Alaskan Earthquake No Place to Hide

“Ground fissures were opening up all around me as the earth began to shake more violently than ever before.”

by Michael R. Dougherty

I was 17 years old, and suddenly, I knew I could die if I didn't somehow make my way to safety… wherever that was.

At just before 5:30pm on Good Friday, March 27th, 1964, I was in a gravel pit near our home in Anchorage, Alaska. Some days before, my brother Tom and I had started learning how to jump on our snow skis.

We had built a ski jump by rolling up huge snowballs near the bottom of the road leading into the gravel pit. By shoving the snowballs together, we had created a ramp out of snow.

My brother and I had been getting better at ski jumping, so I was there by myself on that day to increase the height of our ramp.

Then at 5:36pm, the ground under my feet began to rumble. Our family had lived in Alaska for many years, and we had felt many earthquakes.

But this quake was different.

Seconds later, the ground began moving viciously, and ground fissures (cracks in the ground) were opening up all around me.

I quickly realized that this was a horrible earthquake, and I could be killed down there in the gravel pit and no one would know.

So, I decided to somehow make it up the slippery, snow-covered hill to someplace besides where I was.

Instead of my winter boots, I had gone down into the gravel pit in my dress boots that had zero traction on the soles. So if I was going to have any chance at running up the hill and not falling into one of the cracks that were opening up all around me, I had to use a ski trick.

I ran up the hill using my dress boots like skis. My left boot was pointed to the left side, and my right boot was pointed to the right. I then ran all the way up the hill, jumping over the cracks in the ground and praying that I wouldn't fall.

And as I ran, the ground shook more and more violently.

God must have been with me because somehow I managed to make it to the top of the hill, where I quickly looked around.

Just to my left was a valley covered with trees that were now swaying violently from left to right, as if they were waves in an angry ocean. Behind me was open land with some small trees and brush.

In front of me was a skinny little tree with a trunk about as big around as a garden hose. As silly as it sounds, I somehow staggered over to the tree, fell to my knees, put my hands around the skinny tree trunk, and held on for dear life.

I quickly noticed how weird the ground felt below my knees and thought to myself, “This is what it would be like to try to stand on Jell-O.”

In front of me was the apartment complex where my family lived. And right in front of me was a laundry building with a very tall, brick smokestack. As I looked forward, the brick smokestack was swaying wildly from the left to the right.

Still clinging to the little tree, I found myself wondering if this earthquake would ever end. Was this the end of the world?

Then I heard the screams of children behind me.

As I turned around to look, my head was being jarred so much by the relentless and powerful shaking that my eyes were at times seeing a strangely blurry image. But behind me were three small children who were screaming in horror as they tried to walk toward me. However, the intense jolting motions of the earthquake kept throwing them to the ground. And I couldn't get up to help them.

Turning back to what was in front of me, the huge brick smokestack continued its violent and wild dance from left to right. And just as I pondered, “How could that smokestack do that without falling apart?” the smokestack suddenly crashed downward, blowing the laundry room to pieces. Moments before, I had considered making my way toward the laundry room for safety. Now it was a death trap.

Then the rumbling and violent shaking slowly began to subside.

As I carefully stood up, my body felt like the earth was still wobbling and moving beneath my feet. I was terrified. Was it over, or would that horrible, relentless shaking start up again and drop me to my knees once more?

As I stood there staring in horror at the destruction in front of me, I was frozen, unable to move. What had happened to my world? Was my family okay?

Suddenly, men were standing by the smoking rubble of what was once a laundry room. A moment later, a siren and flashing lights interrupted my stare as a fire truck arrived. I could see the look of terror on the faces of the firemen as one of them yelled to the crowd, “Is it under control? Is there a fire? We've got fire alarms going off everywhere. If it's under control, we need to leave right now.”

The crowd waved them off, and the fire truck quickly sped away.

My mind was numb and my legs were wobbly as I started making my way toward our apartment. 

Along the way, I noticed that cars in the parking lot had bounced around during the shaking and were pointing in all directions. It was just one of many strange sights I would see.

Then I found myself at our apartment.

I quickly opened the door and hollered up the stairs, “Anna, Tom, are you alright?” My sister and brother answered in tearful voices, “Mike, Mike.”

Moments later, I would discover that my sister Anna, who was recovering from surgery, had been thrown down the stairs during the quake. She was shaken, but alright.

Our living room furniture had been moved all over the place. The kitchen was a mess, and everything had been shaken from the cupboards onto the kitchen floor.

Mom and Dad were away. Earlier in the day, they had gone to downtown Anchorage on business.

But soon, Mom and Dad were somehow able to get a phone call through to us. They were okay and were making their way home. They were so relieved that we were okay, and we were so happy that they were alright.

That night our family lay in bed with our clothes on because the strong aftershocks made sleep impossible. And at any moment, we might need to evacuate our building.

Each sudden jolt reminded us that we were still not safe.

Way into the night, we were constantly riding out massive aftershocks, and we could hear people screaming in horror as the relentless jolts sent them running into the streets.

As I wrote this story, I had a bit of a surprising reaction.

After all these years, as I retold my story here in some detail, my eyes filled with tears, and I had to stop writing as I relived those five minutes of sheer terror.

Thank God my family and I and my future wife, Mary, are all survivors of the 1964 earthquake.

Comments:

by Danny

From all the stories I read about this earthquake, yours was the scariest.

By the way, what happened to the kids who were trying to get to you after the quake stopped?

A Note from Mike of Anchorage Memories

Danny: Things were so crazy at that point that I just don't know.

I couldn't hear them anymore, and they didn't catch up to me. They were OK; they just went off in another direction.

by Lee White

I was driving west on 4th Avenue, just past the Blue Moon Café.

At first (when the earthquake struck), I thought I had a mechanical problem. The street in front of me collapsed. I was too amazed to be scared.

The reaction of the civil workers was amazing.

by Anonymous

Crazy, wavy concrete basement floor.

Upstairs, dishes crashing on the floor.

Four days with no power--continuous fireplace burning, cooking with a camp stove, using camp lanterns, warmish March temps, and listening to radio updates.

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