“I instantly threw aside the bed-clothes and struggled to reach the floor; the undulations were so severe and rapid that it was a serious effort to do so. Some propelling and resisting force seemed to hold me in its clutches, while deafening sounds of crashing glass and picture frames against the walls assailed my ears. I gained the floor on my hands and knees, clinging to the furniture until I reached my bath-room door…” – Emilie Gibbons Cohen, April 18, 1906, Fernside.
A rare account
I recently had the opportunity to look through the archives at the Cohen-Bray House in Oakland, the former home of one of Emilie Gibbons Cohen’s sons, Alfred H. Cohen, and his wife Emma Bray Cohen. Since the Cohen mansion at Fernside burned down in 1897, and Emilie Cohen died in 1924, the Cohen-Bray house is the last remaining treasure trove of these families’ histories. Among the items in that collection is a 20-page letter written by Emilie Cohen shortly after the great earthquake, vividly describing its effects on her, her family, her home, the city of Alameda, as well as the city of San Francisco. While much has been written about the quake and its effects on San Francisco, less is known about how the disaster affected Alameda, which is why this letter to her daughter Edith is so illuminating.
Anniversary of a disaster
With the 118th anniversary of the great San Francisco earthquake and fire of April 18, 1906 upon us, this is a good time to look back on how that cataclysmic event affected not only San Francisco, but also a much wider area, including Alameda. Emilie Gibbons Cohen’s letter helps us to do that in a way that brings the disaster home to our island city.
A brief Gibbons-Cohen history
Emilie Grace Gibbons (1834-1924) was the daughter of Dr. Henry Gibbons and Martha Poole Gibbons. She married Alfred A. Cohen (1829-1887) in 1854 when she was 20 years old. Alfred A. Cohen, a lawyer, became wealthy from his ownership and sale of railroads and ferries, and he also served as general counsel for the Central Pacific Railroad. He and Emilie resided on a large tract of land on the east end of Alameda known as Fernside, and in 1872 hired the prominent architectural firm Wright & Sanders to build a grand three-story Italianate mansion with more than 70 rooms. Their first house on the property was a Gothic revival structure built in 1856.
Alfred A. Cohen died in 1887 at just 58 years old. He was on his way home from a business trip to New York in his private railroad car, near Sidney, Nebraska, at the time of his passing. A special train was sent by the railroad to bring his widow, Emilie, to Nebraska to accompany her deceased husband back to Alameda. She was 53 years old at the time, and would not marry again.
Fernside burns
Just under 10 years after the loss of her husband, Emilie and the Cohen family suffered another loss. On the morning of March 23, 1897, a fire broke out in a defective flue at the Fernside mansion, which was destroyed in a massive conflagration. Fortunately, Emilie was not in the house at the time, and was staying nearby with her son Edgar, in his home at 1605 Versailles Avenue—the site of today’s Edison School. Some of the artwork and furnishings of the Fernside mansion were saved due to the valiant efforts of the firefighters and family members, but much treasure and history was lost. After the fire, Emilie resided on the Fernside property in a converted bowling alley. It was there that she rode out the 1906 earthquake.
Chimneys down
“Edgar and Alfred (Emilie’s sons) were soon with us. Edgar’s chimneys are all down; the furnace chimney had crashed through the roof into the attic and the water in the tank had dashed out like the waves of the sea. Hardly a chimney remained standing in the cities of Alameda, Oakland and vicinity.” – Emilie Cohen
In fact, falling chimneys were perhaps the most common single point of failure during the earthquake. According to a report from F. H. Pratt, secretary of the Alameda Building Trades Council at the time, “In the cities of Oakland, Alameda and Berkeley, and the surrounding country, every brick building and many frame houses were seriously damaged. Walls had fallen, foundations had been displaced, every brick chimney had either been thrown down or broken, making it unsafe to build fires in houses…”
Emilie Gibbons Cohen next described a visit to her son Alfred Henry Cohen’s house in the Fruitvale district of Oakland, where he lived with his wife Emma and five children. It was a distance of about 1.6 miles from Fernside. That house still stands today, and is known as the Cohen-Bray house.
“No trains were running through Alameda on either the narrow gauge nor the broad; twisted rails and sunken tracks prevented. This was at 10 o’clock a.m. so off we started, Will, Alice (Emilie’s son and his wife) and I in the surrey, Mildred (Emilie’s granddaughter) and Bayard (likely a friend/classmate of Mildred) were out on their wheels. On we drove to Alfred Henry’s; are you all safe? Yes, but come in and see the wreck. The father, mother and children were removing furniture, bricks, mortar, lath, shingles and plaster from the smoking room. All their chimneys were down, doing much damage to the roofs; one chimney crashed through the attic, then through Emma’s bedroom (a brick from it grazing Alfred Henry’s face as his raised his head from the pillow) and then through the smoking room roof, making an opening as large as my dining table.”
In-person visits to family and friends were the only way to learn of their fates, since, as Emilie wrote, “The shock had broken telephone and telegraph wires, so we were completely cut off.”
Horror across the Bay
“Later we drove to the foot of Grand Street,” Emilie continued. “From there with a field glass we could span the six miles of space and see the tower of the ferry building at times through the curling smoke, and the dull lurid blaze as it shot up through the thick clouds of smoke ascending over the doomed city; the whole waterfront seemed to be on fire. Time seemed to stand still; would this strange unreal day never pass? What terrible tragedies were being enacted?”
Emilie Gibbons Cohen and her family, gathered at the foot of Grand Street near what today is the bridge crossing the lagoon, could scarcely imagine the scope of what was happening across the bay in San Francisco. The book San Francisco is Burning, by Dennis Smith, puts the disaster in stark perspective:
“In fact, outside of war, the San Francisco fire of 1906 is bigger than any metropolitan fire in history. The four-day event took more than 3,000 lives, burned through 28,188 buildings, flattened 522 blocks, destroyed tens of churches, nine libraries, 37 national banks, the Pacific Stock Exchange, three major newspaper buildings (The Call, Chronicle, and Bulletin), two opera houses, and the largest, most richly appointed imperial hotel in the era of turn-of-the-century opulence (The Palace). More than 200,000 people were burned out of their homes…”
Waiting for Alfred
Meanwhile, Emilie’s son Alfred had managed to make his way over to San Francisco to check on family members there, although checking on the family business offices would have to wait. No non-essential travel was allowed into San Francisco in those early days after the quake, but Alfred must have used his influence and connections to board a boat into the burning city.
Emilie wrote: “We waited and waited for Alfred; would he never come? Had he perished amid flames and falling walls? It was I who sent the dear boy. His (late) father had assured me many times that Alfred was able to take care of himself. It was nearly 11 P. M. before Alfred returned, and I questioned him most apprehensively. He replied, ‘No one injured, houses badly wrecked by falling chimneys.’”
Alfred went on to describe how his aunts and uncles had survived the quake, but their homes, for the most part, hadn’t fared as well. Alfred then told the common stories of fallen chimneys, wrecked houses, and evacuations prompted by approaching flames.
Emilie continued, “I feared to lock my doors lest another shock might wedge them so tightly that I could not get out. I slept lightly with one eye and both ears open, oftentimes going to my window to gaze across the bay upon the lurid clouds that hung over the city and to listen to the boom boom of the dynamite. And thus ended the first full day. Alas, the second day was more pitiful, more fearful, more devastating than the first.”
Searching for provisions
Thursday, April 19, 1906 was the day after the earthquake, and Emilie was thinking about provisions.
“Thursday morning, reflecting that provisions might become scarce, I went down town. The shops were crowded with eager purchasers. I had to wait a weary time for my turn. I bought flour, sugar and a few necessary articles for which I paid; fortunately, I had about twenty dollars on hand.”
Later in her letter, Emilie continued, “We are living on credit now. At the time of the quake I had about 20 dollars in my purse. The Island Creamery in Alameda said, ‘As long as we can get cream and eggs we will sell them and our butter at regular market prices.’ The evening of the day of the earthquake, the Alameda grocers called a meeting; it was proposed that the prices for food should be raised; a few indignantly rejected this and it was finally voted down.”
The fire rages
Though well-supplied in her own house, Emilie remained troubled by the disaster unfolding around her. She wrote, “What a terrible day was this Thursday. The fire still raged, devouring in its rapid course block after block of our prosperous city (San Francisco). The constant boom boom of the dynamite sounded and echoed in our ears; a black pall hung over the city; it spread far and wide and rolled up and around until the sun was obscured.”
Up next
In our next installment of Emilie Gibbons Cohen’s account of the great San Francisco earthquake and fire of 1906, we’ll learn about the refugee camps that were set up in Alameda for earthquake survivors arriving by boat, and where they were located. We’ll also hear Emilie’s account of whether any deaths or casualties occurred in Alameda itself, how long it took the railroads, schools, and post offices to open again, and what her sons Willie and Alfred found when they finally managed to gain access to the Cohen family safes in San Francisco, prying them open with iron bars. There’s also a chilling tale of a family friend in San Francisco whose niece was visiting when the quake struck, causing the chimney to land on the bed she was sleeping in. All that and more, when our story continues.
Special thanks to the Cohen-Bray house in Oakland for access to their archives for this story. Thanks also to Kate McAnaney for her help finding rare archival photos taken by Edgar A. Cohen.
Contributing writer Steve Gorman has been a resident of Alameda since 2000, when he fell in love with the history and architecture of this unique town. Contact him via [email protected]. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Steve-Gorman.
