Michael Otten
Family Man Was 'Just a Big Kid'
October 3, 2001
In her head, Marion Otten has a treasure chest of memories of her husband.
One of her favorites is from the day their first son was born. As she was wheeled
into the recovery room, Marion saw Michael Otten sitting there with their newborn
child in his arms, grinning from ear to ear.
There are other memories, too. Michael playing football with their three sons
on the front lawn of their East Islip home, or disappearing with the two older
sons on a boys-only camping trip.
His best friend, fellow firefighter Ray Pfiefer, has a head full of memories
of Otten, too. "The crazy fire stories, the fun times, the crazy times," he said. "I
can't even tell you them all."
Now, Otten's wife and best friend share a new and far more disturbing memory.
On Thursday, Pfiefer accompanied Marion Otten to Lower Manhattan. She wanted
to see the mountains of debris where the World Trade Center used to be, so that
she could begin to understand that she will never see her husband of 14 years
again.
Before, Marion Otten didn't want to think about planning a funeral for her husband.
She said she didn't want to give up hope. But after seeing the rubble, she turned
to Pfiefer with a new resolve.
"I want something for the box," she said. "I don't care what it takes."
Michael Otten, 42, always called his wife whenever there was a fire on television,
and Sept. 11 was no exception. At a quarter to nine, Marion Otten picked up the
phone in their home during her hectic morning routine.
"Hurry up," her husband said. "Turn the TV on."
That was before the Twin Towers fell, before the enormity of that day's tragedy
became apparent, and Marion Otten was trying to rush their sons - Christopher,
11, Jonathan, 8 and Jason, 5 - off to school. She only had time for a quick look
before turning back to the phone.
"I'll talk to you later," she said. "Bye."
Unlike the thousands of people who placed panicked calls from inside the World
Trade Center, Michael Otten's calm call came from the comfort of his Manhattan
firehouse on 66th Street. Otten's wife didn't feel she needed to worry about
her husband unnecessarily. In fact, she worried more about her brother, also
named Michael Otten, who worked on the 80th floor of Tower Two. He got out unharmed.
But that phone call would be the last time that she would speak to her husband.
Michael Otten would soon respond to the disaster along with the other members
of Manhattan's Ladder Co. 35. Eleven men from that firehouse are now missing
or dead. Otten is still officially among the missing.
Those who care about him have spent the days since the attack remembering all
the things they loved about Otten.
His mother, Teresa Otten, said that she kept thinking about how her son, a third
generation firefighter, was a "wonderful husband," and a "Mr. Mom who loved doing
the shopping and the cooking and was extremely devoted to his family."
His wife said he was "just a big kid himself. He loved coaching our two oldest
in soccer, or playing roller hockey with the family. He was an amazing man."
Meanwhile, Pfiefer has spent countless hours at Ground Zero, searching for any
signs of life, but paying special attention to the spot he thinks that Otten
was at when he was trapped beneath the rubble.
It wasn't until Monday, when he was teamed up with a search and rescue team from
California - a team that had pulled survivors out of crumbled buildings after
earthquakes in Los Angeles - that he began to lose hope.
But he stays in the city, digging and taking scant breaks, for the more than
60 firefighters who are missing, and for Otten's wife. So she can have something
for the box.
"We'll keep digging for her," Pfiefer said. "It's what Mikey would want me to
do for her." --Erik Holm (Newsday)
In her head, Marion Otten has a treasure chest of memories of her husband.
One of her favorites is from the day their first son was born. As she was wheeled
into the recovery room, Marion saw Michael Otten sitting there with their newborn
child in his arms, grinning from ear to ear.
There are other memories, too. Michael playing football with their three sons
on the front lawn of their East Islip home, or disappearing with the two older
sons on a boys-only camping trip.
His best friend, fellow firefighter Ray Pfiefer, has a head full of memories
of Otten, too. "The crazy fire stories, the fun times, the crazy times," he said. "I
can't even tell you them all."
Now, Otten's wife and best friend share a new and far more disturbing memory.
On Thursday, Pfiefer accompanied Marion Otten to Lower Manhattan. She wanted
to see the mountains of debris where the World Trade Center used to be, so that
she could begin to understand that she will never see her husband of 14 years
again.
Before, Marion Otten didn't want to think about planning a funeral for her husband.
She said she didn't want to give up hope. But after seeing the rubble, she turned
to Pfiefer with a new resolve.
"I want something for the box," she said. "I don't care what it takes."
Michael Otten, 42, always called his wife whenever there was a fire on television,
and Sept. 11 was no exception. At a quarter to nine, Marion Otten picked up the
phone in their home during her hectic morning routine.
"Hurry up," her husband said. "Turn the TV on."
That was before the Twin Towers fell, before the enormity of that day's tragedy
became apparent, and Marion Otten was trying to rush their sons - Christopher,
11, Jonathan, 8 and Jason, 5 - off to school. She only had time for a quick look
before turning back to the phone.
"I'll talk to you later," she said. "Bye."
Unlike the thousands of people who placed panicked calls from inside the World
Trade Center, Michael Otten's calm call came from the comfort of his Manhattan
firehouse on 66th Street. Otten's wife didn't feel she needed to worry about
her husband unnecessarily. In fact, she worried more about her brother, also
named Michael Otten, who worked on the 80th floor of Tower Two. He got out unharmed.
But that phone call would be the last time that she would speak to her husband.
Michael Otten would soon respond to the disaster along with the other members
of Manhattan's Ladder Co. 35. Eleven men from that firehouse are now missing
or dead. Otten is still officially among the missing.
Those who care about him have spent the days since the attack remembering all
the things they loved about Otten.
His mother, Teresa Otten, said that she kept thinking about how her son, a third
generation firefighter, was a "wonderful husband," and a "Mr. Mom who loved doing
the shopping and the cooking and was extremely devoted to his family."
His wife said he was "just a big kid himself. He loved coaching our two oldest
in soccer, or playing roller hockey with the family. He was an amazing man."
Meanwhile, Pfiefer has spent countless hours at Ground Zero, searching for any
signs of life, but paying special attention to the spot he thinks that Otten
was at when he was trapped beneath the rubble.
It wasn't until Monday, when he was teamed up with a search and rescue team from
California - a team that had pulled survivors out of crumbled buildings after
earthquakes in Los Angeles - that he began to lose hope.
But he stays in the city, digging and taking scant breaks, for the more than
60 firefighters who are missing, and for Otten's wife. So she can have something
for the box.
"We'll keep digging for her," Pfiefer said. "It's what Mikey would want me to
do for her." --Erik Holm (Newsday)