Sad Scenes in All Parts of the Ruined City--Corpses Everywhere--A Sombre,
Solemn Sunday--People Apathetic, Dejected and Heartbroken.
The surviving people of Galveston did not awaken from sleep on Sunday
morning, for they had not slept the night before. For many weary hours
they had stood face to face with death, and knew that thousands had
yielded up their lives and that millions of dollars worth of property had
been destroyed.
There was not a building in Galveston which was not either entirely
destroyed or damaged, and the people of the city lived in the valley of
the shadow of death, helpless and hopeless, deprived of all hope and
ambition--merely waiting for the appearance of the official death roll.
Confusion and chaos reigned everywhere; death and desolation were on all
sides; wreck and ruin were the only things visible wherever the eye might
rest; and with business entirely suspended and no other occupation than
the search for and burial of the dead it was strange that the
thoroughfares and residence streets were not filled with insane victims of
the hurricane's frightful visit.
For days the people of Galveston knew there was danger ahead; they were
warned repeatedly, but they laughed at all fears, business went on as
usual, and when the blow came it found the city unprepared and without
safeguards.
Owing to the stupefaction following the awful catastrophe, the people were
in no condition, either physical or mental, to provide for themselves,
and therefore depended upon the outside world for food and clothing.
The inhabitants of Galveston needed immediate relief, but how they were to
get it was a mystery, for Galveston was not yet in touch with the outside
world by rail or sea. The city was sorely stricken, and appealed to the
country at large to send food, clothing and water. The waterworks were in
ruins and the cisterns all blown away, so that the lack of water was one
of the most serious of the troubles.
Never did a storm work more cruelly. All the electric light and telegraph
poles were prostrated and the streets were littered with timbers, slate,
glass and every conceivable character of debris. There was hardly a
habitable house in the entire city, and nearly every business house was
either wrecked entirely or badly damaged.
On Monday there were deaths from hunger and exposure, and the list swelled
rapidly. People were living as best they could--in the ruins of their
homes, in hotels, in schoolhouses, in railway stations, in churches, in
the streets by the side of their beloved dead.
So great was the desolation one could not imagine a more sorrowful place.
Street cars were not running; no trains could reach the town; only
sad-eyed men and women walked about the streets; the dead and wounded
monopolized the attention of those capable of doing anything whatever, and
the city was at the mercy of thieves and ruffians.
All the fine churches were in ruins.
From Tremont to P street, thence to the beach, not a vestige of a
residence was to be seen.
In the business section of the city the water was from three to ten feet
deep in stores, and stocks of all kinds, including foodstuffs, were total
losses. It was a common spectacle--that of inhabitants of the fated city
wandering around in a forsaken and forlorn way, indifferent to everything
around them and paying no attention to inquiries of friends and relatives.
God forbid that such scenes are enacted again in this country.
It was thought the vengeance of the fates had been visited in its most
appalling shape upon the place which had unwittingly incurred its wrath.
It was fortunate after all, however, that those compelled to endure such
trials were temporarily deprived of their understanding; were so stunned
that they could not appreciate the enormity of the punishment.
The first loss of life reported was at Rietter's saloon, in the Strand,
where three of the most prominent citizens of the town--Stanley G.
Spencer, Charles Kellner and Richard Lord--lost their lives and many
others were maimed and imprisoned. These three were sitting at a table on
the first floor Saturday night, making light of the danger, when the roof
suddenly caved in and came down with a crash, killing them. Those in the
lower part of the building escaped with their lives in a miraculous
manner, as the falling roof and flooring caught on the bar, enabling the
people standing near it to crawl under the debris. It required several
hours of hard work to get them out. The negro waiter who was sent for a
doctor was drowned at Strand and Twenty-first streets, his body being
found a short time afterward.
Fully 700 people were congregated at the city hall, most of them more or
less injured in various ways. One man from Lucas Terrace reported the loss
of fifty lives in the building from which he escaped. He himself was
severely injured about the head.
Passing along Tremont street, out as far as Avenue P, climbing over the
piles of lumber which had once been residences, four bodies were observed
in one yard and seven in one room in another place, while as many as sixty
corpses were seen lying singly and in groups in the space of one block. A
majority of the drowned, however, were under the ruined houses. The body
of Miss Sarah Summers was found near her home, corner of Tremont street
and Avenue F, her lips smiling, but her features set in death, her hands
grasping her diamonds tightly. The remains of her sister, Mrs. Claude
Fordtran, were never found.
The report from St. Mary's Infirmary showed that only eight persons
escaped from that hospital. The number of patients and nurses was one
hundred. Rosenberg Schoolhouse, chosen as a place of refuge by the people
of that locality, collapsed. Few of those who had taken refuge there
escaped--how many cannot be told, and will never be known.
Never before had the Sabbath sun risen upon such a sight, and as though
unable to endure it, the god of the day soon veiled his face behind dull
and leaden clouds, and refused to shine.
Surely it was enough to draw tears even from inanimate things.
At the Union Depot Baggagemaster Harding picked up the lifeless form of a
baby girl within a few feet of the station. Its parents were among the
lost. The station building was selected as a place of refuge by hundreds
of people, and although all the windows and a portion of the south wall at
the top were blown in, and the occupants expected every moment to be their
last, escape was impossible, for about the building the water was fully
twelve feet deep. A couple of small shanties were floating about, but
there was no means of making a raft or getting a boat.
Every available building in the city was used as a hospital. As for the
dead, they were being put away anywhere. In one large grocery store on
Tremont street all the space that could be cleared was occupied by the
wounded.
It was nothing strange to see the dead and crippled everywhere, and the
living were so fascinated by the dead they could hardly be dragged away
from the spots where the corpses were piled.
There were dead by the score, by the hundreds and by the thousands.
It was a city of the dead; a vast battlefield, the slain being victims of
flood and gale.
The dead were at rest, but the living had to suffer, for no aid was at
hand.
In the business portion of the town the damage could not be even
approximately estimated. The wholesale houses along the Strand had about
seven feet of water on their ground floors, and all window panes and glass
protectors of all kinds were demolished.
On Mechanic street the water was almost as deep as on the Strand. All
provisions in the wholesale groceries and goods on the lower floors were
saturated and rendered valueless.
In clearing away the ruins of the Catholic Orphans' Home heartrending
evidence of the heroism and love of the Sisters was discovered.
Bodies of the little folks were found which indicated by their position
that heroic measures were taken to keep them together so that all might be
saved.
The Sisters had tied them together in bunches of eight and then tied the
cords around their own waists. In this way they probably hoped to quiet
the children's fears and lead them to safety.
The storm struck the Home with such terrific force that the structure
fell, carrying the inmates with it and burying them under tons of debris.
Two crowds of children, tied and attached to Sisters, have been found. In
one heap the children were piled on the Sisters, and the arms of one
little girl were clasped around a Sister's neck.
In the wreck of the Home over ninety children and Sisters were killed. It
was first believed that they had been washed out to sea, but the discovery
of the little groups in the ruins indicates that all were killed and
buried under the wreckage.
Sunday and Monday were days of the greatest suffering, although the
population had hardly sufficiently recovered from the shock of the mighty
calamity to realize that they were hungry and cold.
On Monday all relief trains sent from other cities toward Galveston were
forced to turn back, the tracks being washed away.
On Tuesday Mayor Jones of Galveston sent out the following appeal to the
country:
"It is my opinion, based on personal information, that 5,000 people
have lost their lives here. Approximately one-third of the residence
portion of the city has been swept away. There are several thousand
people who are homeless and destitute--how many there is no way of
finding out. Arrangements are now being made to have the women and
children sent to Houston and other places, but the means of
transportation are limited. Thousands are still to be cared for here.
We appeal to you for immediate aid.
"WALTER J. JONES,
"Mayor of Galveston."
Some relief had been sent in, the railroad to Texas City, six miles away,
having been repaired, boats taking the supplies from that point into
Galveston.
Food and women's clothing were the things most needed just then. While the
men could get along with the clothes they had on and what they had secured
since Sunday, the women suffered considerably, and there was much sickness
among them in consequence. It was noticeable, however, that the women of
the city had, by their example, been instrumental in reviving the drooping
spirits of the men. There was a better feeling prevalent Tuesday among the
inhabitants, as news had been received that within a few days the acute
distress would be over, except in the matter of shelter. Every house
standing was damp and unhealthy, and some of the wounded were not getting
along as well as hoped. Many of the injured had been sent out of town to
Texas City, Houston and other places, but hundreds still remained. It
would have endangered their lives to move them.
Tuesday night ninety negro looters were shot in their tracks by citizen
guards. One of them was searched and $700 found, together with four
diamond rings and two water-soaked gold watches. The finger of a white
woman with a gold band around it was clutched in his hands.
In the afternoon, at the suggestion of Colonel Hawley, a mounted squad of
nineteen men, under Adjutant Brokridge, was detailed by Major Faylings to
search a house where negro looters were known to have secreted plunder.
"Shoot them in their tracks, boys! We want no prisoners," said the Major.
The plunderers changed their location before the arrival of the
detachment, however, and the raiders came back empty-handed. Twenty cases
of looting were reported between 3 and 6 in the evening.
At 6 o'clock a report reached Major Faylings that twenty negroes were
robbing a house at Nineteenth and Beach streets.
"Plant them," commanded the young Major, as a half dozen citizen soldiers,
led by a corporal, mustered before him for orders.
"I want every one of those twenty negroes, dead or alive," said the Major.
The squad left on the double quick. Half an hour later they reported ten
of the plunderers killed.
The following order was posted on the streets at noon of Tuesday:
"To the Public: The city of Galveston being under martial law, and
all good citizens being now enrolled in some branch of the public
service, it becomes necessary, to preserve the peace, that all arms
in this city be placed in the hands of the military. All good
citizens are forbidden to carry arms, except by written permission
from the Mayor or Chief of Police or the Major commanding. All good
citizens are hereby commanded to deliver all arms and ammunition to
the city and take Major Faylings' receipt.
"WALTER C. JONES, Mayor."
WHAT A RELIEF PARTY SAW SUNDAY MORNING.
Starting as soon as the water began to recede Sunday morning, a relief
party began the work of rescuing the wounded and dying from the ruins of
their homes. The scenes presented were almost beyond description.
Screaming women, bruised and bleeding, some of them bearing the lifeless
forms of children in their arms; men, broken-hearted and sobbing,
bewailing the loss of their wives and children; streets filled with
floating rubbish, among which there were many bodies of the victims of
the storm, constituted part of the awful picture. In every direction, as
far as the eye could reach, the scene of desolation and destruction
continued.
It was certainly enough to cause the stoutest heart to quail and grow
sick, and yet the searchers well knew they could not unveil one-hundredth
part of the misery the destructive elements had brought about.
They knew, also, that the full import and heaviness of the blow could not
be realized for days to come.
Although those in the relief party were prepared to see the natural
evidences following upon the heels of the mighty storm, they did not
anticipate such frightful revelations.
It was a butchery, without precedent; a gathering of victims that was so
ghastly as to be beyond the power of any man to picture.
As the party went on the members met others who made reports of things
that had come under their notice. There were fifty killed or drowned in
one section of town; one hundred in another; five hundred in another. The
list grew larger with each report.
It was a matter of wonder, and increasing wonder too, that a single soul
escaped to tell the tale.
No one seemed entirely sane, for there was madness in the very air.
All moved in an atmosphere of gloom; it was difficult to move and breathe
with so much death on all sides.
Yet no one could keep his eyes off of those horrible, fascinating corpses.
They riveted the gaze.
Life and death were often so closely intermingled they could not be told
apart.
It was the apotheosis of the frightful.
Those who had escaped the hurricane and flood were searching for missing
dear ones in such a listless way as to irresistibly convey the idea that
they did not care whether they found them or not.
It was the languor of hopelessness and despair.
Some of those who had lost their all were even merry, but it was the glee
of insanity.
As Sunday morning dawned the streets were lined with people, half-clad,
crippled in every conceivable manner, hobbling as best they could to where
they could receive attention of physicians for themselves and summon aid
for friends and relatives who could not move.
Police Officer John Bowie, who had recently been awarded a prize as the
most popular officer in the city, was in a pitiable condition; the toes on
both of his feet were broken, two ribs caved in, and his head badly
bruised, but his own condition, he said, was nothing.
"My house, with wife and children, is in the gulf. I have not a thing on
earth for which to live."
The houses of all prominent citizens which escaped destruction were turned
into hospitals, as were also the leading hotels. There was scarcely one of
the houses left standing which did not contain one or more of the dead as
well as many injured.
The rain began to pour down in torrents and the party went back down
Tremont street toward the city. The misery of the poor people, all mangled
and hurt, pressing to the city for medical attention, was greatly
augmented by this rain. Stopping at a small grocery store to avoid the
rain, the party found it packed with injured. The provisions in the store
had been ruined and there was nothing for the numerous customers who came
hungry and tired. The place was a hospital, no longer a store.
Further down the street a restaurant, which had been submerged by water,
was serving out soggy crackers and cheese to the hungry crowd. That was
all that was left. The food was soaked full of water, and the people who
were fortunate enough to get those sandwiches were hungry and made no
complaint.
It was hard to determine what section of the city suffered the greatest
damage and loss of life. Information from both the extreme eastern and
extreme western portions of the city was difficult to obtain at that time.
In fact, it was nearly impossible, but the reports received indicated that
those two sections had suffered the same fate as the rest of the city and
to a greater degree.
Thus the relief party wended its way through streets which, but a few
hours before, were teeming with life.
Now they were the thoroughfares of death.
It did not seem as if they could ever resound to the throb of quickened
vitality again.
It seemed as though it would take years to even remove the wreckage.
As to rebuilding, it appeared as the work of ages.
Annihilation was everywhere.
GALVESTON PEOPLE REFUSED TO HEED THE WARNING--DISASTER WAS PREDICTED.
As marked out on the charts of the United States Weather Bureau at
Washington the storm which struck Galveston had a peculiar course. It was
first definitely located south by east of San Domingo, and the last day of
August the center of the disturbance was approximately at a point fixed at
14 degrees north latitude and 68 degrees west longitude. From there it
made a course almost due northeast, passing through Kingston, Jamaica, and
if it had continued on this same line it would have struck Galveston just
the same, but somewhat earlier than it did. The storm apparently was
headed for Galveston all the time, but on Tuesday of last week, when
almost due south of Cienfuegos, Cuba, it changed its course so as to go
almost due north, across the Island of Cuba, through the toe of the
Florida peninsula, and up the coast to the vicinity of Tampa. Here the
storm made another sharp turn to the westward and headed again almost
straight for Galveston.
It was this sharp turn to the westward which could not be anticipated, so
the Weather Bureau sent out its hurricane signals both for the Atlantic
and the gulf coast, well understanding that the prediction as to one of
these coasts would certainly fail. As soon as the storm turned westward
from below Tampa the Weather Bureau knew the Atlantic coast was safe, and
turned its attention toward the gulf.
The people of Galveston had abundant warning of the coming of the
hurricane, but, of course, could not anticipate the destructive energy it
would gain on the way across the Gulf of Mexico.
The Weather Bureau was informed that the first sign of the disturbance was
noticed on Aug. 30 near the Windward Islands. On Aug. 31 it still was in
the same neighborhood. The storm did not develop any hurricane features
during its slow passage through the Caribbean Sea and across Cuba, but was
accompanied by tremendous rains. During the first twelve hours of Sept. 3,
in Santiago, Cuba, 10.50 inches rain fell and 2.80 inches fell in the next
twelve. On Sept. 4 the rainfall during twelve hours in Santiago was 4.44
inches, or a total fall in thirty-six hours of 17.20 inches. There were
some high winds in Cuba the night of Sept. 4.
By the morning of the 6th the storm center was a short distance northwest
of Key West, Fla., and the high winds had commenced over Southern Florida,
forty-eight miles an hour from the east being reported from Jupiter and
forty miles from the northeast from Key West. During the 6th barometric
conditions over the eastern portion of the United States so far changed as
to prevent the movement of the storm along the Atlantic coast, and it,
therefore, continued northwest over the Gulf of Mexico.
On the morning of the 7th it apparently was central south of the Louisiana
coast, about longitude 89, latitude 28. At this time storm signals were
ordered up on the North Texas coast, and during the day were extended
along the entire coast. On the morning of the 8th the storm was nearing
the Texas coast and was apparently central at about latitude 28, longitude
94.
Galveston's disastrous storm was predicted with startling accuracy by the
weather prophet, Prof. Andrew Jackson DeVoe. In the "Ladies' Birthday
Almanac," issued from Chattanooga, Tenn., in January, 1900, Prof. DeVoe
forecasts the weather for the following month of September as follows:
"This will be a hot dry month over the Northern States, but plenty of rain
over the Atlantic coast States. First and second days hot and sultry.
Third and fourth heavy storms over the extreme Northwestern States,
causing thunderstorms over the Missouri Valley and showery, rainy weather
over the whole country from 5th to 8th.
"On the 9th a great cyclone will form over the Gulf of Mexico and move up
the Atlantic coast, causing very heavy rains from Florida to Maine from
10th to 12th."