Edith Weatherred's story of the
San Francisco Earthquake and Fire of April 18, 1906 (edited)

It was on the morning of April 18th, 1906. The sun was just peeping from behind the hills and casting a beautiful mantle of crimson o'er the Queen of the Pacific Slope. A few had begun to stir and prepare for their daily duties, the majority were sleeping peacefully, when suddenly the earth began to tremble. Mighty structures were shaken from their foundations, burying the poor unfortunates beneath tons of wood, iron and bricks. Buildings which stood the test were writhing, shrieking and twisting, mingled with the sound of falling brick and plaster. Windows were broken, and the terror-stricken mass of humanity realized they were in the billows of an earthquake, being tossed like a ship in a heavy sea.

"Will it ever cease?" we cried frantically, while endeavoring to force open the door of our room at the Palace Hotel, while being covered with falling plaster, and the heavy furniture tumbling like toys about the room. The mad rush of tramping feet through the halls, lights flashing, people calling... all added to the confusion. Many doors would not open. God alone knows our awful agony while thus imprisoned and expecting the collapse of the building or to be consumed by fire. With strength almost beyond human, we forced open the door, and with hundreds flew down the five flights of stairs over plaster and broken glass.

Huddled in the lobby were seven hundred white faces, pitifully beseeching one another for one spark of hope that the elements of nature would not again repeat itself. To go into the streets meant danger from falling debris; to remain inside was taking changes of being buried beneath a shattered building.

In this awful moment the cry of fire rang from many throats. Rushing to the streets, we saw flames from more than a dozen fires enveloping whole blocks. Fire bells were ringing and horses madly rushing on to the fast approaching flames, only to find water mains disabled. Hydrants had been twisted out of shape, and the water supply entirely cut off. Through the dense smoke came the message, "God save us! The city is doomed."

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