Across the bay in the hills of Oakland, poet, conservationist,
and eccentric Joaquin Miller (1873–1931) was lying in bed when the earthquake struck.
Miller lived on 75 acres, which he had fashioned as a retreat for himself and visiting friends, among them American authors Ambrose
Bierce and Jack London, as well as Japanese poet, Yone
Noguchi. No lover of cities, Miller viewed the devastation of the city as an opportunity for its rebirth. His eyewitness account was published in the Oakland Tribune on May
6, 1906.
The birds hid when the earthquake came…. I was lying in bed after five and wide awake, for I always go to bed with the birds and get up with the birds, and the first I knew my cattle began to low and my cats came in, and I thought there might be a strange dog.
I got up, and looked out for the dog, but it was nothing of the sort. The cats were under my great brass bed and I never witnessed such stillness. I lay down again and then the sun burst over the hills and San Francisco was silver and gold.
The streets seemed wide, bright and steep, and I've never seen the city so large, but the stillness was terrible and the light was unnatural, and then … there was a bump and a thump as if I were in a small boat bumping against a wharf.
I felt about four of these bumps and got up and went to my door, and saw one of my Japanese boys at my right hand, and one at my left. I said “ Earthquake?“ and they answered “earthquake,“ and we went back to bed.
After breakfast I went out to work in my garden, then the smoke began to curl up, and it curled up high and strong, for there had never been such a rich city in the history of the world — rich in rye and bourbon from Kentucky — rich in all brands of wines. Never had there been a fire so richly fed.
From every corner you could see the flames bursting higher and higher from these costly stores…, and the clouds for all three days and nights were most wonderful to behold.