At around 12:30pm on the 15th of January
1919, in the North End neighborhood of Boston, Massachusetts,
a huge storage tank filled with molasses burst. The sugary substance within
flooded into nearby streets at great speed
destroying buildings, lifting cars and trucks on the crest of a wave
and smothering any unfortunate people in its path.
In mere moments the Boston Molasses Flood
claimed 21 innocent lives.
Molasses have many useful applications. Back in 1919 they were primarily
fermented to produce ethanol, a key ingredient in
both alcoholic drinks and munitions. It was the business
of the Purity Distilling Company based at 529 Commercial Street
to unload, store, and eventually process huge quantities of molasses delivered by
incoming ships.
The tank that caused the disaster was 15 meters
(around 50 foot) tall and 27 meters (around 90 foot) in diameter.
Its size was sufficient to store more than 2 million gallons of molasses.
When the collapse occurred these two million gallons were
unleashed all at once, forming a wave of molasses that spread rapidly
in every direction moving at speeds of up to 56 kilometers an hour,
or 35 miles per hour, and reaching a height
equivalent to a two-storey building.
The wave, dense and fast-moving as it was, lifted a streetcar off an elevated track.
It smashed some buildings flat and lifted others off their foundations.
Many of the victims of the flood were killed in these first moments,
but even when the wave had settled the danger was not yet
over. Molasses, denser than water, settled waist deep in
the street. Now exposed to the open air it cooled
rapidly, becoming thick and difficult to escape.
One eyewitness gave the following report:
"Here and there struggled a form; whether it was animal or human being was
"impossible to tell. Only an upheaval, a thrashing about, in
"the sticky mass showed where any life was. Horses died
"like so many flies on sticky fly paper. The more they struggled the deeper in
"the mess they were ensnared. Human beings - men
"and women - suffered likewise."
A frantic rescue effort began with rescuers
struggling to pull survivors from the sticky mess before they suffocated.
It was slow and exhausting work which went on for four days before a halt was
finally called and the rescue operation became a
cleanup. Some victims, having been completely
glazed over with molasses or swept into the harbour by the flood,
weren't identified for several months.
Cleanup crews used saltwater to wash away the molasses and sand
to absorb it. Cleanup took weeks, even with the help of several hundred
volunteers. The effort was hampered by the fact that
many had entered the fringes of the flood
and subsequently tracked sticky molasses wherever they went.
Streetcars, telephones, benches and subway platforms many blocks away
from the disaster were sticky with molasses for weeks to
come.
One of the first class action lawsuits ever to be brought in the state of
Massachusetts was launched by local residents.
Initially the Purity Distilling Company claimed that their tank had been blown
up by anarchists and that they were not
responsible for the flood. They later dropped this ludicrous claim
when faced with the actual evidence, and paid up to the
tune of around $7,000 per
victim (equivalent to $100,000
in today's money).
The evidence that won this victory was soberingly conclusive:
an inquiry after the disaster revealed that the tank was half as thick as it
should have been, and partly constructed from brittle
manganese. Basic safety tests were not carried out
during the construction of the tank and numerous warning signs were ignored.
During its lifetime
the tank, for example, groaned loudly when filled,
and leaked so badly that local residents would often visit it
in order to collect molasses for their homes.
Rather than repairing these leaks management ordered the tank to be
painted brown to better hide them.
The trigger for the incident was found to be thermal expansion.
A new batch of warm viscous molasses had been pumped into the tank the previous
day, raising the temperature of the contents
and causing it to expand. When combined with slightly warmer
weather the thermal expansion was sufficient
to rupture the tank.
The area where the tank once stood is now a baseball diamond in a public park.
The area is used for recreation, but there is a small plaque in place to
commemorate the victims of this bizarre disaster.
Some report that the smell of molasses even now
still lingers in the air in the North End of Boston.