“I asked a man standing by me what had happened.
Before he could answer a thousand bricks fell on him
and he was killed. A woman threw her arms around
my neck. I pushed her away and fled. All
around me buildings were rocking and flames shooting.
As I ran people on all sides were crying, praying
and calling for help. I thought the end of the
world had come.
“I met a Catholic priest, and he said:
‘We must get to the ferry.’ He knew
the way, and we rushed down Market Street. Men,
women and children were crawling from the debris.
Hundreds were rushing down the street, and every minute
people were felled by falling debris.
“At places the streets had cracked and opened.
Chasms extended in all directions. I saw a drove
of cattle, wild with fright, rushing up Market Street.
I crouched beside a swaying building. As they
came nearer they disappeared, seeming to drop into
the earth. When the last had gone I went nearer
and found they had indeed been precipitated into the
earth, a wide fissure having swallowed them.
I worked my way around them and ran out to the ferry.
I was crazy with fear and the horrible sights.
“How I reached the ferry I cannot say.
It was bedlam, pandemonium and hell rolled into one.
There must have been 10,000 people trying to get on
that boat. Men and women fought like wild cats
to push their way aboard. Clothes were torn from
the backs of men and women and children indiscriminately.
Women fainted, and there was no water at hand with
which to revive them. Men lost their reason at
those awful moments. One big, strong man, beat
his head against one of the iron pillars on the dock,
and cried out in a loud voice: ’This fire
must be put out! The city must be saved!’
It was awful.”
“When the gates were opened the mad rush began.
All were swept aboard in an irresistible tide.
We were jammed on the deck like sardines in a box.
No one cared. At last the boat pulled out.
Men and women were still jumping for it, only to fall
into the water and probably drown.”
The members of the Metropolitan Opera Company, of
New York, were in San Francisco at this time, and
nearly all of these famous singers, known all over
the world, suffered from the great disaster.
All of the splendid scenery, stage fittings, costumes
and musical instruments were lost in the fire, which
destroyed the Grand Opera House, where the season
had just opened to splendid audiences.
Many of the operatic stars have given very interesting
accounts of their experiences. Signor Caruso,
the famous tenor and one of the principals of the
company, had one of the most thrilling experiences.
He and Signor Rossi, a favorite basso, and his inseparable
companion, had a suite on the seventh floor and were
awakened by the terrific shaking of the building.
The shock nearly threw Caruso out of bed. He said:
