San Francisco, CA Steamer Columbia Disaster, Jul 1907

WOMAN'S GRAPHIC TALE OF COLUMBIA DISASTER MAKES HORROR VIVID-DEATH LIST TOTALS

Third Officer Accuses the Male Passengers of Failing to Assist the Rescued

SURVIVORS OF THE CREW BLAME THE SAN PEDRO

Not a Child Aboard Wrecked Steamer Was Saved - Company Official Makes Statement

Revised lists show that 97 persons were drowned when the steamer Columbia was sent to the bottom off the Mendocino coast early Sunday morning as the result of a collision with the lumber schooner San Pedro. Not a child on board the Columbia escaped death. A wonderfully graphic story of the disaster, in which the horror of it all stands out so plainly that one can almost experience it, is told by Mrs. O. Liedelt, one of the survivors, who reached San Francisco yesterday. Third Officer Hawso expresses the utmost contempt for the men who were in the wreck, declaring that they did nothing to aid the women. Sworn statements made to government officials by the crew of the wrecked steamer seek to place the responsibility for the disaster on the San Pedro, which, it is declared, did not respond properly to the passing signals given by the Columbia.

"O, GOD, I CANNOT FORGET IT!" SHE CRIES
(Special Dispatch to the Journal)
San Francisco, July 23.
The most graphic story which has been told of the steamship Columbia disaster was brought to this city today by a woman, Mrs. O. Leidelt, one of the survivors, who arrived on the steamer Pomona from Eureka. Mrs. Leidelt was the only survivor from among the passengers on the ill-fated Columbia who came in on the Pomona, although the ship brought the members of the crew who were saved and who had managed to reach Eureka. When Mrs. Leidelt started down the Pomona's gang-plank, after the ship was made fast, she faced a great crowd of anxious friends and relatives of those who had been aboard the Columbia. Every passenger who had preceded her down the plank had been stopped by anxious ones who inquired, "Were you a passenger on the Columbia?". Not until Mrs. Leidelt debarked was an affirmative answer obtained to the questions, and at first the woman was so overcome by her emotions that she could not talk, and constantly murmured, "I don't want to talk. Please do not ask me to say anything."

Story Moved Men to Tears.
Clad in a dark brown ulster which had been furnished her by the relief committee at Eureka, and closely veiled, she made her way uncertainly through the crowd on the pier, seemingly still in a daze from the terrible experience through which she had passed. She was crying constantly, and her replies to newspaper men who besought her to make a statement of the affair were broken by sobs. When at last she was induced to talk she told a story so graphic that the hardened newspaper writers who listened to the recital were moved to tears. "I was asleep in my berth when the crash came," she said, "and the jar of the collision threw me to the floor. I managed to get out of the stateroom although I was too bewildered to know what I was doing, and made my way to the deck. I could only realize that something terrible had happened, and did not stop to collect any of my belongings, or to don my clothing.

Passengers in a Frenzy.
"When I reached the deck, everyone was excited." Men and women and children were running about, screaming, and calling for friends and relatives. The dark hulk of the San Pedro could be seen floating away from the Columbia, and the rush of the water into our vessel made a noise that was heard above the din of the crazed crowd. The crew was at the boats, cutting and slashing at the lashings, and doing their utmost to launch them while the frenzied passengers ran everywhere begging to be saved. Some kneeled on the deck and said their last prayers, men clasped their wives in their arms, and mothers gathered their children about them. We waited for the end which, by intuition, we all knew was at hand. "Only the captain remained cool among all that number. He stood on the bridge, his arms stretched wide, and above all the other noises rose the roar of his voice, begging the people to be calm and to permit the launching of the life-boats and rafts. He was a heroic figure, standing there along on the bridge in the gloom and darkness of the night.

Fought like Maniacs to Be Saved.
"But his entreaties availed very little. People fought like maniacs for places in the boats, and piled into them before sailors had loosened the falls. Those who could not find places in the boats about to be lowered jumped over the side into the sea, and vainly tried to reach pieces of wreckage and lumber from the San Pedro that floated all about the ship. Every once in a while, the last cry of some poor soul struck terror to the hearts of those still alive and looking over the railing we could see faces uplifted and arms extended toward heaven as someone sank for the last time beneath the waves. "The seconds seemed like hours in the pandemonium that raged, and I scarcely had time to think. Pushed and pulled and jammed about, I suddenly found myself near the rail, and looking down into the water saw one of the life-rafts close to the side of the ship, which by this time was listing heavily. There was nobody on the raft, and thinking only to save myself, I leaped over the side of the ship into the sea. How I got on the raft I do not know. I must have struck it in falling, for I injured my hip when I jumped. Down there in the water, looking back towards the ship, I saw other women jumping over the side into the sea. Some of them had children in their arms. Others were clasped in their husbands arms.

Women Leaped Into the Sea.
"I saw two women make the leap into the ocean with their arms locked about one another's neck. In a moment, some of the women began to climb onto the raft. Some came from the water, others landed on the frail support as they jumped from the ship. One man helped a woman into the raft from the water, clung a moment to some of the side-lines, and then, with two words, 'Good Bye,' sank under the waves. "We drifted away from the side of the ship. Then came the explosion of the boilers. Just before the explosion, the Columbia's whistle began a terrific moanful screeching. Captain Duran had tied it down just as he shouted, 'Good bye. God bless you!' The explosion of the boilers seemed to heave the Columbia clear off the water, and the air was filled with flying bits of wreckage. then the ship settled by the head, and her bow disappeared under the waves, the wreck of the hulk gliding in after it. It was just like a porpoise settling into the water after he has made a leap.

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