My Old Man at the Preparedness Day Bombing

Preparedness Day in San Francisco, 22 July 1916

About five years ago, I presented an article on "My Old Man's" adventures during the First World War as a newsboy for the San Francisco Call, Hearst's afternoon paper. That article (HERE) emphasized his activities during the Spanish Flu Pandemic and a somewhat parallel (timewise) Smallpox outbreak, when he was incarcerated in the notorious San Francisco Pesthouse.  If you haven't read the piece, I'd recommend it just to see the interesting list of people young George Hanlon  met hawking the Call.

Included in that article is a mention that he was present at the Preparedness Day Bombing of 22 July 1916 on Market Street in which 10 people were killed and about 40 injured. At the end of this article, I'm going to present some photos and details about the event, but first I want to catch up with dad's involvement that day. Now, before I begin, this is all based only on My Old Man's account to me, repeated several times over the years, including once at the actual site of the explosion, shown above. However, I've been able to track down several of his other undertakings and found him—unlike Mom, who always claimed "he's making those stories up"—pretty reliable as a reporter.

His account of that day went something like this:

He was selling his papers 2 or 3 blocks up Market from the Steuart Street intersection (shown above) where the bomb would go off.  When it detonated, he ran toward the blast, which he said had a "funny" smell.  Police were already arriving on the scene and chased him back when he approached some of the bodies.  For over and hour or so, he hovered around watching as medical care arrived for the stricken and more police arrived to secure the area and investigate matters.  He told me one hard-boiled police inspector named Greminger (?) recognized him from his regular corner at 22nd and Mission and told him to  "stay the #@!^& out of the way, Hanlon".   

Dad claimed he was the only newsboy at the site for a considerable time, and people started approaching him to buy papers–in some cases thinking the Call had already produced a special edition on the bombing.  The parade, nevertheless, continued relentlessly afterward, and Steuart Street was where parade groups formed up to turn on to Market Street. Dad told me it was quite memorable watching thousands of those shocked marchers gawking at the bodies and damage and then stepping out into the parade.  Eventually, his straw boss came looking for him and ordered him back to his original outpost.

I Believe That Newsboy Is Probably My Old Man

Now to the point of this new article.  A while back, I discovered a Pathe News film of the aftermath of the explosion online.  I screen-captured this  frame above from the film  that shows a newsboy at the site.  On the brief reel, he is the only newsboy that appears.  Dad was born on 12 December 1905 and he would have been about 10 years, 6 mos. old on the day of the bombing. So, the kid looks just the right size.  Also, he once told me that his "uniform" as a newsboy was a cap, a type of short pants (I forget their name), and long stockings. The young man in the still also appears to be "in uniform".  With this evidence, I've naturally come to believe that he is, indeed, My Old Man. (I know there's a lot of wishfulness wrapped in there, though.)   I can hardly blame anyone that's skeptical. After sitting on this image for over a year,  I thought our readers might enjoy the tale, even if  you might have your doubts.

San Francisco's Finest At the Scene

About the Preparedness Day Bombing

The sinking of the Lusitania in May 1915 sounded an alarm in the United States that carried far beyond San Francisco. The sense that, despite America's neutrality declaration and its apparent disconnection from the affairs of Europe, America might be drawn into the expanding conflict spread throughout the land. Military and naval reforms were initiated by Congress, officer training camps were opened, and much dramatic speechmaking came from proponents of "preparedness" such as former President Theodore Roosevelt and former Army chief of staff Leonard Wood. Predictably, an oppositional group quickly formed with antimilitarists, church groups, and radical segments of the labor movement in an uneasy alliance. President Wilson was ambivalent about the Preparedness Movement, as it came to be called, participating in some of its events, while retaining an anti-preparedness man, Newton Baker, as his Secretary for War.  

In San Francisco, the Chamber of Commerce with the support of Mayor Sunny Jim Rolph decided to celebrate and advance preparedness with a big parade, featuring 50,000 marchers accompanied by floats, bands, and lots of flags. Preparedness Day was scheduled for 22 July 1916; the procession would start near the Ferry Building on the waterfront, proceed down Market Street, and end at the new post-earthquake Civic Center. The opponents, however, were not rolling over. They widely broadcast a threat to take "direct action" against the event. Memories were still fresh on the West Coast over the 1910 labor-incited Los Angeles Times bombing that had killed 21.

At 2:06 p.m., about a half-hour after the parade began, a bomb concealed in a suitcase exploded by the corner of Steuart and Market Streets, near the Ferry Building starting point. Ten bystanders were killed and 40 more were wounded. The authorities, naturally, looked for the "usual suspects." Radical labor leader Tom Mooney, his wife, his assistant Warren Billings, and two others were soon charged by ambitious District Attorney Charles Fickert with the bombing. The Mooney-Billings episode attracted international attention. Two decades later when evidence of perjury and false testimony at the trial had become overwhelming, newly elected Governor Culbert Olson pardoned Mooney and commuted Billings's sentence to time served. Billings was pardoned in 1961. The actual  perpetrators have never been identified. One theory involves some anarchists, who had been targeting the Pacific Gas and Electric public utility company. Today there is no marker at the site of the city's most noted terrorist episode.