Survivors pick through the still smouldering rubble of the San Francisco Earthquacke and Fire of 1906. |
When
the morning fog finally lifted over San Francisco
on April 19, 1906, the air hardly
cleared. A haze of smoke hung over the rubble
of the city. Men, women, and
children wandered the streets in shock.
Wagon and carriages of
all types carefully picked their way through
the debris carrying the wounded and
the dead still being pulled from the
ruins of the city. Here and there exhausted fire horses pulled their
engines to the hot spots still
erupting across the city. It was the day
after the most devastating earthquake ever
to hit a major American city and the
fire fueled by broken gas lines, knocked over stoves, and spilled kerosene lanterns that swept the city.
Unlike
the Great Chicago Fire thirty-five
years earlier which was covered in
the national press mostly with engraved illustrations and lithographs with a few photos of the destruction after, the San Francisco disaster was extensively photographed as it
occurred, and motion pictures were
soon being shown in nickelodeons across
the country within days. Paired with
numerous first-hand accounts in the
press, including the stories of
celebrities like Enrico Caruso and
literary luminaries like Jack London the San Francisco Earthquake and Fire instantly became a
part of American folklore.
Residents watch to spreading fires. The relatively undamaged from homes in this picture would soon be engulfed by the conflagration. |
Also,
even in 1906 San Francisco occupied a special place among American cities. Not only was it the premier West Coast port and gateway
to the Pacific and the Orient. The waterfront and its historic Barbary
Coast was famed for it’ Shanghaied
sailors, clip joints, whore houses,
and eventually the original vigilantes who
tried to clean it up. It was the
historic boom town of the great Gold Rush and its Nob Hill mansions became the homes of the millionaires created. Cheek to jowl
with fabulous wealth were the opium dens of China Town, and the ramshackle slums teeming with Italian and other immigrants. Yet it was also
celebrated as the Paris of the West,
aspiring to high culture in its opera houses, theatres, lecture halls,
and art galleries. It was the center of a blooming literary movement
as well.
Then,
of course, there was the scope of the devastation. Striking at 4:12 am on April 18, the
quake was estimated at a powerful 7.9 on Richter
Scale and its after shocks continued
for days. Tremors were along a more than
500 mile stretch of the San Andreas
Fault, but much of the effected area was rural. San Francisco and other
communities on San Francisco Bay suffered
the most. 80% of the buildings in the
city were effectively destroyed by the quake and subsequent fire and more than
3,000 people were killed, most of
them in the city with tens of thousands
wounded. It remains the deadliest earthquake in American
history and the deadliest natural
disaster in California history.
Clark Gable searches for Jeanette Mac Donald among the survivors in MGM's 1936 musical epic San Francisco. |
The
quake and fire inspired an instant spate
of ballads and songs continued to be
written about it for decades, including one by Woody Guthrie. It figures in
several novels and inspired the most
popular movie of 1936, MGM’s San Francisco staring Clark Gable, Jeanette McDonald, and Spencer
Tracy. It was famous both for its special effects of the quake and the
usually operatic McDonald belting
out the title song half a dozen
times, several of them in tights on Gable’s gambling house stage.
The poet: Eliza A. Pittsinger. |
Aside
from the magazine accounts of Jack London and other local writers, one of the
first cultural artifacts of the
Quake was a long memorial poem published
on the first anniversary of the calamity by a local poetess, Eliza A. Pittsinger then 74 years old. The lady was an example of a common figure of her day—the gentlewoman with literary aspirations. Such
poets could be found in every American town big enough to have a mansion on a hill. Many published volumes of verse, mostly paid for by themselves or their families. Ms. Pittsinger proudly boasted of her collection, The Soul Victorious. While some of these genteel dabblers had genuine
talent and a handful even earned deserved
literary reputations, Pittsinger was among those who were, at best, earnest. She wrote in what she imagined was elevated poetic
language in a style that was already
fifty years out of date. The result was predictably turgid.
We
share it today as an interesting
cultural artifact.
San Francisco in ruins--a panorama taken from a baloon over the bay, |
Poem
of The Earthquake
Written on its First Anniversary
Our
Recent Earthquake was the Chief
Despoiler and Ungainly Thief
That ever wrecked a city—
It was the Great Iconoclast
Whose deadly grip and fiery blast
Awoke the World to pity.
Despoiler and Ungainly Thief
That ever wrecked a city—
It was the Great Iconoclast
Whose deadly grip and fiery blast
Awoke the World to pity.
San
Francisco, drained the cup—
But she is bravely waking up;
In riding past the ruin
I hear the Builder’s Hammer ring,
And rosy hope is on the wing,
And even the sidewalks seem to sing
With many plans a brewing.
But she is bravely waking up;
In riding past the ruin
I hear the Builder’s Hammer ring,
And rosy hope is on the wing,
And even the sidewalks seem to sing
With many plans a brewing.
San
Francisco, stand thou up!
As thou hast drained the fiery cup
So shalt thou taste the glory!
Thou rollest up thy rugged sleeves,
And with a heart that seldom grieves
Thy people tell the story!
As thou hast drained the fiery cup
So shalt thou taste the glory!
Thou rollest up thy rugged sleeves,
And with a heart that seldom grieves
Thy people tell the story!
They
tell us of the raging fire,
The Earthquake and the funeral pyre,
With no hope for the morrow—
Of countless numbers that did fall
Beneath the black and grewsome pall,
With none to cheer their sorrow.
The Earthquake and the funeral pyre,
With no hope for the morrow—
Of countless numbers that did fall
Beneath the black and grewsome pall,
With none to cheer their sorrow.
But
God is good; He made them Homes
Amid the Temples and the Domes
Around His Heavenly Mansion,
O, He is good, He took them in,
He lifted them above the din
By His Divine Compassion.
Amid the Temples and the Domes
Around His Heavenly Mansion,
O, He is good, He took them in,
He lifted them above the din
By His Divine Compassion.
Thus
passed that hopeless April day.
That most intensely thrilling day,
That day of Death and Horror—
Thus passed the Earthquake and the Fire,
The pageant of the funeral pyre,
As they sped into the morrow.
It
was the darkest day of gloom,
It left the footprints of its doom
Upon the sands of sorrow;
Its dawning was the black eclipse
That brought the poison to our lips
That none of us could swallow.
It left the footprints of its doom
Upon the sands of sorrow;
Its dawning was the black eclipse
That brought the poison to our lips
That none of us could swallow.
It
was an agonizing scene,
No other like it yet hath been
Along the passing ages--a
It brough the old Pompeii down,
Awoke the World and made a crown
For new Historic pages.
No other like it yet hath been
Along the passing ages--a
It brough the old Pompeii down,
Awoke the World and made a crown
For new Historic pages.
It
was the drama of the World;
Our treasures were to ruin hurled
Despoiled of all their glory—
Like horses wild the fires lept
The people toiled and many wept
For those who 'mid the ruins slept,
But who shall tell the story?
Our treasures were to ruin hurled
Despoiled of all their glory—
Like horses wild the fires lept
The people toiled and many wept
For those who 'mid the ruins slept,
But who shall tell the story?
Down
came the buildings with a crash
And sudden as the lightning flash,
Or Tempest on the Ocean;
Down came the palaces and domes
Entangled with the people's homes
That were their chief devotion.
And sudden as the lightning flash,
Or Tempest on the Ocean;
Down came the palaces and domes
Entangled with the people's homes
That were their chief devotion.
Pianos,
tables, chairs and all
Sped forth to the destructive call
Of dynamite and powder;
And others followed close and fast
Along where the pianos passed
With crash growing loud and louder.
Sped forth to the destructive call
Of dynamite and powder;
And others followed close and fast
Along where the pianos passed
With crash growing loud and louder.
The
din and clamor thundered on,
It seemed that everything was gone
That made it worth living—
The dynamite had done its part,
It pierced our City’s tender heart
That was so kind in giving.
It seemed that everything was gone
That made it worth living—
The dynamite had done its part,
It pierced our City’s tender heart
That was so kind in giving.
The
old Pompeii’s fame is gone,
She’s nothing now to build upon,
Her Laurels are not blooming—
The monster ruin is our own,
And San Francisco on her Throne
Will set the land a booming.
She’s nothing now to build upon,
Her Laurels are not blooming—
The monster ruin is our own,
And San Francisco on her Throne
Will set the land a booming.
Whence
came it, and what was it for?
The thinkers thought it out by Law,
By Evolution and its law,
With others ‘twas a Warning—
O, did we need the Hand of God
To scourge us with His Chastening Rod
Upon that April morning?
The thinkers thought it out by Law,
By Evolution and its law,
With others ‘twas a Warning—
O, did we need the Hand of God
To scourge us with His Chastening Rod
Upon that April morning?
O,
Evolution, mighty power,
If thou shouldst come some other hour
We pray thee, hold thy horses!
If thou shouldst ever call again
We hope thy friendship to obtain
To balance up our losses!
If thou shouldst come some other hour
We pray thee, hold thy horses!
If thou shouldst ever call again
We hope thy friendship to obtain
To balance up our losses!
But
whether this or that is right,
We made a most stupendous fight
Against a Mighty Master;
Thousands of homes were soon destroyed,
And thousands of our men employed
To check the great Disaster.
We made a most stupendous fight
Against a Mighty Master;
Thousands of homes were soon destroyed,
And thousands of our men employed
To check the great Disaster.
They
toiled and did the best they could.
It brought them hope, it brought them good,
It brought them higher brotherhood,
And better plans persuing;
They took their burdens in their hands,
They bore them through the burning sands
The smothered hopes and fiery brands
Of Death, and Doom and Ruin.
It brought them hope, it brought them good,
It brought them higher brotherhood,
And better plans persuing;
They took their burdens in their hands,
They bore them through the burning sands
The smothered hopes and fiery brands
Of Death, and Doom and Ruin.
In
dynamite we found a cure—
Through desperate, ‘twas quick and sure
To bring the grand finale; (finally)
And when our Leaders learned the way,
And made the stubborn flames obey
They made a mighty rally.
Through desperate, ‘twas quick and sure
To bring the grand finale; (finally)
And when our Leaders learned the way,
And made the stubborn flames obey
They made a mighty rally.
And
here the vials filled with wrath
That had been poured upon our path
Were suddenly depleted;
The fires were broken in their force,
They blundered, took another course
By which they were defeated.
That had been poured upon our path
Were suddenly depleted;
The fires were broken in their force,
They blundered, took another course
By which they were defeated.
At
last a fatal charge had riven
The battle's front, its signal given,
Twas plain the strife was over—
I stood mid the broken glass,
I saw a tuft of withered grass
Beside some fresh grown clover.
The battle's front, its signal given,
Twas plain the strife was over—
I stood mid the broken glass,
I saw a tuft of withered grass
Beside some fresh grown clover.
“The
fires are out, O, give us a rest,”
At last rang through the Golden West,
Responses came still later—
Our Faithful Leaders raised their hands,
Their burnt and blistered, weary hands,
And thanked their Great Creator.
At last rang through the Golden West,
Responses came still later—
Our Faithful Leaders raised their hands,
Their burnt and blistered, weary hands,
And thanked their Great Creator.
A
ringing sound went up the hills,
And even now its memory thrills
My soul with deep devotion;
It was the sound of joy and peace,
And never may its music cease
So long as ‘tis our portion.
And even now its memory thrills
My soul with deep devotion;
It was the sound of joy and peace,
And never may its music cease
So long as ‘tis our portion.
We
leave the Subject now to Time,
To Fate and Fame and future Time
We leave our cups of sorrow.
We leave our ruin by the way,
And that which lies a wreck to-day
Shall bloom again tomorrow.
To Fate and Fame and future Time
We leave our cups of sorrow.
We leave our ruin by the way,
And that which lies a wreck to-day
Shall bloom again tomorrow.
Farewell
to Earthquake and to fire!
Farewell to black and grewsome pyre,
To Babel and its clamor!
Hail to our City built anew!
Hail to Her Loyal Sons, and True
That speed the Builder's Hammer
Farewell to black and grewsome pyre,
To Babel and its clamor!
Hail to our City built anew!
Hail to Her Loyal Sons, and True
That speed the Builder's Hammer
Farewell
to dangers lurking near!
A last good-bye to dread and fear,
Good-bye to tragic story!
All hail to Life when clamors cease!
Our souls shall than be crowned with Peace,
Our eyes behold its glory!
•
• • •
Amid
the homes now lost and gone
That fate has placed her hands upon
Mine own was saved; I prize it more
Than ever home had I before;
Tis situated on a hill
Where all is quiet, calm and still,
With charming scenes imblended—
It is not sumptous nor large,
But ‘tis my Castle and my Charge,
My port of safety in the storm,
And blessed heaven mid the calm,
WITH ALL ITS CHIMNEYS MENDED
That fate has placed her hands upon
Mine own was saved; I prize it more
Than ever home had I before;
Tis situated on a hill
Where all is quiet, calm and still,
With charming scenes imblended—
It is not sumptous nor large,
But ‘tis my Castle and my Charge,
My port of safety in the storm,
And blessed heaven mid the calm,
WITH ALL ITS CHIMNEYS MENDED
Author of
The
Soul Victorious
who resides at 57½ Prospect Ave., San Francisco
who resides at 57½ Prospect Ave., San Francisco
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