T.R.'s Memoirs: 'The Bay Bridge has collapsed'

T.R. Sullivan was in his first year covering the Texas Rangers and baseball in 1989, when the World Series took a back seat to a devastating earthquake in his adopted hometown.

T.R. Sullivan archives

Jeff Wilson note: TR Sullivan will be sharing his memories of covering the Rangers regularly in the Texas Rangers Newsletter. From the NOT forthcoming book: 32 years in Arlington, a baseball writer’s odyssey.

“The Bay Bridge has collapsed.”

Fort Worth Star-Telegram columnist Jim Reeves blurted that out while sitting next to me in the upper deck of Candlestick Park on Oct. 17, 1989.

I will never forget those words.

As Revo spoke them, a distant column of smoke could be seen beyond center field, rising high in the sky.

We would find out later the smoke came from a collapsed and life-crushing Oakland freeway.

I was still trying to comprehend what Revo had just said while watching his battery-powered portable television in the auxiliary press-box setup for the overflow of media covering the 1989 World Series.

“The Bay Bridge has collapsed”

Never forgot those words. Or that day. Or my first World Series in the first of 32 seasons of covering the Rangers for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram and MLB.com.

All taking place in my “adopted” hometown and in a ballpark ridiculed by almost everybody but revered by me because I had attended my first MLB game there 18 years earlier.

Oh yeah … never forgot that either, at the age 12, walking into Candlestick Park for the first time to watch the Giants play the Pirates in Game 1 of the 1971 National League Championship Series.

There was a golden autumn tinge to the air above a sea of green. It truly felt like walking into the Emerald City in the Land of Oz.

Candlestick was not always like that during my four years at the University of San Francisco. There were many nights during the “summer” when I sat freezing in Candlestick with the fog rolling in and the wind whipping through the place.

Mark Twain wasn’t kidding when he said the coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. Especially in Candlestick Park.

But Oct. 17, 1989, was another beautiful day in San Francisco. Ask Revo.

He, Phil Rogers of the Dallas Times Herald and a few other reporters staying across the bay at the Berkeley Marina did not drive to the game. Instead, they somehow hooked up with a guy who owned a boat for charter.

Armed with beer and ample food, they sailed across the bay with the plan being to take the same boat back after the game.

They sailed under a bridge that would soon “collapse” rather than driving on a doomed freeway. Revo couldn’t stop bragging about it. Me? I was staying just down the 101 freeway at the San Francisco Airport Marriott. At least I had a car.

The Star-Telegram sent four to the World Series that year. Tony DeMarco was our lead Rangers writer and was sitting in the football press box down the left-field line. Steve Campbell was with Revo and me in the auxiliary press box in the upper deck above home plate.

The auxiliary press box meant temporary work tables, power outlets and television monitors installed in what normally would be part of the upper deck. When I was in college, those seats sold for $4 each.

Bryan French and Jennifer Briggs-French were also there as fans. They were our good friends who worked at the Star-Telegram, Bryan as a copy editor and Jennifer as a sports reporter who had created the once-famous Betty Ann Stout wrestling persona.

Jennifer called me before the Series. She wanted tourist, dining and nightlife tips from the San Francisco “native.” Truth be told, I am a Military Brat who lived all over the country growing up. San Francisco became my adopted hometown only by going to college there.

She also wondered about earthquakes. What were they like?

“No big deal,” I said. “I went through five when I was in college. Basically, you hear a rumble and a vibration underneath your feet. Occasionally the buildings will vibrate. Not much more than that.”

Little did we all know.

The last big earthquake in San Francisco had occurred 83 years earlier and a dwindling few people were still left to remember it.

We were all about to get first-hand experience about how devastating an earthquake can be.

Earthquake!

The Giants had lost the first two games in Oakland. After the second game, Giants first baseman Will Clark vowed Game 3 would be different. The series was switching to Candlestick Park, Clark said and Giants fans would be ready.

They would be loud.

I remembered Clark’s words as I sat with Revo, Campbell and many others in the upper deck. The game was supposed to start a few minutes after 5 once the television pregame commentary was completed. As the clock slipped past five, we ready for first pitch.

Then I heard the rumble …

It got louder.

I remember thinking, “Wow, the Giants fans are really up for this.”

Then, I felt the stadium vibrating.

“Earthquake!” I told Revo.

The vibrations got stronger and stronger. Then the stadium started shaking, lightly at first.

And then violently.

Candlestick Park, a concrete facility holding some 50,000 people, started shaking violently.

I sat there watching this giant concrete bowl shaking fiercely back and forth. Concrete wind blocks hanging over our head were viciously swaying back and forth as well.

It was terrifying. Fifteen seconds of pure terror for everybody.

Then it was over. Just like that. I was stunned. That was like no other earthquake I had ever been through before.

The crowd applauded and roared. The electricity was out, but we assumed it would be restored and the game would start on time. We were wrong.

People were spilling onto the field from the dugouts. There were players in uniform frantically looking for their families in the stands. There were men in suits talking on walkie-talkies or to each other. There were no cell phones or internet back then.

Revo was watching his little portable but that provided little real information. The only ominous note was the column of smoke rising in the distance, our first indication this was earthquake was serious.

Revo passed on whatever information he heard, but much of it was just stating the obvious. The earthquake had been significant and damage reports were just coming in.

Our nerves were already jangling when it started coming ….

The aftershocks.

They were real and they were frequent. Slight tremors that added to a heightened sense of raw nerve. Hardly as big as the earthquake itself but more than enough to make our hearts jump and our nerves to re-fire over and over.

And then Revo said it.

“The Bay Bridge has collapsed.”

I had a hard time processing that one. My brain couldn’t do it. I kept picturing a massive structure I had crossed so many times now a humongous pile of rubble at the bottom of the San Francisco Bay surrounded by doubtlessly a number of dead bodies.

It was only later that we found out the bridge had not collapsed but one section of the top deck had broken off. There was just one fatality. It was also later that we found out the column of smoke was from the collapse of the Cypress Street Viaduct on the Nimitz Freeway in downtown Oakland.

Revo listened and then heard the words that brought our day at the ballpark to a sudden end.

“Cracks have been reported in the upper deck in Candlestick Park,” Revo said. “Let’s go.”

Where?

Night was falling, and it took me an hour to get out of the Candlestick parking lot.

Highway 101, the main artery leading south out of the city was already close to gridlock. Fortunately, I was able to use my knowledge of the area to take a back road to my hotel and call the office.

Time to get to work

Revo, paying $20 to a guy to cut in front of the line to use a pay phone, had already talked to the office. Susan Scott, who worked on the sports desk, was kind enough to call our families and tell them we were safe.

My hotel room had no power, but the telephone was working. Between that and the car radio, I was able to gather enough information to write. The Star-Telegram assigned me to write the front-page news story.

I banged it out on a TRS-80, the Model T of computer laptops.

SAN FRANCISCO – The nation’s second-deadliest earthquake ravaged the Bay Area yesterday, killing at least 250 people – most of them in the collapse of a half-mile-long section of a double-decker highway in Oakland.

It was 15 seconds of terror.

“This is just a devastating, terrible, terrible situation beyond everybody’s imagination,” said Marty Boyer, the Alameda public information officer.

The quake damaged roads and bridges, collapsed buildings, triggered a natural-gas-fed city block of fire in San Francisco’s Marina district, snapped power lines and water mains, and forced postponement of Game 3 of the World Series between the San Francisco Giants and Oakland Athletics.

At least 400 people were injured.

Remember, journalism is the rough draft of history. The death toll wasn’t that bad.

In all, 63 lost their lives that day. Over 3,000 were injured. All of which took many days to figure out as the people of San Francisco, Oakland and Northern California worked through the devastation.

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The Star-Telegram contingent – including the Briggs-French vacationeers – worked through the night and well into the next day reporting and writing stories.

Revo and DeMarco made it to the collapsed freeway and reported from there.

I went to the Marina district and found a bizarre scene on a beautiful sunny Wednesday morning.

Amid the rubble, collapsed houses and rescue workers, there were hundreds of people just wandering around surveying the damage like a bunch of tourists who had just stepped off the bus from Omaha or Kalamazoo. They were gawking, shooting pictures, laughing, joking and having a good time.

A million-dollar home on Marina Boulevard looked like it was ready to collapse. In the open front-room window, a couple of college-age guys smiled and waved to the crowd below.

“Aren’t you afraid to be in that house?” asked Carrie Muskat, an industrious reporter from Chicago.

“Nah,” one guy with black, curly hair assured us with a shrug. “We’re fine.”

The house would later be demolished.

Vice President Dan Quayle arrived by helicopter. As he disembarked, Quayle was completely surrounded by reporters and cameramen. The group moved as one down the street, the Vice President completely hidden behind the mass of journalistic humanity.

One cameraman, trying to keep up with Quayle and oblivious to everybody else, accidentally bumped a 40-something preppy, a guy wearing Bermuda shorts, sandals, a well-pressed shirt and an expensive sweater draped by the sleeves around his neck. Sunglasses were perched on his forehead.

Joe Preppy took exception to being jostled on such a fine day. He chased the cameraman and slammed his open hand into the camera. The cameraman ignored him and kept on shooting Quayle.

Joe Preppy turned away, walked back to his friends and started laughing at the incident. Why not? The guy was probably just a union-wage drudge.

I wish I had decked the vapid preppy.

But I was a rookie in my first season covering the Texas Rangers. There would be 31 more to follow.

Nothing though like the day when Revo said …

“The Bay Bridge has collapsed.”

TR Sullivan covered the Texas Rangers for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram from 1989-2005 and for MLB.com from 2006-2020. He has covered more MLB games in Texas than any other sportswriter.