On getting into my house again, I saw that the Neustadter house, at the corner of Sacramento and Van Ness, was half-consumed, but it had not set on fire the Spreckels residence, and as at this time Mr. Merrill's house, which had been dynamited the second time, was so demolished, I felt that I could consider that my house had passed the critical time, for I hoped that Mr. Merrill's house in burning would not endanger the west side of Van Ness.
But now a new danger threatened. The range of blocks from the north side of Washington Street to the south side of Jackson were on fire at Hyde Street, and the flames coming toward Van Ness Avenue, with the possibility of crossing. The Spreckels stable on Sacramento and also the houses back of the Neustadter residence were now on fire. This, I knew, would set fire to the three Gorovan cottages, two other two-story houses, and the dynamited house of Mr. Gunn, all fronting on Clay Street, between Van Ness and Franklin. So I watched from my front window, the fire approach Van Ness between Washington and Jackson, then going to my back window to see the threatened danger from Clay Street. The Wenban residence, at the corner of Jackson and Van Ness, was well on fire at 6:15; at 6:55 it fell in. The Clay-Street danger began at about 7:30 P. M.. At 8:15 the whole front as here described was blazing and at its full height. My windows were so hot that I could not bear my hand on them. I opened one and felt the woodwork, which was equally hot. I had buckets of water in the front and rear rooms, with an improvised swab, made by tying up a feather duster, ready to put out any small fire which would be within my reach. I watched the situation for an hour, and as the flames died down a little I had hope, and at 10 P. M. I felt satisfied that it would not cross Van Ness Avenue, and neither would it cross Clay Street. At this time, as the heat had somewhat subsided, I ventured out, and saw a small flame, about as large as my two hands, just starting on the tower of Mrs. Schwabacher's house, which is next to mine on Clay Street. A very few people were around. James Walton of the Twenty-eighth Coast Artillery, was there, also C. C. Jones, of 2176 Fulton Street, and David Miller Ferguson, of Oakland. I said I would give any man ten dollars who would go up and put out that fire. They went into the house with a can of water, climbed the stairs and opened a window, and in a few minutes put it out. Two of the men would accept nothing; the soldier, the next day, accepted ten dollars. I later presented Ferguson with a gold matchbox as a reminder of that eventful night. Had Mrs. Schwabacher's house gone, all in the block would have gone; the fire would have crossed to the north, up Pacific, Broadway, and Vallejo, and probably over to Fillmore, when very little would have been left of the residence portion of the city.