(This is the third installment of the childhood account of "guest blogger" J.J. Conlon. In 1982, J.J. Conlon, whose career at Wells Fargo spanned 46 1/2 years, wrote his recollection of the 1906 earthquake. He seven years old when the disaster occurred.)

There was a bubonic plague  scare shortly after the fire and because the fleas on rats were carriers of the germs, the city paid a bounty for dead rats. These bounty payments were my introduction to the functions of the "middle man." An older lad enriched himself by paying the neighborhood youngsters with candy for dead rats that he exchanged for cash at the repaired Emergency Hospital. The fire drove thousands of rats into our district and Mother was horrified by them. Consequently, to avoid attracting them, all were instructed to securely cover garbage cans .

Every morning, after the women had deposited the breakfast trash in the cans, I would remove the covers. Returning in about an hour, I would inspect the galvanized cans and if any rats were trapped therein, cans were tipped so that my Fox Terrier could kill the emerging rodent; then to the middle man for candy.

Two of my teen-age cousins also disliked rats and while their family was living in the basement, the girls never could accept what they called the night roamings of these “canaries.” As our refugees gradually left us. The girls with their parents were quartered on the first floor. Uncle Ed, their father, was a strict disciplinarian and whenever the girls, in their youthful exuberance, violated his 9 o’clock curfew and stayed out until, say, 9:07 with their boy friends, it was: "Down into the basement with the Canaries, my fair ones, until you learn to return home on time."

This was drastic punishment and notwithstanding pleas, sentences were always carried out with a temporary improvement in deportment, until some young swain caused further tardiness.