"my impression of the shake-up"

Below is the text of a letter written from my Great Great Grandfather to my Great Grandfather. The letter writer was living in San Francisco at the time of the 1906 earthquake and wrote to his son, who is living back in Detroit, a week after the earthquaek. My Great Grandmother, whose surname would become my first name, is mentioned as "Annie" in the last sentence and she would be having my Grandfather later this year in August 1906.

Based upon him stating that he was located between St. Ignatius Church and the Mechanics Pavilion, he must have been living on Hayes between Polk and Van Ness. (St. Ignatius was located on the block bounded by Franklin, Van Ness, Hayes and Grove and the Mechanics Pavilion was located on the block bounded by Polk, Larkin, Hayes and Grove)

There is an unfortunate slur in the text of this letter, which I thought about omitting, but I felt that it should be included for the sake of accuracy and keeping the letter complete.

San Francisco, Cal. April 23, 9 a.m. [1906]

My dear Frank:

I write this to give you my impression of the shake-up.

On last Wednesday morning I woke up at 4:45 a.m. and as my alarm clock was set for five, I thought I would take the other fifteen minutes so I lay down again. When I awoke again it was 5:15 and there was a little shake such as we have often had and I turned over and said to myself “It’s all over now” but the shake continued but more violently so I jumped out of bed and the floor was rocking like the bottom of a row boat. I grabbed the foot of the bed to steady myself and could hear crashing outside of the window which was wide open as usual every night. I did not feel at all excited but made up my mind that the end of San Francisco was at hand and that we were all in and that the undertaker was out.

The St. Nicholas Hotel was in full view of my window and it had always been said by the experts that it was unsafe and would fall at the first severe quake. So I thought to myself even while the quake was going on that I would see it fall so I rubbered out the window but the old St. Nick was standing the racket all right. There was lots of dust flying and looking down from my second story window I could see that every chimney had been thrown down.

At that time I had no idea that the quake was so bad as it was. Mrs. Singer came running up the stairs wringing her hands and saying that everything in her kitchen and sitting room was broken and destroyed. I tried to convince her that the worst was over although I was not very sure of it myself. Most of the roomers were already out in the street. I had not left the room for I have always thought and still continue to, that it is safest at such times indoors. On looking around I found the alarm clock in the middle of the floor and boxes and bundles that had been on the shelves for years were scattered all over the floor so that I hardly recognized the room. I straightened the stuff up a little and went to the wash bowl and found no water. I saw smoke in several different directions where I suppose fires had started form the destruction of the houses. Some of the damaged chimneys where the early morning fires had been started set the houses on fire. The electric wires were all down so that no alarms could be turned in and besides, as there was no water, all the firemen could do was to help the people out of the burning houses.

When I went out of the door I heard someone say that the City Hall was in ruins and on going up to the corner of Hays [sic] and Larkin I found the story not exaggerated for Larkin Street was impassable and the big dome of the City Hall was perched up on the iron skeleton, the bricks having fallen away on every side. The Hall of Records End and the Public Library part were well cracked up but still standing but as the fire afterwards enveloped them the contents are probably destroyed.

I walked over to Ninth and Market and found the new Majestic Theatre flat and Owens and Starns old place on Ninth Street buried under the fallen walls. The night men had succeeded in getting out.

All along down Market Street was littered with brick and mortar and a tangle of wires. I went past the Odd Fellows which was standing but cracked in every direction. The new Post Office on Seventh Street was standing and there was a fire raging back of it towards Sixth Street and on the South side of Mission Street. The Hibernia Bank looked unshaken and I returned back up Market to Eighth Street which seemed the line at which fire would reach and returned to the house.

At this time wagons and autos were tearing up and down Market to and from the Mechanics Pavilion which had been made an emergency hospital. When I got back again, many of the roomers had returned and we thought the worst was over. I advised Mrs. Singer that she had better pack up as many of the most indispensable things that she would need and that she could carry in her hands and be prepared to walk out and leave the rest, that she should be glad to be living, and she finally and reluctantly agreed. Like a good doctor, I took my own medicine and went up and packed such of my house-hold goods, etc., as the trunk would hold and was prepared as I thought for the worst. I took another trip out to look around and was satisfied that the fire would not cross Eighth Street. I walked down to Harrison and Sixth and everything down that way was ablaze and working towards the front. At this time (about 1 o’clock) I felt that the fire would never reach Hayes Street and that for me the worst was over. When I got back to the house I was surprised to see a fire raging on Hayes Street about 5 blocks out and the wind was blowing a gale towards my quarters.

I now saw that I was up against the real thing and the only hope left was that the flames might be stayed at Van Ness Ave. So I stood on the corner and waiting till St. Ignatius Church was going and happening to look around I saw the Mechanic’s Pavilion at the other end of our block was going. Then with the fire at both ends of the block I knew it was time to get busy. So I “hiked” up to my sumptious apartment and “hefted” one end of the trunk and concluded that I could about as easily move the whole house as the trunk. So I took the spread off the bed and opened the trunk and threw a change of underclothing into it, Annie’s picture and those of my two grandsons, which I received the day before, and tying it up, threw it on my back and sallied out. I saw Mrs. Singer and she told me that Nellie’s husband had come and taken her trunk and invited her to come to their flat. We both walked out the door and left everything as it was, with the doors wide open, and I have not seen her since. When I reached the corner the military hustled us along Polk Street to Market and out Market to Eleventh and would not allow us to stop for they were “dynamiting” the building on every side. I thought then that perhaps the shop on Townsend Street might escape so I made my way in that direction with frequent rests on the way and following the “fighting tone of the fire”. My load was very light, but through the excitement and not having had as much as a drink of water up to that time, my progress was slow but I did not care much for that because time was no object and I had more time to use than I had anything else.

At length I reached the shop on Townsend Street. The fire was quite a ways off and it seemed possible that the street might escape. There was lots of stuff scattered along the sidewalk that had come from a distance and was placed on the sidewalk along the depot. I found the shop door open and entered with my bundle and went through and found that a brick wall adjoining the spot where I worked had fallen by the earthquake and where I should have been standing there was a heap of “debris” about 4 ft. deep. If the shock had come two hours later you would probably not receive this letter. Everything else was intact. I found the pattern maker upstairs picking up a few old tools that no money would replace but I did not attempt to get any of my tools but “let the tail go with the hide” and said “To Hell with poverty” and sallied out with my goods on my back like a Jew peddler. [sic]

I went across the street and sat down on an old sewer pipe and took in the situation. I had been comparatively disinterested spectator of the Boston Fire but this one I was very much interested in. My lodgings were gone, my shop was gone, my feeding places were gone, the libraries where I took my recreation were gone, the newspaper offices through which I learned what was going on in the world were gone and I could not think of anything else that I could lose.

Most of the buildings in the neighborhood were in flames and others were being blown up and there was certainly “something doin’”. Just at this time, while I sat with my chin in my palms and elbows on my knees, contemplating the situation, a well-dressed, smooth, clean and apparently disinterested business man stopped in front of me and told me that if I had no better arrangement for the night that I would be welcome to shelter in the church of which he was a pastor out on the (Poturo?) [sic – he meant Potrero] on the corner of Missouri & 18th Street and indicated the location of the church with his cane. I thanked him and assured him that I would lose no time in availing myself of his offer. I shouldered my pack at once and trudged with frequent rests over Fourth St. bridge and out almost on a level with the Union Iron Works. I seemed to be the one of the first refugees that had reached that section and everyone was out on the hills looking down on the sea of fire and I was the center of interest as I trudged up the hill. At the top of the hill I again inquired my way while resting on my pack and answered as best I could the questions of the women who gathered around. In the meantime, noticing a sign on the window right in front of me “Room & Board” I declared that I was in immediate need of just such accommodations and had no doubt that I and the landlady could come to terms without much trouble. She did not seem to grasp the opportunity to secure a boarder so after a few minutes more rest, I said no more about it but prepared to “move on” and shouldered my pack. Then she told me that I could have shelter that night anyway and before she could reconsider I had deposited my goods and was in formal possession. I then went over to the church and was all right for there was a big table set there with bread and crackers and coffee and baked beans galore – sit in and help yourself. They furnished plenty of good grub and I supplied the appetite and the combination was all right.

I then went on to my new home and slept the sleep of the just till about 6 o’clock the next morning when hearing no one stirring I got up and “hiked” to town and made my way up to Bernal Heights where one of the molders, Gen Carlson, has his home. I found that his place had not been damaged and I have been staying at his home since. He has a family of a wife and two children and he had six refugees on his hands since the fire, feeding and sheltering them. There is nothing for sale at all. We have been able to buy two loaves of bread and that’s all has been for sale since the first day.

The authorities have taken everything out of the stores and every morning the people have to line up like soldiers getting their grub and take what they give and look pleasant. This morning another of the victims and myself were in line at five o’clock. It had been raining all night and everything was muddy and nasty as the sun was hardly up. There were two lines, one for milk and another for food. Everyone had a gunny sack or some other bulky receptacle to get their supply in. I was new in the business and expected to get a can of corned beef or tomatoes or the like and when we got to the barn we walked in one side to the rear over to the other side and out at the entrance. One man seemed to be watching for repeaters. He said to me, seeing that I had no sack, “evidently you have not been here before. Don’t you want a box?” and gave me a canned corned beef box when a man at my right dropped in a can of corned beef as I walked along. The next dropped in a can of green corn, another about a dozen potatoes, the next a big scoop of rice, the next half a dozen big onions, another about a pound of cheese, the next two oranges and two lemons. The if you had a vessel they gave you a quart of milk. I was in the line about 3 hours and when I left the line appeared as long as ever. The showers last night made it very unpleasant for those who were out and it has been showering ever since but each day more and more are being sheltered. The city has been under martial law and the lawless element don’t dare show their hands.

Mayor Smitz [sic] has his headquarters at Fort Mason and Gen. Funston sees that his orders are carried out. No lights are allowed at night. If one is seen the patrol will come in and put it out. No fires in any of the houses. The stoves are all out in the street and everyone cooking outside. Anyone on the street after dark has to account for himself. When they want any work done, clean the streets or any dirty job, they take very man that comes along and set him to work, whether he will or no, no favorites. Consequently, sightseers are scarce. Will close with love to yourself Annie and babies. Will write again soon.

J. J. McCormick