By A. M. Allison
he historians of modern or ancient times have never recorded such a maelstrom of terrified, horror and panic-stricken human beings as awoke to the realization of the master seismic tremblor, in the City of San Francisco at 5:13 on the morning of April 18th, 1906. The initial quake, being followed by many of less severity, tumbled chimneys, large and small buildings of poor or faulty construction, broke water mains and ruptured electric light and power conductors, causing many conflagrations in a few moments. Then followed a catastrophe unparalleled in modern times, a disaster beside which, for property losses, the Chicago fire, the Johnstown flood, the Galveston tidal wave, the Mont Pelee eruption, Vesuvius’ spoutings and the Baltimore fire, fade into infinitesimal disturbances on the records of Father Time.
In three days, which seemed only as so many hours, there faded out of existence noble business blocks, grand and imposing structures, beautiful and superb residences the homes of the Argonauts, the sea kings, mining barons and merchant princes, together with the marts and dwellings of those who toil and delve and go down to the sea in ships, completely desolating and razing by fire three-fourths of this once beautiful metropolis of the whole Pacific Coast on either the northern or southern continents.
Nor was the City of San Francisco alone in its extremity, for many smaller and populous towns within a radius of seventy-five miles were subjected to the peril of the mighty corkscrew quakings, Santa Rosa being entirely shaken down; Salinas, San Jose, Palo Alto, Santa Cruz, Berkeley, Alameda and Oakland all suffering great property losses and some human lives. The beautiful structures of the Leland Stanford, Jr., University, at Palo Alto, all erected and endowed to a sum in excess of $40,000,000 by the late Senator Leland Stanford and his philanthrophic wife, were almost completely wrecked, including the Memorial Cathedral, which contained the largest and finest collection of mosaic pictures on the Western Hemisphere.
At no point in the affected area were the earthquake shocks so severe and destructive as in the down town district, south of Market and east of Kearny streets, where were the large office buildings, newspaper offices, banks, wholesale stores and warehouses, the occupants of which conducted the business, commerce and financial engagements of not only the major portion of the Pacific Slope, but a large and constantly-growing Oriental trade as well. The opportune hour of the morning was all that saved the lives of the untold thousands who labored there, but had not as yet left their homes in the residence sections of the ill-fated city.
Hardly had the mighty tremblor ceased its gyrations when innumerable fires broke out among the chaotic ruins, having caught from engine furnaces, broken electric wire conduits and spontaneous combustion, fed by the most inflammable of materials and fanned by a stiff breeze from the bay, grew and spread into what shortly became the most stupendous and widespread, as well as awe-inspiring conflagration, which any people of the eighteenth or nineteenth century have ever as yet looked upon or flown from. Had the water mains not have been ruptured, the splendid San Francisco fire department might have been able to cope with these many outbursts of flame at their inception, but deprived of water in the mains, they nobly fought the appalling flames by pumping water from the bay at as many places as length of hose and their engines’ ability would permit; but their efforts to stay the onrushing, wide-spreading flames proved as a match’s flicker before a whirlwind.
It being quickly seen that the panic-stricken people would soon become a fleeing, dazed and terror-awed multitude, General Frederick Funston, commanding the Department of California, United States Army, with headquarters at the Presidio, immediately ordered out the cavalry, infantry and artillery forces under his command, who aided and directed the fleeing populace, gathered up and succored the wounded, established emergency hospitals, and policed the city. At the same time men-of-wars-men from the Mare Island Navy Yard, consisting of the battleship Ohio, the cruiser Chicago, and the torpedo boat destroyer Paul Jones, together with the ships of the United States Army Transport Service, and all available steam craft, attacked the flames along the water front and succeeded in saving much wharfage and the Ferry building, which is the principal gateway from the mainland.
Aided, ordered and guarded by the United States Army and Marine forces, assisted by the California National Guard, who were at once called out by the Governor, George C. Pardee, the excited and frenzied San Franciscans made their way to squares, parks and the open hills, over two hundred thousand fleeing to these places of refuge and another hundred thousand making their way by ferry-boats and other craft across the bay to the cities of Berkeley, Oakland and Alameda, caring for naught except to get away from the awful havoc and destruction of the place they once proudly called their City.
In untiring efforts to stay the flames the army, navy, marine corps and police used artillery fire, gun-cotton, dynamite and rhyolite in back-firing, sacrificing whole blocks of splendid residences and other structures to retard the unquenchable ever-advancing line of fire, which at times extended unbroken for over three miles in length. At last, at the dawn of Saturday, April 21st, after three days and nights of valiant effort, the wind subsided and the flames died down to rise no more; but not until after they had swept the once proud and majestic city from the Ferry building to Van Ness avenue, ruining all the residences on the west side of that broad, stately boulevard, to Twentieth and Guerrero streets in the Mission, and from the waters of San Francisco bay to the Golden Gate itself. Not in all this vast section, measuring over sixteen square miles, did one single habitation escape the shock of the giant tremblor or the all-devouring flames, with but a few exceptions, viz.: the United States Mint, the United States Custom House, the United States Postoffice, which was damaged one-half a million dollars’ worth by made-land sinking away from it, the new unfinished newspaper building of the Chronicle, and the new building of the California Casket Company just erected, but not wood-finished. Every other building, of whatsoever class, kind or construction, was tumbled, crumbled, shaken down, or absolutely gutted by the fierce flames in which granite dissolved to powder and steel beams melted and buckled like a watch’s freed mainspring; where cobble-stones scaled and chipped off and marble slabs disintegrated and became as bone-dust to the touch.