In the Twilight of the Dawn:
Mabel Hale’s April 18, 1906 in San Francisco

Miriam Phelan

Mabel sits alone in tatters on stairs that lead nowhere,
Sits outside where walls came crashing down all around.
The little room she calls her home has vanished in the cloud--
A whoop! A roar! A terrible shuddering, and then a stillness--
The building she never thought so easily demolished, gone.
The meager effects she called her own, all gone.
How would she go on now, in the twilight of the dawn?
She supports herself as best she can--No family
Near to hold her hand, to say to her, “Be brave!!”
Mabel is a working girl, just eighteen years of age,.
Glad to be alive, she looks down with strange distress,
At her ruined and forbidden, floral-printed tattered dress.


She wore a print last night to work! A lovely Spring-time dress,
The flowers all in black on a flowing bed of white-
Surely that would prove acceptable, would be all right?
The Supervisor scowls as Mabel takes her place to work.
The other ladies at the late-night switchboard
Seeing her rebellion, try to hide their pleasure
That Mabel disobeyed the stringent rules to such a measure!
She hadn’t come this night in long black skirt and top of white!
The obligatory lecture he administers to her:
“You have been warned to never come again so dressed!
Now get to work!” He adds, “The customers are waiting!”
He turns, “And that goes for all of you, ladies! Please stop snickering!”

And so the long night passes for the working ladies seated
In the old brick building on muddy 25th Street.
“Number, please!” the melodious request is repeated.
Near one o’clock a deep rich voice sings back to Mabel,
“Operator?” Excitedly, she whispers to her neighbor,
“He’s calling from the Palace Hotel! Could it be
The great Caruso?” She knows that he was staying at the Palace,
In the city--and now he speaks to her! She feels giddy.
And then the princely voice goes on, “I want to find a restaurant--
Can you advise me which is best, my dear?”
Mabel gasps and then she gushes, “One moment please,”
Then dutifully defers the call to her Supervisor‘s ears.



The wee hours pass--the clock
Begins to slow its pace. Not only her eyes notice
The crawl it makes. Gaping mouths are yawning,
Eyelids want to rest, hands grow weary holding, waiting
For the switchboard’s little light, a caller in the night.
Mabel’s tummy starts to rumble, anticipates the moment when
She will be free to leave her station, let another
Take her place, with “Operator. What number please?”
But then at twelve past five comes another rumble--this time
Not by hunger-made--A rumble deep inside earth’s belly,
Followed by ferocious trembling, shaking everything like jelly,
Dismantling the old brick building, switchboards crashing down.


Out of the roar and clouds of dust she feels an outstretched hand--
Mabel crawls along the floor, clinging to that wonderful hand--
No time for her to wonder who her rescuer might be-
She feels her way along, pushing away fallen debris.
She is able to hear the soles of shoes scuffing on the floor
Ahead, leading her through all the chaos and the roar--
She can hear the voices of the others’ whimper, moan and pray.
One was even cursing God for bringing on this Hellish day!
“What’s happening?” she cries aloud, “What‘s happening to us?”
The Supervisor’s voice calls back, “I don’t know, Mabel! Do not fear!
Just follow me! Keep moving, Mabel. I’ll get you out of here!”
The Supervisor then calls back, “Mabel, can you stand?”


To her relief she finds she can, her Supervisor helps her.
He feels his way along the walls of powdered plaster where
Once the bricks and mortar stood with regularity, and
Mabel’s fingers also search, but one hand never looses grip
On the sleeve of this brave man, now her dearest only friend.
She feels the tug as he begins to madly toss away the bricks--
He’s found the place where nightly his girls reported in--
Where coats were hung, and times of their arrivals recorded.
It seemed so long ago--but, here! The doorway to the street!
“You’ll be all right now, Mabel. I’m going back to get the others!”
The Supervisor bravely faces the challenge with conviction.
And Mabel sadly walks away, surrounded by destruction.



She walks the way she always walked, remembering direction,
But it doesn’t feel like it is right--so many landmarks missing.
Barking dogs and wailing children are heard, though never seen.
People standing, looking dazed, searching for the answer:
“What’s happening?” their eyes cry out. She does not try to answer.
Her ankle hurts, her arm is sore, she coughs and then she chokes--
The air is filled with dust, she thinks, until she smells the smoke.
The city is on fire! She hurries on her way--until
She finds the place, her home, in the twilight of the dawn,
The building she never thought so easily demolished, now gone.
Glad to be alive, she looks down with strange distress
At her ruined and forbidden, floral-printed tattered dress.