1906 Earthquake

Headquarters, so there was nothing to do but send some sort of cheering word and get ready to hike in the early morning. Four of us went down -- and it was a trip like a nightmare -- always going but never getting anywhere. The train was crowded with anxious people, and at Stockton the excitement was near hysteria, and the reports by papers the most discouraging. "Impossible to get into the city except by permit from Funston" -- "Fire north of Market west to Buchanan and still burning" -- "San Jose a ruin" -- "Stanford University wrecked" -- and the train was slow, late and the day very hot.

I decided to try to get in by way of San Jose for the country was wide and no water to cross, and it would take more patrol than they could spare to keep the front closed by night. The rest went via Oakland-- The train arrived at San Jose in the end, about 4:30! and queer tilts on wooden houses, and the absence of visible chimneys told part of

to get into it - No more [train? - ... ] around to see how the town looked and who was in it - All brick buildings badly wrecked, one burn[ing?] Vendome Annex (the swell rooms) flat as boards, and the rest of the hotel deserted - Went out to see how the Arqués family had fared - Franny is the same dear girl, and was glad to report no very serious mishaps - a brother in town worried some of course. - Well I got a buggy and drove on to Stanford, and all the way there was that great sullen red glare under the black hood of smoke, showing plainly {above the line in the northern sky.

We met a score and more of Autos - all under full swing - one stopped to ask the road, and we in turn asked where it was going - it said "Heavens only knows - until the gasoline gives out - anything {above the line to get away from that place." They all had that air at any rate. Got in to the House at about eleven - all the brothers were reclining on mattresses in the front hall which was exhibiting more fortitude than most, who were on the lawns - for the shakes were coming every hour or two - little ones.

Couldn't sleep much, but rested until five thirty, when it was time to take the walk to the depot - to catch the first unsuspecting train - (to be continued)

2317 W. 20th St.

Los Angeles Cal. 90018

Oct 15, 1967.

cy: Della Van Heyst

David S. Jacobson,

Sec'y to the University,

Stanford, Cal.

Dear "Alum":

Answering your call for help – "If you were there" – in the Alumni Almanac of Oct. 1967, there are two old sayings we should never forget! One is "You never can tell," and the other is "the "Bawl-Out" is always right."

Though I graduated in '07 – sixty years ago – yes, I was there and I am still here, and I have my copies of the "Bawl-Out" for 1905-06, and 1906-07. It is curious that years ago I solved a similar difficulty by referring to these little directories, so I decided to keep them, and my last copy of "Who's Who in the West" identifies you as a Stanford graduate (class of 1930).

At the time of the Quake I roomed with the late Fred Christy '06 in the NE corner room {caret: "(1st floor)"} at the south end of the Encina wing next to the Quad. Our door, and all but one window, were jammed but we jumped from that window and that is where we saw Walter Wentz hanging from the roof. I never knew who dragged him in but you say it was his room-mate. And so, according to the "Bawl-Out" I can tell you that Wentz, that year, roomed in 157 Encina, with R.D. Brook, of Seattle Spokane, who went {Latin letters: "Phi Kappa Psi"], graduated EE '09, and died Dec 7, 1918. If you wish to trace further it might be that the Phi Psi house could put you in touch with his family. Yours for Stanford.

Wendell W. Ward '07