Never Again Lose Perspective.

I formed the MarketCounsel Foundation on September 11, 2002 to deliver on a promise I made to myself on September 12, 2001 to never again lose perspective.

The morning of September 11, 2001 was a glorious one.  I was scheduled to present at 10am at a local seminar of financial advisors in New Jersey so the morning played out slowly.  I did some work from home, grabbed orange juice from the refrigerator.  Sniff...had the juice gone sour?  How long does this stuff last anyway?  Getting dressed brought its share of frustrations.  Do any of the pants hanging in my closet even fit?  My face is actually hot with frustration.  My cell phone rings at 8:48am and it's my father.  "Brian, turn on the TV," he says.  I share my frustration about my pants not fitting well and he continues to demand that I turn on the TV.

The Today Show is reporting a Cessna plane had flown into the side of the World Trade Center.  "Should those airplanes even be allowed to fly around there?" I asked.  I never turn the TV on in the morning.  I quickly turned it off and expressed my disdain with my father for even calling me about that.  He knows we usually speak only after business hours.  My morning is spent gaining focus for the day ahead.  Well, my wife would tell me to not be so hard on him, he's my father.

I jump into my car and head up the NJ Turnpike to the conference.  As I get on the Turnpike, radio news seem to be reporting that the first "Cessna" might have actually been a larger plane.  Shortly thereafter, a second jet strikes the towers.  I arrive at the hotel site of the conference and quickly find my host.  The hotel lobby is already filled with travelers increasing in their level of panic.  "I apologize but I think I should go," I said with inquiry in my voice to my host.  "In fact, I suspect when your attendees gain word of what's going on there won't be anyone left here," I continued.  "Don't be silly," he replied.  "We have natural disasters like earthquakes all the time in California.  Why is this any different."

I was unsure if I was overreacting but I swiftly returned to my car.  I watched low flying military fighter jets pass right over me.  I called my mother who was working in Manhattan...all circuits were busy.  In fact, any call I made was met with fast busy signals.  My level of anxiety had reached a fever pitch.  I just didn't know what was going on.  Suddenly that inconvenient call from my father would have been very comforting about now.

I got back to the office and, although I wanted to remain cool and not get her nervous, I hugged my wife for an extended embrace.  She assured me that my mother was in touch with my father and was OK.  The busses and trains were overwhelmed; she was getting a ride home with a colleague.  It would take her hours but she'd be OK.  I went to the office across the hall where my father's investment advisory firm operated from.  We sat and talked for a while and I was able to settle down.

I returned to my office and sat stunned watching the TV with my wife and our two other staff.  We had no internet access.  I suddenly stood up.  "Susan!  Was she at Sandler O'Neill today?" I asked my team.  No one was sure.  Susan Schuler started working with us months prior when Bill Singer, a longtime attorney friend, suggested we share her.  She was tiring of the commute from New Jersey to lower Manhattan and he didn't want to lose her altogether.  He also wanted her to be happy.  Two days with us, two days with them and one day at Sandler O'Neill & Partners.  Sandler O'Neill's offices were on the 104th floor of the South Tower of the World Trade Center.  I called Bill to no avail.  His office was in lower Manhattan; phone service was impossible.

Should I call Jim, her husband?  What would I say?  The call would probably not even go through.  Ring...ring...ring.  A man answered with a soft "hello."  "Jim, this is Brian Hamburger.  I am so sorry for calling you but, is Susan OK?"  He began to cry and I joined him.  He later would tell me that she arrived early and went right to work.  On any other day, she would meet a friend and stay downstairs to grab some breakfast.  Her friend was off that day.  She called him right after the first plane hit the North Tower to let him know what happened and that she was safe.  She told him not to worry and she agreed to head downstairs with some of her colleagues.  Shortly after their conversation, the other hijacked jetliner crashed into the South Tower.  Susan was 55 years old and never heard from again.

I watched the events unfold that night surrounded by family and couldn't help but feel helpless.  The very next morning, I promised myself that I would never again lose perspective.  Just the morning prior I was concerned about the fit of my pants when, just later that morning, my friend and colleague has perished.  Over the following days, weeks, and months there was an outpouring of mutual support among clients, colleagues and business partners.  I realized what may be an obvious point to some: The incessant focus on business issues unnecessarily limits the human dimensions we share with our colleagues and business partners.  I regret that it took Susan's passing to furnish me with the perspective.  But I thank her for the gift and I promise to never forget.

Thank you for your interest in our charitable efforts,

Brian Hamburger
Founder and Chairman