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New: We Came to See it Fall, But Sequoia OutStood Us: The Games We All Played While Gawkiing

By Ted Friedman
Monday November 28, 2011 - 10:30:00 PM
These two behemoths will dismantle the Sequoia Tuesday. In the foreground is the crane; in the background, the jaw.
Ted Friedman
These two behemoths will dismantle the Sequoia Tuesday. In the foreground is the crane; in the background, the jaw.
Sequoia-gawkers Monday alongside Amoeba. "Brick-entrepeneur," hoping to earn $1,000 for Sequoia's bricks is extreme right.
Ted Friedman
Sequoia-gawkers Monday alongside Amoeba. "Brick-entrepeneur," hoping to earn $1,000 for Sequoia's bricks is extreme right.
Machine abuse? This demolition man is about to jam "jaw" with a serious-looking weapon
Ted Friedman
Machine abuse? This demolition man is about to jam "jaw" with a serious-looking weapon

We came to see it fall, but stayed to see it outlast us.
City Officials reported the Sequoia would be "demolished" Monday morning, but a few things interfered on the way to demolishment.

The Berkeley Architectural Heritage Association, in a tautly-written letter to Berkeley's new city manager, Christine Daniel, argued that the Sequoia has a unique heritage that must be preserved.

But preservation apparently gave way to the city's argument favoring "public safety." 

So we all showed up to see the corpse collapse. We is reporters and videographers from KGO AM, Ch.4 TV, Ch.2 TV, the Daily Cal, a gaggle of gawkers from nowhere in particular, and last, but not least, this Planet reporter. 

A small but spirited group of on-lookers and media, hovered over the scene, just for the sight of the Sequoia coming down. 

But the reality of the situation was more important than expectations. For one thing, only part of the Sequoia is being (surgically) removed. Floors, four and three will go, according to a source in the city manager's office, but floor one, and the ground floor will stand. Officials at the site confirm this. 

Although this is small solace for the Berkeley Architectural Heritage Association, there will at least be something left of the Sequoia. 

Still, there we were for the show, until after several interviews with the demolition crew-chief, and anyone else who would talk to us, it became obvious by noon that dismantlement (my term) was on hold until Tuesday at 8a.m. 

We could hardly complain because while "Waiting for Godot," we had learned all about tearing down an historic Berkeley building (1916) brick-by-brick. Blowing something up--that, we could understand--but lopping off its head without having the lower floors collapse, that was difficult to understand. 

First, we learned (on-lookers were also quite interested in all this), you had to transport the "jaw," a contraption with a jaw that apparently snapped, around the block where it would be somehow, perhaps beaten, (there was outright bea

As the morning wore on, and we resorted to interviewing each other (I was interviewed twice), I interviewed a homeless man with a pickup truck, who said he had swung a deal with the city for the Sequoia bricks. He said he expected to make $1,000 on some of the bricks, but that he didn't need to sell more than some. 

"So the re-cycled bricks would be a re-birth of the Sequoia," I said. 

"You could say that," he said. 

Back on the planet, part of the Sequoia is coming down tomorrow and I wouldn't miss it for anything. 

Who knows, maybe the brick entrepreneur will prevail and the Sequoia's better half will be re-cycled. 

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When not on the disaster scene, Ted Friedman, reports from the Southside on crime, homelessness, and drug abuse.