Just after 5 am on April 18, 1906, an earthquake measuring 8.3 on the Richter Scale ripped through sleeping San Francisco, toppling buildings, exploding gas mains, and trapping thousands of citizens beneath tons of stone, broken wood, and twisted metal. Herds of cattle stampeded madly through the streets. The air reverberated with the panicked screams of the doomed and dying.
And then came the fires: hellish, gas-fuelled conflagrations so hot that molten glass ran down gutters. A mother crushed the skull of her trapped son with a rock so he wouldn't burn alive. A couple defiantly went ahead with their wedding even as the flames closed in. Rats from boats that smuggled prostitute slaves into Chinatown began to spread bubonic plague through the city.
With water mains destroyed, firemen could only stand and watch for three terrifying days as the fires consumed the remains left by the earthquake. Adding to the terror were soldiers, some drunk, who shot, bayoneted, or hanged in the street at least five hundred suspected looters and other often innocent victims. As many as ten thousand people died in the catastrophe.
Dan Kurzman presents a terrifying, page-turning glimpse into the surreal world of San Francisco during the disaster, told through the impeccably researched stories of its survivors. From the city's demolished tenements and charred mansions to the merciless and little-known military dictatorship installed in the midst of the chaos, this book brings to life this unparalleled event and its lingering effects.