| The Palo Alto History Project |
| Palo Alto's Civil Defense |
| Palo Alto's Civil Defense & the Pearl Harbor Panic In the confusing days after the December 7th, 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor, cities all over the Pacific coast were in a state of utter panic. The destruction of 9 warships and 188 aircraft in Hawaii left 2,350 Americans dead and the country greatly unsettled. It was believed that the West Coast stood completely defenseless and terrified civilians braced themselves for the possibility of Japanese troops storming up California beaches. And even when a second wave did not come, Californians continued to maintain vigilant and organized civilian defense throughout the war. Looking back decades later with a certain amount of victorious historical hindsight, an American continent bordered on both sides by vast oceans seems rather impenetrable. But especially after the profound shock of Pearl Harbor, the possibility of a Japanese attack on the U.S. mainland seemed all too plausible --- especially in the Bay Area. As rumors were flying everywhere, hours after the initial Japanese strike, a report came into the Army's Western Defense Command that a Japanese fleet was just 30 miles off the San Francisco coast. Sixty army trucks raced to the water below the Golden Gate Bridge to install antiaircraft guns and by nightfall, every available Army man at the Presidio was digging trenches on the beach. Meanwhile, on the Bay Bridge, a jittery sentry seriously wounded a female driver who was slow to stop at an improvised checkpoint. Similar episodes played out across the nation. In Los Angeles, antiaircraft battery shot at imaginary planes, injuring dozens of Southlanders as the shells fell upon the city. And as air raid sirens directed citizens on the West Coast to turn out their lights in preparation for a Japanese air attack that would never come, a mob of 1,000 angry Seattleans smashed windows and looted stores that remained illuminated. Indeed while Franklin Roosevelt was resolutely declaring the 7th, “a date which will live in infamy,” much of the nation was more than a little frazzled. Palo Alto was also on edge. In the hours after Pearl Harbor, an antiaircraft battery stood atop a hill near Page Mill Road and what is now Foothill Expressway, searching the skies for enemy attack planes. And like most of the West Coast, Palo Alto stood in darkness that night (and many to follow), as military strategists feared that city lights would provide easy targets for Japanese bombers. Meanwhile, Palo Alto police rushed to secure utilities plants, the water reservoir and the airport, while the city council met by emergency flashlight. Perhaps some of this local panic was what prompted an editorial in the Palo Alto Times on December 8th headlined, “This is not a time for any form of hysteria; calm and disciplined action is needed now.” Over the next few days, Mayor Byron Blois set up a committee on disaster preparedness and relief. The committee called for volunteers to serve as emergency police, as well as asking for voluntary time through a service questionnaire. Meanwhile, Palo Alto Police Chief Howard Zink organized an auxiliary group to support the police, even soliciting donations of “.38 special Smith and Wesson or Colt revolvers…so that men donating their services can be properly equipped.” The Palo Alto Red Cross was also moved to action, asking for the help of “any persons owning station wagons which could be used for emergency ambulances.” Meanwhile a group of 45 local “radio hams” organized the Palo Alto Amateur Radio Club to help local relief workers communicate using ultra-high frequency equipment. Blackouts soon became a regular part of life in Palo Alto. But although University Avenue merchants reported a run on all sorts of blackout materials from dark green window shades to black oilcloth, it took some time for city residents to get accustomed to the practice. “Incomplete cooperation” in three Palo Alto blackouts on December 9th led to City Engineer L. Harold Anderson submitting a list of 13 rules for air raids to run on the front page of the Palo Alto Times the following day. A few nights later, less than 100% compliance resulted in the plug being pulled on light switches controlling the entire city after just 15 minutes. Part of the wayward behavior was probably due to the variance in signals being used in different Bay Area cities. Residents close to the Menlo Park line, for instance, reported a confusing din of various blasts with different meanings on different sides of the border. The City Council had little sympathy, however, imposing a penalty of up to 6 months in jail and a $500 fine for those who did not comply. Blackouts would eventually become more polished as the Civil Defense Administration in Washington helped unify localities. In Palo Alto, wardens were selected for each block to make sure that all houses and car lights in the area were extinguished. The Palo Alto Times of December 30th, 1941 published the official text of “A Handbook for Air Wardens,” which stated their war time mission: “Your are the embodiment of all civilian defense…it will be your responsibility to see that everything possible is done to protect and safeguard those homes and citizens from the new hazards created by attack from the air or enemies from within our gates.” Palo Altans were also trained in what to do if they found themselves in the midst of an attack. On May 11th, 1942, for instance, the Palo Alto Times printed a special “Civilian Defense Handbook” edition --- “Study it and keep it near for reference,” a subheadline advised. The special edition was complete with articles from local officials including William Clemo, chief of the Palo Alto Fire Department and Howard Zink, head of the Police Department. One article about poisonous gas cited the expertise of Dr. Charles E. Shepard warning that “it is quite possible that the enemy may use some form of gas to terrorize citizens if bombing occurs on the West Coast.” The article went on to counsel on coping with mustard gas and describing how to treat oneself with naphtha laundry soap, among other household items. Another article advised Palo Altans what to do if “a fire bomb pays you a call” and how to set up a “blackout room.” But the paper’s recommendation for how to effectively treat the injured or the ill was perhaps a bit curt --- “try to take care of the emergency yourself, after all this is war.” And some rather metaphysical guidance appeared on page eight, in which an AP science editor advocated that those on the home front should practice walking blindfolded toward a wall. “You can learn in that way how to sense the wall before bumping against it,” the article reasoned. As the possibility of an actual Japanese attack on American soil began to seem increasingly remote, panic subsided and the nation often called “The Sleeping Giant,” began to stir. As the country transformed itself into a wartime economic machine, this industrial juggernaut that FDR called “the arsenal of democracy” would eventually make the difference in providing victory to the Allies. Still, there is no doubt that in the wake of Pearl Harbor, America reeled in shock as it was drawn out of isolation by a determined foe. But the nation would steady itself, pull together with a new determination and begin an epic mobilization and comeback, transforming the attack on Pearl Harbor from a daringly brilliant military tactic to a decisively dreadful mistake. -Matt Bowling |
| Posters and propaganda reminded Americans of the loss at Pearl Harbor. |
| The sinking of the USS California. |
| Sources: Palo Alto Times, Palo Alto Weekly, Palo Alto Daily News, Palo Alto Historical Association, The War at Home by Stuart A. Kallen, Wikipedia, America Remembers the Homefront by Roy Hoopes |
| Police Chief Howard Zink, who asked the citizens for guns just in case. (PAHA) |
| A photograph from a Japanese plane during the Pearl Harbor attack. |
| City engineer Harold Anderson at left and Mayor Blois. (PAHA) |
| A dramatic photo of the USS Shaw exploding. |
| A map of the Central Downtown area where the old Palo Alto City Hall was located on Ramona Street, the place where some of the civil defense decisions during the war were made. |
| The Civil Defense Administration invited Americans on the home front to help with the fight. |
