Arguing with Philly fans is like
wait.
The Great Molasses Flood, or, the Boston Molasses Disaster
Coverage from The Boston Post
Molasses can be fermented to produce
ethanol, the active ingredient in alcoholic beverages and a key component in munitions. The disaster occurred at the
Purity Distilling Company facility at 529 Commercial Street near Keany Square. A considerable amount of molasses had been stored there by the company, which used the harborside Commercial Street tank to offload molasses from ships and store it for later transfer by pipeline to the Purity ethanol plant situated between Willow Street and Evereteze Way in
Cambridge, Massachusetts. The molasses tank stood 50 feet (15 meters) tall and 90 ft (27 m) in diameter, and contained as much as 2.3 million US gal (8,700 m3).
Modern downtown Boston with molasses flood area circled
On January 15, 1919, temperatures in Boston had risen above 40 degrees Fahrenheit (4 degrees Celsius), climbing rapidly from the frigid temperatures of the preceding days, and the previous day, a ship had delivered a fresh load of molasses, which had been warmed to decrease its
viscosity for transfer. Possibly due to the
thermal expansion of the older, colder molasses already inside the tank, the tank burst open and collapsed at approximately 12:30 p.m. Witnesses reported that they felt the ground shake and heard a roar as it collapsed, a long rumble similar to the passing of
an elevated train; others reported a tremendous crashing, a deep growling, "a thunderclap-like
bang!", and a sound like a machine gun as the
rivets shot out of the tank.
The density of molasses is about 1.4 metric tons per cubic meter (12 pounds per US gallon), 40 percent more dense than water, resulting in the molasses having a great deal of
potential energy.The collapse translated this energy into a wave of molasses 25 ft (8 m) high at its peak, moving at 35 mph (56 km/h), enough to drive steel panels of the burst tank against the girders of the adjacent Boston Elevated Railway's
Atlantic Avenue structure and tip a streetcar momentarily off the El's tracks. Stephen Puleo describes how nearby buildings were swept off their foundations and crushed. Several blocks were flooded to a depth of 2 to 3 ft (60 to 90 cm). Puleo quotes a
Boston Post report:
Molasses, waist deep, covered the street and swirled and bubbled about the wreckage [...] 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.
As molasses is a
non-Newtonian fluid, its viscosity changes under stress, thinning and flowing quickly under pressure and heat. During the flood, this
shear-thinning resulted in unexpected speed. A 2013 article in
Scientific American stated:
"A wave of molasses does not behave like a wave of water. [...] A wave of molasses is even more devastating than a typical tsunami. In 1919 the dense wall of syrup surging from its collapsed tank initially moved fast enough to sweep people up and demolish buildings, only to settle into a more gelatinous state that kept people trapped."
The
Boston Globe reported that people "were picked up by a rush of air and hurled many feet". Others had debris hurled at them from the rush of sweet-smelling air. A truck was picked up and hurled into
Boston Harbor. After the initial wave, the molasses became viscous, exacerbated by the cold temperatures, trapping those caught in the wave and making it even more difficult to rescue them.About 150 people were injured, and 21 people and several horses were killed. Some were crushed and drowned by the molasses or by the debris that it carried within. The wounded included people, horses, and dogs; coughing fits became one of the most common ailments after the initial blast. Edwards Park wrote of one child's experience in a 1983 article for
Smithsonian:
Anthony di Stasio, walking homeward with his sisters from the Michelangelo School, was picked up by the wave and carried, tumbling on its crest, almost as though he were surfing. Then he grounded and the molasses rolled him like a pebble as the wave diminished. He heard his mother call his name and couldn't answer, his throat was so clogged with the smothering goo. He passed out, then opened his eyes to find three of his four sisters staring at him.