Sacramento – state capital of California – what a beautiful city to visit;
especially when you need to get as far away from L.A. as possible for a
week of “R & R.” It had been a month of working steady without a break,
when I finally told my boyfriend Jim that I needed a break from work, from
the city, and from him. Jim and I lived separately by choice. He had his
second floor apartment on Venice Beach and I lived in a modest one bedroom
second floor apartment in Studio City. We had spoken about moving in
together, but I liked my private time. Whenever I needed time alone, I
knew I could go to the comfort of my apartment and “veg” alone. Besides,
it was close to my office, and anyone who knows Los Angeles, knows how
hectic the 101 and 405 can be during the rush hours. I had enough stress
in my life without having to deal with the crazies of the freeway world.
Jim, who is freelance artist, was not happy about my leaving for a week
alone. He always felt he should go everywhere I went, and why not? I
usually was the one who fronted the bills for our excursions. Artists do
not have a constant income. If we ever went anywhere, I always made sure
I had enough money in the bank, because invariably it would be me who
would pay the majority of the expenses. It got old at times, but I truly
care for this man, who I have been with for over 5 years. I tolerated his
inadequacies in exchange for a man who cared for me and made better love
than any man I had ever been with. Jim asked me to marry him several
times, but I just couldn’t say
”yes.” I do not know why. Perhaps it is the uncertainty of the future
that holds me back. I don’t want anyone else, I just want to live a
comfortable life, and perhaps retire someday in a nice home with
antebellum pillars and high backed rocking chairs on the porch.
I
needed this week away to reflect and clear my mind of the stress of the
weeks that have passed. I reserved a room in a nice hotel in downtown
Sacramento. I liked the idea of being close to downtown so I could go out
and shop in the intricate shops that lined the downtown district. I could
drive to the many parks and if I was so inclined, drive to the mountains
and enjoy the fresh air. It was a wonderful, relaxing week. I hated to
see it all end so quickly. I had visited so many lovely places and
relaxed in a city that I knew I would have to return to in the
“not-so-distant” future.
The time had come for me to travel home. It was Monday morning, January
17, 1994. It was also a day that most would be home due to Martin Luther
King’s birthday. It had been a wonderful week alone and I felt relaxed
and refreshed. I turned on CNN as I headed for the shower. As I was
drying I heard,” A major earthquake has hit the San Fernando Valley.” I
ran to the television and turned it up so I could hear all the details.
Apparently, at around 4am an earthquake centered in or around the
Northridge area had shaken southern California. The report went on to say
that a portion of the 5 Interstate had fallen and taken the life of a
police officer that was traveling on his motorcycle. My mouth dropped to
my chest. I had to go home on that Interstate! How would I get home?
I tried
to call Jim, but the telephone lines were down. I couldn’t reach anyone
in the Los Angeles area. As I continued to watch the news in amazement, I
felt like I was living in the Twilight Zone. How could all this have
happened and how do I get home? I had to get home. From what the news
was saying, there was extensive damage from this earthquake that was
estimated to have been a magnitude 6.7 on the rector scale. From my motel
room I was able to contact my family on the east coast. My mother was
crying when I spoke to her, as she had no idea what had happened to me.
She also was not aware that I was in Sacramento. I could hear the relief
in her voice as I assured her I was not in L.A. at the time of the quake.
I had
to get home, but how? I contacted the local police department to find out
what I could do. It was an 8-hour drive back home and without the main
freeway, how would I get there. I was told; if I don’t have to be there,
stay away. The aftershocks were as bad as the initial quake. I didn’t
know what to do. I just knew I had to get home. I ate a quick breakfast,
threw my belongings in the trunk of my car and with my heart racing, began
the trip south. I kept the radio turned to the news and the closer I got,
the worse the reports became. Buildings and homes were totally demolished
and several roads and freeways were closed to traffic. The city had also
imposed a mandatory curfew of 7pm. Was I in a nightmare? I didn’t know
what would happen by the time I got close to Ventura where the freeway had
collapsed.
My
answer came rather quickly as I drove closer to Bakersfield. All traffic
was being re-routed AROUND to Victorville and into L.A. via Interstate
10. All I could see for miles was break lights as hundreds of people were
trying to get home on the two-lane highway we were now forced to travel.
Stop and go…stop and go…. all the way around to Interstate 10. What
normally takes 8 hours was now doubled. It was surprising that there were
not more frustrations among the drivers as there was. Everyone seemed to
be rather calm as we made our way along the highway. By the time I
reached the Interstate I was in tears. Only one more hour and I would be
home. My heart raced as I drove closer and closer to the destruction.
The city of lights was reduced to rubble and no power. I reached my exit
at 9pm and drove slowly toward my apartment complex. I was alarmed to
drive into the gated driveway to see no cars in any of the parking
spaces. Everything was totally dark. There was no sound. Stucco pieces
were strewn all over the carport. I saw no one as I stepped out of my car
to take a look. My heart was pounding and the night was as black as
pitch. I changed my mind and headed back to my car. I didn’t know what I
would encounter if I walked into the complex quad. The tears began to
flow again as I panicked, wondering what I would do, where I would go, and
wondering if there was anything left in my apartment.
I pulled out of the driveway and searched for a pay phone. There were no
cars on any streets, not even on busy Vineland, which was always a buzz
with car motors and horns. I was convinced this was some sort of surreal
situation that I was dreaming. Sooner or later I would wake up. I
remembered hearing on the radio about the mandated curfew and that anyone
caught out would be arrested. I quickly found a 7-11 and fumbled in my
wallet for change to call Jim. “Please be home, and please answer,” I
pleaded as I dialed his number.
“Hello,” I heard his soothing voice.
"Jim, it’s me. I got here as quickly as I could. Are you okay?” I asked
through my shaking voice.
“Yes, I am fine, but the area around here is not. Where are you right
now?”
“I am around the corner from my apartment. Jim, everything is dark, there
are no cars anywhere, I couldn’t get to my apartment, and there was no
power. I don’t know what to do.” I was hysterical by now, cold and
tired.
“Come over here, but be very careful. The 405 is strewn with debris and
aftershocks are continual. Just drive slowly and watch where you are
going.”
I got off the phone and quickly headed for the freeway entrance to the
101, which would take me to the 405 and into Jim’s arms in Venice. My
heart was pounding the entire time. I had been through the Rodney King
riots, fires and earthquakes, but nothing like the devastation that I was
now witnessing.
I arrived at Jim’s apartment and ran up the stairs to his waiting arms.
He held me tightly and the tension in my body slowly slipped away. He
made me a nice warm bed and after sipping a cup of hot cocoa with
peppermint schnapps, I laid down next to him, quickly falling off to
sleep. I didn’t want to ask questions, I didn’t want to get all the
details, I just wanted sleep.
The next morning I was jolted out of bed at 6am when a fierce aftershock
made the entire building shake violently. I was convinced we would be
crushed at any minute. I asked Jim about it and he said those were normal
during the day. Each shock was anywhere from 5 to 6.5 on the rector
scale, making them more like additional earthquakes than aftershocks. I
quickly got dressed and ran out to my car. In the light of day, I wanted
to go back to my apartment and survey the damage. I also needed to get
some of my things to bring to Jim’s apartment.
The
building was full of residents removing their belongings and in the
daylight; the horrible devastation was before me. The building was
totally ruined. There was debris everywhere. The concrete had moved from
the building approximately 8 inches. One car had a portion of the
building on its hood with the words “The Fat Lady Sang”, scrolled on its
rear window through the dust. The stairs leading to my apartment were
disheveled and broken. It was a bit scary to see the railing bent and
steps split in half.
I
carefully walked to my apartment to find my stereo, television and
computer on the floor as well as books from the bookcase. It was hard to
see with no power, but I managed to get some bedding and clothes out of
the closet. I gathered what I could and headed back to Jim’s. As I
drove, I could see the damage that had taken place and again, tears welled
up in me. Entire buildings were missing an entire side exposing the
contents of apartments and homes. Residents were sitting glaring out into
the street in disbelief. Amazingly, homes and buildings that were made of
wood showed no damage. I found out later that because wood breathes, they
were immune from the rocking and shaking created with earthquakes.
Back
at Jim’s there were aftershocks continually. I hated being there. I had
to get out somehow. I was blind as to what to do. I had no family there,
only Jim. The next morning I drove to work to see how things were going.
I wasn’t in the office 15 minutes when another aftershock hit and I went
into orbit. I told my boss I was leaving. I couldn’t stay. On my way
out, my dear friend Sonya stopped me, “Where are you going?” she asked.
“Sonya, I can’t handle this. I have never been through anything like this
before. I have to get out of here. I am thinking about moving back east
where these things don’t happen.” She reached out and gave me a hug.
“Why
don’t you stay with me for a while. That way you can think things through
and decide what you want to do? You know, you have to get to your
apartment and get whatever you can out of it. The building has been
condemned and you only have a few hours before they will be closing it
down for good. I will come and help you. We need to get this done before
dark or we won’t be able to see.”
“Condemned? How can they do that? What about all my furniture?” I was
crying again and shaking at the same time.
“Lee, you are going to have to get what you can and leave the rest.
There is no way you will be able to handle this on your own. We can get
all your personal things and you are going to have to forget about the
rest.”
I
cupped my face in my hands as I sobbed. I still thought I was in a
nightmare and any minute I would wake up. What was I going to do? This
would mean I would have to start over from scratch. And what about Jim?
How is he going to take if I decide leaving the state? At this point, I
didn’t care. I just wanted to get as far away from California as I could
get. Eight years of living through disasters was enough for me.
Sonya
and I drove to my apartment to gather what we could. We didn’t have much
time before nightfall, and once we left we would not be able to return.
People were rushing everywhere cleaning out their belongings. There was a
pool in the middle of the apartment quad. Frustrated tenants were tossing
things they would not be able to take with them right into the water. At
the bottom of the pool were televisions, barbeques, even couches and
chairs. It was a sad state of affairs. Better the pool ruin their
precious items than to leave them for scavengers. Sonya went through my
apartment and grabbed personal items only, and put them in every nook and
cranny of my car. Because I had a hatchback, I was able to get my
computer, VCR and microwave, in addition to photo albums, clothes and
anything else that had any sentimental value to it. My furniture could be
replaced.
In
another part of the building I watched in amazement as four strong men
tried to carry a beige, baby grand piano down the crippled staircase. I
knew they would fall and I couldn’t bear to see that beautiful piano
broken in thousands of splintered pieces. It took over a half an hour,
but they succeeded to bring it to the ground. Applause could be heard
everywhere as they made the successful decent.
Once
back at Sonya’s home, I sat down and made the final decision to leave
California and head to Atlanta where my sister and her family lived. It
was time for a new life. I couldn’t go back to work and going to Jim was
not in the cards either. I arranged my car for better viewing and made
the final plans. I had money in the bank as well as rent and deposit
reimbursement that FEMA gave me for having to vacate my apartment. I also
had a final paycheck to collect. I would be fine until I found a new job
in my new home.
Sonya drove me to Jim’s to break the news to him and collect the last of
my belongings. “How dare you leave me like this,” he screamed.
“Jim, I can’t take this any longer. I have lost everything, my apartment
building is condemned, I could only take out of there what I could put in
my car. My nerves are shot and every shake makes me convulse with fear.
It is time I move on and start a new life. I love you, but I have to do
this for my own well-being.”
“YOUR well-being? What about me? You are just going to leave me here
like this?”
“You
have your life Jim. You will do fine.”
“Just get the hell out of here then. You have made up your mind so just
GO.” He grabbed me by the arm; picked up the bedspread I had brought over
and threw me down the stairs. I was able to catch myself on the railing
half way down as I ran out of the building. I could hear Jim calling me
names as I left, screaming at the top of his lungs.
I now
knew I was making the right decision. I collapsed in Sonya’s car as we
drove away. Shock was on her face when I told her what had just
occurred. “I should go back and beat the crap out of that jerk!” she said
as we drove away.
“You
know what Sonya, he isn’t worth it. All this time, and I never saw that
side of him.” Relief swept over me as I began to think about leaving.
Aftershocks filled the day and night so sleep was minimal.
At
8am I was on my way to a new life. As I inched ever closer to the state
line, a feeling of calm swept over me. I could feel tremors under me as I
passed through city after city until finally I could see a sign welcoming
me to Arizona. On the back of my car was a license frame I had purchased
at a kiosk in the local mall before departing. The meaning was even truer
as I left the nightmare of January 17th behind. It read,
“Bye-Bye riots, fires and quakes.”
Copyright © 2003 Kristine Johnson
