BEANTOWN OR SWEET TOWN? By Jeff Tanner

Great Molasses Flood
Historical Marker

If you’ve been to Boston, you probably think the city’s history began with the first colonists and ended with the War of 1812.

You’d be wrong.

But then again, what gets remembered motivates tourists to travel and spend money. Not two forgotten major disasters. Both changed how responsibility for human-created catastrophes is assigned and paid, but they don’t bring the tourists.

The first occurred in 1919 – the Great Molasses Flood.

Yes, molasses. 

A molasses tank burst, dispensing 2.3 million gallons in a 30-foot-high flash flood that swept through the neighborhood at 35 miles per hour. Buildings were flattened, in some cases their roof still intact after the walls were gone. A piece of steel sheared through a column holding up the elevated train tracks, just moments after a passenger train had passed by. A fire station was lifted from its foundation and moved over a hundred feet.

Twenty-one people were killed, most dying that day, and another 150 were injured.

The tank was built so that the Purity Distilling Company could make as much alcohol as possible before Prohibition (passed the day after the flood) took effect. The job was rushed, the material was subpar, and the tank insufficiently tested. In fact, it was never fully filled with water before it was put into service!

Blame fell on the builder’s treasurer, who was responsible for the lack of testing, poor quality materials, etc. He even ordered the tank painted brown to hide the leaks.

Boston, Beantown, could’ve been named Sweet City for it smelled of molasses for years after.

The second disaster occurred over twenty years later. In 1942, the Coconut Grove nightclub burned. Once the headquarters of mobster Charles “King” Solomon (who was killed in 1933), the huge warren of former warehouses was still a popular dance and dining club. The Grove boasted a roll-away roof so patrons could dance under the stars.

But the owner grew tired of people walking their checks by sneaking out of the fire exits, so he bolted them shut. A window that could have been knocked out was plywooded over. When the fire started, the only escape known to the public was a single revolving door that quickly jammed. When it finally broke, the oxygen from outside created a horrific fireball that incinerated all who were there.

The fire resulted in the largest death toll in a nightclub fire, and at the time, the second largest building fire death toll (the 9/11 attacks are now first).

Just 10 days prior, the Fire Department had inspected the building and declared it safe. No mention of bolted doors and blocked windows. But that’s the only permit the place had – no liquor license, no food-handling permit, nothing.

Coconut Grove Fire Historical Marker

The impact of this calamity is far-reaching, and not just in the obvious ways of permitting and fire safety. Burn care was revolutionized, in part because the city’s healthcare system was well-prepared to handle the disaster. They were ready for potential needs caused by World War II and Nazis sinking ships near the coast. Treatments for burn victims advanced rapidly since there were so many all at once. These treatments, including for psychological trauma, were put immediately into widespread practice in the military.

While numerous outcomes of these two tragedies have advanced healthcare, made urban living safer, and increased personal liability for those responsible, these two tragedies are marked only by these plaques.