Stacey is
of our trip to "Play it Again Sam's" for its Monday
night $1 pizzas. After ordering 2 large pizzas (because we
figured we could enjoy one the next day) we were challenged
by other patrons to eat both...we did, along with 2 pitchers
of beer! We made it home but only to be able to lie flat on
the floor of our mod because we were so full! Despite feeling
disgusting, we were proud of our consumption that night.
BC, I moved to Washington DC and again was lucky enough to
again share living quarters with Stacey. With both of us being
new to DC, we ended up spending a lot of time together. That
time was one of the best in my life. Stacey and I explored
DC and adjusted to the real world after college. I can truly
say that had Stacey not been in DC, I am not sure if I would
have stuck it out.
time I think of Stacey being gone, I first get this horrible
crushing sadness in my heart....it is hard to catch my breath..but
once I do, I begin to remember the good times with Stacey.
For those who have been fortunate to know Stacey, you know
that the good times with her were numerous. As those good
memories flow back into my head, I cant help but smile,
and even with the pain of losing Stacey, I still feel lucky
to have been her friend. Stacey had so many important qualitiesshe
loved her friends and family, she loved life, and she made
you a better person when you were with her. The world is unfortunately
a lesser place without her but we must remember the beauty
that she left with us and the joy that she shared with us
while she was here.
S. MCGOWAN 85
Anne "Mam" Lenihan Hennelly 85
was one of my dorm-mates from Cheverus. I remember Stacey's
warm smile, laughter, natural beauty, gentleness & athleticism.
Through our four years at BC, we shared a few rides to NY,
ran into each other at parties and exchanged friendly greetings
on campus. Stacey was the kind of person who left an impression
on you it is an impression I will always remember.
sympathy and prayers are with Stacey's family.
S. MCGOWAN 85
Tania (Zielinski) McNaboe ’85
can't say I knew Stacey that well – she was a friend of
a roommate and often came to our parties – but even in
the haze of college days
and nights, she registered in my mind as a special person at
Boston College. Here is why. Stacey smiled from the heart. Whether
you were talking to her in a classroom hallway or chatting over
beers at a keg party, she was always friendly, honest and sincere.
And here was the clincher. She married the class cutie, Tom
McGowan. I always felt that it was because he didn't need all
the glitzy, made-up girls who were after him – Stacey
was salt-of-the-earth, a natural beauty. The tragedy of September
11th is that Stacey is gone. The gift is that her life is immortal
– I will never forget her kindness, her fun-loving attitude
and grace. As I raise my children, Stacey is a person I will
always remember as I teach them the value of kindness and love
and how a simple act like a smile can be cherished forever.
by Lois Gannon 76
was generous, compassionate, smart, funny and a connoisseur
of fine food, wine, and fashion especially French. She
loved visiting friends and family in the Hamptons, Long Island,
and in France. Vacations in St. Barts, and St. Martin were welcome
respites from a demanding but exhilarating life in Manhattan.
She was renowned for her facility with words, evidenced by her
quick wit, the quality of her writing, and her ability to polish
off the Times crossword puzzle in record time in INK!
A warm friend, Danni had many enduring relationships spanning
childhood schoolmates from Dominican Academy, which has established
a scholarship fund in her name, classmates from Boston College,
her Alma Mater, business associates from the CPA firm, RGL Gallagher,
for which Danni, a partner, established the NYC office, as well
as coworkers at Marsh & McClennan.
Danielle loved life her pets, and people, including her
parents, numerous godchildren, nieces, as well as the friends
who miss her every day.
Elizabeth Hurley 76
Gannon, Kathy Murphy and I were Danni's roommates at Boston
College and we miss her dearly.
Patrick J. Collins '75
BC family and friends:
let time slip away. Both of us got busy with our lives, and
missed opportunities to meet over the recent years.
were kindred spirits and accountants. We were both investigative,
or so-called forensic, auditors and extremely hard working
coworkers and we both moved on; since February 1, 2001, she
was a Vice President in the CAPS group at Marsh, Inc. on the
100th Floor of One WTC. Before that she was on the 56th floor,
of One WTC. Both of her former co-workers got out safely.
No one got out alive from the 100th floor.
mutual friend and hard-working accountant coworker, Art Reynolds,
a non-BC, but easily could have been one, passed away in 1996.
Danni joins him. We were a threesome. Danni was a good person,
fun to be with, and energetically lit up any room she entered.
I also attended the memorial Mass for Danni and the other
alumni, friends, and their relatives lost. There were a lot
of fond remembrances and her only crime was her responsible
work ethic and getting into the office on time that day, which
she did every day anyway.
was a working stiff like the rest of us, in this country of
immigrants. She was a French-American and even had a French
education in grade and high school by the Dominican nuns,
and she was a great crossword player, which she did sometimes
at lunch. Danni knew all those offbeat Peter Greenaway films,
one being The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover.
She lived on the East Side of Manhattan in the 50s.
was one of the good ones in the world, of which there are
so few and we cannot afford to lose, we will all miss her.
memory of Danielle Delie '76
J. DOHERTY 66
by Ray Beattie '71
read with sadness the article in BCM concerning those
who died at the World Trade Center attack on September 11. A
particularly painful notice was that of John Doherty 66.
I had not seen nor spoken to John in many years but we had worked
together for awhile in 1973 when I went to work as a marketing
trainee for Commercial Union (CU) in lower Manhattan. Our office
was on John Street, not very far from the just completed WTC.
I arrived in New York, from Boston, not really knowing anyone.
John was a commercial underwriter for CU at that time. He heard
that a Boston boy had started up with CU so he sought me out
to say hello. John was from Medford, I was from West Roxbury.
Quickly we discovered we had BC as a common background, as well
as our Boston roots. Just as quickly we became friends, and
we would join others at the office and, a few nights each week,
take part in the nightlife Manhattan offered. Many time we would
go out and paint the town red (sometimes two coats of red!)
but we were young, single, and were in a great place. John was
quiet but had a great sense of humor. He was very smart and
very kind. He was just fun to be around. My deepest condolences
to his wife and two daughters. I was glad to see he was married
and had a family. My best wishes to them and I am very sorry
for their loss.