Firefighters work in the Marina District in San Francisco after a quake erupted in 1989, killing an estimated 273 people and causing $1 billion in damages.
Posted 9/8/05
By Kim Clark
The residents of the nation's most doomed city watched with horror and fascination as the people of New Orleans floundered despite plenty of warnings of impending disaster. But while San Francisco officials are soberly improving their emergency plans, the citizens themselves seem to be shrugging off the lessons, preferring to savor the extra dash of risk that adds piquancy to life in the white, hilly city atop the San Andreas Fault.
Of course, just as every New Orleans resident knew a devastating hurricane was inevitable, every San Franciscan knows "The Big One" could hit at any moment. The U.S. Geological Survey says San Francisco faces the highest odds of a major earthquake of any city in the country. It estimates a 62 percent chance of a 6.7-magnitude earthquake before 2032. While cities such as Hilo, Hawaii, also face potentially devastating volcanic eruptions, scientists have not been able to calculate their odds of surviving unscathed.
Officially, anyway, San Francisco seems well prepared for the inevitable. Many lessons were learned in the 1906 earthquake (an estimated 8-magnitude temblor) and resulting fire that killed about 3,000 people and flattened whole neighborhoods. The city roared quickly back to life, this time imposing stricter building codes. The improved construction and years of preparations were put to the test at the height of the evening rush hour on Oct. 17, 1989; a magnitude 7 earthquake struck. At first, the devastation looked horrific. Portions of the Bay Bridge collapsed, crushing cars and drivers. Fires erupted in the tony Marina district overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. But after the dust cleared, it turned out that out of a Bay Area population of nearly 7 million, only 62 people died, about 3,500 were injured, and 12,000 were left homeless by structural damage and fires. The economic losses were also comparatively light thanks, in part, to clever planning, such as a flotilla of ferries to keep people and goods moving across the bay.
In response to the 1989 devastation, the city further tightened building codes. Some highway overpasses were torn down, and others have been strengthened. Most major public buildings–including hospitals and shelters–have been retrofitted to withstand earthquakes. The City Hall was even raised off its foundation and placed on, essentially, ball bearings, to allow it to move with the earth instead of crumbling.
But watching New Orleans collapse despite plenty of warnings has made many officials nervous. Harold Brooks, CEO of the Bay Area Red Cross, said he was taken aback by the "sheer magnitude" of the evacuations his parent organization is handling in the South. Until now, his chapter's worst-case scenario called for handling just 300,000 refugees from a big earthquake. But now he realizes they should "increase that number exponentially." The Rev. Cecil Williams, pastor of the downtown Glide Memorial United Methodist Church, says the suffering of New Orleans's poor and sick made him worry that his church's and the city's disaster plans might be similarly inadequate.
"There are a lot of poor people and homeless folk in the Bay Area. We don't have the transportation to meet their needs" to get them out of dangerous areas and into shelters such as those Glide can provide, he says. Williams said he met with city administration officials earlier this week to start figuring out how to make sure the car-less can escape to safety, if they need to.
