hell combined to produce chaos. I have a bad foot,
but I forgot it and walked twenty miles that day, helping all I could.
Mayor Schmitz had a meeting in the afternoon at the shaking Hall of
Justice and appointed a committee of fifty, of which I was one. He
gave me a commission as a member of the Committee of Law and Order,
which, together with my policeman's star and club, I shall hand down
to my son as heirlooms."

"I am proud of that," said Mr. Oelrichs. "That is the Mayor's own
signature and he has proved himself every inch a man. Lots of people
thought the Mayor was just a fiddler, but they think differently now.

"The regulars saved San Francisco. The militia got drunk and killed
people. The hoodlums south of Market street were all burned out and
they swarmed up in the swell quarter. The report was that they meant
to fire the houses of the rich which had not been destroyed. Every
night a west wind blows from the Pacific, and they meant to start the
fire at the west end. That had to be guarded against."

Mr. Oelrichs had fitted up apartments in the St. Francis, packed with
curios and rarities to the extent of $20,000. These were all burned.

The operators and officials of the Postal Telegraph Company remained
in the main office of the company at the corner of Market and
Montgomery streets, opposite the Palace Hotel, until they were ordered
out of the building because of the danger from the dynamite explosions
in the immediate vicinity. The men proceeded to Oakland, across the
bay, and took possession of the office there.

Before the offices of the telegraph companies in hundreds of cities
excited crowds of men and women surged back and forth the morning of
the catastrophe, all imploring the officials to send a message through
for them to the stricken city to bring back some word from dear ones
in peril there. It was explained that there was only one wire in
operation and that imperative orders had been received that it was to
be used solely for company purposes, press dispatches and general
news.

Mr. Sternberger of New York was on the fourth floor of the St.
Francis, with his wife, son and a maid. After hurriedly dressing he
and his family rushed into Union square.

"We had hardly got seated," said Mr. Sternberger, "when firemen came
along asking for volunteers to take bodies from the ruins just above
the hotel. There was a ready and willing response. It was a low
building on which had toppled a lofty one,