The '06 quake was the worst natural disaster in U.S. history, until hurricane Katrina. 580 city blocks were flattened. 28,000 buildings were destroyed. 250,000 people — half the population — were left homeless. Over 3000 died. Fires ignited almost immediately throughout the city as stoves overturned and gas mains exploded. 52 separate fires were raging within the first half hour. By afternoon, the city was an inferno. It burned for three days.
By September, tens of thousands were still living in tents when government-funded cottages were built to house the refugees as the rainy season approached. 6000 cottages were built — a handful of which still survive — and families could rent them for $2 to $6 a month, depending on the size. They were one-room cottages with no kitchens or bathrooms, but they were a welcome refuge to the homeless. The cottages were built so that they could ultimately be carted away. As the city rebuilt, city hall offered to sell the cottages for $100 each to families willing to cart them away. And they did ... to areas of the city that had not been completely ruined in the quake. New neighborhoods built up around these cottages, many of which were cobbled together to make larger homes.
But among the countless descriptions of tragedy carried in newspapers every day in April 1906, a unique human phenomenon was also being reported. Despite the extremely difficult circumstances surrounding them, couples were getting married, and they were doing it in record numbers. Headlines as diverse as these appeared in local newspapers: Disaster As Aid To Cupid; Cupid Is Busy Across The Bay; Calamity No Bar to Wedding; Fire and Quake Hinder Not Love; and Romance of the Flames. Many engaged couples decided, apparently, that life was too short to wait, and married right away. Other couples bonded over grief and loss and did the same. And many couples came together in marriages of convenience, pooling whatever resources remained to them, or marrying in order to be eligible for temporary housing that was not made available to bachelors.
Here are a few snippets of earthquake romance, as reported by various newspapers:
"What was probably the first order for jewelry received in this city from San Francisco since the disaster was contained in a telegram received yesterday afternoon by a Maiden Lane firm. The order, which came from a retail jeweler, asked that 160 wedding rings of various sizes be sent in a hurry. It is supposed that the demand comes from couples whose marriages are being hastened because of the catastrophe."
"A number of betrothed couples have been married since the quake, and have set up housekeeping in shacks made of sacks and dry goods boxes. The pluck of the San Francisco women is a glory to California. On O'Farrell street today, I saw girls heating flat irons on little brick ovens built in the street, and pressing shirt waists on their front porches. . ."
"The earthquake here separated many couples, but it reunited at least one. Mrs. Lela Frank, of this city obtained from Judge Kerrigan on March 24 an interlocutory decree of divorce from Irving Frank. The terrors of the earthquake brought the pair together and this morning they sought out Judge Kerrigan and asked him to set aside the decree. A stroke of the pen made the old bonds as good as new, and the couple, after kissing in the presence of the law as an evidence of restored confidence, locked arms and went away smiling."
"Miss Amilie Bartmann became the wife of Rudolph Bossert on Sunday at the bride's home in Golden Gate Park. Since the fire, Miss Bartmann has been living as a refugee in the little summer house just west of the conservatory [ie one of the refugee cottages] and when the day of her marriage was set she decided it should be from her own residence that Mr. Bossert should claim her. Accordingly, Rev. F. D. Bovard of Berkeley performed the simple ceremony in the park home, which was tastefully decorated with flowers. Both the bride and groom lost their worldly goods in the San Francisco fire, but Mr. Bossert has his position with the firm of D.N.E. Waller & Company."
At yesterday morning's commemoration ceremony at Lotta's Fountain, about a dozen survivors participated. The eldest was a woman of 109. It was amazing how some of these centenarians still had vivid memories of the earthquake and fire. And then there was the 99-year old woman who'd had the nickname "Earthquake Baby" all her life. "I was conceived and born in a refugee cottage in Golden Gate Park," she said. "My father said it was cold in those cottages and they had to snuggle to keep warm. And you know what happens when people snuggle!" Indeed, we do.
I love San Francisco ... a city of pluck, resilience, and romance! May it live long and prosper.
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