Great Molasses Flood, January 15, 1919
On January 15, 1919, a massive steel storage tank holding more than 2.3 million gallons of molasses suddenly ruptured in Boston's North End neighborhood, unleashing a catastrophic wave of thick brown syrup that killed 21 people and injured 150 more.[1] The disaster, which struck without warning near midday along the waterfront off Commercial Street, became permanently embedded in Boston's civic memory and left a lasting mark on the city's approach to public safety and building regulation. A century later, the event remains among the most unusual industrial catastrophes in American urban history, remembered both for the strange horror of its scale and for the legal and regulatory consequences that followed.
Background and the Molasses Tank
The tank at the center of the disaster stood on the waterfront in the North End, one of Boston's oldest and most densely populated neighborhoods. Constructed to hold vast quantities of industrial molasses, the structure contained what amounted to roughly 26 million pounds of syrup at the time of its failure.[2] The molasses was used in the production of industrial alcohol, a commodity in significant demand during and after the First World War, as well as in the manufacture of rum.
The tank itself was an enormous steel structure, and concerns had reportedly been raised about its construction and integrity prior to the flood. The structure's failure was not a slow leak but a sudden and violent rupture that sent a towering wave of viscous liquid surging through the surrounding streets and buildings. The force of the collapse was powerful enough to hurl large sheets of steel outward from the tank, adding a shrapnel-like danger to the already deadly flood.
The North End at the time was a working-class immigrant community, home to many families of Italian and Irish descent. The area around the tank included freight yards, firehouses, and workers going about their midday routines. January 15 was, by the standards of a Boston winter, a relatively warm day, a detail noted by contemporaries as contributing to the conditions that made the disaster so unexpected.[3]
The Flood
The tank ruptured at approximately 12:29 in the afternoon.[4] The collapse released more than 2.3 million gallons of molasses in a matter of seconds, sending a wave of syrup reported to have been several feet high crashing through the streets and structures of the North End waterfront.[5] The wave moved with sufficient speed and force to sweep people off their feet, collapse buildings, and overturn vehicles and freight wagons.
Molasses, particularly in large volumes, behaves very differently from water. Its viscosity meant that those who were knocked down or swept up by the initial wave found it nearly impossible to free themselves. People, horses, and debris were trapped and submerged in the slow-moving but relentless tide. The substance coated everything it touched, making rescue efforts extraordinarily difficult for the first responders who arrived on the scene.
Initial wire reports sent out on the day of the disaster reflected the confusion and chaos of the scene. The Associated Press reported that nine persons were known to have been killed and approximately fifty injured in what its dispatch described as the explosion of a huge tank of molasses on the waterfront.[6] The New York Times, in its January 16 edition, reported a probable death toll of about a dozen and fifty injured, noting that huge sheets of steel had been hurled outward from the tank.[7] As rescue operations continued and victims were identified, the confirmed toll rose to 21 dead and 150 injured.[8]
The Boston Globe described the event as a torrent of brown syrup on a deadly path through the North End, a description that captured the industrial and visceral character of the disaster in equal measure.[9]
Casualties and Rescue Operations
The final death toll of 21 people made the Great Molasses Flood one of the deadliest industrial accidents in Boston's recorded history. The 150 injured represented a wide range of injuries, from those physically crushed by the structural collapse and flying steel to those who were asphyxiated or otherwise overcome by the molasses itself.
Rescue workers, including sailors from a nearby naval vessel, police officers, and firefighters, worked for hours in extremely difficult conditions to locate survivors. The molasses was thick enough to impede movement on foot and to obscure victims who had been swept under the surface. Horses used in the freight yards of the waterfront were among the non-human casualties, having been trapped and unable to escape the flood.
The cleanup operation that followed extended for weeks. The molasses had spread across a large area of the North End waterfront and had penetrated buildings, vehicles, and infrastructure. Salt water from fire hoses was used in efforts to dissolve and wash away the substance, but the sticky residue clung to streets and structures for months. Contemporary accounts noted that the smell of molasses in the North End persisted well into the summer following the disaster.
Legal Aftermath
The disaster prompted an extended legal process. The company responsible for the tank faced a civil lawsuit brought by the city of Boston and by private individuals who had suffered losses. The litigation was complex and lengthy, involving the examination of engineering evidence, eyewitness testimony, and questions about the structural integrity of the tank and whether warnings about its condition had been ignored.
The legal proceedings ultimately resulted in a finding of liability against the company, and settlements were paid to survivors and to the families of those killed. The case was notable for the volume of testimony and evidence gathered, and it drew significant public attention to the question of corporate accountability for industrial infrastructure in urban areas.
Regulatory Consequences
Beyond the courtroom, the Great Molasses Flood had tangible effects on how the city of Boston governed the construction and inspection of large industrial structures. In the wake of the flood, the city of Boston required that engineers and architects sign off on construction plans, a requirement that reflected a new seriousness about professional accountability in the built environment.[10]
This change in policy represented an early example of what would become broader trends in American municipal governance: the idea that large-scale industrial operations situated in densely populated neighborhoods required independent professional review, not merely the approval of the companies that built and operated them. The flood thus occupies a particular place in the history of American urban regulation, illustrating how catastrophic failures could catalyze administrative reform.
Historical Memory and Legacy
The Great Molasses Flood has retained a distinctive presence in Boston's historical consciousness. Its combination of industrial tragedy, unusual subject matter, and significant human cost made it a story that resisted easy forgetting, even as the physical evidence of the disaster was gradually erased from the North End streetscape.
The centenary of the flood in January 2019 prompted renewed coverage by major news organizations, including retrospective pieces in The Washington Post, The Boston Globe, and SFGATE, among others, that revisited the human dimensions of the disaster and examined what it revealed about industrial safety practices in the early twentieth century.[11][12][13]
The site of the former tank, on the North End waterfront near Commercial Street, no longer bears any industrial structure. The neighborhood itself has changed profoundly since 1919, transitioning from a densely packed immigrant working-class district to one of Boston's most sought-after residential enclaves. Yet the story of January 15, 1919 endures as a reminder of the industrial character that once defined this stretch of the Boston waterfront, and of the human cost that could accompany the failures of that era's infrastructure.
The event is periodically referenced in discussions of industrial disasters, urban history, and the development of building codes and engineering standards in American cities. It stands as a documented example of the dangers posed by large-scale storage of industrial materials in proximity to residential and working populations, and of the regulatory responses that such disasters can generate.
See Also
- North End, Boston
- Commercial Street, Boston
- Boston history
- Industrial disasters in the United States