By 
On January 15, 1919, one of the most bizarre disasters in American history struck the North End of Boston. At 12:30 PM, a massive storage tank containing over 2.3 million gallons of molasses burst open, creating a deadly tsunami of sticky sweetness that forever changed how we think about industrial safety.
The molasses wave reached heights of 25 feet and moved at speeds of up to 35 miles per hour—fast enough that people couldn’t outrun it. The sticky brown flood demolished buildings, lifted a firehouse off its foundation, and even knocked a train off its elevated tracks.
Twenty-one people died and 150 were injured in what became known as the Great Molasses Flood. Rescue efforts were hampered by the fact that the molasses, cooling in the January air, became increasingly viscous, trapping victims and rescuers alike.
The disaster led to one of the first major class-action lawsuits in Massachusetts history, with over 100 lawsuits filed against the United States Industrial Alcohol Company. The legal proceedings lasted six years and resulted in $628,000 in settlements—equivalent to about $9 million today.
But perhaps the strangest legacy of the Great Molasses Flood is the persistent local legend that on hot summer days, you can still catch the faint smell of molasses in Boston’s North End. While scientists say this is likely just urban folklore, it speaks to how deeply this sweet disaster was seared into the city’s collective memory.
The tragedy also led to significant changes in building codes and engineering standards, proving that even the most unusual disasters can drive important safety innovations.