New Shake on an Old Quake

One can almost predict what people are going to say when they mention the quake of ’52. They usually just say, “Oh, really, you were there? My, my,” and that’s it. It’ll never be “old hat” to those of us who weathered the shake and the suffering and death it brought to some. But going through some old news items at the local museum, I found many eye-catching columns. There were interesting articles and a few of them completely exaggerated in parts due to the imagination of visiting news people.

The bit about the whole town sleeping outside was a definite truth. Somehow, sleeping under a roof was not what we wanted to do. So, people dragged their beds out and slept under the stars in late July of 1952. My sister, Evelyn Catalano, was sort of an “elite” for she slept in her 1951 Nash that made into a bed. No fooling!

This sleeping in the yard was a perfectly normal happening for us and we all understood why we did it. All, except the out-of- towners who actually drove to Tehachapi at night and cruised around town with spot lights. Joan and Dick Johnson, told me that when the lights would flash on a “sleeper” one would hear a voice saying, “There’s one!” My family was sleeping in a secluded back yard and never experienced the nocturnal “lookie-loos” and I didn’t know about that until Joan had mentioned it.

An emergency telephone system was hooked up to a single connection and people wishing to place out of town calls were allowed three minutes to notify relatives. Gertrude Williams, one operator connecting the calls, recalled an eager newsman from the southland who verbally reported, in gross exaggeration, that, “Seven miles of downtown Tehachapi was flattened!”

Gertrude “pulled the plug” on him and said, “YOUR three minutes are up!” Seven miles would have taken one from Tehachapi well past Monolith going east and almost to Keene going west. However, the main part of the town was tragically demolished dealing in the death of residents; many of whom were children.

Margie and J.C. Finley had been on vacation and upon calling to Tehachapi for news, they were told by Ada Lee McLaughlin, the Chief Operator, “Your Dad’s fine, Margie! I just saw him walk past!” The beauty of a small town where everyone is known.

Ed Tompkins, proprietor of Monolith Store, had just returned, with his family from a camping trip in the high Sierra Nevada Mountains. After seeing that his family was safe he hurried to see what damage was done to the store. The building was fine but the interior was in shambles. He was also sure that the great stacks at the cement plant would have come down, but amazingly they did not.

The interior of Monolith Store was a mass of spilled and broken items. As soon as it was light, Ala Monroe, legendary teacher of the Monolith Elementary School (Aqueduct School), arrived with wheel barrow and shovels to help remove the three foot deep broken glass and spilled items. She also washed what was not broken and placed them on the bottom most shelves in anticipation of the prevalent after shocks.

Another Monolith resident, Umatilla Warner, came immediately and began to sort the many pieces of mail scattered about as well as assisting in the cleanup. Ed was also the Postmaster of the little community. Everyone helped each other on that day.

Phil Marx, lifetime Tehachapi resident, operated the Tehachapi Supply Company – when I was a smaller child it was called Tehachapi Hay and Grain; it was one of the first hardware and farmer supplies in town. Phil reported that, besides the thousands of screws, bolts, nuts and assorted hardware scattered about, it was paint that was the largest problem. Gallons upon gallons had hit the cement floor and burst open.

Just days later, much to his surprise, a truck from Fuller Paint Company pulled up in front of the business and two men came in and cleaned up the entire spill. They took the damaged stock away and later replaced it, free of charge.

Tehachapi’s Mayor, Gus Koutroulis, had a department store just across the street from the railroad water tower. When the water tower collapsed the main part of the water broke through the front of the store and drenched the complete stock. Dick Johnson asked him if his business had suffered much damage. He said, “Yes, but I haven’t time to think about it right now. Let’s take care of the towns people first.” It was a time to think about one another.

Lange Electric, run by Zella and Emil “Heavy” Lange, was the store that used to leave the television going on sporting event nights, facing the window, to accommodate those who had no TV, so they could view wrestling, roller derby and the prize fights. Very few Tehachapi residents had TV in 1952. In those pre-cable days the antennas needed were gigantic, complicated devices. Sally Lange Errecart, daughter of Emil and Zella, said the store was a complete loss, the old brick building having collapased.

One of my children was just six weeks old on that fateful day. With the beds in the yard, I put the little one down for a nap and later found his little cheek sunburned. How guilty I felt. Then, when mentioning it to friend, Mary Cote, found that her baby had also napped in a crib moved outside and her baby had received a “striped” sunburn from the little bars on the side of the crib!

My husband, overseas that year, had sent me my first set of Noritake China. It was lovely so I kept one cup and saucer sitting on the dining room buffet to show my friends. Broken dishes had fallen all around but my cup and saucer were sitting completely safe, in solitary splendor, after the quake.

In any such devastating upheaval where lives are lost, homes and businesses gone, one will find the people still come to look after each other with acts of bravery and kindness abounding. Even the church bells from the Congregational Church and the Catholic Church continued to ring for a time. The pulsating ground, still moving, kept them signaling hope.