Eighty seven years ago today, a terrific 6.4 temblor led to widespread chaos all around the greater Los Angeles area. The 1933 Long Beach earthquake had been one of the most destructive in recent years — comparisons were immediately made to the infamous 1906 San Francisco quake, which was still fresh in public memory.
The rumbling began early in the evening at 5:54 PM, when many residents were sitting down to dinner or wrapping up a day’s work. Casualties were estimated to number between 115 and 120; with more definitely unaccounted for. The death toll was considerably lower than the three thousand who perished in 1906, but was still the deadliest earthquake to occur since. The bulk of fatalities were simply due to people running out in the street where falling debris killed them before they could get to safety.
Hundreds of schools and government buildings crumbled to bits in the shaking. Luckily, this disaster helped pave the way for modern building codes.
The earthquake didn’t just change the lives of Los Angeles’ everyday citizens; movie actors at their various studios across the city were going about their work as well, not knowing what was to come. At MGM alone, The Daily News reported that three electricians were hurt after taking tumbles from their positions on overhead lights. The Dinner at Eight crew ran for cover. John Barrymore, who was back and forth between roles in Dinner at Eight and Reunion in Vienna, helped elderly May Robson from the latter’s set when the lights went out.
For weeks after, papers in the The North American Newspaper Alliance (N.A.N.A.) ran exclusive looks at what the stars experienced that evening. Articles featured stories from writers like Anita Loos, who apparently refused to return to her MGM office after the shaking and did her work on the lawn for a few days. One such report came from none other than Jean Harlow.
The fairly short article only credits Jean Harlow as writer: no columnist byline, and no “as told to”. Either way, I’m going to take it with a grain of salt and not Harlow gospel. The writing, however, is incredibly intelligent and I wouldn’t be surprised if this was entirely her own work.
Jean also happened to be at work on the MGM lot that night, according to her story. She didn’t mention Dinner at Eight, which she worked on for ten days in March, but instead talks about a dancing lesson she’s about to attend — probably one of those sessions with Eddie Prinz she had that spring in preparation for a musical role that never happened.
Without further ado, let’s jump in and take a look at Jean Harlow’s account of the Long Beach earthquake as it appeared in print:
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, MARCH 12.
“I never was in an earthquake before.
Dressed in practice clothes, covered by a cloak, I was on my way to our studio stage for a dancing lesson.
Suddenly the whole world went mad.
I didn’t realize what was happening at first. The great steel water tower on the lot was swaying like a tree. Buildings rattled. Windows crashed. Lights flickered crazily and died, the sidewalk under my feet moved from side to side in short, sharp jerks. I could hardly keep my footing.
The big concrete sound stages waved as if in a high wind, and under all was a dull rumble.
I wanted to hold onto something — but there wasn’t anything handy. I could hear screams from the offices. People rushed out of doors, in pell-mell flight.
There was a tree nearby. I managed to stagger over to it and cling to the trunk, as the whole studio danced giddily around. I never knew how much comfort a tree could be.
For the first time in my life I was afraid. Not afraid of anything physical or touchable, but of something unseen. I wanted my mother, just as a little girl would. I clung to that tree to keep from falling into the dizzying motion of the world around me. I laid my face against the rough bark; it was something substantial in a falling universe.
They say when you are facing death, your whole past life unfolds before you. But I though of nothing but my mother, wondering how she would feel when I was crushed beneath the tree, and hoping with all my heart that she was safe.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the giddy dance of the earth stopped. And I think that the quiet and absence of motion was almost as terrifying as the giddy, sickening motion of the moment before. I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry. I still clung to the tree. At that moment pandemonium broke out.
Voices were all around me, people were pouring from stages and buildings, calling to each other, screaming in their excitement. The studio streets, empty a few seconds before, were filled with men and women, as if a giant Jack-in-the-box had been released.
I walked toward the main street of the studio.
“Are you all right?” was the universal question — everyone was reassuring everyone else.
Benita Hume came dashing by. She only recently arrived from England, and it was her first experience in a quake, just as it was mine. She was laughing, hysterically.
“And to think,” she cried, “that I came halfway around the world for this.”
Clark Gable came striding by, his step steady, reassuring people right and left as he came. “All right, baby?” he asked me. Then he added, “Me, I’m going home now.”
John Barrymore was out in the street, telling about how he was in the San Francisco earthquake, how much longer it lasted, and laughing at anyone who displayed fear. He’s a veteran of earthquakes.
Lionel was out, too, telling about a quake he experienced in Italy. That one was caused by a volcano, he explained.
May Robson came by, extremely nervous. She’d been through them before, she told us, but just the same she didn’t like ’em.
Wallace Beery lumbered by. “Take it calmly — take it calmly,” he kept calling out. “Earthquakes can’t hurt you.” I think he did a lot to calm us all down.
On the steps of one of the buildings a little redheaded stenographer was crying. She couldn’t stop. She, of all the hundreds of people, was giving rein to the hysteria within her. People were sympathizing, offering her water, an ammonia bottle, and, pretending to be calm themselves, probably envying her freedom of emotion.
Somehow I found my car, parked under the still swaying trees. Then I remembered I must telephone. I raced upstairs, but all the lines were busy. Everyone in the entire studio was trying to get word out to the family at home. So I went back to my car.
The gateman waved to me as I drove out. I remember thinking how glad I was that he was safe. There was an ominous silence over the whole city as I drove home. I kept to the center of the street.
Arrived home, I found all the neighbors out in the front yards, swapping experiences over the hedges. My mother was there. For the first time, I felt safe.
I am glad now that I’ve had the experience of an earthquake. But I hope it will never be repeated.”
What a story that was. As previously mentioned, over a hundred civilians did not end up as lucky as Jean and her peers that night eighty seven years ago. People continued to pass away from their injuries for months. Every single school in the city was damaged. Students who were not victims of the earthquake directly felt this impact, as classes were held in tents for a period.
If you’ve experienced a California earthquake, you know how horrifying it can be — as a young child, I was near the epicenter of the 2003 San Simeon quake. It almost feels like the sky is crashing down from the heavens. Of course, with modern construction, I turned out fine. Many residents of Long Beach and their homes did not. Let’s remember them with respect on this dismal anniversary.
Harlow Heaven 