The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1906-04-25
STORY OF EYE WITNESS
A Newspaper Woman's Thrill
ling Experience.


of Panic In the ouaking Inferno.
Looks Back on Doomed City.
Some idea of the thrilling expert
ences of the great city's inhabitants on
the fateful morning when the earth
quake sounded the prelude to the
frightful catastrophe may be obtained
from the graphic pen picture of Helen
Dare, a newspaper woman, who es-
capped from the city on the 10th, part
of which follows:
Like thousands of others, was
awakened out of peaceful sleep into
paralysis of fear by the violent and
continued rocking of bed, of floor, of
walls, of furniture, by the sounds of
crashing chimneys, falling ornaments
and pictures, breaking glass and the
startled screams of women and chill
dren.
The floor rocked like a boat on
choppy sea, the violence of the motion
increased and seemed ever and again
to take fresh start. 1t seemed as if
1t would never end, and yet it lasted
but two minutes. My young son came
running from his room, and, clasped
in each others arms, we stood in the
doorway of my room, waiting, waiting.
With relaxing quiver, like the pass
ing of sigh, the heaving earth and bill
lowing floor sunk into repose.
We dressed, and through the disar-
ranged furniture, over the broken
glass and fragments of ornaments we
made out way out. The streets were
full OF persons in every stage of un-
dress and excitement, one young moth
er in her night dress clasping her s.
months-old baby in her arms and try
ing to warm it by wrapping her thin
lawn garment around it.
A few blocks from Mayor Schmitz
home and block from Mrs. Eleanor
Martins, the house where | have been
stopping, is the western addition
where, owing to the hills of rock for
nation, the damage was least.
The swarming persons climbed the
hills, their first fear being that a tidal
wave would follow and all eyes were
on the bay, shining in the morning
light, but not even the sea wall of the
land that the Fair estate is reclalming
from the ocean was hidden by water.
| set out at once to see what damage
had been done, finding it more appall-
ing with every block | walked. My
way led along Pacific and Van Ness
avenues, through the district of splen-
did homes of wealth and fashion, and
not one of the long lines of imposing
houses but had suffered severely.
The home of John D. Spreckels at
Pacific avenue and La Guiana street is
one of the finest and proudest in the
city, and on it the parapet had cracked
and crumbled and fallen like so much
spun sugar out of a wedding cake.
Blocks of cement had fallen from the
entrance ceiling, and at one of the up.
per windows wan, white face peered
from the rich lace curtains at Rudolph
Spreckels' handsome house at Cough
and Pacific avenues. The lawn was
riyen from end to end in great gashes.
the ornamental Italian rail leading to
the imposing entrance was a battered
heap.
Rudolph Spreckels, his wife, his lit.
tie son, his mother-in-law and sisters.
in-law and maid servants had set up
their household on the sidewalks. The
women were wrapped in rugs and GOV.
erlets and huddled in easy chairs hasti-
ly rolled out.
They were having their morning tea
on the sidewalk and the silver service
was spread on the stone coping. At
house after house of the wealthy and
fashionable this scene was repeated.
1t is only when | get as far as the
top of Leavenworth street and look
down into the city's heart that | can
get glimmering of what an awful
thing an earthquake is to a city. Great
clouds of smoke rise dull and dark on
every side and red angry flames shoot
long tongues through them.
hear the roar and cracking of fire
unrestrained, and with every blow |
feel the heat on my cheeks and the
cinders and ashes sitting down upon
me. When ! come to Powell street I
see the St. Francis hotel still standing
and the cinders and brands pouring
upon its roof. Remember this is only
Z o'clock. In Union square the grass
IS covered, every inch of 1t, with
frightened, huddled people who have
sought the open.
The poor south of Market street. thus
suddenly thrown out, are i'm exodus
toward Telegraph hill, dragging and
trundling such household goods as
they have managed to save. Here are
boys and thin, nat chested woman
trundling a sewing machine along. A
drawer of 1t falls out, and they halt to
gather up the precious scattered
spools. Poor little seamstress. this is
her all now.
Here is a wagon filled with bedding
and cooking utensils, a crying woman
and baby on the seat, a birdcage
dangling at the. tail and two men TAX
ing the part of horses. Then a crazy
nighthawk hack, white faced wo-
man dragged from her sickbed in II,
fainting in the arms of another wo.
man.
Every few seconds there is boom.