A Can of Peanuts, a Jug of Cognac and the Big One

For Christmas our younger son and his wife gave us a large trunk-like box filled with the sort of articles one sees on lists of things to keep ready in case of an earthquake.

We in Southern California live in constant expectation of the Big One and a great many of us, though by no means all, have begun to prepare our earthquake kits.

Ours does not contain every recommended item, but it is a good start: flashlight, batteries, jugs of water, first-aid kit, work gloves, a can of peanuts and so on.

One item, however, seemed especially thoughtful, perhaps because it is not one usually included on lists published by our newspaper and other responsible institutions. It was a squat bottle with a wine glass attached to its neck by a ribbon. Wrapped around it was a note in my French daughter-in-law’s handwriting: “I know you don’t drink cognac but when the Big One comes you will change your mind and be grateful to me! Jackie”

It was a bottle of a French cognac called Salignac, a brand noted for the long marriage of its blends.

It was not only a very French thing for our daughter-in-law to do, but the more I thought about it the more I realized it was a very humane thing to do.

I have no doubt that when the Big One comes and I am trembling among the ruins of my house, I will appreciate a little snort of brandy.

Coincidentally, Jay L. Ambrose of Santa Monica sends me a page from a Colorado newspaper of June 8, 1921, describing a flood that had devastated the town of Pueblo two days earlier.

Homes and businesses were demolished by the raging overflow from the Arkansas River and Franklin Creek. The dead were estimated at 500 or more.

“Men, women and children are in dire need,” an official was quoted as saying. “When the Arkansas was at its height, Fountain Creek, bringing its wall of water 20 feet high, joined the Arkansas and increased the desolation. Houses, corpses, dead livestock, automobiles, boxcars, trees, all swirled around and floated down the Arkansas. . . .”

What fascinated me, however, was a story reporting an extraordinarily humane gesture, considering that in June, 1921, the Prohibition Amendment was barely one year old and the nation was supposedly in an exaltation of abstemious zeal.

The story appeared under the following headline: Whisky Taboo Off in Pueblo.

“June 8, 1921--Prohibition has been suspended at Pueblo for a 30-day period by the federal government in order that the stricken city may be supplied with liquor to combat sickness and disease, according to Frank J. Medina, federal state prohibition director.

“Fifty gallons of whisky and alcohol were shipped to Pueblo this morning and arrangements made to send more this afternoon. . . .”

“The liquor will be obtained by permits to be issued by board of health directors, sanitary commissioners and other authorities in charge. . . .”

One can imagine the stampede of citizens reporting in ill and demanding whiskey. I know whiskey is regarded as a cure, or at least a comfort, in folk medicine, but I had not thought health authorities would prescribe it in large doses for disaster victims.

I also wonder where the whiskey came from, since the law of the land made the distillation of potable spirits illegal.

Evidently the officials had a large supply of seized contraband in stock, piously waiting for just such an emergency to dispense it in the public weal.

Ambrose writes that he was 17 at the time of the flood and was living in Pueblo. “We were left homeless and destitute. However, my father, a lifelong connoisseur of whiskey, grieved over the fact that he lost four cases of Old Taylor Kentucky Bourbon. . . .”

I wonder whether our own health authorities are prepared to make as magnanimous a gesture as those of Colorado when the Big One does come.

I don’t recall reading that anyone passed out free booze in the recent Bay Area quake. Of course, San Francisco has more bars per capita than any other city in the world, and I imagine they did a pretty lively business that night.

Thanks to my daughter-in-law’s thoughtful gift, I don’t have to worry. I’m prepared. Except for the peanuts, though, she didn’t put in any food.