Seven years later, iMedia's CEO remembers the courage and resiliency of the New York interactive media community.

What are the three most significant historical events of your life -- those events that make such an impression on your psyche that you forever recall the exact moment you learned of it, where you were, who you were with, even the weather?

For me, it's the assassination of JFK, Neil Armstrong stepping foot on the moon, and the terrorist attack of Sept. 11, 2001. 

I was in Mrs. Dauge's third-grade classroom on Nov. 22, 1963, when the principal came into the room and dismissed us for the day after announcing that President Kennedy had been shot. I remember walking home from school with my friends (yes, kids walked to and from school in those days) and all of us being pretty sad and confused. Even as little kids, we had a connection with President Kennedy. We knew him as a leader and a hero, and it was a huge shock that he could be gone in an instant.

My first job was washing dishes at the Villa Sweden Smorgasboard restaurant in Corona del Mar, Calif. From my workstation at the sink, next to the Hobart washer, I could see the portable black and white TV the owners had brought in that day to watch the moon landing. Work stopped in that steamy kitchen on July 20, 1969, as we stood in amazement and watched Neil Armstrong step out of the capsule and onto the moon. "One small step for man, one giant step for mankind." It was surreal.

On Sept. 11, 2001, I was sipping a cup of coffee around 5:45 a.m. (PDT), getting ready for the first official day of business for the newly formed iMedia Communications. Our first employee, Jo Jacobsen, was going to start that day, which meant showing up at the iMedia Global Headquarters in Dana Point (a converted family room in my house). Mike Pubentz, SVP Sales, worked from our San Diego headquarters (his home), and Josh Messinger ran our web development from the Los Angeles headquarters (yep, his home too). 

Around 6:00 a.m., the phone in my office rang. It was Mike checking in for our regular morning briefing. It was pure start-up time, and our days began early and ended late. Typically, Mike and I would plan our days out around 6 a.m. It was a time that called for being nimble and being ready to change direction and plans at the drop of a hat. We were trying to launch a new business in the aftermath of the burst internet bubble. Our industry had been brought to its knees. Thousands had been left without jobs, their stock options worthless, dreams shattered. It was the worst time to launch a publishing and event business to serve the digital media and marketing business, but we believed the industry would come roaring back some day after the dust settled. And besides, it was all we really knew how to do.

The sun had not yet come up when I answered the phone. My house was dark, save for the office and the kitchen where my coffee brewed. The kids wouldn't wake up for another 60 minutes. It was always a very productive time of day for us as we plotted the launch of iMediaConnection.com and the first iMedia Summit.

"Good morning, iMedia Communications,” I answered.
 
"Morning Parky. How ya doing?" Mike replied.

"Well, it's day one at the Global Headquarters. Jo will be here at 8:30, and I'm looking forward to that," I said. "God knows we need her help!"

Jo Jacobsen had been with me through three other start-up companies, and I was really glad she was joining us again and taking over the registration and customer service load. It was going to be a good day.

"Do you have the TV on?" Mike asked.

"No, why?"

"Turn it on -- a plane hit the World Trade Tower in New York."
 
"Really? What, like a Cessna or something?" I asked.

"Not sure, I just turned on the news and they were talking about some plane -- " He stopped.

"What?"

"Oh my God…just turn it on." The tone of his voice scared me.

I turned on the big screen TV in what was once our family room, now the Global Headquarters. The first images of the North Tower were beginning to come in. I put my headset on and sat on the couch and talked with Mike as we watched the horrific scene together. I don't remember if either of us had anything to say, but I just know that we stayed on the phone for a long time muttering comments of disbelief as we watched the tower burn.

We were still on the phone together watching as the second plane flew into the TV picture and hit the South Tower. It was impossible to process what was going on. Mike and I hung on the phone and just muttered to one another as we watched the horrific images on the screen.

At around 6:15 a.m., I went upstairs and woke up my wife.

"Jeanne, wake up. There's something awful happening," I blurted out with real fear in my voice. I'm pretty sure I was trembling, and my voice was shaking. Our country was under attack, and I had no real idea of why or who was doing it.    

At 8:30 a.m., Jo Jacobsen showed up to report to work. Jeanne and I were frozen in front of the TV. Jo sat with us for a while and then went home. I told her we would talk later about work, but it would be days until we got around to that. 

For the next few days, we did what most Americans did: tried to process what had happened, why, by whom, and what the future might hold. It was the most frightening time of my life, and it all happened thousands of miles from me. I thought constantly of my friends in New York and what life must be like for them.

As the day passed, I began to hear from people in New York and listened to their perspective of what had happened and what might come next. To my surprise, their focus was getting back to work and getting on with life. I was truly amazed by the courage and resiliency of the people in New York. It seemed like there was a huge human huddle in which everyone had unanimously decided to fight this terror attack head on by not succumbing to fear.

Back at iMedia Global Headquarters, I was beginning to talk with our team as we assessed what we should do next. The first iMedia Summit was planned for the first week of October in Deer Valley, Utah. We canceled the contract with the hotel and alerted sponsors and attendees that the event would not be held. I felt there was just too much uncertainty in the world to expect people to get on an airplane and fly across the country for an industry event. The day I made that announcement, the phones began to ring at iMedia. People from all over the industry and all over the country were voicing their desire to come together. They wanted to let us know that the show must go on. That business must go on. That life as usual must go on. And so it did…

We signed a new contract with the hotel in Deer Valley to hold the iMedia Summit Nov.15-18, 2001. All of our sponsors stayed on board. We began to receive calls from agencies all over the country letting us know they would be there. Soon, we had a larger group than we originally planned for, and it was game (back) on.

On Monday, Nov. 12, an American Airlines jetliner crashed shortly after takeoff over Queens, New York. All 260 people onboard and five on the ground were killed. It was only eight weeks after the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center. Nobody knew if it was another terrorist attack or an accident, but it sure felt like the world was coming apart again. We wondered about canceling a second time. News was immediate from the FAA. It had been an accident, most likely caused by the turbulent wake of the airplane that took off in front of the AA flight. That didn't sound very conclusive, however, and we wondered if New Yorkers, now struck by another tragedy, would think twice about boarding an airliner.

The next day, Jo, Mike and I began calling all of the attendees who would be traveling from New York. Of the 150 attendees registered for the event, 55 would be flying to Salt Lake City from New York. To my surprise, all 55 told us they would be there.

Two days later, on Nov. 15, I took the stage to welcome 150 people to the first iMedia Summit. We flew a floor-to-ceiling American flag and gave silent tribute to the innocent lives that were lost on Sept. 11. For three days, we discussed the future of business in general, the future of the online media business, and our personal futures. There were several "group hugs" throughout the event. 

Being together in person was the catharsis we all needed. Our industry was reeling from a tremendous beating, and the world as we knew it had changed forever. But the mood of this meeting was full of optimism and resolve -- to move forward with determination, overcome our fear, and work together to grow an industry that we all knew had a bright future.

I was never more proud to be an American and never more proud to be a citizen of the interactive media industry. It was just seven years ago, and look how far we've come. Interactive has risen from the rubble of a burst bubble to take center stage in the media business.

Personally, I attribute much of the success over these past seven years to the courageous people of New York who set an example for all of us and inspired us to do the best we can. I'll never forget the morning of Sept.11, and I'll never forget those November days in Deer Valley, 2001, when the healing and rebuilding began. 

Rick Parkhill is CEO of iMedia Communications.