Shore toll, now 145, will grow

Published in the Asbury Park Press 9/19/01

And the count is expected to continue to expand; New York authorities estimate they are taking about 100 new missing persons reports each day.

Some local towns are particularly hard hit. In Middletown, for example, Detective Lt. Michael Rubino said at least 30 residents have been reported missing to the local police -- which does not necessarily take into account those missing reported to other authorities such as the New York City police. Of the 30, at least three are confirmed dead.

Of those from the area known to be missing, 131 were from Monmouth County and 14 from Ocean County. But those figures don't take into account the number of broken hearts.

"Something was terribly wrong"

Astrid Sohan spoke to her mother at 8:15 a.m. on Sept. 11.

"I just called to see how she was doing," said Barbara Sohan. Her 32-year-old daughter said she had a lot of work that day and had to go.

The substance of that conversation came as no surprise to her mother. Sohan enjoyed her work. She had been in technical support for Marsh & McLennan on the 95th floor of Tower One of the World Trade Center "for four or five years," Barbara Sohan said. "She loved her job, had a really great job. She loved it and made a lot of money."

She loved it so much that Sohan would go to work early, at 7:30 a.m. instead of 9 a.m.

When the Trade Center was attacked, it knocked out the phones on Sohan's floor. She used a digital beeper to talk to a friend in Brooklyn, who then relayed a message to Sohan's boyfriend, Mark Taylor, with whom she lived in Freehold. Taylor then relayed the message to Barbara Sohan, who lives in Hazlet.

"They didn't know if it was a plane or bomb," her mother said.

Her daughter said there was smoke and fire in the building and that 11 of them were huddled in a corner.

A second relayed message came. They were trying to get out.

Then, an ominous, last message:

"She asked her friend to call her mom and dad and tell them that she loved them very much," Barbara Sohan said. "When I got that message, I knew that something was terribly wrong."

Since last Tuesday, Barbara Sohan has been going to the armory at 26th and Lexington in New York City to spread information about her missing daughter. She has appeared on a television show, talking about Astrid.

She can tick off her daughter's attributes without missing a beat: "vibrant, full of life, perky, upbeat, full of knowledge."

"She loves life," she said of her daughter. "She's happy."

The week has been difficult -- "some days good, some days bad" -- and Barbara Sohan wishes now that she could "get into (Astrid's) head" and ask questions left unanswered.

"It's very hard," she said. "I love my daughter very much.""Love bears all things"

When she looks back over her 25-year marriage to Louis Minervino -- their 26th anniversary is tomorrow -- Barbara thinks of a Biblical passage in Corinthians.

"Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things," it says.

Like thousands, Louis J. Minervino, 54, was at his job at the World Trade Center last Tuesday, as usual, at 9 a.m. And like scores of other families, his is planning a memorial Mass.

It was an "Ozzie and Harriet" sort of relationship, Barbara Minervino said. Every day, he went into the city at about 6:15 a.m. Every day, she took care of their two daughters, Laina and Marisa, who are now grown, and cooked the meals.

And every morning, Louis Minervino would call his wife at about 9 a.m. from his job as a CPA and senior vice president at Marsh USA Inc. The last time she spoke with him was Tuesday morning.

She had just told her husband she loved him, and put the phone down when the news broke across the television that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.

"I screamed, 'Oh, my God, he's dead, they're all dead,' " she said. "From the picture on the TV, I knew my husband was dead."

One of her daughters, a recent college graduate, was already at the family's Middletown house. Barbara called her eldest daughter, who works in the city. She told her to come home.

Her daughter was one of the last people to get across the George Washington Bridge before the city shut down.

At first, the hours ticked by with some hope, she said. After all, Minervino walked down 52 floors before finding a phone to call home after the center was bombed in 1993.

But that night, there was still no word.

"We laid down, the three of us in the bed that I shared with my husband, and we just laid there, and we didn't sleep," she said.

The next day, they called hospitals. They filled out the dossier the American Red Cross asks all families of missing people to complete that goes on for pages.

Through it, Barbara Minervino held close her wedding ring. Last year, on their 25th anniversary, the couple renewed their vows with new rings. She has the old one -- the symbol of the marriage that "was everything to him."

"Everything about him didn't die in that," she said. "His spirit was still here."

"That's important to me to know that that circle is not going to be broken," she added.

Over the past several days, the Minervino family and friends have been remembering a man who was quiet, but could light up a room filled with those closest to him, a gentle man who never spoke harshly, and a man who was never willing to compromise his principles in the business world.

They've taken some comfort in the stream of family and friends, the strangers who have left food on their front step, and the business owners who have done everything from close the family pool for the winter to send over American flags. And they've held close their faith, while praying the nation's leaders do the right thing.

"My husband believes completely in life and love," Barbara Minervino said. "Life will go on. It died that day for us as a family of four. As a family of three it will go forward."

Double heartache

The two men worked side by side on the 85th floor of Tower Two for Euro Brokers Inc. Brett kept a Manhattan apartment but maintained his mailing address in Brick, and stayed often at his parents' house, Judy said.

"You don't know what to do," Judy Bailey said.

"I don't think there's anything left," she said. "I just can't cry anymore."

Judy was on the treadmill in the Brick house when she saw the news about the first plane hitting Tower One Sept. 11. She tried to call Brett but had no luck. But her husband, Kevin, managed to get through to Brett's cell phone.

"There was a lot of noise and commotion in the background, and then it went out," Judy said.

Brett's fiancee, Dina Carlucci, 27, his brother, Yuriah, 25, and his sister, Yarah, 26, had just left the house yesterday, headed for a local tattoo parlor. All three planned to get patriotic tattoos in remembrance of Brett.

Since Brett had a long-time reverence for firefighters -- especially New York City firefighters -- Yuriah planned to have his arm tattooed with a picture of a fireman's hat with Brett's initials inside. "He's going to put the words, 'brothers in arms,'" on there, too," Judy said.

She described her son as an avid golfer and sport fishermen who went on fishing trips with his buddies at least three times each summer. He also enjoyed surfing and skiing. "He was always doing something. He was always on the move," Judy said.

Brett had just proposed to Dina after 5 1/2 years together. They were to be married June 8.

"I never saw him sad," Judy said of her oldest son. "He had so many friends."

The Baileys have been overwhelmed by support from Brett's friends, who have combed New York City hospitals and visited the Lexington Avenue armory, searching for information about Brett and Robert Coll. One friend has even been volunteering at the armory, hoping he might get information about Brett faster, she said.

Judy is trying to remain hopeful, saying it's still possible that Brett and Robert could be alive, could be hurt and in hospital beds and not yet identified.

"You don't know what to do," she said. "We've tried everything. It's so hard."

She doesn't want to give up

Miller, 46, worked as a conferee for the New York State Department of Taxation and Finance in the bureau of conciliation and mediation in Two World Trade Center on the 87th floor.

Last Tuesday morning, Miller left a message on his wife's cell phone voice mail. "He was very calm," Faith Miller said. An airplane had just missed his building, he told his wife, and crashed into the other tower.

He was "just reassuring me," his wife said. "I was relieved."

"I never heard from him again," she said.

The couple, who live in Old Bridge near Matawan, has two daughters, Dina, almost 16, and Melanie, 13. They are members of Temple Beth Ahm in Aberdeen.

Since then, Faith Miller and her girls have been doing everything they can think of to try to find Robert Miller. They've called hospitals -- sometimes several times a day -- with the hopes he would be found. They've been up to the city twice to a missing persons center New York officials set up, and they've brought in household items that contain Miller's DNA in case it is needed.

But Faith Miller said she knows it's been a long time since she's heard from her husband of almost 20 years.

"We miss him," she said. "You have a lot of hope the first few days . . . It's just so many days have gone by."

Raphael "Ralph" Scorca, of Beachwood, is a "warm, compassionate and giving person," his sister-in-law said yesterday.

"He was one of the most wonderful people I've ever met in this world," Judith Wiegand, also of Beachwood, said. "His family came above all else."

Scorca, 61, listed as missing, is assistant vice president for facilities and management for Marsh & McLennan. His office was on the 93rd floor of Tower One.

His wife, Jane, was still sleeping when her husband left their Spray Avenue home Tuesday at 4:30 a.m., his usual time to begin the trek into Manhattan, Wiegand said.

The couple have been married for 31 years. They have no children.

Part of a "brotherhood"

Some of those who loved him gathered yesterday at the home of his parents, Gail and Dr. Edward A. Brennan Jr., to comfort each other, share memories and plan his memorial. They searched for the precise words appropriate to describe Ted, a fitness buff who was a vice president, institutional broker and salesman for Cantor Fitzgerald, where he'd worked for more than 11 years.

They remembered the big things, like Ted's sense of humor and his penchant for holding on to friends, and the small, like his love of Italian food.

"One of the simplest and most meaningful comments I heard came from . . . a former classmate," Dr. Brennan said, quoting the classmate as telling him, "I liked and respected your son." Choking with emotion, the father said, "That sounds pretty special."

"Countless times, everybody says Ted always kept, he never stopped keeping in touch with people," added Meghan Daly, Ted's girlfriend, who also said, "He made me laugh every day."

"You could not get him to say a bad word about people," Dr. Brennan said.

Reflecting the expansive circle of people devastated by his loss, Brennan's mother composed a tribute in which she described him as an "adored son," "loving brother," "wonderful uncle" and "cherished grandson."

Daly said Brennan "loved the Jersey Shore. He loved the Parker House. He loved the city, too." Daly and Brennan's father said he was very close to his colleagues at Cantor Fitzgerald and loyal to his friends. "They were like a brotherhood," Dr. Brennan said. And, they said, Ted lived and breathed golf. "Once the weather got nice, he was on the golf course every weekend," Daly said.

And they said, Ted even planned a golf trip to Ireland next year with a colleague, who is also missing from the World Trade Center.

Staff writers Kristen Ostendorf, Nina Rizzo, Kirk Moore, C. John Schoonejongen, Elaine Silvestrini, Jean Mikle, Bob Jordan, Coleen Dee Berry and Rodney Point-Du-Jour contributed to this story.