An earthquake in Alaska 50 years ago created memories that are still vivid among those who were living in the Port Alberni area. The earthquake sent waves up Alberni Inlet and flooded the town on March 28, 1964. Readers share their first-hand accounts of the experience.
Shocking tidal wave had huge impact
As a teenager, I remember our family had watched the evening news about the big quake in Alaska during the Easter long weekend in 1964, but we went to bed when it was announced that any “tidal wave” was not expected to impact the B.C. coast.
We were awakened by the noise in the basement of things banging together. My parents got us all up and told us to go to the higher ground of the Kitsuksis Creek bridge, and then to family friends. Water was already knee deep, cold and swirling around us.
It was dark and we had to find a pathway by memory, as you could not see where your feet were landing and there was floating debris all around. Our house had river frontage next to the government dock on Beaver Creek Road. It was located in what is now the docks of the Clutesi Haven Marina. This was the first and small wave, and the concern was that a bigger one was on the way, and it would be arriving on an incoming tide.
Later that night, our parents joined us, after the big wave had come and gone. My father said he saw log booms going up the river faster than if they were being towed by a water ski boat, and the loose logs were acting like battering rams as they hit the buildings in their path. In addition to our house my parents had rental accommodations on an adjoining property. They were devastated by the loss of their business, but glad at least they had got all their tenants out of their units and to higher ground.
The next day, we returned to what was left of the neighbourhood. All the buildings (except our house, which had a seven-foot-above-ground basement and therefore had not floated off its foundations) had been moved off their foundations and were perched at weird angles, some even had logs hanging out the windows. It was ugly. Everything below the six-foot mark was covered in a thick coating of slippery, stinking mud.
As we toiled to start the cleanup, it was very unsettling to have the river continue to surge up and down, as ripples behind the big wave. It was Mother Nature’s way of letting us know she was still in control.
Having lived through a natural disaster, I know they can happen to anybody, anywhere, any time, so in an effort to be part of the solution, rather than part of the problem, I volunteer with the Saanich Emergency Program, and would encourage others to become aware of their community’s emergency programs, and their need for personal preparedness.
Art Beck
Victoria
Travellers sensed something was awry
My wife and I lived in Prince Rupert at the time and on March 27 started our vacation in Hawaii by flying to Honolulu. When the plane landed at the Honolulu airport about 7 p.m., we sensed something was amiss.
In those days, customs authorities usually went through all luggage very thoroughly. However, this time we were waved through quickly. One of the officials then told us that an earthquake had occurred in Alaska. My wife said: “Let’s stay here at the airport.” The official came back with: “I wouldn’t do that lady, we are two feet below sea level.”
After going to the curb to flag down a taxi, we were taken to the outskirts of Waikiki on the way to the hotel.
A roadblock was set up and we were denied entry to the beach location; we were advised that the first three floors of all hotels had been emptied as a precaution.
The driver took us instead up to Mount Tantalus overlooking Honolulu for a few hours of sightseeing. At a lookout, we observed passenger ships and I remember seeing the Rotterdam and the Oronsay, as well as many other smaller vessels, staying away in deeper water.
At 3 a.m. March 28, we were given the all clear, the taxi took us to our hotel and the driver charged us the normal fare from the airport direct to Waikiki. A tidal surge of six feet took place on the beach at Waikiki with no effect as the tide was low at the time. The next day, we telephoned Prince Rupert and found that little damage was caused at that location and ascertained that the other members of our family were OK.
Al Westnedge
Qualicum Beach
‘Tell your dad: The water is coming up on the floor’
It was a warm March day. Our sister, Paige Lawson, was about to give birth, but because of some complications was admitted to Port Alberni General Hospital awaiting the arrival of her baby .
Around 10 p.m., my sister Darlene, and I were preparing for bed. Mom and Dad were already in bed. As was their usual custom, Mom and Dad listened to the radio after retiring. News was being reported about an earthquake in Anchorage, Alaska. We didn’t give it much thought.
Suddenly, the telephone rang. Was it the hospital? Had the baby arrived? No, it was Rick Jonsen, our young friend who shared one of the cabins on River Road on the bank of the Somass River in Alberni, with his sister, Diana. Rick, in a frantic voice, said: “I need to talk to your dad; water is gurgling and coming up in the toilet.”
But Dad was in bed and thought it not a big problem. So, he told Rick “not to worry and go back to bed.” Less than five minutes later, Rick, called in a more frantic voice: “Tell your dad to get here right away. The water is coming up on the floor.”
Darlene and I quickly dressed and jumped into my little red Acadian and raced down the hill on Johnson Road to the bridge alongside the Somass River leading to River Road and Beaver Creek. We were standing on the bridge and staring in amazement and shock to see the Somass River being pulled backward, dropping the water to almost dry level, as if it was being sucked out.
Within what seemed a few minutes, a gigantic wall of water was surging toward us on the bridge. Nobody was there but the two of us. We ran toward the Alberni side of the bridge. Just then, another car from either Alberta or Saskatchewan pulled up. A man jumped out and yelled: “Oh my God, where’s the militia?” “What militia?” I responded. “Call the police” he ordered.
We ran across the street to the home of the Olds family and I banged and banged on their door, arousing them from sleep. Could we use their phone to call the Port Alberni detachment?
I was very excited by now and in my excited voice said to the Port Alberni detachment: “You’ve got to get here right away, the Somass River is flooding and the water is higher than the bridge.”
“Have you been drinking?” the officer wanted to know.
“No!”
The man from Alberta or Saskatchewan (never did get his name) grabbed the phone from my hand.
“Get here now! This is a catastrophe. The river is quickly rising and you’re going to have casualties,” he shouted to them. He got their attention!
We raced back to the bridge and this same man began stopping any traffic from trying to cross the bridge. Our dad arrived and true to form, he ordered Rick and Diana, Darlene and me and a small group of people who were safely out of their houses to warn people.
We frantically ran to the cabins along the river and to the houses in the low-lying areas like Margaret and Elizabeth streets, banging on doors and even opening doors, shouting: “Get out, get out.”
It was surreal. The Port Alberni police arrived and immediately began a rescue plan, directing people off the bridge and to a shelter at the Arlington Hotel, about 800 feet away, in Alberni.
All that night, we worked in rescuing people. Mom stayed home and put on a huge pot of homemade soup and prepared for any of those who needed a safe place.
At daybreak, we were anxious to see what devastation had been left behind. It was a beautiful, sunny morning, but eerie.
Houses and cabins that weren’t washed out to the river were strewn everywhere. The church was moved several hundred feet and was facing a new direction. The few cabins and houses left had sludge and watermarks up to the ceiling.
From the pulp mill down to the area of River Road and Beaver Creek there were cars, houses, Barclay Hotel, the radio station, CJAV, all severely damaged.
Miraculously, no lives were lost in Alberni. How thankful and relieved we all felt.
Our sister, Paige, in the hospital awaiting the birth of her little girl, missed the entire night of excitement. She had a different excitement. Her daughter, Nola Jayne, was born a few days later, April 8, 1964, She is about to turn 50.
Peggy Barton (Brown)
Richmond
Darlene Brown
Lantzville
New life on a day of disaster
Our greatest memory of that day was the birth of our second son Christopher Kyle (a.k.a. Earthquake) Jones, our own tsunami,
8 lbs. 111Ú2 ozs. Great memories of both events.
Lourrain and Kyle Jones, Courtenay
Debris, ingenuity yield ‘tsunami bedrooms’
My father ran a construction and excavation business in Port Alberni and at the time the tsunami hit, was running chip trucks along the waterfront 24/7. I was seven years old then, and remember only hearing the phone ring in the early hours of the morning, and from the upstairs bedroom heard: “Holy o’lightnin’.” After that he was out of the house and we didn’t see him for weeks, as he was involved in the salvage operations.
On the bright side, our neighbour was an engineer at plywoods, and he gave my father a load of wood that had been damaged and was unsaleable. It was used to build an extension on our summer cabin, and to this day we have two “tsunami bedrooms” at the cottage. The beams supporting the cottage were off-cuts from when the pulp mill itself was under construction, so ours is a bona fide Port Alberni-tsunami cabin.
Mary Stanley
