The Many Lives I’ve Lived

I was two months into a relationship with an incredible woman. We both had a big weekend coming up. She worked for a nightclub in the Lower East Side of Manhattan while attending F.I.T. in Chelsea and was headed to the Sundance Film Festival where the club was throwing weekend afterparties for the movies being screened there. I was headed to Washington D.C. the next day, as a photographer contributing to Getty Images, who would be covering the events, galas and concerts surrounding the inauguration of our nation’s first black President, Barack Obama.

We were in a taxi headed across 34^th street in Manhattan towards her dorm on 31^st street, between 9^th and 10^th avenues. As we approached the turn for 9^th avenue which would take us south to her dorm, I received a phone call from a friend of mine who lived on 42^nd street and 11^th avenue. Her boyfriend and her were staring out the window when suddenly an airplane crashed into the river just one block away from her apartment. I’m not sure what made her think of me but I’m very thankful she did. I am also very thankful that I was always prepared to work. I was in my first month as a contributor with Getty, I had just signed my contract in December and whenever I came into the city from my Brooklyn apartment, I made sure my camera was with me just in case someone needed a photographer to cover an event. Event photography typically didn’t require us to carry a long lens but for some reason, that day, I had one on me.

I turned to my girlfriend and said “I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I can’t take you to the airport. Just catch a cab.” I felt horrible. She was the sweetest person, and I was leaving her hanging just a couple of hours before her flight to one of the most important weekends of her life. I had the cab drop her off at her dorm and immediately take me to 34^th street and the West Side Highway, which in that part of town is called 12^th avenue.

When I got to the waterfront, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was staring at US Airways Flight 1549 floating on the river. I was numb from both the shock of what I was looking at, the thought that there could be people on that plane drowning as we speak and the fact that it was 19 damn degrees outside. I put the long lens on my camera and started snapping pictures. The 75-300mm lens that I had allowed me to zoom in and clearly see rescuers escorting passengers away as well as fire, police, ferries and tugboats tying ropes around the plane to prevent it from sinking. Sinking meant two bad scenarios. Just beneath 34^th street in the Hudson River is the Midtown Tunnel. A plane that large sinking to the bottom of the riverbed at a quick rate of speed could potentially put too much weight on the tunnel and risk collapsing on passenger cars traveling through it. The second scenario is once it sinks, the plane could break apart in the river and make recovery and removal efforts quite difficult.

The Hudson River is a steady moving body of water which meant in one hour, the plane could be washed into NY Harbor and potentially affect boats and ferries moving throughout the area. This also meant that the plane I was trying to photograph was moving down river, away from me at a rate of 3mph, which is roughly a brisk walking pace. I began to run down the path along the river to get ahead of the plane so I could keep documenting the recovery and rescue efforts. Every so often I would come to a pier and would sprint to the end of the pier to be closer to the plane which allowed for the best shots I captured all day.

When I came to Chelsea Pier, the FBI and NYPD were already there and were starting to block off the areas around the river. At this point no one knew if it was a terrorist attack or just a mechanical failure, so the scene was tense. As I tried running to the end of Chelsea Pier I was asked by an FBI Agent for my ID, I opened my wallet and right in the clear window of my wallet was a business card which was given to me by a DEA friend of mine. I went to go pull out my drivers license to show the agent, he saw the DEA card and said, “You’re good, go ahead”. I looked down and said “What?”. He ran to assist fellow agents, and I said to myself, “oh damn, he thought that card is mine.” I didn’t hesitate and used this opportunity to run to the end of the pier and snap a few more photos.

At this point, my fingers were numb. I couldn’t move them and had to put them under my jacket to heat them up for a moment before continuing to take photos.

I left Chelsea Pier and continued following the plane down towards Canal Street, roughly 40 blocks or two miles from where I started. I was frozen, I was exhausted, but I knew what I had was breaking news. I hadn’t seen another photographer in that entire stretch. Could I have an exclusive on my hands?

I phoned my office and told them I got shots of the plane on the Hudson River. They said they’re all set and were sending someone down there right now. I replied “no, I HAVE the photos already. I’ve been photographing it for the last 30 minutes.” My assignment editor said, “OMG, where are you and how fast can you get here?”. I told him I was in the lobby on my way up as we spoke. Getty Images has an office on Canal and Varick Street just north of Tribeca which was four blocks from where I left the plane. I ran into the office and threw my memory cards on the desk and said here, take them, my hands are numb. Every editor in the building crowded around and reviewed the images. They picked the best 5 shots of the bunch, turned to me and made me an offer that I immediately accepted.

It was the third thing I had shot for Getty, the first two, being events. I got some press coverage for the events I shot but the pick-up on these images would shock me more than the plane crash itself.

I left for D.C. the next morning and walked into a 7-11 to get some snacks. I turned and looked at the newspapers beside me and all but one of the papers used my images, many of them on the cover. I started getting Google alerts on my phone that continue to this day, almost 17 years later. Just two days ago on December 3, 2025, NatGeo named my photo to their “Photo of the Day” list, highlighting groundbreaking photos and moments throughout history. Why did they pick this image on December 3^rd? I’m not sure, but hey, I’m not complaining either. I’ve been contributing to Getty Images for 16yrs now and I don’t think I’ve had another photo do even half of what that image did as far as pickup.

As for the girlfriend, she broke up with me while she was away. We are still friendly to this day and if you asked either of us if I should’ve left her stranded like that, I think we’d both agree that I made the right choice.