The Shameful Condition of New Jersey’s “Forgotten” 9/11 Memorial
Memorials help us to remember, and they’re crucial in passing such memories to future generations who did not live through the events that memorials fix in time. New Jersey’s official 9/11 Memorial, Empty Sky, designed by Fred Schwartz, who died in 2014, and Jessica Jamroz, was dedicated in Liberty State Park, across the Hudson River from Ground Zero, on the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. But 14 years later it remains an unfinished work, one that 9/11 families who lost loved ones and Jamroz demand resolution of. This powerfully poetic memorial is also a victim of the state’s neglect. I spoke with Jamroz about the completion controversy, the memorial’s deteriorating state, and the efforts behind its completion and ongoing preservation.
MJC: Michael J. Crosbie
JJ: Jessica Jamroz
It seems that there are two issues here: the design that won the competition, and the condition of the memorial since its dedication in 2011. Let’s talk about the design first. The memorial site today is not the design that you and Fred submitted to the New Jersey September 11, 2001 Design Competition, which was selected by the NJ 9/11 Family and Survivor Committee. What’s missing from the design that won the competition, the features never constructed?
There are a few unrealized aspects of our original design that were promised but, regretfully, remain unbuilt. Without them, the memorial will never feel whole or complete. For instance, it’s my understanding that 766 New Jerseyans were killed the day of the attacks; 749 names are inscribed on the memorial’s interior walls, and one name is from the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. The families of those 18 missing names—people with a proven strong connection to the state: born, raised, lived, worked—wish them to be included. It’s a matter of dignity, honor, and a genuine concern about historical accuracy to include these missing names.
It’s also important to honor and remember the totality of the state’s 9/11 sacrifice. The heart of the design competition called for the construction of a memorial “to the victims of the terrorist attacks,” which should include 9/11 responders and survivors, thousands of whom have or are succumbing to 9/11 illnesses related to the attacks. The original design included a quiet “area of reflection” in the northernmost portion of the memorial’s sacred grounds for these people. I’ve been calling for this missing element to be built and to integrate a tribute to New Jersey’s 9/11 responders and survivors to be honored and remembered here.
Lastly, the “face” of the memorial was never completed: a stainless-steel skin on the raw concrete outer walls with the inscriptions “Never Forget” and “Always in our Hearts.” These powerful words embody the meaning of why this memorial stands here. The finish and grade of stainless steel on the outer walls is substantially less reflective and will shimmer gently in the daylight. Finishing the face will transform the Empty Sky Memorial into the “beacon of hope” it was always intended to be.
What’s been the response of New Jersey state officials to the unfinished design? My understanding is that the state first claimed the design as built was complete, but recently admitted that it’s not, in fact, complete.
It’s an indisputable fact that the memorial is incomplete. The Family and Survivor Committee that selected our original design did not see it as complete at the time of the dedication in 2011 and opening. Several family members and advocates have been tirelessly bringing the issue to the attention of elected officials to complete the work. There have been three major phases of construction since the memorial’s design was selected. The hope is that there’ll be a fourth construction phase where the memorial, at long last, is fully completed. It’s also clear from the recent outpouring of public outrage at the atrocious conditions at the memorial and the state’s recently published position that “the memorial is considered complete” that public sentiment doesn’t align with the state’s position.
To me, 9/11 was the last time this country came together in a spirit of unity and bipartisanship. I continue to have hope and faith in Governor [Phil] Murphy, First Lady Tammy Murphy, and this administration that they will make it a priority to deliver on promises made by the state to its 9/11 community. The governor has the power to effectively ensure that the memorial is fully completed by the 25th anniversary of the attacks. This should be part of his legacy.

Harsh replacement lighting obliterates the walls' mirror effect.
What’s your view of why the design wasn’t completed? Why is the state dragging its feet?
I believe a lot of problems have occurred because of the interdepartmental nature of this project and the red tape of its bureaucracy. All of the state officials who championed the project from the beginning have died or retired. We also lost Fred Schwartz, the co-designer of the memorial, in 2014. Every time there’s a new administration or oversight person, we have to re-explain the unique legal structure established by multiple executive orders by multiple governors, and the public process that this interdepartmental project has underwent since the beginning. Most officials are well-intentioned and make themselves available to listen to the 9/11 families, advocates, and me to understand what’s happening with the memorial and how they can help. But there are a few who’ve turned a blind eye to it. There’s also the complex interplay between state officials and elected representatives who in recent times just haven’t been able to take the bull by the horns and just say, “Get it done.”
Comment on your artist’s rights as the author of the memorial and the incomplete memorial. Where are these rights legally spelled out between you and the state?
The memorial is considered a work of public fine art. It is land art intertwined with monumental sculpture, a soulful expression that connects with human emotions and memory. The “rules” of the 2004 heavily public request for proposal process, “New Jersey September 11, 2001 Memorial Design Competition,” that we won back in 2004, states: “By submitting a proposal for this project the Proposer grants the State of New Jersey an unlimited fully paid up license for the purpose of exhibition and publication as defined in these instructions to all such works to which he or she may assert or establish any claim under patent, copyright, or trademark laws. However, the author(s) of the submissions will retain all other rights to their materials unless otherwise assigned. The Lead Designer will be responsible for all aspects of the Memorial including landscaping and layout of the park area within the designated site.”
As I’ve been advised, I hold copyright to the memorial, which was officially fixed through our winning competition entry in 2004. Each construction phase is considered a “derivative work” of the original design. Additionally, with works of art, which is different from functional works of architecture, authors are granted “moral rights” in copyright law. These fundamental rights are meant to protect the integrity of the original work from distortion, mutilation, or modification by others—including the owner of the work. These rights also protect the original work from any intentional or grossly negligent destruction that would ruin its integrity.
Beyond the design being incomplete, the upkeep of the memorial has been neglected. What do you see as the major deficiencies here?
It’s important to understand that this 2-acre memorial is a site-specific artwork that integrates sculptural elements into the land to create an experience to instill hope and healing towards solace. The holistic integration of the landscape, the trees, the names, the words, the walls, the Trade Center relics, areas of quiet reflection have all been greatly considered and shape one’s experience, to inspire. Several aspects of the design I oversaw the construction of have been destroyed. For example, it’s critical to return to the landscape the 65 autumn-flowering cherry trees, restore the interior lighting back to its original condition at the base of the memorial walls, restore stainless steel trimmings that have been stripped from the site and replaced with plastic, update the directory kiosk technology so names can always be located, and include an educational component so people understand New Jersey’s 9/11 history.

Rendering courtesy of Jessica Jamroz.
This is a very popular memorial; 5 million people visit Liberty State Park yearly. But these conditions undermine the very nature and purpose of the memorial. How is the function of this memorial under threat in a larger sense?
The memorial’s current conditions impart the feeling that the spirituality of the site is in a state of decay. When you stand on the neglected landscape and face the bleak concrete walls, or notice the few remaining mangled memorial trees, it gives a sense that this place, and the memories it honors, are being disrespected and have been forgotten. It’s a cruel irony that these walls are here to say, “Never Forget” and “Always in our Hearts.” More hopefully, when you walk inside the memorial, and perhaps catch the halo of light illuminating the victims’ names, the beauty of the memorial’s inner spirit instills a ray of hope that one day the memorial will fully emanate as the “beacon of hope” it’s always been envisioned to be. New Jersey’s 9/11 families and survivors deserve nothing less. “Never Forget” should mean “Never Forget.”
What lessons should architects and designers learn from your experience on this project, and the bigger picture of architectural stewardship and memorials?
In the case of this memorial, I believe full heartedly that it’s important to live the words “Never Forget.” When you make a commitment to a community of bereft hearts and minds that have sacrificed so much, with sacrifice that continues, when every day can be a struggle just to get through, it’s impossible to turn away. You have to be willing to relentlessly fight to deliver on your promises.
Featured image: The original lighting was soft, turning the walls into mirrored surfaces. Photo by Drew Gurian.