Costly Cloudburst

Separating Bakersfield, Calif, and the San Joaquin Valley from the Mojave Desert are the Tehachapi Mountains, an ugly, arid range. Fortnight ago black clouds gathered over them. Early in the afternoon it began raining. Creek beds that had been white and dry all summer became lashing rivers. Oldtimers in the small towns along the canyon sensed high-water and set out for high ground. Sixty tramps on a freight train which had sided on a culvert grew restive as the sound of rushing water grew into a mighty roar. When the flood broke, a 45-ft. wall of water tore down the creek bed. Houses were knocked topsy-turvy by great boulders, signals were cracked from their bases. The sided train was lifted from the tracks, its freight cars hurled in all directions, its locomotive smashed sidelong into a huge rock. Tracks were flung about, the roadbed scooped hollow. At the foot of the canyon motor cars were submerged. The leaping waters enveloped a service station and everybody near it.

By morning it was estimated that Death had struck at least 40 times during the night.

Last week came comment from William Benson Storey, president of Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe which shares the Tehachapi Pass with S. P., must shoulder its portion of the reconstruction costs.

Never a mincer of words, he cheerfully said: "It means that our line is cut in two during the period of our heaviest movement of fruit. According to estimates we receive it will take about two weeks to re-open that section. Estimates on the cost run around $1,500,000 to $2,000,000. But that is not so important as the revenue that will be missed."

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