The Collapse of the St. Francis Dam

When one thinks of historical disasters in California, usually one of two events comes to mind…both involving earthquakes.  The first, and most obvious, is the earthquake and fire that struck San Francisco in 1906.  The second is the quake that again rocked the city in the fall of 1989.

But our topic of discussion this evening has nothing to do with earthquakes, though a whole lot of earth got moved.  Just before midnight on March 12, 1928, the St. Francis Dam collapsed, sending a tremendous wall of water (initially 125 feet high) screaming down the San Francisquito Canyon (roughly following the San Francisquito Canyon Road).

The causes of the failure were numerous, and go back almost to the start of construction in 1924.  Originally engineered as a 175-foot high dam, 10′ were added to the height in order to increase the water capacity.  Halfway through construction, yet another 10′ were added.  There were issues with material quality, proper design, and proper accounting for the bed on which the dam was built, but the height changes were probably the main problem.

When construction was completed, the dam began to fill without issue.  But as the dam reached capacity, the structural shortcomings came to light.  The additional height was not accompanied by enough width at the bottom to support the additional forces at the dam’s top.  So at 11:57pm, the pressure at the top of the dam sort of lifted the dam off its foundation and pushed it over.

More than 12 billion gallons ripped down the valley, at breakneck speed and with earth-gouging power.  Recall that when we talked about the terrible Johnstown Flood that occurred 40 years earlier, the collapsing South Fork Dam released less than half the volume of water.

Five and a half hours later, when the floodwaters reached the Pacific Ocean (more than 50 miles away), they carried homes, giant chunks of concrete and rock, parts of a hydroelectric plant, and the bodies of an estimated 600 people.  Upstream at the dam site, only the center section of the dam (shown above, aptly named the “Tombstone”) remained.

The collapse of the St. Francis Dam is a relative unknown in the list of California disasters, but it was one of the worst engineering disasters of the previous century.  In fact, in California’s history, only the dreadful 1906 earthquake resulted in a greater loss of life.

Recommended Reading: Directions to the St. Francis Dam – A nice pictoral of how to find the site of California’s second-worst disaster.

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Fred Rogers: The Best Neighbor Ever

Hello Neighbor.

He was a man that never raised his voiced.  He was never hurried, never harried, and never so busy that he couldn’t drop by the neighborhood for a half hour on PBS.  Fred Rogers was the single most gentle TV personality that has ever graced (or will grace) the screen.

Mr. Rogers.  And Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.

Just saying the name is relaxing.  I think of that little town with the little cars in the opening (and closing) sequence we followed up to the house.  Then Mr. Rogers would come through the door, take off his coat and put on a sweater (every one of which was knitted by his mother).  Then he’d sit on that bench, and replace his shoes with some slipper/sneakers, all the while singing the famous “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” ditty we all know by heart.

An ordained Presbyterian minister, there was no “fire and brimstone” in the man.  He loved everyone.  There have always been rumors (completely untrue) that Fred was a highly-decorated sniper in the Vietnam War and wore long sleeves to hide the tattoos.  But Rogers killed nothing but bad feelings and had no time for painting his body as he was too busy helping millions and millions of children draw on the canvases of their little minds.

Rogers was a strict vegetarian, a dietary decision that likely had to with his demeanor.  He worked fiendishly (the only time that word is appropriate for the man) to keep his weight at 143 pounds…why?  Because each number represented the number of letters in “I Love You”…1-4-3.  My weight doesn’t spell “I Love You”, but it does spell “It…”…well, never mind.

And Mr. Rogers was loved as much as he loved.  The story is told of Rogers’ car (an old Chevy Impala or Caprice) that was stolen while parked at the TV station.  When the police report was filed, every TV and newspaper ran the story.  Forty-eight hours later, the car was back with a note that read, “If we’d known it was yours, we never would have taken it.”

And then the show’s 30 minutes was done, and Mr. Rogers, who had not stopped smiling the entire time, would remind us that it was a good feeling to know we were alive, and that he’d be back when the day was new, and he’d have more ideas for you, and you’d have things to talk about.

He…would…too.

Fred Rogers, born on March 20, 1928.  A man who largely hated television, but got into television to do something different…something better, for children.  And when thieves return a stolen car with a written apology, I’m guessing that he was successful.

Happy Birthday, Fred Rogers!!

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The Attempt to Outlaw War

The Kellogg-Briand Pact is a treaty that people don’t bring up in everyday conversation, unless someone misunderstands a question about their favorite maker of Frosted Flakes.  In fact, it’s safe to assume that very few people, even those inside a classroom with “History” on the outside of the door, really discuss it all.  And that’s not just because it sounds more like a cereal company than a major multilateral aggreement.

Kellogg-Briand, like pretty much every other foreign policy decision germinated in the 1920’s, had the sharp, painful memory of World War I as its seed.  This was especially true for France because, as we have talked about before, they had paid a heavier price in blood and territorial destruction than any other World War I combatant.  So after the War, their drive to assure that nothing of the sort would ever happen again to their men on their soil was exceedingly strong.

They heavilly backed The League of Nations.  They pushed Germany to the brink of complete collapse with the Treaty of Versailles and its huge reparations payments.  And they adamantly supported most every anti-war piece of legislation that came along.

The Kellogg-Briand Pact was just such a measure and it started simply enough.  French foreign minister Aristide Briand (above on the right) approached the U.S. about a bilateral treaty that denounced war as a method of settling disputes between the two countries.  But U.S. Secretary of State Frank Kellogg (on the left) was concerned that such a treaty was an entangling alliance that would eventually force the U.S. into yet another foreign war.  So he proposed a more general, multilateral agreement (that any country could sign) that was simply against war.

Of course, there was no real mechanism (short of what the treaty sought to prevent) for enforcement, so lots of countries were more than willing to add their names to the list.  Fifteen of them did so immediately, signing the Kellogg-Briand Pact on August 27, 1928.  In total, more than 60 countries would sign the dotted line…

…just in time for Japan to invade Manchuria in 1931, and start the whole “freefall-to-war” process all over again.  But such was the futility of all the peace efforts in the 1920’s and 1930’s.

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“Heroes”: The Original Show

When I came home from school, I didn’t watch a whole lot of television, but there were a couple “after-school” shows that I loved.  “Gilligan’s Island” was a favorite, and “Get Smart” was another.  But my most favorite show was “Hogan’s Heroes“.  This show was (and, for many, still is) so incredibly popular that it really needs no introduction at all.

But just in case you grew up in a cave (or still live in one but somehow have an Internet connection), I’ll give a very brief description.  “Hogan’s Heroes” is a World War II comedy set in a Prisoner-of-War camp called Stalag 13 in Germany.  Colonel Hogan was the highest-ranking U.S. prisoner.  Colonel Klink was the bumbling, bad-violinist Commandant of the camp and his sidekick, the even more bumbling Sergeant Schultz, who knew nothing, heard nothing, and saw nothing, was head of the guards.

Hogan and his band of prisoners were actually a link in The Underground, smuggling prisoners out of Germany using an elaborate subterranean complex made up of communications facilities, tunnels, and areas for making German uniforms, explosives, and identification papers.  Meanwhile, above ground, Klink and the streussel-loving Schultz bragged about how there had never been a successful escape from the Stalag.  Of course, most of the “escapes” involved prisoners the Germans never knew were in the camp.

I loved the show for the absolute absurdity of it.  The main tunnel below one of the bunks, the radio sets, the tunnel to the cooler, the tunnel under the dog kennel, the tunnel that opened up in a hollow tree stump outside the camp.  The stupidity and ineptness of the Germans (who really didn’t run their Stalags like this one).

It was, for me, just kind of campy and silly, the kind of entertainment that I loved growing up.  I’m making a big deal about the show because it’s star actor, Bob Crane was born on July 13, 1928.  Crane started his career in radio, and eventually played some bit parts in “The Twilight Zone” and “The Dick Van Dyke Show“.  But it’s “Hogan’s Heroes” that, without question, defined Crane’s acting legacy.  When the show ended after six seasons, Crane’s roles in front of the camera never really matched up to the popularity of Colonel Hogan.

Bob Crane was probably a versatile actor, but no actor was any more identified with his character than Crane was with “head prisoner in a goofy P.O.W camp.”

Happy Birthday Bob Crane!!

Recommended Viewing:  Every season of Hogan’s Heroes is available for purchase.  So watch an episode and laugh along with me.

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