On the morning of April 18, 1906, at 5:13, in my residence, 1801 Van
Ness Avenue, I was awakened by a very severe shock of earthquake. The
shaking was so violent that it nearly threw me out of bed. It threw down
a large bookcase in my chamber, broke the glass front, and smashed two
chairs; another bookcase fell across the floor; the chandelier was so
violently shaken that I thought it would be broken into pieces. The
bric-a-brac was thrown from the mantel and tables, and strewed the floor
with broken china and glass. It is said to have lasted fifty-eight
seconds, but as nearly as I can estimate the violent part was only about
twelve seconds.
As soon as it was over I got up and went to the window, and saw the air
in the street filled with a white dust, which was caused by the falling
of masonry from St. Luke's Church on the diagonal corner from my room. I
waited for the dust to settle, and I then saw the damage which had been
done to Claus Spreckels's house and the church. The chimneys of the
Spreckels mansion were gone, the stone balustrade and carved work
wrecked. The roof and the points of the gables and ornamental stone work
of the church had fallen, covering the sidewalk and lying piled up
against the sides of the building to the depth of eight or ten feet.
About this time Rachel and Nora were knocking, at my door and inquiring
if I were alive.
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