How an Incorrect Prophesy Put a City Into Panic Mode
The Earthquake and Tidal Wave Premonition
It was early January 1976, and the city that my family and I call home, Adelaide (South Australia) was experiencing a hot, dry summer, which drew a large number of its residents to its beaches to enjoy the cool tranquil waters of the Gulf of St Vincent.
House painter and amateur clairvoyant John Nash, perhaps absorbing the Biblical passage detailing the destruction of the wayward cities of Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 19:24–25), had a momentous premonition.
This involved an enormous earthquake and tidal wave obliterating the city, because, led by its progressive Premier Don Dunstan, it was leading Australia in reforming laws regarding the treatment of homosexuals.
According to Mr. Nash, this was retribution from The Lord for these abominable laws. His premonition was so vivid that it included the day and time for this catastrophe — between 10:30 am and noon on Monday the 19th of January. In great detail, he told the media that the waves would course down Anzac Highway (the 11km main road linking Adelaide to coastal Glenelg), and obliterate the gridlike roads of Adelaide’s central business district, continuing eastward until they washed up against the slopes of Mount Lofty, 17km away.
He was so convinced by his vision that he sold his home in Adelaide and moved to a town in New South Wales.
The Polarising Results
Needless to say, the media of the day jumped at the chance to make a big story of this vivid prophesy, and the Adelaide public were either shocked into a car-packing frenzy or rolling on the floors of pubs in fits of laughter.
Some non-English-speaking migrants, misinterpreting the story, sold their homes and moved out of Adelaide altogether.
Panicky owners of prime beachfront homes sold these off at bargain prices before moving to distant non-beachfront locations, and hotels in seaside localities found their occupancy rates dropping by up to 75%.
Nervous parents kept their children inside for the day — it was fortunate that this event occurred during the summer holidays and as a result, schools were closed.
Others, in a state of high tension, headed out of the city, some as far as the Riverland, 163km away, just to be “safe”.
The BBC, keen for a story in far-away Australia, sent a news crew to Glenelg, to be on-the-spot just in case the inevitable happened. They were joined by crews from other Australian states.
However, many took a more “chilled” view…
Some in the surfing community jumped in their Kombis or Holden and Ford panel vans, with their surfboards either tied onto roof racks or protruding from the open tailgate doors (not illegal in those days) and headed to Glenelg, intent on “riding that big wave all the way to Mount Lofty, man…” Others headed to Mount Lofty, to “wait for the surge to arrive”.
Others saw it as an excellent opportunity to create monumental jokes at their workmates’ expense, such as some innovative workers at a manufacturing establishment at Gepps Cross, in Adelaide’s northern suburbs, who, just after 10:30 am on that Monday, used long-handled brooms to knock some of the suspended fluorescent lights above the work floor, sending them swinging (simulating the effect of an earthquake) — this resulted in startled shrieks and cries from the more gullible employees.
One woman noticed a man on her early-morning flight wearing floaties on his arms at the departure gate.
Apparently, employees at WRE (Weapons Research Establishment) at Salisbury, another northern suburb, were given wetsuits, kayaks, and paddles that morning, JUST IN CASE.
The press secretary to the then-Transport Minister was urgently dispatched to Glenelg to “ensure that the Glenelg Tram was not washed away”.
True leadership and a cool head were shown by the progressive South Australian Premier, Don Dunstan — that’s him below on the right, with former Prime Minister Gough Whitlam.
In a safari suit (male fashion at the time), he went to Glenelg and soon found himself on the balcony of the Pier Hotel, addressing the thousands who had gone there too, intent on being there when this much-anticipated prophesy did not happen. He assured them that nothing would happen, and, as the magical deadline of 12:00 pm approached, joined them in a raucous countdown — 10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..1 …… and …. nothing. Just another dry, hot, sunny, Adelaide summer day.
There was a cheer for Don, who, chuckling, said that Mr. Nash was not welcome back in South Australia.
What became of Mr. Nash?
It is rumoured that he moved to a small country New South Wales town, which was inundated by floods not long after his arrival — maybe lifelike premonitions have a funny way of coming true…
I prefer not to engage in US politics, but I cannot help wondering about the social media storm he would cause if his prophesy happened today and it was about a monumental Trump victory in the near future…
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