|
|
|
|
Molasses
Mon Jan 24, 2005
Listen in RealAudio 
In an average year, flooding kills more Americans than any other natural disaster.
When we think of floods, though, we usually think of water; but in 1919, a bizarre
tragedy struck the North End of Boston. Hi, I’m Bryan Yeaton, and this is The Weather
Notebook.
The North End is best known as the home of the tower from which glowed the two
lanterns that sent Paul Revere (and others) off on their midnight ride. But on January
12, 1919, a change was in the air. That morning started off cold—minus 2 degrees F.
But by noontime on the 15th, it was up in the mid 40s. The 58-foot high, 2.5 million
gallon molasses tank of the United States Alcohol Company creaked as the fluid
inside expanded. Eric Blair propped his back against the tank, and began to eat his
lunch. He wouldn’t finish.
With the rumble of an earthquake, the wrenching and tearing of 1/2 inch thick steel
plates let loose a deluge of sticky blackstrap, a 25-foot wave traveling at 35 miles per
hour. Writer Edwards Park called it "a wet, brown hell." It crushed buildings and people,
and sliced through a support of the elevated railway just after a train had stormed by.
Some tried to swim as if it were water, but they were sucked down into the
ooze.
Twenty-one people were killed, and 150 injured. Litigation lasted six years, and the
courts finally concluded that the tank was not strong enough to handle 14,000 tons of
molasses. The U.S. Alcohol Company paid out around one million dollars in
damages.
For many years, buildings in the North End continued to show the high "water" mark of
the Molasses Flood. Some people said they could detect the sweet aroma of
blackstrap for decades. .
The Weather Notebook is produced with support from Subaru of America.
Today's Links
Eric Postpischil, \"Eric Postpischil\'s Molasses Disaster Pages,\" Eric Postpischil\'s
Domain, 24 Nov.
http://edp.org/molasses.htm
|
|
