On February 7, 1904, the most peculiar culinary calamity in Baltimore's history unfolded—the Great Molasses Flood. What began as a seemingly ordinary industrial day transformed into a sticky, deadly disaster when a massive molasses storage tank at the Purity Distilling Company suddenly burst, unleashing a 15-foot-high wave of viscous, sugary doom through the city's North End neighborhood.
Approximately 2.3 million gallons of molasses came roaring through the streets at an estimated 35 miles per hour, crushing buildings, sweeping away vehicles, and trapping unsuspecting pedestrians in its sweet, suffocating embrace. The viscous tsunami killed 21 people and injured 150 others, creating a landscape that looked like a grotesque confectionery nightmare.
Witnesses described the event as surreal—buildings crumpling like paper, horses being swept away, and people struggling to escape the rapidly hardening syrup. The temperature that day was unusually warm, which ironically contributed to the tank's structural failure.
The aftermath was equally bizarre. Cleanup took weeks, and the area reportedly smelled of molasses for months. The event became a landmark industrial accident case, leading to significant improvements in construction and safety regulations. Locals would joke for decades that on hot summer days, you could still smell the sweet, sticky reminder of that extraordinary day when molasses quite literally ran through the streets of Boston.