Sinking of Ferry Boat San Rafael

Marin Herald, December 7, 1933
Speaker Tells Rotary Club Story of Sinking of the Ferry Boat
By Donald Perry

Don Perry, secretary of Sanitary District No. 1, spoke before the San Anselmo Rotary Club Wednesday noon. He related some of the local historical incidents within his personal recollection. It was so interesting that, both President Clyde Olney and Club Chairman Elmer Nielson, as well as the members of the club, requested that it be continued at next week’s meeting.

A communication was received from the San Anselmo Post of the American Legion asking cooperation and assistance in its Christmas tree festival. The club members endorsed the move and signified their intention to help make the affair a success.

Mr. Perry, the speaker, promised the members that he would talk next week on the older families of this vicinity. This historical talk on some of the old families will include the Kent family, Barbers, Dibblees, Allens, Kittles, Tompkins, Lathams and others. Anyone outside of the club is welcome to hear this talk if they like by attending the club after luncheon at Odd Fellows Hall, Wednesday afternoon at 1 o’clock.

When the ferry boat San Rafael sank during November 1901, Perry was a passenger aboard the craft. He tells the story as follows:

The night of November 30, 1901 was as foggy a night as I have ever seen. Coming down Market street one could hardly make out the outline of people across the street. The boat did not leave on time and it was close to 6:45 when we got away from the slip. I was down stairs on the starboard (right side) of the boat. After making the turn Captain McKenzie stopped the boat four times or so, waiting to pick up the other boat (Sausalito), which was commanded by Captain Tribble, and if he was half as careful as Captain McKenzie there would have been no accident.

No one knew just exactly where we were when we were struck, but I judged we were two-thirds of the way out towards Alcatraz Island. One could not see 50 feet away from the boat. Our whistle had been sounded repeatedly. The Sausalito suddenly appeared, going at a dangerous speed, and she struck us just forward of the paddle wheel, her bow coming into the restaurant. I was standing just back of the paddle wheel, not 25 feet from the Sausalito. When she struck us, I stepped into the passage way, inside of the San Rafael, and found the people, who had been in the restaurant, thrown out into the passage way, the thin wall being broken down and some tables were forced out along with the passengers. Several were hurt, a man named Smith, who was a cook or waiter, and Jim McCue of Corte Madera.

I had a package of books with me, needed in a law suit we had coming up on Monday morning. They were very essential exhibits. I took two life preservers out of a box in the hallway. I went outside and yelled to the Sausalito to come forward, as she had backed off into the fog. After several minutes she came forward and stuck her nose just about where she had first struck us. As the sides of the San Rafael were enclosed, passengers could not get on the Sausalito. We yelled to them to throw us a line so we could tie the boats together.

They did this but no sooner had we attached the line to the San Rafael that they yelled to let the line go, stating that they did not want to be drawn down. The San Rafael, by that time, had tilted her bow well into the water and the stern was rapidly rising; nevertheless we hung on to the line and after having tied my books up as securely as I could with one of the life preservers I had, I left the package on a seat outside of the smoking room and commenced to climb along the hawser, monkey fashion, towards the Sausalito, then 35 or 40 feet away.

Quite a few others started to follow suit and the result was that the hawser sank down into the water with the load it had. With the life preserver on, I could not make much progress and the fellow behind me knocked my hands off the hawser and I swam away, into the fog, so as to get away from the anticipated suction, as it then was apparent the San Rafael was just about to make her last dive. Several of us were near each other. There was no suction at all when she did dive, or if any, it was only apparent on the other side of the Sausalito, which, by then had backed off a short distance.

Mr. Tompkins and his son Phil of San Anselmo were in a life boat, which apparently was the only boat lowered and it had been lowered with the plugs out of its bottom and the boat filled with water. However, it held them up.

There were few on either boat. I should say not more than 60 or 70 on the San Rafael at the most and less on the Sausalito. People did try to get on the Sausalito through the cabin windows; that was about the only way they could get on board. They did not behave so badly considering the emergency. Deck hands had passed around telling people there was no danger, when, as a matter of fact, there was all kinds.

There was no boiler explosion—no noise. It was all over in less time than it takes to tell the story. We sank about 8 or 10 minutes after we were struck. I was finally pulled up to the deck of the Sausalito and I headed into the restaurant on that boat to get warm. No one was then in the restaurant. Hot coffee tasted fine. In a few minutes several fellows carried in Jim McCue. He had gotten rid of his coat and vest – had a white shirt on – no suspenders, and his trousers were coming off. He had just about passed out – knew nothing about what was going on. One of his ears was hanging down on his cheek, having been nearly severed in the restaurant mess when the boats first struck. They left him with me. I had to hold him up, sitting on the butcher block alongside the range, and finally I was able to force some hot coffee down his throat. In a little while his eyes opened and he commenced to swear—and he could swear, once he got started—as we all well knew.

When well warmed, I started around to see who was saved and on going upstairs I met Judge Lennon. He said he did not know me at first and told me to take a look at myself in the mirror at the head of the stairs. I was black as the ace of spades, having been covered with coal dust which floated out of the San Rafael. I washed and the Judge told me to get a drink of whisky, as a fellow was passing around with a big pitcher. The bar was closed. The whisky tasted good—very good—much as I dislike it.

In the meantime, whistles were constantly blowing and a tug was looking for us. By this time we had drifted down as far as the Marina, so the tug captain told Tribble when he asked where we were. We then headed back to San Francisco. Some of us went to the Hamman Baths—others went home later. Those of us at the baths had a nice, warm time, our clothes were dried and in the morning we did not look half bad. I lost my overcoat, hat and the package of books.

James Moore of Ross, father of Mrs. W. E. Ord of San Rafael, was on the San Rafael and as the boat was sinking, some one on the Sausalito yelled to him to jump. He did so, catching onto the projecting deck of the Sausalito, and some fellow on that boat caught him by the wrists and yelled for help. But none came and Mr. Moore gradually slipped from his grasp and away he went with the tide.

It so happened that while he was floating by the rear end of the Sausalito, several sailors had lowered a lifeboat and as Mr. Moore was floating past them they grabbed him and pulled him in. He could not swim. He was not much the worse for his narrow escape.

On Monday morning I met him on the train and he asked me if I had seen the morning papers. One of papers had the pictures of two rings. Mr. Moore drew my attention to the pictures, stating that one of his daughters said at breakfast “Why, father, these look like your rings,” and he looked at his hands and then found, for the first time, that his rings were not on his fingers. It appeared that the fellow who tried to pull him onto the Sausalito hung on till he pulled the rings off his hand, and he told the reporters about seeing the man he tried to help, drown. His name and address were given. We went out Turk or Eddy street to the given address and got back the two rings.

The man Smith was badly hurt and so far as I know a child from Ross was the only one drowned. I never heard of Crandell of Sausalito being drowned. There was hardly any occasion for anyone being drowned. The nice old horse had no chance of being led out onto deck, forward. The water was half way up the door, five minutes after the collision. He remained in his stall.

For twenty years no one knew just where the San Rafael sank, till some ten years or so ago up came the walking-beam of the San Rafael, on the hook of the anchor of one of the Matson boats which had anchored prior to passing inspection, just about on a line between the Golden Gate Ferry and Alcatraz—possibly about two-thirds of the way out to the island. This walking-beam is, or a few years ago was, down at Second and Bryant streets, back in a vacant lot, in apparently a pretty good state of preservation.

No blame could be placed on Captain McKenzie. Tribble was entirely at fault. We were then drifting. Our bow was towards the Golden Gate and the Sausalito struck us at a right angle while she was going at a good, fast rate of speed.