(The writer of the following article is head of the Science Department of Healdsburg College.)
My eyes have looked upon the devastation in our cities all along the line of the earthquake from Healdsburg down the Russian River, through San Francisco, down the Santa Clara Valley as far as the town of Mountain View, but to-day I have seen where the mighty temblor has blown a blast that has devastated the very mountainsides.
I had heard for days of a "slide" in Alexander Valley, but recent rains and bridges broken and wrecked by the earthquake hindered. But to-day I reached there, and I feel well repaid.
Eruption in the hills five miles east of Healdsburg. In the words of George Madeira, geologist and mineralogist, selected by the state mineralogist, Lewis E. Aubrey, to arrange the mineral exhibit of this state at the St. Louis Exposition: "The scene of the explosion is directly in front of the home of Mr. Hugh Simpson. . . . Before the earthquake three conical, wooded hills arose above the small flat lying between the creek and the base of the hills. The third or highest and most easterly of these hills was the one that received the full force of the internal explosion, and was in consequence thrown northward in a mass carrying everything growing upon its surface and depositing the material in broken masses of huge proportions for a distance of 2,000 feet and a width of 550 feet. . . . The stratification indicated that much of the underlying material was erupted as dry, hot volcanic ash, a light, fluffy material, bluish-gray in color. Climbing over the huge broken masses, we reached what appears to be the summit of the outburst—a mass of surface ground fissured and broken. . . . The masses were blown out on each side of this middle ground, that to the north of the dividing line being blown toward and across the creek, while to the south of the middle line the material was shot from a deep crater into the air, much of it falling back into the excavation, where it lies in broken masses mingled with the trees that once adorned its surface." This view of the explosion was taken three-fourths of a mile away. Before the earthquake the hill was wooded uniformly, the bare place in the center indicating the mass which was blown out by the explosion. The trees which cover this ground are about 200 feet high. Mr. Snook, the photographer, says that it is utterly impossible to get a picture of this place which does it justice.
Some distance beyond Alexander village the road forks, one branch running toward Calistoga and St. Helena, and the other toward Santa Rosa, sixteen miles away. As one makes the turn into the Santa Rosa road, the looked-for wonder looms into sight, something like a mile or more away. The whole side of the hills seems to have been blown out by carloads of dynamite simultaneously discharged.
And yet dynamite is but a feeble thing as compared with the might that has been exemplified here. Sandstone rocks have been fractured through an area forty feet deep and hundreds of feet long. They have been riven, upheaved, tipped, turned, upset, and dumped into chaos.
Early the morning of April 18 a country home nestled close to the hills. Not far away ran the hurrying stream. Thirty acres of level land lay between the hills and the water.
Early that morning the young man of the place, a youth of some eighteen years, was out and about the house, when suddenly there came a terrific roaring, a shaking of the earth; the great fir trees on the side of the hill began to upturn and fall as tho swept by a mighty reaper; rocks and dust went flying into the air; with roar and rush and tremble and terrorizing fury the very side of the hills went sliding, rushing, upturning, upheaving, riven to ruin, pell-mell, across the thirty acres of level land, and into the river, and even beyond to the farther shore—dirt, rocks, and trees.
Fish were thrown out of the river, and the boy gathered up enough for breakfast, finding one large one in his neighbor's hen yard. Not a soul was touched. But the farm had received a most remarkable top dressing, a deluge of mountain wreckage.
Any one who looks over that more than forty acres of torn-out mountain-side, will readily see the unmistakable evidence of explosive violence. There has been a breaking out here of pent-up forces that hurled full-sized trees, huge rocks, and acres of dirt this way and that, and piled them, in some instances, higher than they were before.
And now we may ask, What are the forces that cause such disturbances of the earth? They are mainly two, steam and gas. When solid matter assumes the gaseous condition, there is a tremendous increase in the volume, and something must move out of the way to give it room.
Water, in passing from the liquid to the state of vapor, expands seventeen hundred times, and takes up, or tends to take up, just that much more room. In other words, a cubic inch of water becomes a cubic foot of steam.
Another strange thing: If we increase the temperature, say upon a boiler, the pressure increases very much faster than does the temperature. For example, at 240° Fahr., there would be thirty pounds of pressure on every square inch of the boiler's internal surface; the steam would be hammering with a blow of thirty pounds every instant of the time. If now we double the temperature to 480°, we have increased the temperature to twice what it was before, but the pressure—if the boiler could stand it—would have been raised twenty-three times. The steam now presses 690 pounds to every square inch.
Ruins of a Bridge about Five Miles from Healdsburg. Caused by the Earthquake.
But these facts about steam are true only while there is still some water in the boiler—some water that is still ready to be turned into more steam. But when the water is all turned into steam, if the heat continues to be applied, it superheats the steam. It is well known that superheated steam suddenly takes on such great power that no boiler can hold it. Once let the water in a boiler get very low and no boiler can hold the force of the resultant superheated steam. The same heat that, applied to water, means perfect safety, applied to steam produces utter destruction.
And this is one of the great causes of earthquakes; possibly it is one of the most common.
We know only suggestions of the mighty forces that operate in nature. An inch-square bar of iron, ten feet long, if raised through eighty degrees of temperature, will expand about one-seventeenth of an inch, and if its expansion is opposed, will exert a pressure of twenty-five tons!
The mighty forces of expansion under heat are the power of dynamite and all similar explosives. And they are at least one of the forces that cause the earthquake.
Great Is Our Lord
"GREAT is our Lord, and mighty in power, His understanding is infinite."
Some Graphic Descriptions
THE EARTHQUAKE.
THE following excerpts are taken from Mr. Fred Hewitt's article which appeared in the Examiner of April 20:
I was within a stone's throw of that City Hall when the hand of an avenging God fell upon San Francisco. The ground rose and fell like an ocean at ebb tide. Then came the crash. Tons upon tons upon tons of that mighty pile slid away from the steel framework and the destructiveness of that effort was terrific.
An Eternity.
It is impossible to judge the length of that shock. To me it seemed an eternity. I was thrown prone on my back and the pavement pulsated like a living thing. Around me the huge buildings, looming up more terrible because of the queer dance they were performing, wobbled and veered. Crash followed crash and resounded on all sides. Screeches rent the air as terrified humanity streamed out into the open in an agony of despair. Affrighted horses dashed headlong into ruin as they raced away in their abject fear.
Then there was a lull.
The most terrible was yet to come. The first portion of that shock was just a mild forerunner of what was to follow. The pause in the action of the earth's surface couldn't have been more than a fraction of a second. It was sufficient, however, to allow me to collect myself. In the center of two streets I arose to my feet. Then came the second and more terrific crash.
The street beds heaved in frightful fashion. The earth rocked, and then came the blow that wrecked San Francisco from bay shore to ocean beach, and from the Golden Gate to the end of the peninsula.
As if in sympathy for its immediate neighbor, the old Supreme Court building danced a frivolous frolic and then tumbled into the street.
The Second Upheaval
was heart-rending. It made me think of loved ones in different portions of the country. It turned my stomach, gave me a heartache that I will never forget, and caused me to sink upon my knees and pray to the Almighty God that me and mine should escape the awful fate I knew was coming to so many thousands.
Down Golden Gate Avenue the houses commenced again their fantastic, ogreish dancing. One long line of frame buildings tottered a moment and then, just as a score or more of terror-stricken, white-shirted humanity tried to reach the open, it laid flat. The cries of those who must have perished reached my ears, and I hope that never again this side of the grave will I hear such signals of agony.
I turned about from that point of view to shut out the terrible sight, but what went on on all sides seemed to be just a repetition of what I had already witnessed. Looking up Golden Gate Avenue, I saw tons and tons of brick and stone coping poise for a fraction of a second on beam end and then plunge into the street below. Then it was that the idea flashed through my mind that
God Is Merciful.
What would have been the loss of life had the Almighty allowed that earthquake to occur in mid-day?
Suddenly, as sharply and as abruptly as it had begun, the end of the temblor came. Ruin endeavored, it seemed, to outdo ruin. A world of structural work found resting-place on mother earth. Bent steel girders and huge blocks of decorative stones made their sleeping-place beside all this.
A cloud of deep dust hung tenaciously about the City Hall. I realized that there something dreadful had happened. As the wind carried the dust away and uncovered the ruins, there stood a mountain sheared of all its crowning glory. It could be fittingly compared with a mountain that had passed through a forest fire. The dome appeared like a huge bird-cage against the morning dawn. The upper works of the entire building laid peaceably—if that term can be used—in the street below.
After I had drawn myself together I found my way to my home, where, thank God, the wreck had not been as complete as many others I had witnessed. Then it was that I realized the condition of an excitement-crazed populace. Herds of huddled creatures, attired in next to nothing, occupied the center of the streets, not knowing what would happen next or which way they would turn for safety. Each and every person I saw was
Agnews State Insane Asylum, near San Jose, showing the terrible power of the earthquake, and the utter collapse of the great building, in which 117 persons were killed. This structure was four stories, built of brick. One of the insane, a doctor, became sane.
Temporarily Insane.
Laughing idiots commented on the fun they were having. Terror marked their faces, and yet their voices indicated a certain enjoyment that maniacs have when they kill and gloat over their prey. Women, hysterical to an extreme point, cried and prayed for those they loved when they were standing at their elbow. Mothers searched madly for their children who had strayed, while little ones wailed for their protectors. It was bedlam.
Strong men bellowed like babies in their furor. All humanity within eyesight was suffering from palsy. No one knew which way to turn, when on all sides of them destruction stared them in the very eye. A number of slight tremors followed the first seven series of shocks. As each came in turn fearful
agony spread over the countenances of the afflicted ones. Terror stamped its mark on every brow.
Then an unnatural light dimmed the rising sun and the word went forth from every throat:
"The city is ablaze. We will all be burned. This must be
"The End of This Wicked World."
From down south of Market Street the glare grew and grew. The flames shot heavenward and licked the sky. It looked as if the end of the world was surely at hand.
For an hour or more after that terrible shock which shook the buildings of all San Francisco to the very foundations, people wandered about in an inane fashion. There was no attempt at concerted action to hold the sufferers. People were stupefied. And meanwhile the fire burned and burned.
THE EARTHQUAKE AND FIRE.
(From James Hopper's article in June Everybody's. Mr. Hopper is a member of the Call staff.)
Thus of the early morning hours before the earthquake:
As I passed a livery stable on Post Street between Powell and Mason Streets, a horse screamed with a sudden, shrill cry. I asked a stableman lolling in the darkened doorway what was the matter. "Restless to-night; don't know why," he answered. And
then, with my head poked in, I heard the thunder of a score of hoofs crashing in tattoo against the stalls.
The Earthquake.
Right away it was incredible—the violence of the quake. It started with a directness, a savage determination that left no doubt of its purpose. It pounced upon the earth as some sidereal bulldog, with a rattle of hungry eagerness. The earth was a rat, shaken, shaken, shaken, with periods of slight weariness followed by new bursts of vicious rage. As far as I can remember, my impressions were as follows: First, for a few seconds a feeling of incredulity, capped immediately with one of finality—of incredulity at the violence of the vibrations. "It's incredi-
ble, incredible"—I think I said it aloud. Then the feeling of finality. "It's the end—St. Pierre, Samoa, Vesuvius, Formosa, San Francisco—this is death."18
As I walked slowly down the street I was very busy taking notes for the paper. "Such and such number, such and such street, cornice down; this building, roof down; that building, crumbled." And then, I exclaimed to myself after a while, with childish peevishness, "I'm not going to take a list of all the buildings in the city!"
The Fire.
I started up Third Street. At Tehama Street I saw the beginning of the fire which was to sweep all the district south of Market Street. It was swirling up the narrow way with a sound that was almost a scream. Before it the humble population of the district were fleeing, and in its path, as far as I could see, frail shanties went down like card houses. And this marks the true character of the city's agony. Especially in the populous district south of Market Street, but also throughout the city, hundreds were pinned down by the débris, some to a merciful death, others to live hideous minutes. The
flames swept over them while the saved looked on impotently. Over the tragedy the fire threw its flaming mantle of hypocrisy, and the full extent of the holocaust will never be known, will remain ever a poignant mystery. . . .
We started first to cover the fire I had seen start on its westward course from Third Street. From that time, I have only a vague kaleidoscopic vision of whirring at whistling speed through a city damned. We tried to make the fallen Brunswick Hotel at Sixth and Folsom Streets. We could not make it. The scarlet steeplechaser beat us to it, and when we arrived, the crushed structure was only the base of one great flame that rose to heaven with a single twist. By that time we knew that the earthquake had been but a prologue, and that the tragedy was to be written in fire. We went westward to get the western limit of the blaze.
Passing Fifth Street, we caught, behind the flaming smother, a glimpse of the Mint, square, squat, like a rock in the flaming sea. Its iron windows were all closed; it brooded there, unmoved, inscrutable as a sphinx. Later we learned that behind those iron doors men had lived through the maelstrom of fire, had lived and fought and had saved the building. West of it, a long, white skyscraper towered, still untouched. It was never touched. I saw it a few days later, rising white, unsullied, above the surrounding desolation. I read its name and the tremendous irony of it staggered me. "The United Undertakers" was written into the granite above the door.
At Third Street we caught the starting-point of the fire. It had worked north as well as west, and the Call Building, the tallest skyscraper in the city, was glowing like a phosphorescent worm. Cataracts of pulverized fire poured out of the thousands and windows. The Examiner Building across the way was burning. The Palace Hotel, treasured perhaps above everything by San Franciscans, was smoking, but was still making a magnificent fight. To the east the fire had gone as far as Second Street. There it had leaped Market Street toward the north, and was roaring, a maelstrom of flame, through the wholesale district, before the southeastern breeze. We circled to the north, through the Latin quarter, picturesque in its ruins as it had been in life. I remember passing six dead horses under a pile of bricks on Washington Street. We went up toward the Hayes Valley district, in which heavy volumes of smoke announced another conflagration. In passing I stopped at the Neptune, where I had been at the time of the earthquake, five hours before. The fire had not yet reached it. I ran up to my room. A key was in the door. "Looters," I said to myself. I pushed open the door. Spick, span in his loose white clothing, Ah Wing, the Chinese chamber-man was making my bed. The room was swept, the plaster that had fallen was gathered in a heap in the hall, my clothes were all hanging in the closet, and he was putting a clean slip about my pillow. Coming out of the whirl of death and devastation, this piece of domestic fidelity absolutely flabber-gasted me. I closed the door upon it, and left on tip-toe as in the presence of some sacred rite. I'd like to see Ah Wing again. When the next morning, it struck me at last that it was time to take my things out, I wasn't able to get within fifteen blocks of the Neptune.
At seven o'clock the staffs of the Call and the Chronicle met for a conference in the editorial rooms of the Evening Bulletin. The pink glow of the fire, near by on three sides now, was the only light. The order given to the Chronicle men was: "The men of the Chronicle will meet at the Chronicle Building to-morrow at one o'clock, if there is any Chronicle." That given the Call was: "The men of the Call will meet at the Fairmont to-morrow at one o'clock, if there is any to-morrow." There was a to-morrow, but long before one o'clock the Chronicle was a gutted ruin, and the magnificent Fairmont, like a great Greek temple upon its hill, was blazing like a funeral pyre. . . .
All night the city burned with a copper glow, and all night the dynamite of the fire-fighters boomed at slow intervals, the pulse of the great city in its agony. When the sun rose, a red wafer behind clouds of smoke that were as crape, the tidal wave of flame had swept three-quarters of it. Nob Hill,
the Fairmont, the homes of the pioneer millionaires, Mark Hopkins', with its art treasures, were aglow, a ruby tiara upon the city. Before the irresistible advance, the people were fleeing toward the sea. For the third time the headquarters of the Government had been changed, this time to the North End Police Station. By eleven o'clock that was in danger, another exodus was made to Franklin Hall, on Fillmore Street, once suburb, now center.
I walked down Market Street late in the afternoon of the second day. It was as if I walked through a dead city, not a city recently dead, but one overcome by some cataclysm ages past, and dug out of its lava. Fragments of wall rose on all sides, columns twisted but solid in their warp, as if petrified in the midst of their writhing from the fiery ordeal. Across them a yellow smoke passed slowly. Above all, a heavy, brooding silence lay. And really there was nothing else. Contortion of stone, smoke of destruction, and a great silence—that was all.
CURIOUS DEEDS OF THE EARTHQUAKE.
ONE writer says the earthquake has written its own history in the cemeteries. While the earth motion was but a little over half an inch, the force behind that motion was so great that the mind can not conceive of its ability to accomplish what it did. A large brick store in Mountain View was thrown bodily twelve feet to the south, and fell, a complete wreck. Two other stores on the opposite side of the street were thrown in the opposite direction.
At Bolinas a large building was moved along the ground twelve feet, directly away from the fence against which it stood, and remained standing. In this vicinity the ground was badly broken, and opened in several places. Springs opened where none had been before, and a lake of mud was formed. At Inverness twenty acres of land slid into the bay, and at Olema a large grove of trees was broken down and partly swallowed by the opened ground.
At Point Reyes the ground has moved ten feet northward. At one place an oak tree has moved ten feet away from a fence it formerly overhung. A pipe line at Olema was broken by the earthquake, and on being repaired, showed an excess length of three feet, indicating the land had been squeezed together that much in three hundred feet.
In the vicinity of Chittenden a mountain seems to have moved four feet, as a railroad bridge which crossed the river there now lacks four feet of reaching across from the farther bank to the edge of the mountain. Near this place sulphur springs that were nearly dry are now gushing forth copiously.
In San Mateo County the shaking of the earth changed the courses of small mountain streams, allowing them to saturate a great quantity of alluvial hillside soil. A great torrent of mud was thus created which rushed down a hill at a speed of ten miles an hour, sweeping through a cemetery, and destroying whatever was in its way.
In many houses all the pictures had their faces turned toward the wall. In one house all the lamps were broken but one. That one sat on the shelf unmoved, and was the only one burning. Had it broken, it might have exploded and set fire to the building. In most cases chimneys which did not go off at the top were cracked or shattered at the bottom, some to such an extent that the whole chimney went straight down through its own opening in the roof into the cellar, carrying mantels, fireplaces, and grates with it.
The bed of the Mokelumne River in the vicinity of Woodbridge has dropped twelve feet as a result of the earthquake. A large lake in the northwestern part of San Joaquin County is drying up from the same cause.
The long tunnel through the Santa Cruz Mountains at Wrights was completely blocked, and so remains.
There is now an island in Bolinas Bay where before were muddy shoals. All along the coast in this vicinity the ground has been rent and disfigured in many ways.
It was reported that hundreds of gushers of boiling mud leaped from the earth near Pajaro the morning of the earthquake.
In all parts of the district affected by the earthquake its footprints have been left upon the land in some form; but in the line of what is called the "fault," extending from San Juan to Point Arena, the greatest disfigurement occurs. This fissure, or fault, is very marked. Scientists claim that the slipping of the portion of the earth's surface which caused this fault was the cause of the quaking of the earth. But it seems more reasonable that the slipping itself had a cause lying deep in the earth, such as the explosion of gases or the release of steam under heavy pressure.
SOME DISASTERS OF THE PRESENT YEAR.
An appalling array of facts and figures is the result of but little study and search into the records for the short period from Jan. 1, 1906, to the present time. Disasters and catastrophes of every nature have visited every continent and nearly every country. The following is a partial list, enough to set any one thinking:
January 7. Earthquake shocks were felt in eastern Kansas and northeastern Missouri.
January. During the early part of the month, earthquakes were frequent in Mexico. Floods followed, which ruined crops and did much other serious damage.
January 22. The steamship Valencia was wrecked near Cape Beale, British Columbia. 120 perished.
January. Twenty-three deaths reported in Havana, resulting from yellow fever.
January 25. A sharp earthquake, which did considerable damage was felt in New Mexico and Arizona.
January 28. The naval training station at Newport was damaged to the extent of $100,000 by fire.
January 31. Long and severe earthquake shock in Buena Ventura, Colombia, 2,000 killed. Shock lasted seven minutes. Many villages destroyed.
January 31. Tidal wave followed earthquake, destroying many more villages, killing many people.
January 31. Earthquake in Ecuador. At least 300 killed.
February and onward. Great famine in Japan.
February 1. A fire in Panama caused loss of $500,000.
February 3. An East St. Louis elevator burned. Loss $1,000,000.
February 3 and onward. Mount Vesuvius in eruption. Four towns destroyed. Naples covered from two to four feet deep with ashes. Hundreds killed; the property loss very large.
February 7, 8. Cyclone and tidal wave in Society Islands of the Pacific. Many islands swept of inhabitants. Property loss $2,000,000.
February 8. Earthquake in West Indies. Many ships lost, with many on board. Also many inhabitants killed.
February 15. Great tidal wave destroyed coast towns of Colombia.
February 16. Severe shocks at Kingston, St. Vincent, British West Indies.
February 17. Shocks in other islands of the West Indies.
March 2. Tornado at Meridian, Miss. Nineteen killed, twenty-four injured. Loss of property $1,000,000.
March 5. Car barns burned in New York. Loss $200,000.
March 5. About 800 fishermen and their families perished on floating ice cakes in the Gulf of Finland in a severe storm.
March 10. More than 1,200 miners killed by an explosion of gas in a coal mine at Courrieres, near Bethune, in the French coal region.
March 11. In the foundering of the steamer British King, off the Massachusetts' coast, twenty-seven men were lost.
One of several wrecks in the town of Mountain View. This is the east end of the Pacific Press Publishing Company's Plant. All the wall, excepting the greater portion of the front wall, was wrecked by the earthquake, and had to be torn down. The inner supports sustained the roof.
March 14. Over 1,000 killed, many more wounded, in earthquake in Formosa. 1,200 homes destroyed; loss, $45,000,000.
March 16. More than forty people killed in a railroad collision near Adobe, Colo.
March 19. Six thousand reported killed in earthquake in Formosa.
March. Volcanic eruption on island of Savaii, of the Samoan group. Three villages destroyed by streams of lava.
March 24. Explosion in a coal mine at Century, W. Va., entombs 150 miners.
April 5. Vesuvius still in state of eruption. Five streams of lava. Many towns destroyed. Land covered with ashes and mud. Ruined for agricultural purposes for ten years at least. Naples suffering.
April 14. Another earthquake in Formosa. 1,000 killed. More than 1,000 injured.
April 18. Earthquake shock extending along Pacific Coast. San Francisco, San Jose, Stanford University, Santa Rosa, and many cities and towns destroyed. Property loss very great. Thousands of lives lost.
April 21. Mariquina, Rizal Province, Philippines, burned. Thousands homeless and starving. Town of Pasil, near Cebu, also destroyed.
April 22. Twenty-two miners killed in a coal mine forty miles west of Trinidad, Colo.
April 26. Entire town of Bellevue, Texas, destroyed by a tornado, only three houses remaining of more than two hundred. Thirteen killed and six hundred rendered homeless.
April 30. Destructive conflagration in Fez, Morocco.
May 5. Ten persons killed and twenty injured in a railway collision near Clover Creek, Penn.
May 7. An earthquake in Uniankai, North China, causing great loss of life. A chasm several feet wide opened; much property destroyed.
May 7. Disastrous floods reported along the Hainanghas River, China. Thousands drowned. At Hsinangton, China, the city caught fire, and a great part of it was destroyed, with much loss of life.
May 8. Earthquake shocks in Connecticut and Scotland.
May 15. Severe electric storms throughout a large part of Germany. A number of persons and domestic animals killed by lightning, many houses burned, and crops greatly injured by hail.
May 28. Seven persons drowned, and the town of Galconda, Nevada, and a mile of railway track, destroyed by a cloudburst.
May 28. A passenger train derailed in the station at Louisville, Ky., killing eight persons and injuring twelve.
May 28. Lightning struck a group of base-ball spectators, near Mobile, Ala., killing five and injuring twenty-five. The field was strewn with bits of clothing torn from the bodies of the victims.
May 29. Great floods occurred in the vicinity of Walla Walla, Wash., and Pendleton, Ore., during the latter part of May. In the latter vicinity the property loss is placed at a million dollars.
June 3. Eleven persons were killed and a score injured in a trolley-car accident near East Providence, R. I.
June 4. Fearful winds and hailstorms in Oklahoma and Indian Territories cause damages running into the hundred thousands, and sixty families homeless.
June 5. Scott Town, Ohio, a village of 200 inhabitants, completely washed away by a cloudburst; two drowned.
It is utterly impossible to give an exact statement of the loss of life in all these disasters. Approximately the following figures may be given, not attempting to include the late earthquake on the Pacific Coast, for the true statistics in regard to this will probably never be known:
Loss of Life
Loss of Property
Earthquakes
15,000
$100,000,000
Fires
600,000,000
Accidents
5,000
100,000
Tornado
19
1,000,000
Volcano
2,000
20,000,000
Disease, famine
No estimate
No estimate
CONTRIBUTIONS
By Editor
from Various States and Foreign Countries.
We are not able to affirm that the following figures are exact. They are as nearly so as we are able to make them. It is barely possible that in some of the larger sums which go to make up the totals of the different states are included some smaller amounts that have been reported through other channels. It is also possible that some are omitted from this list. For instance, the Canadian Parliament voted $100,000 to be sent through the President. The President felt he could not accept donations from foreign countries. We understand, however, that the relief committee did offer to accept it; but we have never seen a statement that it had been received, or that the reported donation of the Empress of China had been received.
State
Amount
State
Amount
Alabama
13,064.14
Maryland
377.00
Alaska
19,721.11
Michigan
82,704.92
Arizona
24,586.36
Minnesota
57,173.56
Arkansas
1,397.32
Missouri
5,059.65
Australia
24.30
Mississippi
4,654.79
Belgium
50.00
Montana
11,502.90
British Columbia
40,302.28
Nebraska
11,036.24
California
186,922.08
Nevada
7,895.20
Canada (General)
9,052.25
New Brunswick
6,687.65
Congress
2,500,000.00
New Mexico
5,928.30
Connecticut
19,127.16
Newfoundland
5,000.00
Colorado
13,436.23
New Hampshire
12,978.73
Cuba
5.00
New Jersey
90,251.00
Delaware
5,271.50
North Carolina
9,644.25
District of Columbia
40,700.00
North Dakota
4,123.38
Florida
15,003.98
New York
1,588,608.96
Georgia
30,097.78
Ohio
69,215.69
Hawaii
15,194.55
Oregon
4,286.13
Illinois
72,208.87
Oklahoma
1,283.31
Idaho
13,946.49
Paris
5,000.00
Iowa
52,208.42
Pennsylvania
653,482.81
Indiana
75,425.32
Rhode Island
14,632.08
Indian Territory
535.45
South Carolina
14,660.58
Japan
98,750.00
South Dakota
5,912.95
Kansas
5,428.75
Tennessee
33,977.77
Kentucky
2,114.57
Texas
43,102.59
London
1,025.00
Utah
1,165.44
Louisiana
9,389.80
Vermont
2,677.35
Maine
33,534.18
Virginia
16,899.16
Manitoba
5,010.00
Washington
142,496.59
Massachusetts
979,488.00
West Virginia
7,722.99
Mexico
10,613.83
Wisconsin
48,445.63
Wyoming
3,719.49
Local Red Cross collected
775,267.72
Mayor's Fund Committee
461,085.78
Total
$8,502,289.31
This total includes much that did not go through the hands of the local relief committee, but was distributed through the army. The local relief committee reported on May 30 total receipts amounting to $7,401,108.47.
