On Sept. 11, 2001, I was in Montana, volunteering as a firefighter and serving as a reserve deputy with the county sheriff’s office. I was more than 2,000 miles from the World Trade Center, but I still felt compelled to go to work. The uncertainty surrounding what was happening in New York, at the Pentagon and in Shanksville reached far beyond those locations.
For me, that meant putting on my sheriff’s uniform and helping secure critical federal infrastructure in our region. Across the country, others were finding their own ways to help. Neighbors introduced themselves, checked on one another and paid closer attention to the people around them.
Years later, I was reminded this sense of community is often built in ordinary places — around a firehouse kitchen table, in a neighborhood restaurant or over a meal shared with someone who starts as a stranger. I found that same connection when I met Chef Maurizio Crescenzo.
I was in New York City for a meeting in 2023. I asked FDNY Chief Frank Leeb to recommend a restaurant for me. He suggested Taverna Di Bacco on the Lower East Side.
As we walked into the beautiful Italian restaurant, a man greeted us at the door and asked whether we had a reservation. Coming from Wyoming, where you can walk into almost any restaurant without one, I smiled and admitted that we did not.
He smiled back. “It’s early enough. Come on in.”
As he led us to a table, I mentioned that Frank Leeb had recommended the restaurant.
“Firefighters? Squad 18?” he asked.
“No, firefighters from Wyoming,” we told him.
Again, he smiled. “Do you trust me?”
He seated us, picked up the menus and, without taking an order, began bringing out a succession of appetizers and entrees.
The food was remarkable, but what stayed with me most was the man who had welcomed us at the door: Taverna Di Bacco’s owner and chef, Maurizio Crescenzo. And over the past three years, I have had the pleasure of getting to know Maurizio better, including his special connection to the FDNY.
Maurizio came to the United States from Italy in 1996 with a dream of owning an Italian restaurant. He worked hard to become a U.S. citizen, and ultimately realized that dream, opening his first restaurant — Grano Trattoria — which just happened to be next to FDNY Squad 18 in the West Village. What began as proximity soon developed into a relationship that would take on far greater meaning after Sept. 11.
How did you first meet and become friends with the FDNY firefighters?
Maurizio: I would see the guys next door and say hello. And I knew that at some point, having a firehouse next to me, I was going to knock on the door and bring them some food. That’s what Italians do.
Then there was a day that I needed their help. I had a refrigerator for the kitchen being delivered. The delivery guys dropped it on the sidewalk. They didn’t bring it inside.
There were three firefighters outside the firehouse. They looked at me, with that New York City, Long Island way, and said, “Hey buddy, do you need any help?” They were messing with me, and I said, “Guys, before you mess around anymore, the first meal that comes out of this kitchen is going to be yours.”
So they went back to the firehouse, got their tools and took apart the door and the frame so we could get it through. Then the rest of the crew came out and helped lift the refrigerator into place.
And the next thing they said was, “OK, now we wait for the meal.” About a month later, I cooked the first meal out of that kitchen — and it was for them. That was our beginning. Our christening.
How did your friendship evolve over the years?
We became close. I was invited to Christmas at the firehouse. I was invited over for meals because they were always like, “Hey, what do you think about our food?” And I always needed to be polite. Most of the time I would say, “I’m sorry, guys. Give me the code to the door. I’ll come cook for you.”
Our friendship grew over the years — and after Sept. 11, the friendship became even more like family. Really close.
What were you doing on Sept. 10, 2001?
Sept. 10, I was working at the restaurant, which was next door to the firehouse of Squad 18. Obviously, like millions of people in New York and America, it was a regular day. No one could ever dream of something like that happening. I saw the guys next door like I did every day. It was a beautiful day. At nighttime, I said hello to the guys and, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And tomorrow, for seven of them, never came.
Where were you on Sept. 11, 2001?
We lived in Jersey City, directly across the river from the World Trade Center. We went downstairs from our building, trying to understand what was happening. It didn’t seem like something you really wanted to believe. And then, as we were standing there, we witnessed the second plane coming in.
You could hear everything. Obviously, you heard the sirens. You could nearly hear people screaming. You could see people falling. How can you describe that? There is no description.
What did you do in the days and weeks that followed?
Everything was closed. You couldn’t get into the city. I called my friends at FDNY and asked whether there was any way they could help me get back into the city. They arranged for me to meet them at the Holland Tunnel, where I was given a special access pass from the fire department.
Basically, every day I was able to go to the restaurant. At nighttime, I could open for regular business. But from the morning until around 5 p.m., I was only open for city workers — FDNY, NYPD and doctors from St. Vincent’s Hospital, which was only a couple of blocks away.
I told the guys, “You need half an hour, 10 minutes, five minutes — whatever. Water, a plate of pasta, whatever you need. You come down, you eat and you go, without worrying about it.” That’s what I did for two weeks. Everybody who came in had a free meal, and then they would go back to work.
Then people in the neighborhood saw what I was doing. They started bringing food. They started shopping. They started donating food. I would make trays of food, and people from the neighborhood would say, “Hey, we’ll help you,” and they would bring the food down to Ground Zero or anywhere it was needed.
That’s what I miss. I miss that community of people who all came together. No one was different from anybody else. Everybody came together. Everybody was so patriotic, so attached to the flag and to the country. There were hundreds and hundreds of people down on the West Side Highway lined up with signs saying, “Thank you, FDNY,” “Thank you, NYPD,” “Thank you, Army,” with American flags. People should go back and watch those videos and remember how beautiful America was at that moment.
What does 9/11 mean to you today?
The people we lost come to your heart and come to your mind. Every day. People like us who experienced it, who lost people we were together with the day before, we never forget.
I was honored to be one of the many millions of people in this country who really wanted to do something for this country. But 9/11 means a lot to me because of what I was able to do, and because I was able to involve more people in doing it.
I would tell people, “Do something, but do something with your heart. Don’t do something just because you think you should.”
9/11 is attached to my skin. I smelled it. I hugged the people. I hugged the firefighters of Squad 18 every night when they came back from Ground Zero. They would come down to the restaurant because it was the only place they had where they could sit next to their firehouse. They were full of dust, full of everything. Those things are attached to my skin.
How do you plan to spend Sept. 11 this year?
Every year since 9/11, when everything is done, when I finish work or whatever I am doing, I go down to Ground Zero. It could be 1, 2, 3 o’clock in the morning, when nearly nobody is there. I pay my respects to them.
And just today, I got a message that a lot of the Squad 18 people are going to come see me. They invited me to the Mass they have every year.
What’s your message to the American fire service?
Don’t become a political firefighter. Stay a firefighter. You have one job to do — save people and save your brother.
You cannot be afraid. It is a dangerous job. Very few people have that courage. A lot of people escape a fire. Those guys go toward a fire. They go inside. Today, there is a lot more safety, and I love that. Years ago, they didn’t have all the technology, the drones and the equipment that we have today. We lost a lot of lives that maybe somehow could have been saved. And we cried, and we remember them as well.
I’ve been to many funerals. I’ve also been to many weddings and christenings. I lived the true side of it — the happiness and the sadness. That’s when you are a family.
So the one message I can say is: Keep doing the job that you do because we need it. We need firefighters.
