[The following is in regards to the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake. It is an excerpt of a memoir written by Jack London. At this point in the memoir, he is detailing the horrific and widespread fires which had occurred in the aftermath of the quake, which lasted for several days. Altogether, about 3,000 people died and approximately 80% of the city was destroyed.]
I went inside with the owner of the house on the steps of which I sat. He was cool and cheerful and hospitable. “Yesterday morning,” he said, “I was worth six hundred thousand dollars. This morning this house is all I have left. It will go in fifteen minutes.” He pointed to a large cabinet. “That is my wife’s collection of china. This rug upon which we stand is a present. It cost fifteen hundred dollars. Try that piano. Listen to its tone. There are few like it. There are no horses. The flames will be here in fifteen minutes.”
Outside, the old Mark Hopkins residence, a palace, was just catching fire. The troops were falling back and driving refugees before them. From every side came the roaring of flames, the crashing of walls, and the detonations of dynamite.
I passed out of the house. Day was trying to dawn through the smoke pall. A sickly light was creeping over the face of things. Once only the sun broke through the smoke pall, blood-red, and showing a quarter its usual size. The smoke pall itself, viewed from beneath, was a rose color that pulsed and fluttered with lavender shades. Then it turned to mauve and yellow and dun.
There was no sun. And so dawned the second day on stricken San Francisco.
Source:
Stephens, John Richard. “Firsthand Accounts by Famous People.” Weird History 101: Tales of Intrigue, Mayhem, and Outrageous Behavior. New York: Barnes & Noble, 2006. 109-10. Print.
Further Reading:
No comments, yet...