And Now This

PRESIDENT BILL CLINTON WAS TO be in Los Angeles this week to mark the first anniversary of the Northridge earthquake -- that is, to call attention to the herculean effort made to set things right. Instead he faced natural devastation of a different sort. More than half the state -- the most populous in the Union, the most snakebit in anyone's memory -- is a disaster once again. Ten days of torrents have put thousands of people, north and south, out of their homes, killed 11, ruined crops, closed freeways, played hell.

These are the worst winter storms to hit California in a decade, or 500 years or 1,000, depending upon which expert is quoted. Los Angeles, used to downpours of no more than three-quarters of an inch this time of year, was drenched with 8 in. before clouds let up; bursting drainage systems shot manhole covers skyward like missiles. Whole towns were isolated. One, Guerneville, 65 miles north of San Francisco, was closed to nonresidents as the Russian River rose toward the rooftops, and 465 citizens were airlifted to higher ground. A rural community called Rio Linda, a satellite of Sacramento, was so badly betrayed by a sandy bed called Dry Creek that a survivor named Rose Marie Simmons could only gasp, "It's real sad, real sad, looking at the place where you've been living, gone." Homes became islands in the sunny coastal necklace of glamorous enclaves like Malibu, which was cut off by the closure of the Pacific Coast Highway and canyon passes packed with mud. Santa Barbara's mission-style historical district was a waist-deep gumbo of guck. Dramatic rescues were everywhere on television as heroes dangled from helicopters, plucking the stranded from the water's path. Authorities revised the damage estimates daily: $200 million, $300 million . . . As the floods receded and more storms lay off the coast, the number of counties declared a disaster by the Federal Government rose from 14 to 24 to 34, out of 58. "We'll get through this in good American style," said Clinton.

"Your heart breaks for these folks," said Governor Pete Wilson after touring some of the hardest-hit areas. Earlier, when the rains began to fall on Sacramento, the Governor had been making his second-term inaugural speech. He had spoken of the grit and tenacity with which Californians had overcome one destructive force after another. The venue for the gubernatorial address had been changed from outdoors to indoors because of the weather; meanwhile the true deluge was moving toward California on the wings of a 200-m.p.h. jet stream. Normally, a high-pressure dome off the coast deflects such activity, guarding the state's reputation for temperate days. But the dome dissipated, explains the National Weather Service, and with it went the region's shelter from the storm. That old devil El Nino, the condition that sends warmth and moisture into the air over the Pacific, may have entered that void and so become a menacing contributor to California's extraordinary week.

The one encouraging note was that a new tracking system -- installed during the two years since the last killer flood took seven lives in Southern California and caused $88 million in damage -- gave residents plenty of notice this time, up to 12 hours, and may have kept down the toll in human lives. But little could be done about property; sandbags are only so effective.