January 17, 1994. In order to mend fences, sometimes the walls must come down...

25 years ago today my roommates, Lonnie & Coreen, and I were abruptly woken up by the largest earthquake in Los Angeles history.  'Twas a 6.7 on the Richter Scale.  The three of us huddled at the front door, some wearing less than others... as we waited for the shaking to stop.  Our dogs, Annex and Biglette, stood near and were as startled as we were.  

The house was dark, and outside the front door it was pitch black.  The violent shaking had caused the power to go out in most of the city.  We saw flashes of light in the sky and could hear loud explosions off in the distance as the transformers blew.  

Once the shaking stopped, one of my roommates had to go get better dressed for the occasion... My other roommate joined to get a jacket.  Now alone, I looked up in the sky and could see stars for miles.  Kinda' like when you are in the mountains or desert.  But we were in the city and this many stars never happens here.  For a moment it was tranquil.  Peaceful.  Well, until the aftershocks started and my roommates came running for the door.

Police guarding properties from looters
after the 1971 Earthquake.    My dad
shot this for The L.A. Times

The three of us stood there with blank stares as we all pondered what to do next.  For me, the last big earthquake I had experienced was in 1971.  I was almost three, so I have no memory of how my parents handled the aftermath.  They still talk about how I had thought there was a man under my bed

Damage from the 1971 Earthquake

shaking it until my dad could come and save me from him.  Apparently I showed my friend Sean, who was two at the time, where the man was hiding under my bed the next morning.  I'm pretty sure there wasn't a man under my bed this time, however.  I had a futon...

Our house was completely trashed and looked unsafe.  The aftershocks continued to hit every 10 to 15 minutes.  So, rather than go back in the house, we opted to sleep in Lonnie's 4x4 truck.  The big truck shook with every aftershock, but seemed safer than the house.  Coreen took the back bench seat and Lonnie and I sat back in the two front seats.  Needless to say, none of us slept.

The next morning we surveyed the damage in our house and around the property.  It was bad.  Really bad.  Everything in the kitchen cupboards had fallen out onto the tile floor, so there was glass everywhere.  Furniture had shifted from one side of the living room the the other.  TVs had fallen over.  There was literally debris and stuff strewn about the the whole house.

The backyard was flooded.  About four feet of water had sloshed out of the pool, causing the flood.  Every cinderblock wall around the yard had been knocked over, so we could now see into our neighbor's yards for the first time, and them into ours.

Water, power, gas, landline telephones and cell phones were all out.  But, because Lonnie's dad put on off-road events down in Baja California, each of our 4x4 trucks had FM CB Radios.  We tried to get ahold of Lonnie's parents, but to no avail.  They lived in Woodland Hills, so we were out of range.  Oh, and did I mention that we lived just a few blocks from the epicenter in Northridge?  Yup.

Condos just a few blocks from out house

Northridge Mall parking structure

Since we were in our early to mid 20s, we decided to drive a little closer to get in range.  It was not necessarily the smartest thing to do, but we were adventurous.  And in our 20s...  The devastation in our neighborhood was widespread.  Just down the street a house was burning out of control with no emergency services able to respond.  They were all spread too thin.  A few blocks away, an apartment building had completely collapsed on top all of the cars below.  As did the parking structure at the Northridge Mall.  The roads were empty.

More damage in our neighborhood

We picked our way down Ventura Blvd., avoiding fallen trees and other large obstacles.  A tire store was a complete inferno.  We finally made it to Woodland Hills and met up with Lonnie's parents.  Their phones were working, so I was able to make contact with my parents and my grandma in Santa Monica.

Relived that everyone was OK, we made our way back to our house.  We needed some supplies, but EVERYTHING was closed.  That is, except the gas station convenience store around the corner from our house.  They were selling stuff out of the broken window!  We had plenty of canned goods at home to eat, we thought.  So, what we really needed was beer!  And lot's of it, because in our minds, who knew how long everything was going to be closed!  We bought about six cases of beer!  Coreen was appalled when we came back to the truck with our haul.

We were still afraid to go into our house for more than 10 minutes at a time, so we decided to put our couch and TV out on the driveway.  And, with the exception of beer, the greatest thing we had in our possession at that moment was a generator!

Now, let me step back a minute.  I had mastered the art of diplomacy at an early age when it came to dealing with neighbors.  And in this family neighborhood my craft was in high demand.  Let me explain.  We had a pool.  We were in our 20s.  Friends came over to our house a lot.  And I mean like every day.  Many weekends we had pool parties that would go late into the evening, and since Lonnie and I were DJs... You see where I'm going with this.  Our neighbors HATED us.  So much so that a few of them started a petition to get us kicked out.  True story.  The one neighbor who started the petition was so mad that even I couldn't fix it.




But that all changed on January 17, 1994.  In fact, that night the whole neighborhood came together.  Our little cul-de-sac became like a commune.  Our neighbors had food.  Lots of food.  We on the other hand had the only generator in the whole neighborhood, a working TV and beer.  Lots and lots of beer!  This nightly potluck and community gathering around our TV went on for the next few nights.  It only took about three days for FEMA inspectors to officially deem our houses fully habitable.  But, it wasn't until about two weeks later when we all finally got our utilities turned back on.

It's amazing how a natural disaster can bring the best out in people.  After sitting on our couch, watching our TV and drinking our beer, I think that grumpy old neighbor finally took a moment to see that we weren't that bad after all.  We were just big kids in our 20s trying to figure life out.

I never heard anything about the petition again after that first night.  Our neighbors actually remained cordial from that point on.  

A year or so later while we were loading up our trucks and moving out, that old neighbor came over and helped me carry a few boxes out.  As I closed the door to that house on Calvin for the last time, he shook my hand and said, "Well, Eric, it's been nice to know you.  All the best to you and your friends.  We really hate to see you guys go."  And with a wink, he promptly turned and walked back down the driveway.

As I got into my truck, I found a six-pack of beer sitting on the seat.  I smiled, hopped into my truck and drove off down the road, never to see him or that neighborhood again.  It just goes to show you, that sometimes you have to knock down walls in order to mend fences.  And during the transition process, beer always helps!



*Note: Lonnie has a lot of photos from the day after.  We just couldn't find them prior to publishing this.  I will add them to this blog in the future.