CHAPTER III._Complete Story of the San Francisco Horror

THIRD DAY ADDS TO HORROR.

=Fire Spreads North and South Attended by Many

Spectacular Features--Heroic Work of Soldiers Under

General Funston--Explosions of Gas Add to General

Terror.=

The third day of the fire was attended by many spectacular features,

many scenes of disaster and many acts of daring heroism.

When night came the fire was raging over fifty acres of the water

front lying between Bay street and the end of Meiggs and Fisherman's

wharf. To the eastward it extended down to the sea wall, but had not

reached the piers, which lay a quarter of a mile toward the east.

The cannery and warehouses of the Central California Canneries

Company, together with 20,000 cases of canned fruit, was totally

destroyed, as also was the Simpson and other lumber companies' yards.

The flames reached the tanks of the San Francisco Gas Company, which

had previously been pumped out, and had burned the ends of the grain

sheds, five in number, which extended further out toward the point.

Flame and smoke hid from view the vessels that lay off shore vainly

attempting to check the fire. No water was available except from the

waterside and it was not until almost dark that the department was

able to turn its attention to this point.

At dusk the fire had been checked at Van Ness avenue and Filbert

street. The buildings on a high slope between Van Ness and Polk, Union

and Filbert streets were blazing fiercely, fanned by a high wind, but

the blocks were so sparsely settled that the fire had but a slender

chance of crossing Van Ness at that point.

Mayor Schmitz, who directed operations at that point, conferred with

the military authorities and decided that it was not necessary to

dynamite the buildings on the west side of Van Ness. As much of the

fire department as could be collected was assembled to make a stand at

that point.

To add to the horrors of the general situation and the general alarm

of many people who ascribed the cause of the subterranean trouble to

another convulsion of nature, explosions of sewer gas have ribboned

and ribbed many streets. A Vesuvius in miniature was created by such

an upheaval at Bryant and Eighth streets. Cobblestones were hurled

twenty feet upward and dirt vomited out of the ground. This situation

added to the calamity, as it was feared the sewer gas would breed

disease.

Thousands were roaming the streets famishing for food and water and

while supplies were coming in by the train loads the system of

distribution was not in complete working order.

Many thousands had not tasted food or water for two and three days.

They were on the verge of starvation.

The flames were checked north of Telegraph hill, the western boundary

being along Franklin street and California street southeast to Market

street. The firemen checked the advance of flames by dynamiting two

large residences and then backfiring. Many times before had the

firemen made such an effort, but always previously had they met

defeat.

But success at that hour meant little for San Francisco.

The flames still burned fitfully about the city, but the spread of

fire had been checked.

A three-story lodging house at Fifth and Minna streets collapsed and

over seventy-five dead bodies were taken out. There were at least

fifty other dead bodies exposed. This building was one of the first

to take fire on Fifth street. At least 100 people were lost in the

Cosmopolitan on Fourth street.

The only building standing between Mission, Howard, East and Stewart

streets was the San Pablo hotel. The shot tower at First and Howard

streets was gone. This landmark was built forty years ago. The Risdon

Iron works were partially destroyed. The Great Western Smelting and

Refining works escaped damages, also the Mutual Electric Light works,

with slight damage to the American Rubber Company, Vietagas Engine

Company, Folger Brothers' coffee and spice house was also uninjured

and the firm gave away large quantities of bread and milk.

Over 150 people were lost in the Brunswick hotel, Seventh and Mission

streets.

The soldiers who rendered such heroic aid took the cue from General

Funston. He had not slept. He was the real ruler of San Francisco. All

the military tents available were set up in the Presidio and the

troops were turned out of the barracks to bivouac on the ground.

In the shelter tents they placed first the sick, second the more

delicate of the women, and third, the nursing mothers, and in the

afternoon he ordered all the dead buried at once in a temporary

cemetery in the Presidio grounds. The recovered bodies were carted

about the city ahead of the flames.

Many lay in the city morgue until the fire reached that; then it was

Portsmouth square until it grew too hot; afterwards they were taken to

the Presidio. There was another stream of bodies which had lain in

Mechanics' pavilion at first, and had then been laid out in Columbia

square, in the heart of a district devastated first by the earthquake

and then by fire.

The condition of the bodies was becoming a great danger. Yet the

troops had no men to spare to dig graves, and the young and able

bodied men were mainly fighting on the fire line or utterly exhausted.

It was Funston who ordered that the old men and the weaklings should

take this work in hand. They did it willingly enough, but had they

refused the troops on guard would have forced them. It was ruled that

every man physically capable of handling a spade or a pick should dig

for an hour. When the first shallow graves were ready the men, under

the direction of the troops, lowered the bodies several in a grave,

and a strange burial began.

The women gathered about crying; many of them knelt while a Catholic

priest read the burial service and pronounced absolution. All the

afternoon this went on.

Representatives of the city authorities took the names of as many of

the dead as could be identified and the descriptions of the others.

Many, of course, will never be identified.

So confident were the authorities that they had the situation in

control at the end of the third day that Mayor Schmitz issued the

following proclamation:

"To the Citizens of San Francisco: The fire is now under

control and all danger is passed. The only fear is that

other fires may start should the people build fires in

their stoves and I therefore warn all citizens not to

build fires in their homes until the chimneys have been

inspected and repaired properly. All citizens are urged

to discountenance the building of fires. I congratulate

the citizens of San Francisco upon the fortitude they

have displayed and I urge upon them the necessity of

aiding the authorities in the work of relieving the

destitute and suffering. For the relief of those persons

who are encamped in the various sections of the city

everything possible is being done. In Golden Gate park,

where there are approximately 200,000 homeless persons,

relief stations have been established. The Spring Valley

Water Company has informed me that the Mission district

will be supplied with water this afternoon, between

10,000 and 12,000 gallons daily being available. Lake

Merced will be taken by the federal troops and that

supply protected.

"Eugene E. Schmitz, Mayor."

Although the third day of San Francisco's desolation dawned with

hope, it ended in despair.

In the early hours of the day the flames, which had raged for

thirty-six hours, seemed to be checked.

Then late in the afternoon a fierce gale of wind from the northwest

set in and by 7 o'clock the conflagration, with its energy restored,

was sweeping over fifty acres of the water front.

The darkness and the wind, which at times amounted to a gale, added

fresh terrors to the situation. The authorities considered conditions

so grave that it was decided to swear in immediately 1,000 special

policemen armed with rifles furnished by the federal government.

In addition to this force, companies of the national guard arrived

from many interior points.

In the forenoon, when it was believed the fire had been checked, the

full extent of the destitution and suffering of the people was seen

for the first time in near perspective. While the whole city was

burning there was no thought of food or shelter, death, injury,

privation, or loss. The dead were left unburied and the living were

left to find food and a place to sleep where they could.

On the morning of the third day, however, the indescribable

destitution and suffering were borne in upon the authorities with

crushing force. Dawn found a line of men, women, and children,

numbering thousands, awaiting morsels of food at the street bakeries.

The police and military were present in force, and each person was

allowed only one loaf.

A big bakery was started early in the morning in the outskirts of the

city, with the announcement that it would turn out 50,000 loaves of

bread before night. The news spread and thousands of hungry persons

crowded before its doors before the first deliveries were hot from the

oven. Here again police and soldiers kept order and permitted each

person to take only one loaf. The loaves were given out without cost.

These precautions were necessary, for earlier in the day bread had

sold as high as $1 a loaf and two loaves and a can of sardines brought

in one instance $3.50.

Mayor Schmitz took prompt and drastic steps to stop this extortion. By

his order all grocery and provision stores in the outlying districts

which had escaped the flames were entered by the police and their

goods confiscated.

Next to the need for food there was a cry for water, which until

Friday morning the authorities could not answer.

In spite of all efforts to relieve distress there was indescribable

suffering.

Women and children who had comfortable, happy homes a few days before

slept that night--if sleep came at all--on hay on the wharves, on the

sand lots near North beach, some of them under the little tents made

of sheeting, which poorly protected them from the chilling ocean

winds. The people in the parks were better provided in the matter of

shelter, for they left their homes better prepared.

Thousands of members of families were separated, ignorant of one

another's whereabouts and without means of ascertaining. The police on

Friday opened up a bureau of registration to bring relatives together.

=CRACKS CAUSED BY EARTHQUAKE.=

Front new Postoffice.]

=EMPORIUM BUILDING.=

Largest department store west of Chicago.]

[Illustration: =BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF SAN FRANCISCO.=

A general view of city looking west toward the Pacific Ocean, also

showing locations such as Nob Hill, business district, Market Street,

Golden Gate and the famous Cliff House.]

rights reserved. Any infractions of this copyright will be prosecuted

to the full extent of the law.

=HALL OF JUSTICE.=

As photographs are true to life, they also convey to the eye correct

views of this vast destruction.]

=LOOKING DOWN MARKET STREET.=

Call Building in the distance.]

=VIEW FROM CALIFORNIA STREET.=

The Call Building also shown in background.]

The work of burying the dead was begun Friday for the first time. Out

at the Presidio soldiers pressed into service all men who came near

and forced them to labor at burying the dead. So thick were the

corpses piled up that they were becoming a menace, and early in the

day the order was issued to bury them at any cost. The soldiers were

needed for other work, so, at the point of rifles, the citizens were

compelled to take the work of burying. Some objected at first, but the

troops stood no trifling, and every man who came in reach was forced

to work at least one hour. Rich men who had never done such work

labored by the side of the workingmen digging trenches in the sand for

the sepulcher of those who fell in the awful calamity. At the present

writing many still remain unburied and the soldiers are still

pressing men into service.

The Folsom street dock was turned into a temporary hospital, the

harbor hospital being unable to accommodate all the injured who were

brought there.

About 100 patients were stretched on the dock at one time. In the

evening tugs conveyed them to Goat Island, where they were lodged in

the hospital. The docks from Howard street to Folsom street had been

saved, and the fire at this point was not permitted to creep farther

east than Main street.

The work of clearing up the wrecked city has already begun at the

water front in the business section of the town. A force of 100 men

were employed under the direction of the street department clearing up

the debris and putting the streets in proper condition.

It was impossible to secure a vehicle except at extortionate prices.

One merchant engaged a teamster and horse and wagon, agreeing to pay

$50 an hour. Charges of $20 for carrying trunks a few blocks were

common. The police and military seized teams wherever they required

them, their wishes being enforced at revolver point if the owner

proved indisposed to comply with the demands.

Up and down the broad avenues of the parks the troops patrolled,

keeping order. This was difficult at times, for the second hysterical

stage had succeeded the paralysis of the first day and people were

doing strange things. A man, running half naked, tearing at his

clothes, and crying, "The end of all things has come!" was caught by

the soldiers and placed under arrest.

Under a tree on the broad lawn of the children's playground a baby was

born. By good luck there was a doctor there, and the women helped out,

so that the mother appeared to be safe. They carried her later to the

children's building in the park and did their best to make her

comfortable.

All night wagons mounted with barrels and guarded by soldiers drove

through the park doling out water. There was always a crush about

these wagons and but one drink was allowed to a person.

Separate supplies were sent to the sick in the tents. The troops

allowed no camp fires, fearing that the trees of the park might catch

and drive the people out of this refuge to the open and windswept

sands by the ocean.

The wind which had saved the heights came cold across the park,

driving a damp fog, and for those who had no blankets it was a

terrible night, for many of them were exhausted and must sleep, even

in the cold. They threw themselves down in the wet grass and fell

asleep.

When the morning came the people even prepared to make the camp

permanent. An ingenious man hung up before his little blanket shelter

a sign on a stick giving his name and address before the fire wiped

him out. This became a fashion, and it was taken to mean that the

space was preempted.

Toward midnight a black, staggering body of men began to weave through

the entrance. They were volunteer fire fighters, looking for a place

to throw themselves down and sleep. These men dropped out all along

the line and were rolled out of the driveways by the troops.

There was much splendid unselfishness there. Women gave up their

blankets and sat up or walked about all night to cover exhausted men

who had fought fire until there was no more fight in them.