Shake, rattle ’n’ how ’bout my beer
Here’s a look at the past. Items have been culled from The Chronicle’s archives of 25, 50, 75 and 100 years ago.
1989
Oct. 19: There is nothing romantic about a massive earthquake. Given the choice, avoid it. Nobody is untouched. You may laugh, you may cry, you may congratulate yourself on your luck, but you are emotionally drained. … At 5.03 p.m., Sandy Walker and I were standing in a long line for beers. A minute later we were reeling and hanging on to one another for support. “Earthquake!” I hollered. In the crowd’s sudden silence you could hear the old concrete structure grinding away, its steel bones bending but not, thankfully, breaking. The floor rippled and shook for what seemed like 30 seconds. The terrified young women behind the beer counter stood rooted under swaying signs. They were statues with bulging eyes, holding empty glasses. Candlestick slowly settled back into place. There was an instant babble of excited talk. The guy at the head of the line pounded on the counter and complained, “Hey, what about our beers?” His remark seemed like a return to normality, but in retrospect it had a surreal quality.
— Herb Caen
Oct. 25: Six-year-old Julio Berumen and his 8-year-old sister, Cathy, were reported to be in “stable and improving” condition at Children’s Hospital in Oakland, a week after being pulled from their crushed car beneath the collapsed upper deck of Interstate 880. Cathy sustained head injuries. Rescuers had to cut in half the lifeless body of the childrens’ mother, Maria, and amputate Julio’s right leg at the knee to free him. The car the three were riding in was nearly sliced in two by a falling pillar, and the children were trapped for several hours before being discovered.
1964
Oct. 22: Guerneville: An old rustic resort on the shores of the Russian River was the scene of acts “injurious to the public morals” on October 3, according to a complaint filed yesterday in Redwood Justice Court. More specifically, said Sonoma County Sheriff ‘s Deputy Joseph McReynolds, about 200 men were seen posing in scanty attire, dancing with one another and kissing — “among other things.”
On the basis of the complaint, William Blair — president of the firm that operates Guernewood Park Resort — was charged with allowing liquor to be sold after hours, permitting a blackjack game on the premises and allowing his establishment “to be used as a place injurious to the public morals.” The charges were filed on the basis of observation and photographs by the sheriff ’s officers and members of the state Alcohol Beverage Control. They said they had been interested in the club for a long time. Among those present at the Saturday night party, officers said, were members of a San Francisco group known as “The Coits.” They were distinguished, it was reported, by the large picture of Coit Tower emblazoned on their T-shirts
1939
Oct. 19: Now, Warren K. Billings is beginning to realize he is free. Only now is the profound significance of his release from the penitentiary spreading before him in its fullest scope. It was life Billings wanted to talk about yesterday, just plain everyday life. That is something he has not known since that day 22 years ago when he passed through the gates of Folsom Prison after his conviction with Tom Mooney in the 1916 Preparedness Day Bombing case. Ten persons were killed and forty injured on Market Street as the result of a bomb. He smiles a good deal. He wears no prison pallor, his complexion is ruddy. He wore a spanking new blue tie, blue suit and new blue-striped shirt. “All I need is a new hat,” he said. “I’m going to get that today.” He sobered momentarily as The Chronicle reporter mentioned a pardon.
“That’s something I want very much ...” His lawyer George T. Davis broke in.
“I’m convinced that the Governor has full legal authority to grant a pardon without further reference to the State Supreme Court. The case cannot be considered closed until a full and unconditional pardon has been granted.”
What did you want first when you got out,” a reporter asked. “A dead ripe persimmon. Boy did I want a dead ripe persimmon. I hadn’t had one for 22 years.”
1914
Oct. 25: The master mechanic from Drury Lane Theater, London, and his four assistants arrived in San Francisco on Thursday to prepare the Cort Theater stage for “The Whip,” the big melodramatic spectacle which opens Sunday night. Although the Cort stage contains one of the finest equipments for the handling of an attraction such as “The Whip,” it will be necessary to make numerous changes. The entire stage floor must be shored up, for instance, and special hoisting devices will be installed on the steel gridiron. The advance stage crew will remain here after the opening of the play. They will install the huge treadmill on which the horse race is run, the great drums that carry the panorama and the rails on which the train of cars is wrecked on stage in full view of the audience.