In Loving Memory

In Loving Memory of:

Steven A Jacobson

This page is dedicated to a man I called Uncle Steve. I was able to find a handfull of pictures/articles. If you would like to see any picture you have of Steve here, please e-mail it to: [email protected]

And of course, please share your memories of Steve.

http://www.wb11.trb.com/community/news/wpix-stevejakemen.htmllstory

A small web page created by channel 11:



	NY Times Obituary A Transmitter Marvel He worked up top. He liked it up there, with his transmitter. Steven Jacobson was an engineer for WPIX TV and worked in a room on the 110th floor of I World Trade Center, usually by himself, tending to the station's transmitter. Mr. Jacobson, 53, had a deep fidelity to that transmitter. He cared for it like a sick baby the occasional time it would "dump" and take the station off the air. Once he used his shoelaces to get it going. During tile 1993 trade center bombing, he stayed until midnight, to make sure the transmitter operated properly once power was restored. When the bomb exploded, Victor Arnone, a WPIX maintenance engineer and a close friend, went to the concourse to get lunch for him. He called Mr. Jacobson and yelled: "Steve! Explosion Smoke! People are running out!" Mr. Jacobson said, "Does this mean I don't get my egg roll?" Mr. Jacobson had a dry humor. It was a routine for him to invite Jewish friends to lunch at his Manhattan home on Yom Kippur, when, of course, they were fasting. He loved to prowl through ham radio flea markets. Unfailingly, lie would ask a vendor, "Do you have a used logbook and a big eraser?" He had a habit of not using turn signals when he drove. When questioned, he would respond, "It's nobody's business which way I'm turning." He Broadcast His Humor and Goodwill By Stacey Altherr Victor Arnone remembers the time in 1984 when his good friend and WPIX TV colleague Steve Jacobson told him, "You'll remember these as the good ol' days," as they worked a job together. He was right, Arnone said. Jacobson, 53, was atop Tower One when the planes hit on Sept.' 11. A transmitter engineer, his job was to keep the TV station broadcasting, no matter what. That's what he did oil numerous occasions. That was his job. "The biggest sin for a transmitter man is to go off the air," Arnone said. During the 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center, Jacobson was at the top of the tower. He stayed until 3 to 4 a.m. to keep the transmitter working, Arnone said. Then there was the time Jacobson, who lived near the base of the Williamsburg Bridge, walked to the World Trade Center in a blizzard, to fix the transmitter and keep the station on the air, Arnone, recalled. On the morning of Sept 11 Arnone, of Manhattan, was working on the emergency transmitter on the roof of the building at 42nd St and could see the World Trade Center up in smoke. I'm working on this to get on the air, and I'm watching this. I know my buddy is in there." Arnone said. A brief conversation moments earlier with Jacobson had horrified Arnone. He knew his friend of 23 years was trapped. Jacobson told him it was, to hot to leave the room. "Get me out of here send help", he said before the line cut off. An accomplished amateur radio operator, Jacobson was know throughout the ham radio world by his call sign N2SJ, When not working, he and Arnone would hook up with other radio operators to discuss just about anything, from technical problems to classical music. Often, these light hearted discussions among the ham radio friends would lead to "roasts," with Jacobson as the recipient. "For old timers like us, it's a part of our lives," Arnone said. Jacobson was known for his dry sense of humor, and as Arnone called them, "Steveisms"', such as "Wherever you go, there you are." One of his favorite sayings was, "It's nobody's business," according to Arnone, which Jacobson used freely whether about his lack of using blinkers when he drove or as a retort when colleagues surprised him with a birthday banner. Also known for his hats, Jacobson was often called "Indiana Jacobson" by his colleagues atop the World Trade Center when he wore his leather jacket and wide brimmed hat. The tight knit group of transmitter engineers were all close friends and knew each other well, Arnone said. "We all help each other out." Jacobson and his wife, Deborah, have two daughters, Rachel, who started college a week before the attack, and Miriam, now a middle school student. His sister, Janice Friedlander lives in New City, NY. He is also survived by his mother Selma Jacobson of Brooklyn. Jacobson used to call her daily and would routinely take her and his daughters to lunch and dinner. Arnone, who has talked to her since the attacks, said, "She misses him terribly." His voice breaking, Arnone said, Excuse me.. It's just that I miss him so much, too."

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