'89 Loma Prieta Earthquake'
By: Jim Linch
I was off work with a knee injury when the '89 Loma Prieta earthquake rocked the Bay Area. I'd
dropped by the house of a co-worker living in South San Francisco, popped a beer, and was on
the verge of advising him not to work too hard at our swingshift job when the earth began to
rumble. It was a sustained rocking, followed by the inevitable, momentary hesitation that always
precedes one's realization that an earthquake is in progress. My friend grabbed his daughter and
moved to an interior doorway; I moved to the front doorway. Each of us were natives to the
region; both of us knew what to do, and had done it. At that point, it was simply a matter of
riding it out until the rolling tapered off, and then disappeared.
I'm a native San Franciscan, who grew up in the bordering Daly City, home of the world famous
Cow Palace (as well as being an armpit unto itself). Our house was located within a mile or so of
where the San Andreas fault leaves the sea and touches land. Consequently, I'd experienced
dozens of tremors by the time Loma Prieta hit, in all the many variations that characterize
earthquakes. They don't all feel alike. Some roll, some jolt, some whisper. Loma Prieta began as a
jolt, and then began to shout. From my friend's front doorway, simply waiting for it to peter itself
out, I was caught flat-footed. The rumble became a roar, and the piano in the front room became
a blur of motion. I wondered if this was "the big one", the one that everyone knew was in the
cards, and bound to hit sooner or later. It built in intensity of type I never imagined possible, and
then quit. I had been impressed. The folks in that neighborhood began to drift outside, "hot
damning" each other. My abiding thought was to get back to my apartment in San Francisco in
order to watch the Giants-A's World Series.
Traffic lights were out- the freeway on-ramp was choked. But I knew every and all ways into
the City, and within the hour was home. Every resident was outside the building we shared when I
pulled up to my parking space. A neighbor from Boston, who lived on the top floor, met me
as I walked toward the entrance. "How'd it you like, Bob?", I jovially asked. "Jim", he replied
with the seriousness of a heart attack, "I thought I was going to die". Being amused, I laughed.
But, not realizing the Series had been postponed, I wasn't amused that the electricity was out.
Needing radio batteries to listen to the game, I walked one block to buy some, but the stores had
all closed. I saw smoke from burning homes of the Marina district, but didn't gauge its true
distance, and thought it but a small fire on the other side of Golden Gate Park.
Someone mentioned that the Bay Bridge had collapsed, and I scoffed (thinking they meant
the entire structure) when, in fact, the cantilever section had indeed fallen. And then, an epiphany:
I realized I was out of beer, and the stores were closed, or closing. I prevailed on a corner liquor
store owner, whose children's college education I had helped finance for many years, to front me
two six packs for the duration. I then, but only then, contacted family members, all of whom were
O.K. I spent most of the night on my apartment building's roof, listening to ambulances from
U.C.'s Med Center move in convoy to areas throughout the City. It might have been so much
worse. Had the quake lasted even another thirty seconds, the devastation would have been six
times what it was.
The next morning, an aftershock struck, that registered approximatelt 5 points on Mr.
Richters scale (Loma Prieta hit 7.1). I was in my kitchen, and for the first time in my life, knew
fear during an earthquake. The building creaked and ground, and sounded as thought it was about
to collapse. In an instant, my smugness disappeared, and I know longer felt so doggone superior
to Bob, my neighbor from Boston who lived on the top floor.
"Never admitted it to him, though."
And what was your "Brush With History". You are all encouraged to submit your "Brush
With History" for publishing on this Web Site. Don't hesitate, now is the time to pass on to
others little time capsules of your life.
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WEBPAGE-HISTORY
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