Details of the Overwhelming Tragedy—The Whole City Caught in the
Death-Trap—Personal Experiences of Those Who Escaped—First Reports More
Than Confirmed.
The centre of the West Indian hurricane, which had been predicted for
several days, struck Galveston at 9 o’clock Saturday morning. At that
hour the wind was in the north and the waters of the bay were rising
rapidly. The Gulf was also turbulent, and the water, forced in by the
tropical storm, rolled up the beach and gradually swept inland. About 2
o’clock P. M. the wind was rising rapidly, constantly veering, but
settling towards the east and coming in fitful jerks and puffs, which
loosened awnings, cornices, slated roofs and sent the fragments flying
in the air.
The waters of the bay continued rising and creeping ashore, mingled with
the waters from the clouds, and filled the downtown streets and invaded
stores. Despite the danger from flying missiles, as the afternoon wore
on, men ventured out in the streets in hacks, in wagons, in boats and on
foot, some anxious to get home to their families, some bent on errands
of mercy, and others animated by no purpose save bravado.
Gaining in velocity, the wind changed to the northeast, then to the
east, and the waters rose until they covered the city. The wind howled
frightfully around the buildings, tearing off cornices and ripping off
roofs. The wooden paving blocks rose from their places in the streets
and floated off in great sections down the streets.
At 6.30 o’clock the wind had shifted to the southeast, still increasing
in velocity. At that hour the wind gauge on the roof of the United
States Weather Bureau registered eighty-four miles an hour then blew
away. Still the wind blew harder and harder and even the most fortunate
houses lost all or a part of their coverings. The storm reached its
height at about 8.30 o’clock. At 9 o’clock the wind began subsiding and
the waters to recede.
But the fury of the storm had not been spent until well into Sunday
morning. At 1 o’clock the water had fallen until the streets were
inundated no more than they would be by a big rain. Sunday morning broke
clear, and the sun shone brightly on a scene of wreck and ruin, which
verily beggars description.
The streets were piled with debris, in many places several feet high.
Buildings were shorn of roofs, cornices, chimneys and windows. Stocks of
goods were damaged by floods from below and rain from above. But it was
the wind which had wrought the greatest havoc in every respect. The
damage from waters of the bay was inconsequential when compared with
that from wind. The eastern part of the city received the full force of
the storm and suffered most, although no section escaped serious injury.
FRANTIC PEOPLE HUNTING RELATIVES.
All along the beach for about four blocks back scarcely a residence was
left. The beach district was shorn of habitations. Back of that houses
and timbers piled up, crushing other buildings which lay in their path.
Men and women walked through the slimy mud that overspread the streets,
homeless. Men and women rushed around frantic, hunting their relatives.
Dead and wounded men, women and children lay around waiting the coming
of the volunteer corps organized to remove the bodies to improvised
morgues and hospitals. There was no thought of property damage; those
who had escaped with their families, losing all else, felt satisfied and
thanked their Maker.
Mr. A. V. Kellogg, a civil engineer in the employ of the Right of Way
Department of the Houston and Texas Central Railroad in Houston, went
down to Galveston Saturday morning on company business, leaving on the
Galveston, Houston and Henderson train which departs from Houston at
9.45. Mr. Kellogg had an interesting tale of his experiences getting
into Galveston, of the storm and its effects and how he managed to get
out of the city and into Houston again.
“When we crossed the bridge over Galveston Bay going to Galveston, said
Mr. Kellogg, the water had reached an elevation equal to the bottom of
the caps of the pile bents, or two feet below the level of the track.
After crossing the bridge and reaching a point some two miles beyond we
were stopped by reason of the washout of the track ahead and were
compelled to wait one hour for a relief train to come out on the
Galveston, Houston and Henderson track. During this period of one hour
the water rose a foot and a half, running over the rails of the track.
“The relief train signaled us to back up a half mile to higher ground,
where the passengers were transferred, the train crew leaving with the
passengers and going on the relief train. The water had reached an
elevation of eight or ten inches above the Galveston, Houston and
Henderson track and was flowing in a westward direction at a terrific
speed. The train crew were compelled to wade ahead of the engine and
dislodge driftwood from the track. At 1.15 we arrived at the Santa Fe
union depot. At that period of the day the wind was increasing and had
then reached a velocity of about thirty-five miles an hour.
THE HOTEL FLOODED.
“After arriving at Galveston I immediately went to the Tremont Hotel,
where I remained the balance of the day and during the night. At 5.30
the water had begun to creep into the rotunda of the hotel, and by 8
o’clock it was twenty-six inches above the floor of the hotel, or about
six and one-half feet above the street level. The front windows of the
hotel were blown in between the hours of 5 and 8. The roof was blown off
and the skylights over the rotunda fell in and fell through, crashing on
the floor below. The refugees began to come into the hotel between 5.30
and 8 o’clock until at least 800 or 1,000 persons had sought safety
there. The floors were strewn with people all during the night.
“Manager George Korst and the employes of the hotel did everything in
their power to help the sufferers from the effects of the storm and to
give them shelter. At 5 o’clock the wind was blowing from the northeast
at a velocity of about forty-five miles an hour, and by 9 o’clock it had
reached the climax, the velocity then being fully 100 miles. The
vibration of the hotel was not unlike that of a boxcar in motion. I
tried to sleep that night, but there was so much noise and confusion
from the crashing of buildings that I didn’t get much rest.
STREET SIGHTS WERE APPALLING.
“I arose early Sunday morning. The sights in the streets were simply
appalling. The water on Tremont street had lowered some eight feet from
the high water mark, leaving the pavement clear from two blocks north
and six or seven blocks south of the Tremont Hotel. The streets were
full of debris, the wires were all down and the buildings were in a very
much damaged condition. Every building in the business district was
damaged to some extent but with one or two exceptions, and those, the
Levy Building, corner of Tremont and Market, and the Union Depot, both
of which remained intact and went through the storm without a scratch.
“The refugees came pouring down into the heart of the city, many of them
had but little clothing, and scores of them were almost naked.
“They were homeless without food or drink, a great many had lost their
all and were really in destitute circumstances. Mayor Jones issued a
call for a mass meeting, which was held Sunday morning at 9 o’clock and
was attended by a large number of prominent citizens. Steps were taken
to furnish provisions and relieve the suffering of the refugees and to
bury the dead.
“Early in the morning it was learned that the water supply had been cut
off for some unknown reason. I presume that it was caused by the English
ship which was blown up against the bridges, cutting the pipes. At all
events, the city is without water, and something should be done by the
citizens of Houston to relieve this situation. People who had depended
on cisterns, of course, had their resources swept away, and there are
but few large reservoirs of rain water to be found in the business
district.
“The scene on the docks was a terrible one. The small working fleet and
the larger schooners were washed over the docks and railroad tracks in
frightful confusion. The Mallory docks were demolished. The elevators
were torn in shreds. Three ocean liners were anchored off the docks and
seemed to be in good condition. The damage to the shipping interests is
simply immense, the Huntington improvement being entirely swept away.
FRIGHTFUL CONFUSION EVERYWHERE.
“I tried to get out of the town as quick as I could, and succeeded in
securing passage on the first sloop which sailed, which happened to be
the ‘Annie Jane,’ Captain Thomas Willoughby, who afterward proved to be
an excellent sailor. We sailed from the Twenty-second street slip at 11
o’clock, with seven souls aboard. When we got outside the harbor we
found it was blowing a terrific gale and the sea running very high.
Under three reefs and the peak down we set our course for North
Galveston. As we passed Pelican Flats we could see the English steamer
anchored off over toward where the railroad bridge should be, and came
to the conclusion that she had evidently broken the water mains and cut
the supply off from the city.
“Another ocean liner could be seen off the shore of Texas City, in what
would seem to have been about two feet of water in normal tide. We
passed within a few hundred yards of where the Half-moon light house
once stood, but could see no evidence of the light house, it being
completely washed away. The waters of the bay were strewn with hundreds
of carcasses of dead animals. We had a very hazardous passage, going
against a five mile tide running out, but managed to reach North
Galveston at 1.35.
“At North Galveston we found that a tidal wave had crossed the
peninsula, carrying destruction in its path. The factory building and
the opera house were completely blown down and other buildings
destroyed. While there were no deaths reported at North Galveston, there
were many hardships endured by those who battled with the elements.”
Dr. I. M. Cline, the chief of the weather bureau at Galveston, lived on
the south side of Avenue Q, between Twenty-Fifth and Twenty-Sixth
streets, in a strongly built frame house. It stood until houses all
around it had gone down, and at last it had to give under the pressure
of the wind and waves and other houses that were thrown against it, and
with it about forty people went down, two-thirds of whom were drowned,
among the number his wife. The first floor was elevated above the high
water mark of 1875, and Dr. Cline thought he was safe there.
He left his office and went to his home and family early in the
afternoon. The office telephone had been in use nearly all the morning
giving warning to the people who called up from exposed points along the
beach to ask about the outlook. One man was posted at the telephone
nearly every minute of the time, and to each inquiry the answer was sent
over the wire, “The worst is not over yet.”
LIVES SAVED BY FLIGHT.
Barometer readings of this tropical terror had not been taken since it
left Havana and Key West, for the reason that it was travelling across
the gulf and after barometer readings could have been taken nearer
Galveston and reported here communication was shut off. But the weather
bureau knew the worst was not over, and so perhaps thousands along the
beach had warning and sought safety in the center of the island before
the storm broke here in its fury. This partly accounts for so many
people who lived right on the beach, whole families in instances, being
saved, people who lost everything but who saved their lives, while
others who lived in stronger buildings nearer in, some of whom had
passed through the 1875 and other storms thought of course they could
weather it, and thus were lost.
When the waters rushed into Dr. Cline’s home and began to rise rapidly
he realized his peril, but it was then too late to escape. His brother,
also of the weather bureau, Mr. Joe Cline, came to his rescue to help
save the family or perish with them. Standing on his brother’s front
porch Mr. Cline motioned to the neighbors on the opposite side of the
street to go north, meaning to get out, for no voice could be heard
across the street in the teeth of that terrible northeaster.
This was the last warning that was given, and then the chief of the
Weather Bureau, while with his devoted brother and their loved ones
disappeared within their own homes to await their doom. It was not many
hours coming. Higher and higher the water rose, and they mounted the
second floor till the waves mounted higher, and buildings about them
crashed and fell, adding to the number of inmates of the houses others
who had been driven out and were seeking safety.
Finally, the building gave way beneath the pressure of the wreckage
behind it. The Cline family was in the room and had resolved to go by
threes. Dr. Cline had with him Mrs. Cline and their little 6–year-old
girl, Esther. His brother, Joe, took charge of the two older girls. As
the house went over Mr. Joe Cline and his charges were thrown through a
window which they were near and they caught on the roof. A dresser
pushed Dr. Cline and his wife against the mantle and his little one was
knocked from his left arm. They were all pinioned beneath the roof.
FOUND IT WAS THE FOOT OF HIS BABY.
Dr. Cline, holding to his wife, prepared for death, but throwing his
left hand above his head, felt something strike his hand. He grabbed the
object and it proved to be one foot of his baby that had been knocked
from his grasp when the roof fell in. The water had driven her little
body to the surface through an opening, which, although in an almost
dying condition, he realized. By some means—he doesn’t know how—he was
released from the timbers that held him down, and he, too, was sent up
by the rush of water to the surface. With his feet and arms he reached
for his wife, who had been torn from his grasp, but he could not find
her, and so she perished. Their experience in drifting on debris was
that of hundreds of others. For hours they were tossed about on the
raging sea. Part of the time they think they were far out in the Gulf.
They know they were out of sight of lights and buildings much of the
time.
Mr. William Blair, a member of the Screwmen’s Association, with a party
of twelve, took in what he said to be the first boat that carried news
from the mainland. The trip this party made was one of the most heroic
on record. Mr. Blair said:
ONE LONE HOUSE STANDING.
“We were caught in Houston in the storm, and Sunday morning as soon as
the storm abated we resolved to get to our families and friends in
Galveston, if such a thing was possible. A party of twelve of us left
Houston on a Southern Pacific train. We got as far as Seabrook and there
we found everything washed away, and dead bodies here and there. One
lone house was standing. Clear Creek bridge had been washed away and the
railroad track was turned over. We went back to Houston and waited there
till 4.40 P. M., and took the Galveston, Houston and Henderson regular
train and succeeded in getting as far as Lamarque.
“The whole country was under water, but we decided to get to Galveston
any way that night. We pulled out towards Virginia Point, wading in
water up to our necks, some times swimming. At one place it got so deep
that we got a lot of drift together and constructed a sort of a raft and
ferried over the places. I was about to forget to tell you that one of
our party was a woman, a Miss Beach. She had a sick sister in Galveston
at the infirmary and she had determined to get to her if possible. That
brave and fearless women kept up with the men wading and swimming, and
while others lagged and some dropped out along the way, she never once
faltered, and I have never before seen her equal for courage and
determination.
“There were six of us when we got to Virginia Point, others had turned
out toward Texas City. We got as near to Virginia Point as we could, we
found three railroad engines there, one of them turned over. There were
some cars scattered along the track and in one caboose were some injured
people. A portion of our party stopped there to do what they could for
them.
“We found dead bodies all along the track, three and four in a bunch,
all women and children with perhaps the single exception of one man.
These bodies were strewn from the Point to Texas City and they were
there by the hundreds, it seemed to me—bodies of people who had been
washed and blown across the bay from Galveston. Some of the people who
had made that terrible trip across the bay, driven by the force of the
wind and the waves, were yet alive.
“There were all sorts of debris and wreckage piled up and washing along
the mainland; furniture of every description, heavy iron, frames of
pianos, fine plush-covered furniture—everything was there to be seen.
The remains of cattle and horses and chickens were there in heaps and
piles, drifting boxcars had been driven three miles from their original
positions and turned over and blown about.
GATHERING UP THE DEAD.
“Monday, as soon as it was light enough to see, we started out looking
for skiffs—something to take us to Galveston. We did not find a skiff,
all had been stove in. At last we found a negro who had a boat. He had
been crippled. Three of us, Miss Beach among the number, took passage on
his boat, and I took charge of it. The remainder of our party stayed at
Virginia Point until the arrival of a sailboat and brought a relief
party to Galveston from Houston. A relief train had arrived, from
Houston, bringing members of the fire department, the health officer and
county officers, with provisions. They saw that there was no way for
them to cross and so they remained and began the work of gathering and
bringing the dead on the mainland.
“The concrete piers of the county bridge we found washed away in
mainland and we saw a big steamer grounded in the West Bay. We saw a
fine boat about thirty feet long that had made the trip without sailor
or rudder from Galveston. In that boat I was told a drowning family took
refuge. When they were nearly over a wave struck it and threw all its
occupants out except one man, and he landed in safety. Claude G. Pond,
who was with Capt. Plummer’s life boat during the storm, estimates that
they saved 200 people in the east end from drowning.
“They began work Saturday afternoon at 2 o’clock and kept it up as long
as they could do any good in the east end from First street to St.
Mary’s Infirmary. Capt. Plummer waded in water up to his chin, and in
places was swimming, directing the movements of the boat, while Mr. Pond
and Capt. Plummer’s two sons manned the boat.
CLUNG TO THEIR PROPERTY.
“Several places they extended rescue and the people declined to go
expressing the belief that their peril was not so great, and preferring
to remain with their property. Sometimes they would make the second trip
to such places and sometimes the occupants would be saved and in other
instances they had tarried too long. Their plan was to carry people into
places where they could wade out and leave them, going back to bring
others to shallow water and on the return again carrying them further
in.
“In cases where parents had been carried out to wading water and
deposited, they would stand there instead of pushing on, looking back
for their children, and it sometimes happened that the children and
parents both went down while one waited for the other, when, if the
parents had pushed on after they had reached wading water, all might
have been saved.
“One of the last loads carried out was about to land in front of St.
Mary’s Infirmary, when a piece of falling timber struck the boat and
capsized it. They had eight or nine people in the boat, and when they
succeeded in righting it they could find only two or three.
“Mr. Mennis and a party of about forty people took refuge in a two-story
grocery store at Forty-fifth street and Broadway. When the roof went
over and the building went to pieces, Mr. Mennis and six others caught
on drift. They were driven toward the beach into the gulf, and when the
wind veered to the southeast and later south, they were driven across
the bay and landed on the mainland near Texas City. Of the seven who
made this terrible voyage two died in the course of a day. Mr. Mennis
lost his mother and two brothers.
“In the vicinity of Texas City sixty bodies supposed to be from
Galveston have been buried. Nearly all were women. There was no means of
identification, except possibly by jewelry, which was found on about
one-half of the bodies.”
Prof. Fred. W. Mally reached Houston three days after the storm, and in
reply to inquiries related some thrilling experiences. He had been out
at Booth, in Fort Bend County. He boarded the 7.15 P. M. Santa Fe train.
TREETOPS INTERRUPTED PROGRESS OF TRAINS.
“At Thompson,” said Prof. Mally, “the train crew stopped to water and
cool off a hot box, and by the time we started again the wind was
blowing a gale. There is no wagon road along the windward side of the
right of way from Thompson to Duke or Clear Lake. The result was that as
we passed along we were kept in constant suspense of disaster by the
treetops, which were being bent over so as to rasp the windows as the
train passed on.
“At several places we had to stop and cut off the tops of all trees in
order to get through. We finally reached Duke, which was out in the open
and prairie section. Here it was impossible to proceed farther, and the
train stopped to await the end of the storm. We remained here until
about 3 o’clock in the morning and tried to get to Alvin. The first
station out was Arcola. The dwellings in this locality were a complete
wreck, and only the depot remained standing.
A TOWN IN RUINS.
“At Manvel, the next station, the ruin seemed even worse. The depot had
been completely demolished and was laying across the track. Not a house
standing in good condition. We came down farther within three miles of
Alvin and found the track washed out. The agent from Alvin and the
section boss met us and stated that Alvin was in ruins and some killed.
Not being able to get through, we backed up the road, hoping to reach
Eichenberg.
“The sight of seeing men, women and children wading waist deep in water
over a country where we were accustomed to seeing orchards and garden
patches and to hear the cries for the dear ones missing is enough to
unnerve the strongest. Returning to Duke we unloaded again those we had
saved at that point from the storm.
“While our train of five passenger coaches was standing on the track at
this point the house in which the agent was living was literally blown
to pieces. His wife and three children were with him, and soon the
furious wind was tossing and rolling women and children like footballs
over the earth. Men from the train faced the terrible gale and succeeded
in getting all on the train in safety. This house stood within
seventy-five yards of our train. About this time the depot, which was
just opposite the car I was in, was unroofed and split apart in the
middle.
WHOLE FAMILY SAVED BY TRAINMEN.
“Soon after a third house, 200 feet away, was blown to pieces and a man,
wife and three children saved from the wreckage by those on the train.
We reached the timbered section and were soon blocked by the wreckage of
fallen trees across the track. Everyone who could wield an axe got one,
set to work diligently to cut our way through. At the same time a large
crew was working from Rosenberg down toward us. From Thompson to Duke
large pecan, elm, oak and pine trees were encountered on an average
every 100 feet.
“Arriving at Thompson, we found Slavin’s store a perfect mass of ruin,
the gin a partial wreck and many houses blown down. Here the first
victim of the storm and train was placed on board. He had been knocked
off the track the night before and had his leg broken. At Booth, Booth’s
store was badly wrecked, trees blown all over the land, several houses
blown down. One negro was killed in a falling house. At Crabb everything
was blown down, and we reached Rosenberg at noon.
“We had many dire expectations all night, worked hard all morning and
had nothing to eat since supper the night before. I reached Houston over
the Macaroni in time to reach my nurseries and people at Hulen. I found
only one house standing here intact, my large barn and packing shed are
damaged but not wrecked. My large office building was blown from its
foundation and considerably twisted, but left it so my manager can live
in it with his family until something else can be provided for. None of
my employees were hurt, and, in fact, no deaths or injuries at Hulen.”
TERRIBLE TALES OF VANDALISM.
Passengers who arrived at Dallas told terrible tales of the work of the
vandals in that city. According to them, men inflamed with liquor were
roaming among the wreckage over the city rifling the hundreds of bodies
of even the clothing and leaving them to fester in the semi-tropical
sun. Much of this horrible depredating, it is claimed, is being done by
negroes, who will not work and cannot be made to leave town. This was
before the saloons were closed.
Among those who arrived from Galveston was J. N. Griswold, division
freight agent of the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe Railway. His story is
as follows:
“There were many acts of vandalism. Fingers and ears that bore diamonds
were lopped off with knives. Upon our arrival at Texas city I saw an old
man who was drunk. Sticking out of a pocket in his pants was a bank
deposit book full of bank notes.
“I asked him where he got it. He said he found it on the bank.
“‘How much have you got?’ I asked him. ‘Oh, about twenty-seven dollars,’
was his reply. He must have had several times that amount at least.
“The darkies are doing most of the pilfering. Sunday morning before
daylight they were breaking into warehouses and looting stores and
saloons particularly. The town was full of drunken negroes Sunday
morning at daylight.
“And the worst of it is that nearly all the soldiers were lost. Of the
detachment stationed at Galveston I don’t believe there are more than
thirty left. At present the crying need of Galveston is water and
ice—and soldiers. The fresh water on the island was ruined by the brine
from the sea. The ice is needed to prevent the decomposition of the
corpses. The soldiers are needed to keep down vandalism. And along this
latter line I want to say that the militia must come quickly. The
negroes should be sent to the cotton fields of north Texas. Those who
will work can be kept there, but the others should be sent away just as
soon as possible, for they merely eat up the supplies and are a constant
menace. They should either be killed or made to get out, for one or the
other is the grim necessity of the situation.
FLOATING BODIES IN THE BAY.
“As to the loss of life in Galveston, I can’t figure it. We counted
ninety-three floating bodies on our way from the wharf to Texas City.
The prairies across the bay this side of Galveston are covered with
piles of cotton and wreckage of all descriptions—dead bodies and the
like.
“I got to Galveston at 10 o’clock Saturday morning. My wife and I took a
car and started to the beach. The water was rather high and we thought
we would have a jolly good time splashing around. When we got within
five blocks of the beach the motorman stopped his car and said that he
could go no further. We came back downtown and got on another car. This
time we could get within but seven blocks of the beach. This shows you
how fast the water was rising.
“We got back to the Santa Fe ticket office about 11.30 o’clock. I made
up my mind that I wanted to go over to the general offices, but the
water was in all the streets and I waited awhile, hoping it would get
lower. But at noon it was between knee and hip deep in front of the
Santa Fe ticket office. At 2 o’clock my wife and I waded into the
Washington Hotel.
“From that time on the wind grew stronger. At 5 o’clock the water was
six feet deep in the lower floor of the Washington Hotel. Why, it
covered the telephone box in the office. The wind blew not less than
ninety-five miles an hour from then until 9.30 o’clock.
“The first rise came from the bay, and the bay rise lasted until about 8
P. M. Then the tide from the Gulf met the rise from the bay and forced
it back. That’s when we had our highest water. And I want to say to you
right now that but for those two forces meeting there wouldn’t be a
stick left on Galveston Island to-day.
“About 9 o’clock the water commenced to fall rapidly, and at 10 o’clock
the wind had subsided fully 50 per cent. The damage had all been done.
At daylight we got out and went down to the beach. From the beach back
for four or five blocks it was just as clean as this floor. Up and down
the island there was wreckage as high as this ceiling. This had
something to do with breaking the force of the water. And that wreckage
was full of dead bodies. The only way to get rid of it is to burn it
with the bodies in it, for they can never be taken out.
MAKING A HURRIED ESCAPE.
“Monday at noon we left the wharf on the sailboat ‘Lake Austin’ in
company with five others. We paid $100 for passage to Texas City. The
names of those in the party were, J. A. Kemp, of Wichita Falls; Henry
Sayles, of Abilene; A. W. Boyd, of Houston; W. A. Frazer, of Dallas, and
myself and my wife. Mrs. Griswold was the first woman to leave the
island after the disaster. We landed at Texas City at 2.30, caught the
Texas Terminal Railway to a junction with the Galveston, Houston and
Henderson. From there we walked for a mile to where they were repairing
the track, and caught a freight train into Houston, arriving about 10.30
at night.
“The buildings in Galveston that are not totally wrecked are damaged in
such a manner that I believe it will cost as much to repair them as it
would to build new ones outright. There is not a church left standing.
The general offices of the Santa Fe are badly wrecked. On the floor next
to the top some of the inside door casings are forced out of the frames,
and the entire building will have to be replastered before it will be
safe to occupy. The train sheds are gone.
“On the Mallory wharves is a conglomerated pile of boxcars and boats and
cotton wreckage of every description. The Mallory liner ‘Comal’ arrived
there just after the storm, and, thank goodness, the crew has sense
enough to stay on board the boat. Dead bodies are in all the wreckage
under the wharf just like dead rats. The Santa Fe officials and the
heads of the different departments in the general offices, so far as
reported, are all safe. The families of a good many of the clerks have
been lost entirely, and in other instances partially so.
“The Blum family came to the Washington Hotel at daylight Sunday morning
with nothing on them but shreds. They had lost everything. When they
left home they had thousands of dollars worth of diamonds on their
persons. These were all lost in their battle with the elements. Their
bodies were a mass of bruises.
“There is scarcely a stock of goods in Galveston that isn’t a total
loss. But the Sealy residence, standing even as it does, where it seems
as if the slightest breeze would strike it, hasn’t a scratch on it.
ENTIRE FAMILIES LOST.
“The brother of John Paul Jones, the general agent of our road, lost his
entire family. Will Labatt, assistant ticket agent of the Santa Fe, lost
his entire family, with the exception of his wife, who is visiting in
the North. He turned up Sunday morning at 6 o’clock more dead than alive
and covered with bruises and cuts.
“John Paul Jones, the general agent of the Santa Fe, succeeded in saving
his family. His wife was very sick, but he saved her by swimming across
the street with his child on his head and his wife between himself and
another person.
“Mr. Crane, chief rate clerk to the general freight agent of the road,
spent the entire night with his wife on the roof of his residence. His
wife had been confined about six weeks ago, and in addition had an
abscess on her leg, which bent it nearly double. They were saved. He was
a mass of bruises. His heel was crushed.
“I don’t see how any man who passed Saturday night in Galveston can stay
there and make it his home.”
W. A. Fraser, of Dallas, general deputy of the Woodmen of the World of
Texas, arrived in Dallas from Galveston where he had been for several
days. He stated that complete as are the reports published in “The
News,” the half has not been told of the terrible calamity that has
visited the coast country. “On the approach of the storm,” he said, “I
tried to leave on the International and Great Northern Railroad at 1.30
o’clock, but found that the bridges had been washed away and the water
had risen to such an extent that it was impossible for me to get away
from the depot, where I took shelter with about 150 other persons who
had sought the same place of refuge.
THE CRIES OF THE DYING.
“The depot was badly damaged, but no lives were lost there, although
bodies were floating in every direction and the cries from the dying
could be heard almost constantly. When daybreak came Sunday morning the
sights presented were something terrible. It was hardly possible to walk
along the streets without tumbling over dead bodies, and the only thing,
in my estimation, that saved the city from being completely wiped out
was the fact that the wind blew from the bay during the first part of
the night—blowing the water up through town, in some places as high as
fifteen feet—and the wreckage from destroyed houses was piled up along
the Gulf front to a height of forty or fifty feet. When the wind changed
and blew from the Gulf this wreckage acted as a breakwater and kept the
waves from washing everything into the bay.
“As soon as daylight appeared the work of rescue commenced, but it was
soon found that after several vacant stores and all the undertaking
establishments had been crowded with the dead, that it would be
impossible to handle them in this way. Barges were employed and into
them the wagons unloaded the bodies, which were taken to the bay and
there deposited. It can be safely said that there is not a single house
in the entire town that has not been badly damaged in some way and there
are whole families who will never be heard from again.
“Looting and vandalism are rife upon the island. The few soldiers they
have are exhausted and unable to properly guard the city, and in my
estimation the State troops should be sent there at once. Cases of where
the fingers of women had been cut off so as to deprive them of their
rings and their ears cut to get the earrings are common. It is a hard
matter to get a negro to assist in any way in burying the dead, as they
all seem to be very much interested in accumulating all the wealth they
can possibly get from the dead and from the wreckage.
WHITE MEN AND NEGROES PLUNDER TOGETHER.
“They are not alone in this, but I am sorry to say that white men are
side by side with them in their damnable work. Women could be seen on
the first morning after the flood with baskets over their arms taking
everything they could possibly pick up, without regard to whom it
belonged to or what its value might be. What the city needs most, in my
estimation, is pure water, food and able-bodied men who are willing to
work, so the bodies can be removed from the wreckage and carried from
the island and the carcasses of animals be burned or disposed of as
quickly as possible. Whatever is to be done should be done at the
earliest possible moment, as provisions are scarce and it is next to
impossible to get fresh water. The sewerage system is also choked, and
this combined with the stenches from decaying animal matter makes it
almost impossible for people to exist for many days.
[Illustration:
THE WRECK OF A DWELLING WHERE TWELVE MEN AND WOMEN HAD A MIRACULOUS
ESCAPE]
[Illustration:
CREMATING DEAD BODIES TAKEN FROM GALVESTON WRECK.]
[Illustration:
EXTERIOR VIEW OF ST. PATRICK’S CHURCH, WHICH WAS DEMOLISHED]
[Illustration:
WRECKAGE AT CENTRE STREET, LOOKING NORTH FROM AVENUE O ½]
[Illustration:
RUINS OF PUBLIC SCHOOL, TWENTY-FIFTH STREET AND AVENUE P]
[Illustration:
REMAINS OF RAILROAD POWER HOUSE, TWENTIETH STREET AND AVENUE I]
[Illustration:
A CLEAN SWEEP OF EIGHTEEN BLOCKS BY SIX, WAS THICKLY POPULATED AND
COMPLETELY DESTROYED]
[Illustration:
RUINS AT TWENTY-FIRST STREET AND AVENUE O ½]
“Immediately on my arrival here a meeting of the Woodmen was called and
$200 in cash subscribed and turned over to me, and about $300 more
pledged to be placed in my hands on demand. All camps throughout the
State are requested to immediately call meetings and forward such
subscriptions as they may see proper to me at Dallas. This will be used
for the benefit of Woodmen and their families, many of whom are in
absolute want and distress, and we hope to raise at least $30,000, which
is less than $1 each from our members.”
From Houston came the following heartrending news of the Galveston
horror two days after it occurred:
“The dreadful fatality of Galveston is looking worse, in the face of
facts brought out to-day. Three men, who reached here this morning, tell
of so and so many dead bodies being found in a single house or yard or
on one block, that the conclusion is almost irresistible that a greater
number than 1000 has been lost. They tell that twenty or forty or a
hundred were lost by the collapse of a single large house, they having
gathered there for safety, but they are unable to say anything about the
hundreds of small houses that were swept away, some vacant, of course,
but many occupied, but without a mark, a sign or a memory to recall the
lost.
NAMES OF DEAD WILL NEVER BE KNOWN.
“The outline of the terrible disaster is now known over the United
States, and even farther. The details are wanting; no list of names
approaching completeness can be had for weeks, and it is almost sure
that a complete list will never be found. As time wears along the names
of different persons will be recalled by those who were neighbors, and
they will be set down on the death roll that will be made up; but where
neighbors do not know neighbors, the names will never be called, and the
identity of the lost will pass with eternity—without recall or
remembrance.
“This city and her people are devoting themselves assiduously to
relieving the unfortunates. Her business men are losing not a moment.
They thoroughly realize that seconds are valuable. Last night large
wagons jostled along the streets with boxes of prepared food to load
them on boats and cars. The Mayor has sent out calls to the large cities
of this and other States for immediate help, and everybody here feels
that the response will be generous and speedy. These people know the
justness of their demand, and hence their confidence in getting the
answer.
“W. O. Ansley, a well known cotton man of this city, received a letter
this morning, brought by private messenger, from A. W. Simpson, a cotton
man at Galveston, saying:
“‘It’s awful. Not a complete house in the city. Help urgently needed.
Thousands are homeless. Food is being distributed to the destitute, but
lots more will be needed.’”
MISSING ONES SWELL DEATH LIST.
A newspaper writer who got through from Galveston, made the following
statement: “The condition at Galveston is heartrending in the extreme
for the injured, and it grows worse momentarily. The list of the dead
will not be fully known for weeks; the list of the missing will swell
rapidly as soon as the people have begun to report their losses to the
authorities, and gradually this list of missing will change into the
list of dead as the bodies are recovered from the ruins in the city or
are picked up on the beach of the mainland, where many of them now lie,
it is believed. A meeting was held Sunday morning at the Tremont Hotel,
and at this meeting measures were considered for the relief of the
stricken.
“The conclusion was quickly reached that the citizens are not equal to
the task, notwithstanding their willingness, and an appeal for aid was
made to the President and the Governor. The messages have already gone
to them, and will probably be made public all over the country by this
afternoon. But no tardy aid will suffice. It is present necessity that
must be met.”
H. Van Eaton, who travels for a Dallas firm, arrived from Galveston,
where he spent the perilous hours during the storm. He reached that city
Saturday morning and was unable to cross to the mainland until Sunday
afternoon.
“Just after it started to rain,” he said last night, “several of us
thought we would walk down to the beach, but on seeing our danger
decided to return to the hotel, which we succeeded in doing by wading in
water waist deep. Inside of a few minutes the women and children began
to come to the hotel for refuge. All were panic stricken. I saw two
women, one with a child, trying to get to the hotel. They were drowned
within three hundred yards of us.
“After the worst was over in Galveston we went over to Virginia Point,
which cost us $15 each. When we got over there we found a caboose and an
engine chained together with some twenty-five people in it. While we
were in the caboose three bodies, two men and a child, drifted against
the car and we tied them to one end to keep them from floating away. We
saw fourteen bodies there, all having floated across the channel and all
more or less disfigured from coming in contact with so much wreckage.
Most of them were women and children.
“We walked six miles from Virginia Point, swimming at intervals, in
order to catch the relief train, which could not come in further from
washouts. We met people coming and going. A party of twelve persons,
including one woman, had built a raft and were intending to cross to
Galveston. We saw three launches six miles inland, north of Virginia
Point on the bald prairie. Only one of them seemed to have anyone in it.
We reached Houston at 3.30 this morning. There are only two houses in
anything like perfect condition between Houston and Galveston. From
Houston up to Hearne things were badly torn up. The whole east end of
Galveston and the entire west end are completely gone.”