The Hungry Ghost

It started at 3AM on a warm August night, first as a low and distant rumble, then as an audible, alarming roar. Many people, most conditioned by years of clichéd news-bites, would later describe the sound as something resembling a freight train barreling down upon their house. Others thought it was something else. “It was a horror! I thought it was a terror attack,” reported Leonora Schmidt from the Fairfax district. Susie Kim in Mid-Wilshire remarked “I thought [a] car crashed [into] my house.” Kris-Allen in West Hollywood added, “Gurl! I thought Rosie O’Donnell was breaking into my apartment.” Indeed, like a freight train, it did travel, originating east of the city in a sparsely populated desert community, growing louder and traveling faster in a westerly direction until it disappeared under the calming waves of the Pacific.

All along its path the earthquake jolted a million car alarms to life and left the residents of Los Angeles in a state of panic. Waken from sleep or simply surprised, people ran into the streets, hid under beds, or lay frozen in a state of fear induced coma. When it was over, 90 seconds in all, people began the task of checking their homes for damage, calling loved ones or cursing themselves for not stocking up on water, bullets and canned beef.

Early estimates from the United States Geological Survey said the earthquake registered as a magnitude 7.2 on the Richter scale. An event of “significant” note; severe and widespread damage was expected. News helicopters took to the air. Looters prepared. People in Beverly Hills reset their alarms and hoped for the best. What happened next was quite unexpected.

Not a single death was reported. Nobody suffered the slightest injury. No homes, apartments or condo developments were damaged. Hospitals, schools and government buildings rode out the quake unscathed. Airports and rail lines continued on schedule. The power grid never surged or shut down. City streets and freeways remained open, and despite a massive inspection campaign, no damage could be found to any bridges or overpasses. Strip malls on the other hand, did not fare so well.

Throughout the city, all 498 square miles, the only damage reported occurred at strip malls and in fact, every last one in the city fell to the ground or burned. Most of Van Nuys and Ventura Boulevards were leveled. Nail salons in Brentwood, massage parlors in Hollywood, ticket brokers Westwood, liquor stores in Inglewood, bail-bond shops Knollwood, check-cashing services in Beverlywood; you name it - if it occupied a spot in a strip mall, it perished.

For days, firefighters tried in vain to extinguish the fires. Help was called in from surrounding cities and states. A state of emergency was called. The National Guard arrived. Four days and 90 seconds later, Los Angeles was faced with an unforeseen dilemma: what to do with millions of acres of open and undeveloped corner lots. The cost to rebuild was estimated in the trillions; insurance companies filed for bankruptcy protection.

At first, people and politicians rallied in a show of unity. They made calls for aid; financial pledges to assist with the rebuilding poured in from around the globe. Movie stars pitched in and generously hosted a two day telethon. Music legends sponsored a massive concert and donated all profits to the City. The president flew in and standing on a smoldering pile of rubble that once housed a doughnut shop, a frozen yogurt parlor and exterminator service, promised financial support for “the worst natural disaster to strike America since Hurricane Barbara flooded Houston.” She promised interest free loans and grants. She spoke of a massive insurance industry bail out; calling to the Congress to pass a bill without the need to raise taxes.

But as time went on, residents of Los Angeles had a change of heart. After weeks and months of doing without lottery tickets, tattoos, spray-tans and “happy endings,” they realized how much better their city looked without all the strip malls. No more were they accosted by corner lots filled with cars and tattered shops. No longer was the view of the Santa Monica and San Gabriel Mountains blocked by sign after neon sign, advertising a mishmash of businesses in a hodgepodge of varying and mismatched styles.

After a few years of debate, all the lots were cleared and parks were planted. On some locations, buildings were erected, but care was taken to ensure all parking and shopping was conducted underground, out of the sight of the populous. Further action was taken and laws were put into place to limit the use of “Japanese” or “Persian” or “French” or “Mediterranean” or “Swiss” or [insert faux theme] styles. After few years, Los Angeles was voted “America’s Most Beautiful City,” by the American Institute of Architects. The City of Angels was now known around the world as the City of Parks.

It started at 3AM on a warm August night, at first, as a low and distant rumble, then as an audible, alarming roar. It traveled the distance of 30 miles in 90 seconds and most people if asked, will say the earthquake left in its wake the greatest opportunity for reinvention America faced since the sea reclaimed Florida.

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Copyright© 2007 Mark B. Papale All rights reserved