Professor Tilghman became President Tilghman in the summer of 2001. One of her first public addresses — made even before the University had a chance to celebrate her appointment — was a sad one, delivered at a Sept. 16 memorial service on Cannon Green for those killed five days before.
Ten years later, this issue of PAW marks both anniversaries, linked in Princeton’s collective mind.
Thirteen alumni died on 9/11; their names are recorded in a small and lovely garden outside Chancellor Green. In what is, I think, the most moving issue that PAW ever produced (Nov. 7, 2001), my predecessor, Jane Chapman Martin ’89, brought together their stories, as told by the family members and friends who loved them.
Among those who died was Robert L. Cruikshank ’58, a youthful man with a sharp sense of humor and the patience of someone “who knows how difficult it is for a tennis player to learn golf.” Charles A. McCrann ’68, described by a classmate as “adroit at making the best of any situation.” William E. Caswell *75, a brilliant physicist who led a team of 100 scientists doing research for the Navy.
We lost Martin P. Wolhforth ’76, who taught people a few things about modesty, devotion to family, and what’s important in life. And former Triangle member Robert J. Deraney ’80, a “dazzling dancer and music lover” who “set kindness and consideration for others at the very center of his personality.” And Joshua A. Rosenthal *81, a funny and brilliant Truman Scholar who saw the Woodrow Wilson School as a “stadium where ideas were tested for practical merit.”
Gone suddenly: Karen Klitzman ’84, lover of family, travel, cooking, theater, and tennis (her brother, Robert ’80, writes about her on page 32). And Jeffrey D. Wiener ’90, who’d give you the shirt off his back — or buy you a new one. Also John Schroeder ’92, a friend, brother, and son who played on Princeton’s national-championship lacrosse team in his senior year.
Christopher Ingrassia ’95 was remembered as “the guy everyone couldn’t wait to see”; Robert G. McIlvaine ’97, a “dazzling intellect” and “moral compass”; Christopher Mello ’98, a “singular friend” blessed with charisma, good looks, athletic skill, and an amazing smile. Catherine MacRae ’00 was just 23 and one year into her career when she died on the 93rd floor of the World Trade Center. “If you had to sum up Cat in one word,” wrote Andrew Caspersen ’99, “it would be ‘love.’”
This issue remembers the season in which we lost them all.
— Marilyn H. Marks *86