San Francisco During the Eventful Days of April 1906

by James B. Stetson

On getting into my house again, I saw that the Neustadter house, at the corner of Sacramento and Van Ness, was half-consumed, but it had not set on fire the Spreckels residence, and as at this time Mr. Merrill's house, which had been dynamited the second time, was so demolished, I felt that I could consider that my house had passed the critical time, for I hoped that Mr. Merrill's house in burning would not endanger the west side of Van Ness.

But now a new danger threatened. The range of blocks from the north side of Washington Street to the south side of Jackson were on fire at Hyde Street, and the flames coming toward Van Ness Avenue, with the possibility of crossing. The Spreckels stable on Sacramento and also the houses back of the Neustadter residence were now on fire. This, I knew, would set fire to the three Gorovan cottages, two other two-story houses, and the dynamited house of Mr. Gunn, all fronting on Clay Street, between Van Ness and Franklin. So I watched from my front window, the fire approach Van Ness between Washington and Jackson, then going to my back window to see the threatened danger from Clay Street. The Wenban residence, at the corner of Jackson and Van Ness, was well on fire at 6:15; at 6:55 it fell in. The Clay-Street danger began at about 7:30 P. M.. At 8:15 the whole front as here described was blazing and at its full height. My windows were so hot that I could not bear my hand on them. I opened one and felt the woodwork, which was equally hot. I had buckets of water in the front and rear rooms, with an improvised swab, made by tying up a feather duster, ready to put out any small fire which would be within my reach. I watched the situation for an hour, and as the flames died down a little I had hope, and at 10 P. M. I felt satisfied that it would not cross Van Ness Avenue, and neither would it cross Clay Street. At this time, as the heat had somewhat subsided, I ventured out, and saw a small flame, about as large as my two hands, just starting on the tower of Mrs. Schwabacher's house, which is next to mine on Clay Street. A very few people were around. James Walton of the Twenty-eighth Coast Artillery, was there, also C. C. Jones, of 2176 Fulton Street, and David Miller Ferguson, of Oakland. I said I would give any man ten dollars who would go up and put out that fire. They went into the house with a can of water, climbed the stairs and opened a window, and in a few minutes put it out. Two of the men would accept nothing; the soldier, the next day, accepted ten dollars. I later presented Ferguson with a gold matchbox as a reminder of that eventful night. Had Mrs. Schwabacher's house gone, all in the block would have gone; the fire would have crossed to the north, up Pacific, Broadway, and Vallejo, and probably over to Fillmore, when very little would have been left of the residence portion of the city.

Now again another danger came. Another tier of blocks, from Leavenworth to Van Ness, between Jackson and Pacific, had taken fire. This was about 10:15 P. M.. At 11:15 it had got to Van Ness, and Bothin's house, which was at the corner of Van Ness and Jackson, was fully on fire, but although it was entirely consumed, the fire did not cross to the west side of Van Ness. The wind during all the day and evening was steady from the northwest,—not a very strong wind, but it helped protect the west side of Van Ness. At 12 o'clock on the beginning of the 20th I saw smoke coming out of the chimney of the Spreckels mansion. I went out and spoke to a fireman, and he said he had been into the house and that it was full of smoke and on fire. At 1 o'clock the house was on fire in the upper rooms, at 1:30 it was blazing out of the upper windows, and in a short time afterwards was wholly on fire. The fire caught the house from the rear windows by the blaze from the Gorovan cottages. I feel quite sure that if any one had been on guard inside with a bucket of water the fire could have been put out.

When the Spreckels house was well on fire I knew, from its having an iron frame, hollow tile partitions, and stone outside walls, there would be no danger from the heat to my house. As I was quite tired, I told the man Ferguson that I would go into my house and take a nap. He asked me what room I would sleep in, and he promised if they were about to dynamite my house, or any other danger threatened, he would knock on my window to give me warning to get out. I went in and lay down on a lounge in the library at 2 A. M. and slept until 5 A. M.. When I awoke and looked out the flames were pouring from every window of the Spreckels mansion. At 10 A. M. the house was thoroughly burned out. (The general appearance of the house from a distance is the same as formerly, the walls and roof remaining the same as before the fire.)

In the morning I went over to the California-Street engine-house, and found it in ruins. Beams, pipes, iron columns, tie-rods, car-trucks, and a tangled mass of iron-work; all that was not consumed of 32 cars, bricks, mortar, ashes, and debris of every description filled the place. The engine-room was hot, but I crawled into it through what was left of the front stairway, which was nearly filled with loose bricks, and the stone facings of the Hyde-Street front. It was a sad sight to me, for I had something to do with it from its earliest existence. The form of everything was there, but rods, cranks, beams, and pipes were bent and burned, whether beyond hope of restoration I could not tell. No one was there or on the street, and I came away with uncertain feelings. I had hope, but whether the loss would be total or partial I could not say. A further examination showed much damage—one shaft fourteen inches in diameter was bent out of line one and one-quarter inches; one eight inches in diameter, seven eighths of an inch; some of the large sheaves badly twisted. A new cable coiled on a reel ready for use was so badly burned in the portion exposed as to render the whole useless. As strange as it may seem brass oilers and fillers on the engine-frames were comparatively uninjured. The tank, encased in brick, contained 6,000 gallons of fuel oil, and with its contents was uninjured. The granite blocks on which the engines and drivers rested were badly scaled and cracked by the heat, and in some places entirely destroyed. The portions of the cables in use that were in the engine-room were ruined, and on the street were burned off in five different places. The prospect of ever repairing and getting this machinery and appliances in operation again seemed impossible. It was, however, restored, and started up August 1, 1906.

At this time, about 8 A. M. Friday, I saw by the smoke that three large fires were burning at North Beach, in the direction of the Union-Street engine-house, from my house.

I afterwards walked down into the business part of the city. The streets in many places were filled with debris—in some places on Kearny and Montgomery streets to the depth of four feet in the middle of the street and much greater depth on the sidewalk. The track and slot rail of the California Street R. R. were badly bent and twisted in many places. The pavement in numberless places was cracked and scaled. A very few people were to be seen at that time among the ruins, which added much to the general gloom of the situation. I found it then, and ever since, very difficult to locate myself when wandering in the ruins and in the rebuilt district, as all the old landmarks are gone and the only guide often is a prominent ruin in the distance. As there were no cars running in the burnt district, I found my automobile very useful although the rough streets filled with all manner of debris, punctured the tires too frequently.

The water supply in our house was gone, as was also the gas and electric light. The only light we could use was candle-light, and that only until 9 P. M.. The city authorities issued an order that no fires could be built in any house until the chimneys were fully rebuilt and inspected by an officer. The water we used was brought by my son in a wash-boiler in his automobile. He got it out near the Park. People all cooked in improvised kitchens made in the street. As we were prohibited from making fires in the house, I improvised a kitchen on the street. I found some pieces of board which were blown into the street and partially covered with brick and stone, from St. Luke's Church and with some portieres from the house constructed a rude shelter, and put a laundry stove in it, so we could make coffee, stew, and fry after a fashion. Some people set up a cooking stove, many set up two rows of bricks, with a piece of sheet iron laid across. Our door-bell was rung several evenings, and we were ordered to "put out that light."

About noon on the 20th the blocks between Pacific and Filbert were on fire at Jones Street, and the fire was again threatening Van Ness Avenue, but several engines were pumping, from one to another, saltwater from Black Point and had a stream on the west side of Van Ness until it was saved.

While the fire was threatening, I went up to my daughter's (Mrs. Oxnard's) and told the servants to get things ready to take out. I would go back home, and if it crossed Van Ness I would return, but if I did not return in fifteen minutes they might consider the danger over. It did not cross. While this pumping was going on, and when the fire had approached the east side of Van Ness Avenue, one of the engines in the line suddenly stopped. This was a critical moment, but the firemen were equal to the emergency, and they uncoupled the engine which was playing on the houses, and remembering that the earthquake had disrupted and choked up the sewer, thereby damming up the outlet, and in fact creating a cistern, they put the suction down the manhole and continued playing on the fire, and saved the buildings on the north side. I tried to get the names of the foreman and men who had the presence of mind and cool judgment, but was unable to do so. This ended the conflagration; but for three nights after there were fires from smouldering timbers and slow-burning debris, sufficient to light up my room so that I could see to read. I was still in fear of a fire breaking out in the unburnt district west of Van Ness Avenue, and as there was no water in the pipes we would be as helpless as ever. This gave much anxiety during the two weeks following the calamity.