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