Oh, Thank Goodness : A Bridge That Spared Both of Their Lives

In 1989, the Earth trembled, skies poured, killer winds howled, tankers spilled and revolutions swept the globe. In Los Angeles, gang violence claimed yet more victims and traffic seemed to grow ever worse. Still, amid the tide of oft-tragic happenings, small rays of hope keep shining through. Here are a few of many stories worth sharing on a day of feasting, family and friends. They’re enough to remind that it’s still worth saying: “Oh, Thank Goodness.”

For Linda Morse and Erik von Barnekow, the October earthquake that rocked the Bay Area dealt more than a routine fright; it threatened a double jeopardy that indelibly marked their lives.

When the temblor struck at 5:04 p.m., Morse, 42, an auction house employee, and Von Barnekow, a 64-year-old real estate agent, were headed toward their home in Berkeley, crossing the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge.

As the structure began to shudder and their cars to sway, each thought of flat tires or high winds.

Then they heard a radio announcer cry, “This is an earthquake, a big one.”

The moment the violent shaking ceased, Morse sped toward terra firma; strangely, though, as she left the bridge, there were practically no cars behind her.

For Von Barnekow, there was no choice but to pull to a stop, for in front of him a huge gray wall had suddenly risen up; a slab of the bridge’s upper highway had crashed down onto the lower deck.

Just feet away when the bridge collapsed, Morse was one of the last drivers to pass the deadly spot; Von Barnekow calculates he missed his rendezvous with fate by a minute.

Still, though each was safe, neither knew what had happened to the other.

When Morse reached home, Von Barnekow wasn’t there, nor did he follow. “I knew he must be caught on the bridge,” she says, recalling the long minutes, then hours, listening as radio reports told of a gaping hole and of the 40 cars that spilled into it.

“I prayed a lot,” she says. She adds that with television reception cut, she tried to control the images that sprung up in her imagination.

Unknown to Morse, Von Barnekow sat for three hours on the bridge before he could turn back and start home through a darkened San Francisco. At a Mill Valley shopping mall, he stopped to try a public telephone. Nobody was getting through; circuits to Berkeley were out from San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York and Europe.

But when Von Barnekow dialed his number, Morse immediately picked up. “It was a little miracle,” he says.

Morse was unhurt, their house untouched.

When Von Barnekow reached home at 11 p.m., six hours after the quake, the couple hugged, kissed, nibbled some cheese and thankfully swapped tales.

Looking back, Von Barnekow says of Morse’s safety, “I thought her guardian angel did a wonderful job. I give thanks every day for her protection.”

Says Morse: “You appreciate life very differently. Everything is special now. Everything looks more beautiful.”