the old men and the weaklings should take the work
in hand. They did it willingly enough, but had
they refused the troops on guard would have forced
them. It was ruled that every man physically
capable of handling a spade or a pick should dig for
an hour. When the first shallow graves were ready
the men, under the direction of the troops, lowered
the bodies, several in a grave, and a strange burial
began. The women gathered about crying. Many
of them knelt while a Catholic priest read the burial
service and pronounced absolution. All Thursday
afternoon this went on.
In this connection the following stories are told:
Dr. George V. Schramm, a young medical graduate, said:
“As I was passing down Market Street with a
new-found friend, an automobile came rushing along
with two soldiers in it. My doctor’s badge
protected me, but the soldiers invited my companion,
a husky six-footer, to get into the automobile.
He said:
“‘I don’t want to ride, and have
plenty of business to attend to.’
“Once more they invited him, and he refused.
One of the soldiers pointed a gun at him and said:
“’We need such men as you to save women
and children and to help fight the fire.’
“The man was on his way to find his sister,
but he yielded to the inevitable. He worked all
day with the soldiers, and when released to get lunch
he felt that he could conscientiously desert to go
and find his own loved ones.”
“Half a block down the street the soldiers were
stopping all pedestrians without the official pass
which showed that they were on relief business, and
putting them to work heaving bricks off the pavement.
Two dapper men with canes, the only clean people I
saw, were caught at the corner by a sergeant, who
showed great joy as he said:
“’I give you time to git off those kid
gloves, and then hustle, damn you, hustle!’
The soldiers took delight in picking out the best dressed
men and keeping them at the brick piles for long terms.
I passed them in the shelter of a provision wagon,
afraid that even my pass would not save me. Two
men are reported shot because they refused to turn
in and help.”
Many of the dead, of course, will never be identified,
though the names were taken of all who were known
and descriptions written of the others. A story
comes to us of one young girl who had followed for
two days the body of her father, her only relative.
It had been taken from a house on Mission Street to
an undertaker’s shop just after the quake.
The fire drove her out with her charge, and it was
placed in Mechanics’ Pavilion. That went,
and the body rested for a day at the Presidio, waiting
burial. With many others, she wept on the border
of the burned area, while the women cared for her.
On Friday eleven postal clerks, all alive, were taken
from the debris of the Post Office. All at first
were thought to be dead, but it was found that, although
they were buried under the stone and timber, every
one was alive. They had been for three days without
food or water.
