‘From the window, I see buildings shaking.’
By Tom Range, Sr.

It was 5:12 a.m. on April 18, 1906.  Enrico Caruso, the world famous opera tenor, having performed in “Carmen” at the Grand Opera House of San Francisco the evening before, was jolted from sleep at the Palace Hotel.  San Francisco, with a population of approximately 410,000 was virtually destroyed by an earthquake and resulting fire that killed over 3,000, injured 225,000 and left more than 250,000 homeless.

Enrico Caruso

The earthquake and its aftershocks had originated in the San Andreas Fault, a deep fissure in the earth’s crust that extends some 600 miles.  Eyewitnesses on the street remarked that fissures appeared as streets rose and fell and rose again in a rolling motion, the undulations making it seem as if the earth itself was “breathing.”  Caruso remembered, “Everything in the room was going round and round.  The chandelier was trying to touch the ceiling, and the chairs were all chasing each other.  Crash-crash-crash!  It was a terrible scene.”

The ensuing fires, estimated to number as many as 60 independent blazes throughout the city, had many causes including broken chimneys, overturned stoves, crossed electrical wires and shattered gas mains.  The fire hydrants were rendered useless due to ruptured water mains.  There were more than 300 water main breaks within city limits.  Communications, with heavy reliance on telegraph and telephone, were disrupted as the poles supporting the transmission lines were splintered like twigs.  Police and fire vehicles were immobilized by debris from fallen buildings choking the streets.

The San Francisco Bay area was home to several military bases, including the historic Presidio and Mare Island.  Brigadier General Frederick Funston was on hand when the tremblers struck and found himself as ranking officer in command.  Acting on his own initiative since communications with higher authorities no longer existed, Funston ordered all troops under his command to report to the city’s police chief to restore order, protect private property and assist refugees.  Since the fire department had few means to combat the blazes, Funston, with the concurrence of city officials, set up firebreaks by destroying buildings in the path of the spreading blazes. 

The Palace Hotel, from which guests including Caruso were successfully evacuated, survived the tremors but was gutted by the great fire.  The local naval force, under the command of Lieutenant Frederick Newtown Freeman, positioned a destroyer and two tugboats along the waterfront.  The ships’ pumps supplied seawater to the fire apparatus lining the shore that saved buildings not only on the waterfront but, by a series of connected hoses, deep within the city as well.  Van Ness Avenue, a wide thoroughfare, served as a man-made firebreak with only a few burning cinders crossing the road to ignite buildings on the other side.  By Saturday April 21, the fire had eventually burned itself out.  Not long after, a drenching rain fell, too late to fight the fire but welcome nevertheless.

No fewer than 514 city blocks, four square miles, had been destroyed by fire.  An estimated 28,000 buildings had been consumed in the conflagration and property damage losses ranged up to $400 million in 1906 dollars.  The hardest hit neighborhoods were those constructed on “made” ground, land literally manufactured by filling the bay with sand, garbage, rotting trees and other detritus.  Scores of abandoned wooden ships had been scuttled and lie beneath this section.  While unstable even under normal conditions, this “made” ground sunk into the ruptured earth, taking with it buildings and their inhabitants deep into the crevasses. 

The closest resemblance to a “ground zero” in 1906 was Lotta’s Fountain at the intersection of Kearny and Market Streets, still one of the busiest corners in the city.  Here, after the fires had cooled, bulletin boards were erected for people to put up notes asking about loved ones or looking for work.  As in every year after the disaster, Lotta’s Fountain is still the gathering place for the anniversary of the earthquake.

As the efforts to rebuild the city continued, the prime consideration was the sheltering of the homeless.  Temporary accommodations were set up in tent cities in the Presidio and in Golden Gate Park.  As winter approached, more than 5,000 “earthquake cottages,” small two and three-room houses, were constructed of pine floors, redwood walls and cedar roofs.  A cottage rented for two dollars a month and the money was applied to the purchase of the building if the new owner later moved it to a private lot.

The city’s Chinese population was as hard hit as the other residents in the devastated area.  A local businessman named Look Tin Eli led the rebirth of the Chinese culture.  Eli was ABC, that is, “American Born Chinese,” and he hired architects to make his rebuilt store more exotic and “Asian” looking.  The idea caught on, and pagoda roofs and other Chinese motifs helped make the restored Chinatown a major tourist attraction.

A better San Francisco emerged from the ruins.  By 1915 the city hosted the Panama Pacific International Exhibition.  Its modern buildings have been constructed to withstand all but the most severe of earthquakes.  On October 17, 1989 the largest earthquake since 1906 rocked San Francisco.  Bridges broke, freeways collapsed but both fatalities and structure damage was minimal.

Panoramic view of business district