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11 Days in SeptemberAn "identity crisis" that brought out Embry-Riddle's best
Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001 There, amid a gathering crowd of students, we watched orchestrated mass murder, each televised replay hitting us like a new body blow. The surreal, "out-there" attack on the world's mightiest nation echoed a very real inner assault on all of us who were trapped by its hideous spell. Before our eyes, jets - sleek symbols of freedom, objects of beauty, tools of productivity - were being twisted into instruments of death and destruction. Could they ever be beautiful again? When I returned to my office, reporters were already calling for faculty experts, as they do for every major aviation news story. Did we have someone who can talk about airport security? Yes, we do. Could someone describe what it takes to learn to fly a 757? Yes, again. The first calls came from Orlando, then Atlanta, Boston, Chicago, Milwaukee, New York, Philadelphia, San Diego, San Francisco, Seattle, and Washington DC. While we took media calls, chancellors Tom Connolly in Daytona Beach and Dan Carrell in Prescott were meeting with their emergency teams, representatives from campus safety, flight operations, facilities management, student life, and academics. They voted to continue classes, reasoning "it's best to be with other people in times of trauma," according to Connolly. Counseling and health staffs went on 24-hour duty, volunteers were recruited to patrol residence halls, and plans were made to protect the campus' Arab and Muslim students. Most of the university's Extended Campus teaching centers around the country scrambled to find alternate classrooms when the military bases where they were located went on high alert and were closed to civilians. The communications office sent e-mail and voice-mail messages to faculty, staff, and students that expressed sadness about the day's events, noted that friends and loved ones may have perished in the attacks, appealed for sensitivity toward those too upset to go to class, and announced that counseling was available. Finally, they said updates would be sent by voice mail and the university's web site. Another message informed students from Middle Eastern countries that the university was taking steps to ensure their security. They were advised to avoid large gatherings, refrain from discussing religion or politics in public, wear American-style clothes, and speak in English. If they felt unsafe, they were asked to call 911 or the campus safety office. Temporary living arrangements were offered. (See "Students React.") That evening, students, faculty, and staff held a candlelight prayer vigil. Residence hall advisors in Daytona Beach and Prescott went door-to-door to see how students were holding up. Several counselors, staff members, and administrators stayed late to respond to students who needed help coping with the day's tragedy, including some students who feared loved ones had perished in the attacks. At 9 p.m., Connolly called Ledewitz at home and told her to prepare for the worst. FBI agents, who had visited campus earlier to pick up a list of alumni, had matched one of the hijackers' names with a name from the database.
Wednesday, Sept. 12 Thus began a pattern that would be repeated in the following 10 days. Denied information by the FBI, which was conducting the largest investigation in its history, many news organizations were reporting rumors, speculations, and unconfirmed facts. We no longer were being asked to provide faculty experts for a news story "out there." The university itself had become part of the story. Meanwhile, FBI agents, subpoenas in hand, were already in the office of campus security chief Bruce Hinckley, who became their point of contact. From there, they walked down the corridor to the records and registration office, where director Val Kruse awaited them. Agents also pored through files at the Prescott, Ariz., campus, assisted by records director Alice Sparrow, and the Extended Campus, where Pamela Thomas is director. During the next three weeks Kruse and her staff went through more than 200 records. "We had as many as nine agents in here at one time - wall-to-wall FBI and INS," she said. The challenges they faced included misspellings that result when Arabic names are translated into English and the use of different family names, not always in the same order. For example, legal documents in Saudi Arabia require one's first name, father's name, grandfather's name, and family name.
It quickly became clear this was one news story we were going to need help with. Within an hour, two consultants from the renowned crisis-management firm Hill & Knowlton were making the three-hour drive to Daytona Beach from their Tampa office. At 9 a.m., Ledewitz crossed the street and briefed the assembled press at the fieldhouse. She told them Embry-Riddle mourned with the nation and that one or more of the commercial pilots on the hijacked flights may have been university alumni. She said Embry-Riddle was cooperating with the FBI and that questions about terrorists should be directed to that agency. At noon, the consultants arrived. Meeting with university executives, they developed a communication plan. Administrators and friends of the university were charged with reaching out with facts and reassurance to executives in aviation, aerospace, banking, and insurance, elected officials, donors, news media, students and parents, faculty, staff, alumni, trustees, and community leaders. Meanwhile, the barrage of phone calls from reporters continued. The ordeal taught me how cut-throat the news business can be. Although we knew little more than they did, reporters were skeptical and probed relentlessly. Often I sensed desperation in their voices. Most were under tremendous pressure from editors to get a fact or a quote their competitors didn't have. We came to realize that the media's need for information was our opportunity to set the facts straight about Embry-Riddle and its capabilities. A tragedy had thrust the university onto the world stage; at least we could help write its script. As we did this, we began to see news stories referring to Embry-Riddle as the source of 25 percent of U.S. commercial pilots and "one of the nation's most respected aviation training grounds" (Washington Post, Sept. 24, 2001). At 3 p.m., Ledewitz held a second press briefing. Again she conveyed the university's grief for the victims, one or more of whom may have been alumni pilots. She also repeated that the university would not provide information that might impede the FBI's investigation and hoped that Embry-Riddle had not been victimized by unknowingly educating a hijacker.
Thursday, Sept. 13 The media continued to speculate about the FBI's list of hijackers, one of whom, Waleed Al-Shehri, had a name similar to that of a student who graduated from the Daytona Beach campus in 1997 with a B.S. in aeronautical science. The phones rang nonstop, and reporters waited in the hallway. Was this hijacker a graduate of Embry-Riddle, they asked. What had he studied? What kind of student had he been? Could they talk to his former professors? His former classmates? Would we provide a photo of him? Without knowing the truth, which even the FBI was still trying to determine, we could only tell reporters the facts we knew. Yes, we had an alumnus with a similar name, but that didn't mean he was a hijacker. No, we wouldn't release grades, photos, or names of professors or former students. Meanwhile, the outreach effort continued to internal audiences. President George Ebbs, Chief Academic Officer Barry Benedict, Carrell, Connolly, Extended Campus Chancellor Leon Flancher, Ledewitz, and other university officers met with staff department chairs, international student services staffs, student leaders, instructor pilots, several large classes, and the staffs of the student newspapers and radio station. Their message combined news and inspiration: These were unusual times for the nation and the university, they said. We had suffered the loss of pilot Charlebois and others who died in the attacks. There was a possible Embry-Riddle link to one of the hijackers. Security has been increased to minimize disruption to campus life. Let's stand tall, stick together, and honor our community and diversity. Counseling is available. Check the web for further updates. At 11:30 p.m., reports of smoke and a bomb in the Student Village forced 1,000 students living there into a driving rainstorm from approaching hurricane Gabrielle. While students huddled in the Student Center, the university's contract food service company, Sodexho, served free refreshments. The smoke was determined to be caused by a short circuit in the ventilation system's heating element, the "bomb" a case and a half of Coors Light in a duffle bag someone had ditched in an Adams Hall stairwell. Students returned to their beds well after midnight.
Friday, Sept. 14 At 2 p.m., faculty, staff, and students across the university were asked by President Ebbs to observe two minutes of silence for Charlebois and the other victims of the Sept. 11 attacks. The U.S. Department of Justice released the names of the 19 suspected hijackers, including Waleed Al-Shehri, identified as a Daytona Beach resident, who had trained as a pilot, and was aboard the first plane to strike the World Trade Center. The FBI faxed an advance copy to prepare us for the public scrutiny that would follow.
Saturday/Sunday, Sept. 15-16 A full-page statement by Embry-Riddle to the community appeared in the Daytona Beach News-Journal on Saturday and in the Prescott (Ariz.)Daily Courier on Sunday. It repeated key messages: Embry-Riddle also had suffered losses, an alumnus might have been a hijacker, and the university thanked the community for their prayers, support, and respect for its international students and alumni.
Monday, Sept. 17 An announcement that the David M. Charlebois Memorial Fund for Aviation Safety (see below) had been created was posted to the web and e-mailed to alumni. In Washington, D.C., President Ebbs represented Embry-Riddle at the funeral service for Charlebois.
Tuesday, Sept. 18
Wednesday/Thursday, Sept. 19-20
Friday, Sept. 21 She spent the day on the phone working the FBI chain-of-command, seeking confirmation that Al-Shehri was alive. At 3:45 p.m., she got the go-ahead from Washington and, with the tap of a computer key, released the news to PR Newswire for instant distribution to tens of thousands of media organizations. We also posted the news to our web site, e-mailed it to employees and alumni, and faxed it to trustees. In the release, the university said it had learned its alumnus was alive and had talked to U.S. officials in Morocco that week. President Ebbs was quoted, saying, "We are very pleased that our Al-Shehri turned up alive and well, and that the link between Al-Shehri and this despicable act has been proven to be nonexistent." "When we finally got the word, you could hear the cheers in our office," said records director Kruse. Eleven days after the attacks, Embry-Riddle emerged from the cloud of terrorism that had threatened its progress. For the aviation industry, the skies remain overcast. But past experience has taught Embry-Riddle that challenges create strength, resiliency, and new solutions. During the weeks that followed, we sent messages to alumni, parents, and students that broke the link between the university and the attacks. We also reported that Embry-Riddle was working to develop solutions for aviation security and expressed gratitude for the many messages of support that had been sent to the university. After Sept. 21, the nation's emotional wounds were still raw, people were staying home, and airlines were shedding flights and employees. Everything had to be seen in a new light. We held meetings to evaluate student recruiting messages that had seemed so right just weeks earlier. University experts consulted with elected officials and industry leaders on pending legislation, airport security, and new needs for research and education. The communications department log records thousands of media calls between Sept. 11 and 21. But they only tell part of the story. Missing are the e-mail interviews, the reporters who called other offices of the university, and those who roamed both campuses, grilling students and professors. Overall, the national media reported the news accurately and treated Embry-Riddle with respect, even sympathy at times. Our strategy of using the Internet, e-mail, voice mail, and electronic wire services to get out our message was an effective use of technology. Embry-Riddle is still recovering from the early damage caused when the world believed we had trained terrorists. We still run into people who never heard the later news that we didn't. The university depends on its alumni, students, and friends to help spread the word that there are no known links between their university and the tragedy of Sept. 11. We invite you to join the effort.
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