John Delach

Part Two: The Club at the WTC

Revised September 2026 and originally published : October 2001

When the WTC opened, the building boom was over and the towers joined the waiting list of buildings needing tenants. The North Tower, Number 2, the first one completed, did fill up and lived up to its name as a world trade center housing steamship companies, freight forwarders and international commerce brokers of all types and description. The South Tower looked like a bust, but New York State came to the rescue housing state office workers on most floors.

I had ceased being a surveyor, but I remained in the Marine Insurance business as an insurance broker placing insurance for ocean going ships of every size and description.  Business brought me regularly to the North Tower. Located on the upper most floor was Austin Tobin’s crown jewel, The Club at the World Trade Center, his personal gift to power. A magnificent drinking and dining facility with private rooms, cigars, a staff that exuded the snobbery of a private club, three martini lunches and a men’s room so magnificent, it could be an appropriate setting for a national leader to lay in state. The Club kept its own accounts and neither cash nor credit cards were accepted.

When the press became aware of the privacy and opulence of The Club, all hell broke loose. How could a public agency promote a subsidized private club? Tobin had to pacify the press and politicos and so, at night it became “Windows on the World” the unique public restaurant 110 floors in the air. The NY Times first review read in part: “…as to the quality of the food, you cannot beat the view.”

At lunchtime, The Club remained members only. A mentor, Charlie Robbins, introduced me to The Club. Charlie drank Bombay Gin Martinis and loved to entertain there. He especially liked to show it off to visiting British brokers and their wives. This was an era when British firms sent their senior and most promising junior brokers to the United States for two or three weeks at a time. The Labour Governments tax rate was 90% and these trips provided an alternate method of compensation. And so, they came to New York in May and October when the weather is best. 

Charlie’s greatest coup came during a dinner in one of their private dining rooms. He disappeared and, on his return announced: “ May I have your attention. I have arranged a special event for the ladies, a tour of the most magnificent men’s room in the world.” Charlie had convinced the staff to temporarily close the men’s room, and he proceeded to escort the ladies, including my wife, on a private tour to the delight of all.

Charlie encouraged me to become a member. We worked in midtown and the cost was discounted if you were north of Canal Street. During my 20 years as a member, I hosted many a lunch and dinner there. I utilized their private rooms to set agendas, deal with crises, congratulate success, say goodbye to retirees, good luck to transferees and accomplish other matters of commerce.

The view was paramount and at times dramatic. On crystal clear winter nights, the lights of the city and surrounding areas stretched like jewels. Manhattan buildings stood out, as did the brightest pockets of light, the airports. Rivers, bays and oceans glowed if the moon was full while we looked down upon helicopters as they flew by. Jets flying into and out of the three airports traced the sky against the backdrop of the stars. During one dinner, low clouds swept in and we could no longer see the street or other buildings, but we could still see the stars. Such was life in the fast lane 1970s and 1980s style.

However, as the 1990s arrived, The Club became an anachronism. The era of the private luncheon clubs was over. The Harbor View Club, Drug and Chemical Club, The Wall Street Club and the infamous Whitehall Club, with its deadly bartender, Spiro, had all closed. Business had changed in focus, diversity and geography with a reduced tolerance for lunchtime drinking. This and loss of tax deductibility, the cost of space and the desirability of their locations conspired to hasten their demise.

The terrorist bombing of the World Trade Center in 1993 had forced The Club to close, I thought permanently. So, it was with surprise that I opened an announcement in 1995 advising The Club would re-open in 1996. I re-joined at a discounted fee, but seldom used it as I too had changed. I hosted my last dinner in the fall of 1999 for a group of French underwriters from AXA Insurance Company. The summer before, they entertained us and our client at their chateau in Bordeaux, a once in a lifetime event. My colleagues and I decided to take them to The Club and the weather cooperated fully. The view was superb, the food good and the wine far too expensive, but they were as impressed as the French will ever admit. 

I resigned from The Club in 2000 when I retired and never went back. On September 11^th the Club died when the North Tower fell taking with it 72 of its staff and 91visitors who were trapped inside. It was no longer relevant, but with its collapse, how it collapsed, the world changed for me, for us, forever.

To relieve my post-destruction gloom, I searched for and found my old photographs taken as a young man illustrating the promise of their construction together with my last membership card. I thought this evidence and my memories would be the epitaph. Curiously, they were not. A letter arrived with the return address being Mr. Jules Roinnel in Baldwin, Long Island. Jules was the Club’s Manager. Dated October 12^th, it began: ”Dear Member:” This was a surprise, not because I am no longer a member, as I knew I remained on their mailing list, but rather that a letter was sent. The letter spoke of the 72 staff members who died and advised that two surviving luncheon clubs would offer guest privileges until the end of the year. Even though it read in part: “…the future of The World Trade Center Club is unclear.” it had an upbeat tone about it.

It turned out Jules was simply going through the motions. The Club never  gained a third life. The Club, like its era and the towers belongs to history.

May all who died there Rest in Peace.