The Town That Opened Its Doors

On the morning of 11 September 2001, after the attacks in New York and Washington, the airspace over the United States was closed. Hundreds of international flights were already over the Atlantic, heading west. They could not land where they had planned to, and many could not turn back.

Canada stepped in. In an effort later known as Operation Yellow Ribbon, aircraft were directed to airports across the country. Many of the big transatlantic jets were sent to the east coast, to airports that were large enough to take them and close enough to reach with the fuel they had left.

One of those airports was in Gander, Newfoundland.

A town built for aeroplanes

Gander is a small town. In 2001 it had a population of roughly ten thousand people. It also has an unusually large airport, a legacy of the days when aircraft crossing the Atlantic needed to stop for fuel. By the 1960s most planes could fly straight over it, and the airport was much quieter than it had been.

That morning it filled up fast. Published accounts put the number at 38 airliners, carrying about 6,600 passengers and crew. In a few hours the town's population had grown by more than half.

Passengers stayed on their aircraft for many hours, sometimes more than a day, while every bag was checked and every plane was cleared. Most of them had little idea where they were. Many had not yet heard the full news of what had happened.

"What do they need?"

While passengers waited on the tarmac, the town went to work.

Schools, church halls, community centres and lodges were turned into shelters. People brought blankets, pillows and toothbrushes from their own homes. Local bakeries and kitchens cooked through the night, and families made sandwiches by the hundred. Nearby towns such as Lewisporte, Gambo, Appleton and Norris Arm took in passengers too.

According to many accounts, local school bus drivers, who were on strike at the time, left their picket lines to drive the stranded travellers to shelters. Pharmacies filled prescriptions for people whose medicine was still in their checked luggage, and they did it without charge. Phone lines and computers were set up so that people could tell their families they were safe.

Passengers spoke dozens of languages. Some were frightened, some were grieving, and some had no idea whether people they loved were safe. The people of Gander did not have answers to those fears. What they offered instead was company: a hot meal, a bed, a walk by the lake, and an invitation into their homes for a shower or a phone call.

Going home

When the airspace reopened, the planes left over several days. Many passengers later described how hard it was to say goodbye. They had arrived as strangers and were leaving as friends.

The story did not end there. Grateful passengers sent letters, gifts and donations for years afterwards. In one widely reported example, passengers from a flight whose travellers were looked after in nearby Lewisporte raised money for a scholarship fund for local students, and the fund kept growing long after 2001.

The events later inspired books, documentaries and the stage musical Come From Away, which brought the story to audiences around the world.

Why it still matters

Nothing about Gander's response was planned in advance. Nobody had a manual for welcoming thousands of shaken strangers in a single afternoon. What the town had was a habit of looking after one another, and it turned out that habit was big enough to hold the world for a few days.

Editorial note: Figures in this account come from published sources and are rounded. Accounts of individual acts, such as the bus drivers' decision, are widely reported. They are presented here as reported and without invented dialogue.