THE NEW SAN FRANCISCO.
=A Modern City of Steel on the Ruins of the City that
Was--A Beautiful Vista of Boulevards, Parks and Open
Spaces Flanked by the Massive Structures of Commerce
and the Palaces of Wealth and Fashion.=
With superb courage and optimism that characterize the American
people, San Francisco lifted her head from the ashes, and, as Kipling
says, "turned her face home to the instant need of things."
Scorched and warped by days and nights of fire, the indomitable spirit
of the Golden Gate metropolis rose on pinions of hope, unsubdued and
unafraid.
Old San Francisco was an ash heap. From out the wreck and ruin there
should arise a new San Francisco that would at once be the pride of
the Pacific coast and the American nation and a proud monument to the
city that was.
Temporarily the commerce of the city was transferred to Oakland, with
its magnificent harbor across the bay, and at once a spirit of
friendly rivalry sprung up in the latter city. Oakland had been the
first haven of refuge for the fleeing thousands, but in the face of
the overwhelming disaster the sister city saw a grand opportunity to
enhance its own commercial importance.
But the spirit of San Francisco would brook no successful rivalry and
its leading men were united in a determination to rebuild a city
beautiful on the ashen site and to regain and re-establish its
commercial supremacy on the Pacific coast.
With the fire quenched, the hungry fed, some sort of shelter provided,
the next step was to prepare for the resumption of business and the
reconstruction of the city. Within ten days from the first outbreak
of flames the soldiers had begun to impress the passer-by into the
service of throwing bricks and other debris out of the street in order
to remove the stuff from the path of travel.
Some important personages were unceremoniously put to work by the
unbiased guards, among them being Secretary of State Charles Curry of
Sacramento.
The people of San Francisco turned their eyes to a new and greater
city. Visitors were overwhelmed with terror of the shaking of the
earth, they quailed at the thought of the fire. But the men who
crossed the arid plains, who went thirsty and hungry and braved the
Indian and faced hardships unflinchingly in their quest for gold over
two-thirds of a century ago had left behind them descendants who were
not cowards. Smoke was still rising from the debris of one building
while the owner was planning the erection of another and still better
one.
The disaster had made common cause, and the laboring man who before
was seeking to gouge from his employer and the employer who was
scheming to turn the tables on his employes felt the need of
co-operation and cast aside their differences, and worked for the
common cause, a new and a greater San Francisco.
Fire could not stop them, nor the earthquake daunt. They talked of
beautiful boulevards, of lofty and solid steel and concrete buildings
and of the sweeping away of the slums. They talked of many things and
they were enthusiastic. They said that the old Chinatown would be
driven away to Hunter's Point in the southeastern portion of the city
near the slaughter-houses. They said the business district should be
given a chance to go over there where it belonged, by right of
commanding and convenient position. They talked of magnificent palaces
to take the place of those that had fallen before the earthquake, fire
and dynamite. Courage conquers. We are proud of the American spirit
which arises above all difficulties.
But there are some things which could not be replaced. There could
not be another Chinatown like the old one, with all its quaint nooks
and alleys. All this was gone and a new Chinatown must seem like a
sham. There were no more quaint buildings in the Latin quarter, with
their old world atmosphere.
Coppas place, center of real bohemia, where artists for many years
congregated and adorned the walls with pictures, still remained. But
it was lonesome; all its fellows were gone; it was surrounded by
ruins. Not an old place remained with a story or with a sentimental
charm. San Francisco went to work with a will to rebuild, ships
continued to enter its magnificent harbor, and lived down earthquake
and fire to again become a great, prosperous, magnificent city.
But the sentiment of its Latin Quarter was gone, for outside of the
Coppas place, there was nothing left of the old and loved San
Francisco except the gable tiled roof of Mission Dolores, its plain
wooden cross surmounting it, and its sweet-toned chimes long stilled.
Their voices should ring out anew at intervals to remind all who may
hear them that San Francisco has a storied past and a bright future, a
future glorious as the brilliant sunsets that come streaming so
magnificently through the Golden Gate.
It should be borne in mind that San Francisco was not destroyed by the
earthquake. While old buildings in that part of the city which stood
on "made" ground east of Montgomery street and some of that district
lying south of Market it is true suffered from the shock, it was fire
that wrought the great devastation and wiped out the entire business
section and more than half of the residence section of the city.
The great modern steel structures were practically uninjured by the
earthquake, except for cracked walls and displaced plaster. All those
great structures, of course, subsequently were utterly ruined by the
flames as far as the interior construction was concerned, but the
walls were in most cases intact. The most notable cases of practical
immunity from the shock were the St. Francis Hotel, the Fairmont
Hotel, the Flood buildings, the Mills building, the Spreckels
buildings, the Chronicle building and scores of other modern steel
structures.
The branch of the United States mint on Fifth street and the new
postoffice at Seventh and Mission streets were striking examples of
the superiority of the workmanship put into federal buildings. The old
mint building, surrounded by a wide space of pavement, was absolutely
unharmed. Not even the few palm trees which stand on either side of
its broad entrance were withered by the flames that devoured
everything around it.
The new postoffice building also was virtually undamaged by fire. The
earthquake shock did some damage to the different entrances to the
building; the walls were uninjured. Every window pane, of course, was
gone, as they were in almost every building in town, but the
government was able to resume postal business immediately.
The Fairmont Hotel, while seriously damaged in the interior, was left
intact as to the walls and the management offered space in the
building to the various relief committees who desired to house the
homeless or to store supplies in those parts of the building
considered safe.
One question that confronted the rebuilders was whether the city's
level had sunk as a result of the earthquake.
Parties sent out by City Engineer Thomas P. Woodward for the purpose
of ascertaining whether or not the city, as a whole, had sunk,
reported that there was no general depression, though there were many
spaces where there were bad depressions. The most notable depressions
were on Valencia, from Nineteenth to Twentieth; lower Market, Howard
and Seventeenth and Eighteenth; Van Ness, from Vallejo to Green, and
on Folsom in the region of Seventeenth street.
[Illustration: Copyright 1906 by Tom M. Phillips.
=SEEKING LOST FRIENDS.=
San Francisco Call Register Bureau. Looking for names on cards.]
[Illustration: Copyright 1906 by Tom M. Phillips.
=VAN NESS AVENUE RESIDENCE.=
All that was left of a fine residence.]
[Illustration: =TENTING IN THE SQUARE.=]
[Illustration: =ALAMEDA PARK.=]
The southeast corner of the new postoffice building extended over an
old swamp, and here there was a depression of fully four feet. The
sinking was confined almost entirely to the lower parts of the
city, and particularly to "made" ground. Mr. Woodward gave it as his
opinion that there was no general depression of the city whatever.
City Engineer Woodward was one of those who devised a general scheme
for rebuilding the city, by which the new San Francisco was to be a
city of magnificent buildings, terraces, boulevards, green parks and
playgrounds and gardens.
One prominent feature of Mr. Woodward's comprehensive scheme was the
widening of Van Ness avenue into a magnificent boulevard. To this end
he proposed the acquisition by the city through condemnation
proceedings of all that choice residence property the full length of
Van Ness avenue.
Under his plan there would be no narrow and clogging streets in those
sections of the city laid bare by the fire. Streets in the heart of
the business district which were proved entirely inadequate for the
rush and confusion of a big metropolis were to be widened by slicing
from the private holdings on either side, again through process of the
courts.
Market street was to be left as it was. So with Third and other
streets that were repaired by the city authorities just before the
earthquake, but streets in the commission and wholesale sections were
to be radically altered, both in width and course.
The big construction companies of New York took a great interest in
the San Francisco disaster, especially as far as the damages to
building was concerned.
One of the largest construction companies in the world started an
engineer for San Francisco at once.
Great satisfaction was expressed by the architects of the San
Francisco Chronicle building that the structure had withstood the
shocks in good shape and was practically uninjured until assailed on
all sides by flames. The Chronicle building was of steel framework,
with the outer walls partially anchored to the frame.
George Simpson, the chief engineer of the company that built the
Chronicle building, was of the opinion that the big modern buildings
of Chicago and New York would withstand such earthquake shocks as
those felt in San Francisco.
"The east, and especially New York city," said Mr. Simpson, "is far
ahead of the west in the matter of thorough building construction. In
the case of our modern buildings the steel framework sits on a bed of
concrete that has been built on top of solid rock foundation.
"Now, it will be observed that all of the steel frame buildings in San
Francisco withstood the shocks and the only damage done to them
outside of fire was the falling out of part of the walls. In these
cases the outer walls were merely built on the steel work. With our
big buildings the walls are anchored to the steel framework. That is,
each big piece of stone has imbedded in it a steel bar from which
another arm of the same material runs in at right angles and is
riveted or bolted to the framework.
"That is what I meant by anchored walls and in the event of an
earthquake it would take a terrific shock to loosen these walls. Were
it possible to erect an entire steel building resting on a solid
foundation there would be no fear from earthquakes. In the Philippines
they are now building some churches of steel framework with a sheet
iron covering. This is done in anticipation of earthquake shocks."
The rebuilding of Baltimore required 30,100 tons of structural steel.
To rebuild San Francisco on the same basis the estimate was 60,000
tons amounting with freight to $6,000,000.
As compared with the loss of $200,000,000 this was an insignificant
amount.
Among those who submitted a comprehensive scheme for a new San
Francisco was Daniel Hudson Burnham, the noted architect of Chicago,
who designed most of the features of Chicago's World's Columbian
Exposition and from whose conceptions the Court of Honor at that
exhibition was built, and those who visited the White City in 1893
will never forget the picturesque grandeur of that enchanted region.
Mr. Burnham believed in a new and ideal San Francisco and would see it
take its place as the American Paris in the arrangement of its streets
and the American Naples in the beauty of its bay and skies. The plans
for the ideal San Francisco were his, and hardly had his report been
printed than the columns of the old city went down to ruin and fire
swept out of existence the landmarks by the gate of gold.
It is now the question, How far will the new San Francisco realize the
dreams of those who have had before them for so many years the image
of a metropolis of the Pacific with broad boulevards and great
parkways and wooded heights--a city of sunken gardens, of airy
bridges, of stately gardens and broad expanses?
Daniel H. Burnham had back of him a long record of achievements which
earned for him his title of city builder.
He built the Rookery building and the Masonic Temple in Chicago, and
then was called to various cities where he supervised the erection of
imposing piles which have become landmarks. It was while studying the
relations of these large buildings to their surroundings that he
became interested in his still greater work, which had to do with
squares and blocks and parkways.
Upon the invitation of the Association for the Improvement and
Adornment of San Francisco Mr. Burnham went to the Golden Gate, where
he devoted months to the plans for a new city. A bungalow was built on
the Twins Peaks seven hundred feet above the level of the streets,
from which Mr. Burnham and his staff of assistants could command a
view of the city and the bay. The material which they sought to make
into the perfect city was before them day and night. They saw San
Francisco by sunlight, in fog, in storm or in the blaze of a myriad
lights. As the work progressed the San Franciscans who were interested
in the scheme often climbed to the bungalow to watch the progress of
the work.
The scheme prepared by Mr. Burnham provided first for a civic centre
where all the principal city buildings were to be located and also the
new union railroad station. About this was to be a broad circular
boulevard, a perimeter of distribution, and beyond this a series of
broader boulevards or parkways connecting the hills, which were to be
converted into parks themselves.
About this was to have been the circling boulevard following the shore
line of the peninsula. The scheme included also the extension of the
avenue leading to the Golden Gate Park, known as the Panhandle, the
building of a Greek amphitheater on the Twin Peaks, with a statue of
San Francisco greeting the countries of the Orient. The plan also
provided for a new parade ground at the Presidio and the building of
numerous parks and playgrounds throughout the city. All this was to
have cost millions, but to a man of the largeness of the City Builder
this was a detail which was to be reckoned with year by year.
Now that buildings which were to have been acquired by the city to
make room for the pathways of the ideal San Francisco are in ashes and
twisted beams it may be that the vision of Daniel H. Burnham may soon
be realized.
"It is an unfortunate thing," he said, "that our American cities are
not first laid out in accordance with some definite idea. As a matter
of fact, however, they simply grow up and later have to be changed in
order to give them symmetry. In Europe the whole idea is different.
The government has more control over such affairs than it has in this
country, and it prescribes just what the height of the buildings shall
be. The result is a skyline which is imposing. In this country each
man builds for himself."
Pending the action of the authorities on the plans for the San
Francisco Beautiful Mr. Burnham had little to say about the
rebuilding. The boulevards connecting the hills were to have been made
by taking out blocks of houses, most of which were in poorer sections
of the city. This would give a passageway more than two hundred feet
wide. The buildings which would have been condemned have been
destroyed, and it then became a question as to whether the authorities
of the city would be able to make the change contemplated.
Mr. Burnham's plan for the New San Francisco left Chinatown out of the
reckoning, as there was talk of private capital arranging for the
transfer of the quarter to another part of the city. It was the
opinion of Mr. Burnham that Chinatown, as occupying a valuable section
of San Francisco, would eventually have to go.
"Twin Peaks," runs the report made by Mr. Burnham, "and the property
lying around them, should be acquired for park purposes by the city.
The idea was to weave park and residence districts into interesting
and economic relations, and also to preserve from the encroachments of
building the hill bordered valley running to Lake Merced, so that the
vista from the parks to the ocean should be unbroken. It is planned to
preserve the beautiful canyon or glen to the south of Twin Peaks and
also to maintain as far as possible the wooded background formed by
the hills looking south from Golden Gate. This park area of the Twin
Peaks, which includes the hills which surround the San Miguel Valley
and is terminated by Lake Merced, is a link in the chain of parks
girdling the city.
"To the north of Twin Peaks lies a natural hollow. Here it was
proposed to create an amphitheatre or stadium of vast proportions. The
gentler slopes of the Twin Peaks were to be used as villa properties.
The plans for Twin Peaks also included a collective centre or academy,
which is to be arranged for the accommodation of men in various
branches of intellectual or artistic pursuits. A little open air
theatre, after the Greek model, would form a part of this scheme."
Even Telegraph Hill was to have its precipitate sides terraced and was
to be transformed into a park, according to the design of Mr. Burnham.
To carry out all the plans of the architect would be a large task just
now, but the citizens of the new San Francisco expect that the broad
general lines will be laid down and then in the course of time the
rest will be added.
Unexampled as was the loss of property in San Francisco the disaster
in that respect alone was converted into a permanent benefit.
No other city with the exception of Chicago ever had such a grand
opportunity of rebuilding upon a basis of permanency and beauty.
Instead of shrinking, real estate values rose rapidly and continued to
rise. Fancy figures were quoted on sites suitable for business
establishments. Structures that remained comparatively intact not far
from the old business section were leased at extremely high rates.
Instead of dooming San Francisco the double attack of fire and quake
proved a blessing. Unaccountable as it may be to many people in the
eastern states, the denizens of that part of the country had no
especial fears of a recurrence of the catastrophe. They argued that
seismic disturbances of such intensity come once in fifty or one
hundred years.
"Next time we will be prepared," was the regulation comment. The faith
of those people, their courage and their enduring hope obliterated all
doubt and crushed timidity. The watchword from the day of the disaster
was "rebuild." And generally there was added the injunction, "and make
it earthquake proof."