20 Seconds of Terror
The shaking was so violent that it knocked my eyeglasses off the nightstand across the room. It persisted for about 20 seconds. I had to crawl on my hands and knees to find them in the dark through glass and dirt on the floor. It was 30 years ago, on 1/17/94 at 4:31 am, that we lived through the 6.7 magnitude Northridge earthquake. Those 20 seconds changed everything.
Sixty+ people died, over 9,000 were injured, and 87,000 homes and businesses were destroyed or severely damaged. Many roads and bridges were impassable for months. We lived in Sherman Oaks, which is in the San Fernando Valley. The epicenter was in Northridge, which is also in the San Fernando Valley. This was called a blind thrust fault, and it kicked up in the foot of the Valley where we lived, so we were hit hard. 125,000 people were temporarily homeless, and I was one of them. Everyone has their own story to tell about that event. Here’s mine.
It was 20 seconds which seemed like 20 minutes.
I remember putting my pillow over my head for fear the window that was high up by our vaulted ceiling next to our bed would break and shatter down on us. It was like slow motion. Loud crashing and then an eerie silence. Glass and dirt were everywhere from fallen pictures jolted off the walls and house plants strewn about the room. Our China hutch had fallen over, breaking all of our China and crystal from our wedding three years prior. The vintage family heirloom glasses from a friend were all shattered, except two somehow survived. The kitchen cabinets flew open, and dishes flipped out and broke. Nail polish flew across the walk-in closet and sprayed all over the carpet. The electricity was out, so all of our food was lost.
After the shaking stopped and we got our bearings, everyone rushed out into the pitch dark for fear of large aftershocks. We were not certain of the soundness of the buildings. We heard sirens and smelled smoke. We had no idea how bad the damage was or how widespread the damage was. Our two-story townhouse suffered minimal damage compared to many buildings in the area that were a total loss. The death toll would have been much worse had people been out and about, but since most people were in their beds, they were spared.
The kindness of strangers.
Our glass sliding doors jumped off the tracks, so we couldn’t close them because the frames were bent. Our water heater on the roof fell over, and water poured through the canned lights two stories down like a waterfall. The gas line broke and started a fire in the wall on our roof. My husband shouted that our wall was on fire, and out of the darkness, a neighbor we did not know from across the street came sprinting up with a fire extinguisher. We never saw him again, but I am eternally grateful. The aftershocks persisted throughout the night and day, keeping everyone on edge.
The shock of it all was quite paralyzing at first, and it was hard to get news initially, so we turned to our car radios and battery-operated radios that many people still had at the time. Phones had not evolved to be smart yet, so we did not have news and resources at our fingertips. My dear friend Fran Flanagan lives on the west side of LA and had minimal damage, so we stayed with her family for a few days and with other friends for a few more days until we could at least get water, electricity, gas, and the doors put back on. Landlines didn’t work initially, so thankfully, most of us had rudimentary cell phones by that time. Gasoline was scarce, and there were long lines and empty stores, so we managed as best as possible. We were renters without earthquake insurance, so the losses were ours to bear.
We had to snap out of it and get back to work.
A couple of days after the quake, I made my way into the office to see what we were dealing with there. We had a lot of paper back then. Cabinets had flown open, and paper and files were everywhere. There was less damage to our office than where we lived, so there was electricity by then. We didn’t have the ability to work remotely back then, so limited staff came in when they could, and we were finally able to log into our systems and do what we could to alert our business sources of the status.
Our broker network liaison sent out a mass message to brokers and sources of business on our behalf to alert everyone that it might take a while for us to respond. Once we knew the staff and our agents were safe, we had the arduous task of visiting every inventory home (and we had a lot) to ensure there was no flooding, fires, or structural damage. We also had to check on our listing clients who were still in their homes and stall the buyers who had upcoming house-hunting trips. Our agents stepped up even when they were dealing with their own personal challenges in the aftermath.
Never the same.
Just like living through the pandemic, something like that changes you forever. You look at things a bit differently. The city and state changed the building codes regarding how buildings, roads, and bridges are built. Massive retrofitting took place and is ongoing. Homes are now bolted to their foundation. Automatic gas valve shut-offs are required in every building. Water heaters must be strapped in place to be up to code.
Sadly, many businesses disappeared or were forced out of business due to their enormous losses. The commercial area along Ventura Boulevard, the major street running through the Valley where we lived, was rebuilt and rejuvenated to be a much more up-to-date and inviting area. While FEMA helped some, with a disaster so massive, everyone had to get in line, and some businesses just couldn’t make it.
The way I do things changed forever that day:
I made a disaster plan for the office with a phone tree and detailed instructions on how we would keep business moving if there were ever another disaster of this magnitude (no pun intended). Thankfully, we never had to use it.
We always keep at least six gallons of water in our garage for flushing toilets if the water lines are disrupted.
We always have at least a case of bottled water on hand for drinking.
I carry a small first aid kit in my car, a pair of tennis shoes, and a blanket.
I keep a pair of old tennis shoes under my bed.
We have working flashlights/lanterns in every room next to the beds and always have a large supply of batteries on hand.
I keep portable batteries charged for my phone.
I NEVER let my car get below ¼ tank of gas.
Our large furniture is strapped to the wall.
We don’t hang anything above beds.
I don’t have any real plants in the bedrooms.
I use putty to help adhere pictures to the walls.
We have two fire extinguishers in our house.
My replacement China and crystal are in zipped padded containers and are stored in built-in cabinets.
My nail polish is in a closed container on a lower shelf in the bathroom.
We have a generator.
We keep a second propane tank full for our grill in case that is our only means to cook.
I always have cash stashed since the ATMs didn’t work.
For years we had baby locks on some of our kitchen cabinets to keep the doors from coming open and everything falling out. I finally got rid of them in our remodel.
Breakable items on top of any armoires or cabinets are secured with Quake Hold sticky stuff.
We have earthquake insurance with a very high deductible, but as homeowners, it is a necessity.
How we adapted.
I do these things without even thinking. It is baked into my behavior now. I am one of those people who doesn’t like to repeat a mistake, so preparedness was the lesson learned. The interesting thing about an earthquake is that there is no warning. Most natural disasters have the decency to give us a bit of a heads-up. Not earthquakes. I get it, living in a state riddled with fault lines is the warning.
Now they have developed some early warning systems, but they just give us a few seconds of notice. There is an earthquake every few days somewhere in CA. Most are under magnitude 3, but the movement is constant. We also have apps that give us details about magnitude, epicenters, and other helpful information on the constant motion. I recently visited New Orleans, and hearing the harrowing experiences that the city went through during Katrina brought the earthquake memories flooding back.
We never really know what we can endure until we are put to the test. That day brought millions of people together in the most unexpected way. Strangers helping strangers. People volunteered even while they faced their own losses by opening their homes and sharing resources. It wasn’t a time to be selfish.
Thankfully, we have not had a seismic event anything close to that day in 1994. That earthquake was in a suburban area. I can’t imagine what might happen if it was in the middle of the day in downtown LA with crowded freeways. They say the ‘big one’ is yet to come. But I would like to think that if it does, everyone would be much better prepared to deal with it.
We learned from the estimated 40 billion dollar price tag. And we changed how we think about being prepared and how we construct buildings. The challenge is that time fades memories, and people let their guard down. Not me. I don’t like to make the same mistake twice. I will always be prepared. Every time I look at my China cabinet and see the dings from when it fell or when I open my dresser drawer that has never really opened correctly after that day, I think of those 20 seconds.
“This persisting vulnerability, ranging from obsolete architecture to public complacency, remains among the most troublesome aspects of the Northridge earthquake legacy.” ~Lucy Jones, Southern California seismologist, known as ‘The Earthquake Lady’
