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Shortly after 6 a.m. on Saturday an engineer climbed into the newly exposed space to evaluate the test. He was astonished: something had moved inside a silver Chevrolet Sprint. Excited rescuers crawled cautiously closer. They found a man, alive and semiconscious, still strapped into the front seat. When a paramedic shouted, the man moved his head. Struggling gingerly for five hours, they extricated Buck Helm, 57, a shipping clerk, who managed to wave an arm as he was lifted to a waiting ambulance amid the cheers of exultant searchers. His condition was described as critical but stable. He had survived 90 hours in what for so many others had been a tomb.
By then, early estimates of as many as 250 fatalities had begun to look far too high. Only 34 bodies had been extracted from the rubble as of Saturday, , and officials theorized that the freeway death toll might not exceed 85, still a catastrophic number.
In Santa Cruz concern for a possible survivor touched off a clash between citizens and police at the devastated Pacific Garden Mall. Betty Barnes and other workers at the Santa Cruz Coffee Roasting Co., a boutique coffee shop, ran out when the walls began to tumble, but one employee remained behind. "I heard a quick scream to my right, where she was," Barnes recalled. "I know she's in there." Friends of the missing woman held hands, weeping and calling out her name, as rescuers probed through the shambles. Finally convinced she could not have survived, they gave up late Tuesday night. That was too soon for the woman's friends, who taunted and pushed the workers, pleading with them to look again. They threatened to dig into the dangerous wreckage themselves. Police arrested five people. Late Wednesday the body of Robin Ortiz was found.
For the most part, however, the predominant mood was a relieved euphoria. For the millions who came through the quake without a scratch, the experience was akin to a roller-coaster ride: a few moments of terror followed by sheer exhilaration. "I've felt all the earthquakes since I've lived here, and this one was the best -- my best near death experience," declared Los Gatos bike- shop employee Ray Blair.
The joy of survival produced unaccustomed cooperation and civility. On the night of the quake, there were only 25 arrests for vandalism in San Francisco, down from the usual 100 or so, though such arrests were a low police priority that evening. Countless residents grabbed flashlights to direct traffic at intersections where signal lights had stopped. In the seedy Mission district of San Francisco, a woman carrying two flashlights, precious as gold under the circumstances, overheard two men discuss stealing one. In a rare spirit of camaraderie, they refrained.
Many hotels allowed the newly homeless, or those too frightened to stay in their insecure buildings, to camp out in their lobbies. At the darkened Stanford Court, complimentary caviar and smoked salmon were served by candlelight. The motive was not mere generosity: the comestibles would have spoiled without refrigeration. At the Mandarin Oriental, a manager explained, "We're doing our best to give our guests first-class comfort, even while bedding them down in the lobby." The expense-account Seven Hills of San Francisco Restaurant served a free sidewalk lunch to anyone who passed by. ) Bankers in three-piece suits munched chicken wings beside bearded homeless men.