By Tom Davis, Executive Vice President, Susan Davis International
9/11 … 2001. Like December 7, 1941, the day lives in infamy. As news broke that a plane had struck the World Trade Center in New York City, time froze for Americans tuning in to witness the horrific images. By day’s end, over 80 million Americans had seen planes crashing into the World Trade Center, setting the Pentagon afire, and digging a crater in a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. 9/11 is said to be the most photographed event in history.
A picture is worth a thousand words. The familiar expression has been articulated in many languages by many people over many centuries. In the U.S., its useful origin is widely attributed to Fred R. Barnard, national advertising manager for Street Railways Advertising. While Mr. Barnard had a particular interest in promoting the use of illustrations, we have no shortage of iconic photos that testify to the validity of the thought.
Just off the banks of the Potomac River as it flows through Washington, D.C., lies the U.S. Marine Corps War Memorial. It is better known as the Iwo Jima Memorial, and the image of the Marines struggling to raise the flag against the strong winds atop Mount Suribachi became a moment that captured the attention of the nation. It is, perhaps, the single most defining depiction of the Marine Corps ethos.
Another war produced another photo that arrested much of the world. In 1972, the Napalm Girl became a symbol of the enduring brutality of war and its impact on helpless civilians. Nine-year-old Kim Phuc was photographed running naked down a road, badly burned by napalm dropped by a South Vietnamese pilot who mistook civilians fleeing for their lives for enemy combatants. The look of anguish on a little girl’s face needed no explanation. No words could do justice to the emotions it wrought.
On 9/11, an act of terror riveted the attention of the nation. Nearly 3,000 Americans lost their lives, leaving families and friends devastated. In the immediate aftermath, many citizens of this nation felt unmoored, their lives upended, their days filled with anxiety. Healing would come slowly, but it began with pictures.
Amidst the smoking wreckage came a photo of three firefighters raising an American flag. The stirring photo became a symbol of resilience and resolution. Other photos captured the incredible courage of first responders who put their lives on the line so others might live.
President George W. Bush helped calm the nation and became part of another iconic photo. Climbing atop a heap of rubble to use a bullhorn, Bush thanked the first responders, his arm draped around a sixty-nine-year-old retired firefighter who had rushed back to lend a hand.
There was one more electric moment to come. In the aftermath of 9/11, Major League Baseball initially canceled all games but decided resuming play could help restore a sense of normalcy to a nation knocked off balance. As fate would have it, the Yankees rallied New Yorkers and went on to face the Arizona Diamondbacks in the World Series. The first two games were played in Arizona. Game three returned to Yankee Stadium. The President flew to New York, put a FDNY jacket over his bulletproof vest, and took the mound for the ceremonial first pitch. A sold-out stadium erupted when the President emerged from the Yankee dugout and took the mound. Every eye was on him as he rose to the moment, delivering a perfect strike to the crouching catcher. The crowd exploded; shouts of USA, USA rocked the stadium; people screamed, people wept.
Tens of thousands of words were written about the moment, all destined to be largely forgotten. But the pictures of America in shock, vulnerable, then heroic and resilient left an indelible etching, its meaning undiminished by the passage of time. It may be that not all pictures are worth a thousand words. Some are worth far more.
Photo credit: Lori Grinker / Contact Press Images