By Don McDonald
 Los Altos resident Jim Reed and Portola Valley resident Nan Shostak, co-curators of History San Jose’s “It’s our Fault, Too” exhibit, demonstrate the effects of an earthquake and liquefaction on a model. The exhibit commemorates the anniversary of the 1906 earthquake. |
Two independent plans capable of shaping Los Altos’ future were proceeding simultaneously when the great San Francisco earthquake of April 18, 1906, rocked the Bay Area. One plan emerged unscathed, and the scattering of orchards near the new train line became the quiet town of Los Altos.
Plans were well under way to make Los Altos a college town before the quake shook things loose. Santa Clara University had bought 250 acres of land from the Hill Ranch estate on which to build a new college to be named in honor of St. Ignatious of Loyola. To finance the project, they garnered pledges from faithful Catholics as far away as San Francisco.
At the same time, Paul Shoup and other officers of the Southern Pacific Railroad were planning a new shortcut rail line between Mayfield and Los Gatos along the southeasterly edge of the Santa Cruz foothills. In the center of this route, a private group of investors led by Shoup planned a settlement to be called Los Altos.
Learning of the college plan, the railroad provided a stop where the school’s land abutted their new right of way and named it Loyola Corners. “Loyola” was an obvious choice, and the “corners” had long been applied to the place. It was the spot where dusty roads along the boundaries of three large ranches came together and Fremont Avenue made a sharp turn before crossing Permanente Creek.
These plans were taking shape when the great 1906 earthquake occurred with its consequent fires, most famously in San Francisco but also as far north as Point Arena and as far south as San Juan Bautista. The catastrophic damage wreaked havoc on San Francisco and caught the world’s attention, but few people are aware of the heavy damage in San Jose.
At nearby Agnews State Mental Hospital, 119 patients and staff were killed in the collapse of the main building - more than died in any single San Francisco structure. Closer to Los Altos, buildings collapsed in Mountain View. Most Peninsula residents have seen the dramatic photos of what happened to the Stanford University campus.
The quake dealt a crippling blow to Santa Clara University’s financial base for a college at Loyola Corners, as many people were compelled to withdraw their pledges. Despite the setback, university leaders pressed on, modifying the plan in accordance with lessons learned from San Francisco’s experiences.
A 1910 newspaper article described their plans for “a new and greater Santa Clara College (with 10) modern buildings of artistic design, the structural material being reinforced concrete, and the whole series of buildings to be fireproof.” A San Francisco architect designed the complex. The principal building was to be three stories high. Two buildings were each to have 300 rooms for a dormitory, study hall and classrooms. There were to be buildings for administration, a library, a kitchen and refectory, chemistry, physics, a chapel, a theater and an observatory. There were to be many sports facilities as well. To provide healthful meals, university leaders planned a dairy, a creamery and a vegetable garden. An “attractive esplanade” was to link the buildings with flower gardens.
The plans were to be carried out only “if the fund of $250,000 needed for the commencement of operations is raised within the next few months,” the article said. Of course, this “if” was ignored in a large ad a few pages later, boosting Sellenger & Smith’s new lots across the railroad tracks. The ad proclaimed: “The new college will be the biggest and best time for real estate that we’ve ever had. NOW is the time to BUY!” Nor was the “if” mentioned in a 1911 real estate brochure, proudly describing the new town as “Los Altos, City of Two Universities and Crown of the Peninsula.” The brochure’s map, however, was less categorical and showed Stanford University to the north and the “Santa Clara College Site” to the south. Meanwhile, Santa Clara University put in some roads and began grading the site.
Unfortunately, the Jesuits in Santa Clara finally had to abandon their plans. In 1923, they sold the land to the Los Altos Country Club Properties developers. By 1926, the developers had laid out a golf course and were selling the encircling lots, which ranged from 1.5 to 16 acres in size. Thus, thanks to the 1906 earthquake, Los Altos lost a college but gained a golf and country club.
Direct effect
What was the direct effect of the 1906 earthquake in the area that soon became Los Altos? The land was sparsely settled at the time, and apparently no lives were lost. Probably no more than 150 people dwelt in a scattering of family-size orchards. There were no brick buildings to crumble, only farmhouses and outbuildings, built mostly of wood. Some were located on named roads, like El Monte, Grant, Almond, Miramonte and Springer. Others were on unpaved country roads known by the names of their landowners, like Griffin, Emerson and Coloff - later San Antonio Road, Cuesta Avenue and Pine Lane.
We have found no published accounts of local damage, and our oral histories describe only minor damage. For example, several chimneys toppled from Menzo Loucks’ old farmhouse at El Camino Real and San Antonio Road, J. Gilbert Smith’s water tank and windmill were destroyed, and Ira Segur’s water tank collapsed on his property at El Monte and Hawthorne avenues. On the Reverend Thomas Atkinson’s 20-acre Arroyo Vista fruit ranch, his daughters were shocked by their “perambulating” bed. When they returned to their Purissima Grammar School, they found the glass from broken windows strewn over the scattered books. John Pear recalled that his father, Frank, owner of a local orchard, said after the quake that he saw a field in the hills “looking like it had been plowed.” Other local farmers reported that their wells had turned muddy or, in some cases, gone completely dry.
Other local quake stories described as “unforgettable” the sight of the northern night skies, horrible yet riveting, as they glowed red from the fires raging in San Francisco. Emily Smith recalled her family riding in their buggy up to a vantage point near their Purissima Road home where they could see San Francisco on the horizon. As Ward Winslow’s history of nearby Palo Alto put it: “As night fell on that terrible Wednesday, Palo Altans could read newspapers outdoors by the light of the flames 30 miles away.” There were even reports that the firebreak-related explosions in San Francisco could be heard in Palo Alto.
The Southern Pacific Railroad was able to use San Francisco rubble in the roadbed for its new line through this area. In 1911, a local boy found a key to a San Francisco hotel room along those tracks.
The Frank Bacon family tells the story of a neighbor who went into labor during the quake. She delivered the baby in an upper room of “Baconia,” their Emerson Road home. Frank Bacon, who enjoyed countrywide fame as a thespian, missed the blessed event because he was performing in San Francisco. The next day he had to walk all the way home.
A number of San Franciscans, who were wiped out or otherwise traumatized by the tragedy, moved to the Peninsula, and the Los Altos area was among the favored relocation spots. Among those who made a new home here were Alan Cranston’s family and Joseph and Agnes Becker (with two sons), who bought 10 acres for an orchard on Los Altos Avenue.
We know there were vineyards in this area and that all San Francisco Bay wineries lost wine when casks splintered. The huge volume of such spillage throughout the Bay Area can be deduced from the report that, in San Francisco alone, 15 million gallons were lost. A closer, drier and more specific statistic was the figure 62,428 - the number of bottles of Paul Masson champagne broken in the collapse of the Vendome Hotel in San Jose.
When Los Altos was formed, Charles K. Field was one of the pioneering “Five Families” who lived adjacent to Paul Shoup. Field was probably the first local author to attain wide acclaim. He graduated from Stanford in Herbert Hoover’s class and took over writing for Sunset magazine from Paul Shoup.
Although Charles was never a serious poet like his famous cousin Eugene Field, he did turn out occasional verse. Popular in its day, and now part of the earthquake’s legend, was a quatrain he wrote in 1906. To pastors who had solemnly declared that the great 1906 earthquake and fire disaster was a punishment for San Francisco’s sins, Field wrote this about a friend whose liquor warehouse had survived intact:
If, as they say, God spanked the town
For being over-frisky,
Why did He burn His churches down
And spare Hotaling’s whiskey?
