I scarcely know where to begin. How can anything match the heartpounding terror of laying in bed and seeing the pictures move across the room? I notice that even Mistletoe with all her grand adventures by the sea has not found voice to comment on the "EARTHQUAKE". Let me tell you about the BIG ONE my generation lived thru back in '62-63. Ask Hector I think he was closer to the epicenter at South High than I was at Granite. I think the pavement on State Street lifted several feet for two or more blocks by South High.
There I was on the Second Floor of the A (auditorium) Building at Granite High. It was about sixth period, Spring I believe when it started. The freestanding desk I was sitting in began to rumble across the floor like an old Ford running out of gas. I looked out the window and I could see the smoke stack (about 50 feet high in those days) rocking back and forth about 4 to 5 feet in either direction. If it would have fallen like a tree in our direction we would have been gonners.
We were trained from kindergarten to protect ourselves from nuclear explosions, water-main breaks, bullies, earthquakes and teachers questions by hiding under our desks. I guess the school district had paid extra to have anti-nuclear stuff put in the 3/4 inch formica desktop just in case. Anyway we were all instinctively huddled under our desks when the rolling quake reached it's apex. The teacher, Mr. Riggs (later a pub state legislator), yelled from the doorway for us to calmly and orderly get the "Hell" out of the building.
The staircase only served our classroom and was really dark and narrow. When I prepared for my descent the stairs resembled the moving stairway at the Lagoon Fun House. The Sophmore girl in front of me (really hot in normal situations) froze and started screaming "we're all going to be killed!!!). Riggs, my wavy haired, potbellied, debate teacher picked her up, through her over his shoulder and carried her down the stairs. By the time we reached the exit door at the bottom of the stairs the quake had passed.
In true 1960's fashion a voice came over the loud speaker and asked the faculty to report any injuries or cracks in the building and sent us back to class. We all went and nothing more was ever said about the quake.
What a diferent world we live in. If that would happen today we would have been sent home for about a week while professional engineers certified the condition of the building. That class room is no longer in use because someone, years later thought it might be a problem in an Earthquake. About 20 years later the smokestack was shortened.
Oh the joys of youth. I can honestly say I wasn't afraid. Remarkable how your mind kicks in and you just move through stuff until it is over. I identify with Steve. The next year when I was in the Army in Louisiana I lived through a hurricane and the tornedo warnings that came after the "bib wind". We played in the wind and rain and scoffed at the threat of tornado's. Our friends from the South scoffed at us.
But Steve, when a big one comes I want to be standing next to you. You'll make it fun.
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2 comments:
Great story Dad. I was in an art class at my Jr. High..(Did you all pick up on the fact I was in Jr. High and Dad was in High School?) Our art class was in an addition to the old Roosevelt Jr. High School building. "Rosy" later was sold and became the building that houses Rowland Hall School. Any way, I remember evacuating the room also going down 2 flights of stairs to the outside. Again, as Dad said, they had us return to our rooms with nothing else said. I do know some items where knocked off the wall. It was all pretty exciting for a young girl.
Wow, I have never heard either of those stories before. Maybe that is a commentary on how exciting your lives have been since!
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