The Loma Prieta Earthquake:
A Personal Perspective
(The images and graphics on this page were "borrowed" from the
U.S. Geological Survey and are used here for non-commercial purposes
and without permission.)

California Dreaming
On October 17, 1989, I had arrived home from work at about 3:40pm, looking forward to watching the S.F. Giants and Oakland As play in the World Series. I had cold beer, a big color TV, and I was preparing a Hunan stir-fry for dinner.
Five o'clock rolled around and ABC had switched their signal to Candlestick Park. It was a beautiful day for baseball, especially for both Bay Area teams to play in the Series.
At about 5:04pm, I heard a deep, rumbling roll. Then the power went out, leaving the TV screen blank.
Instead of heading for the archway in the hall, which was the strongest part of my apartment, or under the diningroom table, (as my father the carpenter had instructed me), I took immediate action to protect my entertainment center.
I put one hand on my TV and the other on the bookshelf which held my stereo. The earth shook under my feet. The building swayed. I looked up at the ceiling and yelled, "No! Not now! Not this time! Please stop!"
I had visions of the nearest wall falling away, taking me and my TV down into the neighbor's backyard - the headline reading: TV ADDICT IMPALED ON SET AFTER QUAKE
I looked down the thirty-foot hallway to my front door. The walls were flailing like sheets of paper in the wind.

Fifteen seconds later, the shaking stopped, but my heart kept up the rhythm.
I then took stock of my apartment. I walked into each room and examined what damage there was. Two pictures had fallen in the hallway, the glass breaking in one of them. In the kitchen, a cabinet door had opened but the dishes in the cabinet had remained where they were. A small orange measuring cup, the one I used to disolve the corn starch for my stir-fry, was on the floor and two tablespoons of corn starch-water had spattered.
And that was it... Except, something was missing. Oh yeah, my cat, Shasta. All the doors and windows were closed so he must have been hiding. (I found him about six hours later behind the sofa, his flank spotted with corn starch.)
I checked the phone. Dead. This was understandable. And I knew that Pacific Bell was already working on restoring service.
At 5:10, the phone rang... What? So soon?
"Hello?"
"Hi!" (It was my fiancee, Laura, calling from Washington D.C.) "Are you okay?"
"My god, how did you get through?"
"I dunno. I just called. My mom was watching the game and called to tell me what happened, so I called. Are you alright?"
(She was watching the network news and filled me in on the damage.)
"The Bay Bridge collapsed..."
"The WHOLE bridge?"

"Something called 'the marina' is on fire..."
"The WHOLE Marina District?"
"What's 'liquefaction'?"
I kept her the phone for a while until I had got a good picture of what had happened. Then I became conscious of that fact that our call was clogging the phone lines and that others would need to get through to their loved ones. I thanked her for calling, told her I loved her and hung up.

There was a knock at my door. It was Lori, my neighbor from across the hall. She was from Rhode Island and didn't know from earthquakes and was quite shaken up. We hugged and then I let her call her folks back east to let them know she was okay.
Her roommate wasn't going to be home until later that night. I had Lori sit and compose herself while I went round the building to see if my other neighbors were okay. Those that were home were fine and did not need any assistance.

My brother, Thomas, is a paramedic and was working downtown in an unreinforced brick building. When the quake struck he and his co-workers fled the building before it buried them. It was a long day for all of The City's emergency personnel.

Soon, the nation's media had descended upon San Francisco. Pictured here is Tom Brokaw of NBC News preparing his script for the live, on-scene broadcast.

Here, a car sits under the third story of an apartment building in the Marina District. The bottom two floors sunk into the ground as a result of liquefaction. The Marina District was built on landfill. When the quake struck, the soil under some buildings filled with bay water, sinking a number of structures.

When it was over, and my nerves had calmed down a bit, I assembled a small group of neighbors in my apartment. I lit candles, had chips and salsa out, and set up my battery-powered radio for all to listen to updates. We talked about our own experiences from the day.
The power came back on at about 1:00am and stayed on for good. One thing still bothered me, though: my Mom and step-dad were on vacation in Hawaii and I knew they would be worried. But I was stressed out, too, ("I want my mommy!"), and couldn't speak to Mom for two days.
We soon learned that the media had blown things out of proportion. And the further the media source was from S.F. the greater the difference was between what they reported and reality. The Bay Bridge did NOT collapse - only a small portion of it. The Marina District was NOT on fire, though some parts were and others were severely damaged.

Sadly, many people lost their lives, most of them on the two-level Cypress Freeway in Oakland, which collapsed, pancaking cars and drivers in the reckage. However, the loss of life could have been far worse, considering the quake struck in the middle of rush hour. Many of my co-workers were trapped in the office building where we worked and didn't get home until early the next day.
October became an ominous month in the calender: the '89 Loma Prieta, the '90 Oakland Hills Firestorm, etc. And, in April of '90, on the 84th Anniversary of the '06 Earthquake, we had another small spurt of earthquakes, just as a reminder of where we lived - The Bleeding Edge of the North American Continent.

When the rest of the country has deadly hurricanes and floods on a regular, predictable basis, we have an occasional earthquake. I think I prefer our locale than anywhere else. But after the '89 Earthquake, I was actively seeking another place to live. After I thought about it, though, I realized that there was no place else in the world I could live but San Francisco.
I am much better prepared now. I have an earthquake survival kit inspired by my brother, Thomas. As a paramedic, he must be ready to go at a moments notice. So, I assembled my kit accordingly. I have chemical light sticks, first aid supplies, "space blankets," canned food, water, money, spare clothes, a radio which runs on batteries, solar power and hand-crank, and other such things I might need if things are down for up to three days. (After that? Prayer!)
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