16th-Century Seer Has Some in Southland Shaky

Take a look around. Notice fewer people in the office? On the street? In line to buy Mrs. Fields cookies?

That’s because the psychic or superstitious among us believe that May 10 is the day when the Big One hits Southern California, a prediction based largely on an interpretation of the writings of Nostradamus.

Nostradamus, a 16th-Century astrologer, warned that there would be a powerful alignment of the planets today to cause the earthquake, and other astrologers of late have seconded the idea with independent prognostications of their own. Thus, people tuned in to such matters have probably beat it out of town by now.

Dan Eberle, director of San Diego County’s Office of Disaster Preparedness, thinks all of this is hooey. His office recently put in a specially recorded message pooh-poohing Nostradamus and other psychics, and explaining that there is no scientific way of predicting the exact date of an earthquake. The tape even includes the phone number to get hold of a mental health professional if the caller can’t get a grip.

“We give absolutely no credibility to the Nostradamus projection,” Eberle said. “We know that we could have an earthquake today, tomorrow or anytime. We’re not taking any other precautions for the 10th than we are for any other day.”

But if the volume of calls is any indication, there are plenty of people in San Diego who are worried. Eberle said the office received 500 calls for the message over the weekend, contrasted with the usual two or three inquiries when public paranoia isn’t riding quite so high.

“If this gets people to start taking action to prepare their homes and get ready to take care of themselves in the first 72 hours (after an earthquake), there is something to be gained from this notoriety,” Eberle mused.

That is, if anyone is interested in sticking around. OK, now: Take I-8 due east. . . .

Molloko’s Mailbag

We’ve heard a lot about the miracle of the San Diego Wild Animal Park--Molloko, the first baby condor to be conceived and hatched in captivity. We’ve seen the winged celebrity, beak agape, on the nightly news. We’ve groaned when it was discovered that the chick was bowlegged.

A check of the Animal Park mailbag shows how quickly America has been to accept both Molloko and the people responsible for her welfare, said Tom Hanscom, park spokesman.

For instance, the staff of the Broadway Office Equipment store signed and sent a birthday card to the newcomer. The Condors, a Chicago summer league baseball team, sent a congratulatory note and a game schedule. An ornithological enthusiast from Kansas City, Mo., sent a newspaper clipping and requested an autograph from the lead condor keeper. And a tour guide at Monticello was so happy that he offered to give Animal Park employees a free personal tour of the Jefferson home if they are ever in the Virginia neighborhood.

A woman from Oregon City, Ore., sent $2. She urged the park to buy eggs, because crumbled hard-boiled eggs would be the perfect supplement for Molloko’s diet of ground mice and vulture regurgitations, she wrote.

But one writer from Woodacre, Calif., wasn’t so friendly. She objected to the breeding program, which put a three-person team in charge of the chick.

“Why did you take the baby condor from its mother?” the woman wrote. “I think you’re wrong to interrupt biological process between the mother and its chick. God, your arrogance is incredible! Leave them alone.”

U.S. No Longer in Race

With all the talk about Japanese economic superiority and international trade imbalances, there’s no escaping the symbolism in the name change of a popular downtown leg race. What has been the Buick 10K since 1984 is now--alas, Detroit!--the Nissan San Diego 10K.

The change occurred because one of the six area Buick dealers balked at putting up the front money for the May 22 event this year, said Lynn Flanagan, whose In Motion Inc. organizes and promotes the race. Since Buick has a one-for-all, all-for-one philosophy about these things, the race suddenly lost a sponsor.

Enter Nissan. The nine San Diego County Nissan dealers jumped at the opportunity to pay tens of thousands of dollars to pick up where an American car company left off, Flanagan said.

Switching the name was tricky, she said. It wouldn’t be right to give Buick any mention if Nissan was paying the bill. So initial press releases announced the end of Buick’s involvement and referred to the race as simply the San Diego 10K. Then, Nissan’s name was introduced, Flanagan said. International diplomacy.