From the Dallas Morning News, Part I of II
Josh Rosinski (left) and Cole Robertson display a pair of original T-shirts sold for Texas A&M’s "Red, White and Blue Out" game following the attacks on Sept. 11, pictured on Thursday, Sept. 2, 2021, in Richardson, Texas. Rosinski and Robertson were part of a group of students that led an effort to have fans at Kyle Field don red, white and blue T-shirts in a show of national unity.(Elias Valverde II / Staff Photographer)
By Kevin Sherrington
9:33 AM on Sep 3, 2021
They were five college students staggered by an event one of them would call the Pearl Harbor of their generation, alternately contemplating the horrors of Sept. 11, 2001, and bracing for whatever might be next. The morning’s tragedies had left an open wound on their souls. No one knew what to do, one would say, but everyone wanted to do something.
They were just five college students.
“Kind of adults,” Josh Rosinski said.
“Kinda not.”
Over the next 10 round-the-clock days, Rosinski and his peers — Cole Robertson, Nick Luton, Eric Bethea and Kourtney Rogers Gruner — organized and wrestled and babysat a movement that would grow to hundreds of volunteers. Maybe a thousand. The result of their efforts, in a Sept. 22 football game at Kyle Field against Oklahoma State, is often characterized among the most memorable in Texas A&M’s long history.
Only it wasn’t anything on the field that anyone remembers, but, rather, what happened around it.
The image was stunning: more than 70,000 fans, Oklahoma State’s included, in the T-shirts the volunteers sold, creating a three-tiered, red-white-and-blue portrait of patriotism that went around the world.
The front page of The Dallas Morning News from Sept. 23, 2001.(The Dallas Morning News)
Proceeds from sales, which ultimately came to more than $200,000, would be delivered to New York to support police and firefighter associations.
Even now, with Saturday’s Red, White and Blue commemoration at Kyle Field for the sixth-ranked Aggies’ opener against Kent State as a reminder, the original organizers can’t believe they pulled it off. They’re quick to note they couldn’t have done it if so many students, former students and community members hadn’t jumped in. But when it was just the five of them — when they still bore “lofty aspirations but low expectations,” as Luton put it — they couldn’t have imagined how it would turn out. They couldn’t imagine a student-led group doing the same now.
Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, still years away in their day, would have made it simpler and faster to spread their message. The nature of social media also might have undermined it. They believe their story of unity born of tragedy is a lesson for these divisive times.
“I think it absolutely is,” Luton said. “The division now is so ridiculous. Everyone feels like they need to have their opinion on everything. It’s frustrating. It would make doing something like we did more of a challenge now. People would find reasons not to do it.
“Twenty years ago, everyone was trying to find a reason to do whatever they could.”
I think it would be a great act of US pride if we wore red, white and blue for the OSU game.
She didn’t know the author, Eric Bethea, but she liked the simple sentiment. She felt like it answered doubts the terrorist attacks had raised.
“For so long Americans felt they were untouchable,” she said this week. “We have a strong military, and to be caught off guard on our own soil was so emotional, especially for the loss of life. On a personal level, you feel like you got took. I never thought this would happen, and now I don’t feel as strong as I used to.”
Her emotions were similar to what she felt after the death of 12 Aggies in the collapse of Bonfire in 1999. She felt helpless again. Bethea’s post gave her a sense of conviction.
Gruner reached out to Bethea, who knew someone who knew of the interests of Robertson, Luton and Rosinski, officers in One Army, a campus service organization. The five students met at Bennigan’s for lunch and drafted a plan to sell red, white and blue T-shirts leading up to the game against Oklahoma State, with the proceeds going to organizations benefiting the families of first responders.
And that was pretty much the extent of their plans until an A&M official directed them to C.C. Creations, a local screen printing shop. Ken Lawson, an Aggie himself, met with the group and asked how many T-shirts they wanted and how they planned to pay for them. An awkward discussion ensued. Even with Lawson offering materials at cost, $2.50 apiece, a big order would still be a considerable expense. The five of them didn’t have any money. No one wanted to be stuck with thousands of T-shirts, either.
“I don’t know,” someone said at last. “Five hundred?
“A thousand?”
“Tell you what,” Lawson told them. “I totally believe in this idea. This is going to turn out better than you imagine.
“I’m going to guarantee the first five thousand so it’s not going to cost you anything.”
Lawson designed a logo — “Standing for America,” underlined by “Aggieland, USA” — and kick-started a cause.
“He was the first person that said maybe there’s something bigger here,” Luton said. “We walked out with a ton of confidence. That motivated us.”
They pushed the promotion in ways that seem practically primitive now. Gruner, who worked in the athletic department, wrote news releases and sent them all over the state. There were email blasts, phone calls, message boards.
How five Aggies made the ‘Red, White and Blue game’ Texas A&M’s iconic 9/11 tribute
Two decades later, the event’s original organizers still can’t believe they pulled it off.
Josh Rosinski (left) and Cole Robertson display a pair of original T-shirts sold for Texas A&M’s "Red, White and Blue Out" game following the attacks on Sept. 11, pictured on Thursday, Sept. 2, 2021, in Richardson, Texas. Rosinski and Robertson were part of a group of students that led an effort to have fans at Kyle Field don red, white and blue T-shirts in a show of national unity.(Elias Valverde II / Staff Photographer)
By Kevin Sherrington
9:33 AM on Sep 3, 2021
They were five college students staggered by an event one of them would call the Pearl Harbor of their generation, alternately contemplating the horrors of Sept. 11, 2001, and bracing for whatever might be next. The morning’s tragedies had left an open wound on their souls. No one knew what to do, one would say, but everyone wanted to do something.
They were just five college students.
“Kind of adults,” Josh Rosinski said.
“Kinda not.”
Over the next 10 round-the-clock days, Rosinski and his peers — Cole Robertson, Nick Luton, Eric Bethea and Kourtney Rogers Gruner — organized and wrestled and babysat a movement that would grow to hundreds of volunteers. Maybe a thousand. The result of their efforts, in a Sept. 22 football game at Kyle Field against Oklahoma State, is often characterized among the most memorable in Texas A&M’s long history.
Only it wasn’t anything on the field that anyone remembers, but, rather, what happened around it.
The image was stunning: more than 70,000 fans, Oklahoma State’s included, in the T-shirts the volunteers sold, creating a three-tiered, red-white-and-blue portrait of patriotism that went around the world.
The front page of The Dallas Morning News from Sept. 23, 2001.(The Dallas Morning News)
Proceeds from sales, which ultimately came to more than $200,000, would be delivered to New York to support police and firefighter associations.
Even now, with Saturday’s Red, White and Blue commemoration at Kyle Field for the sixth-ranked Aggies’ opener against Kent State as a reminder, the original organizers can’t believe they pulled it off. They’re quick to note they couldn’t have done it if so many students, former students and community members hadn’t jumped in. But when it was just the five of them — when they still bore “lofty aspirations but low expectations,” as Luton put it — they couldn’t have imagined how it would turn out. They couldn’t imagine a student-led group doing the same now.
Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, still years away in their day, would have made it simpler and faster to spread their message. The nature of social media also might have undermined it. They believe their story of unity born of tragedy is a lesson for these divisive times.
“I think it absolutely is,” Luton said. “The division now is so ridiculous. Everyone feels like they need to have their opinion on everything. It’s frustrating. It would make doing something like we did more of a challenge now. People would find reasons not to do it.
“Twenty years ago, everyone was trying to find a reason to do whatever they could.”
‘Something bigger here’
Kourtney Rogers Gruner was up at 3 a.m. the night after the Twin Towers fell, unable to sleep, reading a TexAgs message board, when she came across this post:I think it would be a great act of US pride if we wore red, white and blue for the OSU game.
She didn’t know the author, Eric Bethea, but she liked the simple sentiment. She felt like it answered doubts the terrorist attacks had raised.
“For so long Americans felt they were untouchable,” she said this week. “We have a strong military, and to be caught off guard on our own soil was so emotional, especially for the loss of life. On a personal level, you feel like you got took. I never thought this would happen, and now I don’t feel as strong as I used to.”
Her emotions were similar to what she felt after the death of 12 Aggies in the collapse of Bonfire in 1999. She felt helpless again. Bethea’s post gave her a sense of conviction.
Gruner reached out to Bethea, who knew someone who knew of the interests of Robertson, Luton and Rosinski, officers in One Army, a campus service organization. The five students met at Bennigan’s for lunch and drafted a plan to sell red, white and blue T-shirts leading up to the game against Oklahoma State, with the proceeds going to organizations benefiting the families of first responders.
And that was pretty much the extent of their plans until an A&M official directed them to C.C. Creations, a local screen printing shop. Ken Lawson, an Aggie himself, met with the group and asked how many T-shirts they wanted and how they planned to pay for them. An awkward discussion ensued. Even with Lawson offering materials at cost, $2.50 apiece, a big order would still be a considerable expense. The five of them didn’t have any money. No one wanted to be stuck with thousands of T-shirts, either.
“I don’t know,” someone said at last. “Five hundred?
“A thousand?”
“Tell you what,” Lawson told them. “I totally believe in this idea. This is going to turn out better than you imagine.
“I’m going to guarantee the first five thousand so it’s not going to cost you anything.”
Lawson designed a logo — “Standing for America,” underlined by “Aggieland, USA” — and kick-started a cause.
“He was the first person that said maybe there’s something bigger here,” Luton said. “We walked out with a ton of confidence. That motivated us.”
They pushed the promotion in ways that seem practically primitive now. Gruner, who worked in the athletic department, wrote news releases and sent them all over the state. There were email blasts, phone calls, message boards.
