The Ballad of Buck Helm
Buck Helm was one of those trapped on the bridge that collapsed over Interstate 880 during the earthquake of October 21, 1989. He died shortly after a dramatic rescue. The poem is a tribute to him and the others caught up in the San Francisco earthquake.
The Ballad of Buck Helm
San Francisco is so sublime
Though it lies along the fault line
And someday it is said that it will fall into the sea
But the buildings keep going up
While the scientist continues to conjecture
Tell people that you should be alert
The earthquake is a threat.
And society can only wince
When the ground starts to shake and makes them in
But there was one who beat the odds
And stayed alive to fool the gods
Or the devil or who waits for a soul
We were one day not long ago
The scientist said I told you so
As the ground began to tremble and break into
The Bay Bridge shook and collapsed
The Golden Gate somehow stood its ground
But highway 880 was cursed with woe
Buck had spent a ride on BART
Because the series was about to start
And headed south on the 880 freeway at five
At five in the morning the bridge fell
It must have made a horrible sound.
With concrete slabs and pillars flying from side to side
Journalist Dan entered at the beginning.
Craving points a mighty thirst
And I told the nation that 1989 is the
The walls had collapsed like sticks
Same as nineteen hundred six
Leaving thousands without a home or a place to go
Firefighters ran to get their trucks.
Congress rushed to get some money
It would take ten billion dollars to make amends
But first there are lives to find and save
Buck was out there somewhere brave
And no one knew his whereabouts and work was slow
Now in a New York City apartment
Buck’s ex-wife, though she departed a long time ago
Hear the news and hurry to save what you have left
Maybe insurance was the reason
Call it love or what’s in season
Place your bet and stack the chips, it’s just dough
Now where did you eat your pancakes with butter
His friends just watched and murmured
If there is one to escape from the grave it is our friend Buck
The families cried and stayed close.
The shepherds prayed and wondered why
But life expectancy among the concrete piers was low.
As the hours grew wet and dreamy
A lonely volunteer, albeit tired
I stayed to find a space so far back in the ruins
At first he saw a head sticking out
So at last a hand extruding
Lucky Bucky, as his friends called him, was in storage.
Back at work his friends were downstairs
So the news has a happy sound.
Buck had asked the man upstairs to skip his turn
The dock began to cry.
Could have been a million years
When four days later he went out to put on his show
Lucky Bucky is waving slowly
To the crowd that gathered only
Just to see the man who made the headlines
And his ex-wife is now in town
she’s so easy to find
With their tears and ears and fears
She is a radiance
Now the story has an end.
Buck is slowly mending
And the radios are playing their song
Here is a man unknown until now
thought an american and how
He is the hero of the people who need him so much
San Francisco is so sublime
Though it lies along the fault line
And someday it is said that it will fall into the sea
But the buildings keep going up
While the scientist continues to conjecture
Tell people that you should be alert