The Hawaiian star. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu]) 1893-1912, 1906-05-05
DESTRUCTION
IS COMPLETE
BY FRANK L. HOOGS.

SAN FRANCISCO, April 29.-"No
more dynamite! No more dynamite!"
a fireman ran shrieking up Ellis street
past the doomed Flood building, on the
morning of April 10, and as he ran
tears sprang from his smoke-sm'rched
eyes mo more dynamite. oh God!
moaned the crowd that stood listlessly
in the glare of the approaching flames.
mo more dynamite, and we are lost
&c. at 2 o'clock that morning, with
the explosive gone and with even The
sewers pumped dry, the stunned fire
fighters and the stupehed people sat
still to watch the remnant of their city
burn and San Francisco's fine build
ings furnished fuel to the hungry
flames.
There was no help.
Water gone, hope even a fiction-the
fair city of the hills was doomed to be
blotted from the sight of man. The
stricken people who wandered through
the streets in a pathetic helplessness
sat upon their scattered belongings in
the middle of cooling ruins seemed not
to know that they were no more to
see the city that was.
Modern times has never presented
such a sight. Ruins stark, naked,
yawning at fearful angles and pinnacled
into a thousand fearsome shapes, mark
the site of what was four-fifths of the
total area of the city. There is no
business quarter-it is gone. There
is no longer a hotel district, a theater
route, a place where nightlights beck
oned to pleasure-everythin every
thing gone.
But a portion of the residence district
remains and the jaws of the disaster
closed down with relentless determine
ton on the other domains of the city.
South of Market street to Bryant and
out to 21st street is blotted out and is
now a smouldering ruin. Into the
Western Addition and the Pacific Ave-
nue. heights three broad fingers of red
felt their way with a speed that told the
destruction of the greater portion Of
the palace sites of the city.
There is no longer a downtown dis
trict. Not bank stands. There are
no longer any exchanges, insurance Of
fees brokers' offices, real estate offices
all that once represented the financial
heart of the city and its industrial
strength.
Go UP Market street from the Ferry
building and nothing but the black
fingers of jagged ruins meet the view.
Visit what once was California, San
some and Montgomery streets and you
must ask soldier to direct you out of
the labyrinth of grim, blackened walls
Chinatown is not Union Square is a
Sahara desert. The Call building
stands proudly erect, lifting its whited
head above the ruins, like some leprous
thing and with all it's windows dead
staring eyes that look upon nothing but
a wilderness. The proud Flood build
ing is hollow shell. The st. Francis
hotel, one time place of luxury, is moth
ing but a box of stone and steel.
At eight o'clock on the night of April
18th the fire was supposed to have eat
en- itself out in the wholesale district
below Sansome street and the main
body of the flames was confined to the
district south of Market street, where
the oil works, the furniture factories
and the vast lumber yards gave fodder
into the mouth of the fire fiend. Yet
suddenly las if by perverse devilishness
a fierce wind from the west swept over
the crest of Mob Hill and was answered
by ledplnB lOuB ueS VI lldllleS IIOlll Jul
of the very heart of ruin.
BY $3.50 o'clock Montgomery street
had been jumped and the great Mer-
chants Exchange building on Califor-
MIA street famed out like the beacon
torch of falling star. From the dark
fringe of humanity, watching on the
crest of the California street hill there
sprang the noise of a sudden catching
of the breath-nOt sigh, not a groan,
just a sharp gasp betraying a stress
of despair near to the insanity point.
Nine o'clock and the great Crocker
building shot sparks and adder
tongues of fire to the high heavens.
Immediately the fire jumped Kearny
street, licking at the fat provender
that shaped itself for consuming.
Then began the mournful process
sion of Japanese and poor whites oc-
cupying the rookeries about Dupont
street and along Pine. Tugging at
heavy ropes they rasped trunks up the
steep pavements of California and Pine
to place of temporary safety. 1t was
a motley crew. Women, laden with
bundles and dragging reluctant child
rem by the hands. painting up the steep
slope with terror stamped in their
faces. Men with household furniture
heaped camelwise on their shoulders
trugged stolcally over the rough cob
NA-S6,N S>!:~S,~%-N So1s - - Z,