Patrick Lovenguth Mrs. Foley Short Story Thursday, February 11, 2016 Zeddicus was neither dead nor alive. He was the worst of both worlds. He would rip business inside out, or start a rebellion, then move on; always stirring, always hiding, never satisfied. Among the terrorists he crawled superiorly, and police and National Guard he utterly ignored, for he was king – king over all creeping, crawling, evil, and flying things on earth, humans most definitely included. Almost a century ago, a giant storage tank in Boston’s North End ruptured, releasing a massive wave of molasses that killed 21 people, crushed buildings, and tore a firehouse from its foundation. People say it was because of Arthur Jell and how he neglected basic safety tests, …show more content…
“George Layhe,” the boss yelled, “Get your firefighting blockhead in here!” Why I needed to rush was beyond me because nothing ever happens here in the North End neighborhood of Boston, Massachusetts. Just then I heard what sounded to be gunfire. The alarm went off and we slid down the pole. As soon as we got to the bottom, the ground shook and it sounded as if an elevated train was above us. We frantically ran outside and drove to 529 Commercial Street. Like something out of a movie, a wall of molasses was rushing towards us at something like 35 miles per hour. At, at least 25 feet tall and coming right for us, we panicked and turned to flee in our car. I looked behind us and saw a horrific sight. Buildings were being swept off their foundations and men, women, and children were stopped in their tracks and drowned in the sticky fluid. It was gaining on us, as we rushed through the town. The molasses was always gaining, always coming, and never stopping. Not a sweet way to die, I thought as we were cornered in an ally way and darkness overcame my mind. I watched in delight as the molasses enveloped the town. The molasses is exactly how I want it, dark, sweet, and unforgettable. The dough, made of crushed houses will do nicely. Mix this all together with the special ingredient of fear and you get a disaster that will go down in history. My birthday has come, the song of the 21 dead have
At 2215 hrs, on November 28, 1942, Fire Alarm Headquarters from Box 1514, situated at Stuart and Carver streets, received an alarm. When the responding apparatus arrived they found a small car fire at the corner of Stuart Street and Broadway. After the fire was extinguished the firefighters were about to return to quarters when their attention was called to smoke emanating from the Cocoanut Grove Nightclub a few doors away. Upon their arrival at the entrance of the Broadway lounge on Broadway they encountered numerous people leaving the premises admidst the cries of “fire”. The chief in charge immediately ordered that a third alarm be sounded from Alarm Box 1521 which the alarm was received by fire alarm headquarters at 2223 hrs. A civilian sent an alarm that was received at 2220 by fire alarm headquarters. As soon as the chief in charge realized that the immediate problem was one of rescue he ordered that a fourth alarm (received at 2224) and a fifth alarm (received at 1102) be sent. The apparatus responding was comprised of 25 engine companies, 5 ladder companies, 1 water tower company, 1 rescue company and various other apparatus. 18 hose steams for cooling purposes and three ladders were utilized (located at Piedmont, Broadway, and Shawmut for venting operations).
The “Dark Tide” by Stephen Puleo was the first book to tell the full story of “The Great Boston Molasses Flood.” The reason he wrote the nonfiction novel was to give the full accounting of what happened in the historical context. He used court records, newspaper accounts, and files from the fire department. He recrafted the tale about what actually happened with painstaking and terrifying details of those affected. Puleo creates a new way to view the dreadful catastrophe as something that changed Boston (“Dark Tide”).
\On March 25, 1911 the Triangle Shirtwaist factory located on the eighth, ninth, and tenth floors of the Asch building, in New York, caught fire. The owners of the Asch building were Max Blanck and Isaac Harris. The fire started on the eighth floor and was caused by a dropped cigarette. There were little precautions taken by the owners in case of a fire. There were only about twelve red pails of water in the building in case of a fire, one exit was locked, and one of the two elevators was out of order. The owners of the factory survived by escaping on to the roof and were able to get to the building next to theirs. It took about 30 minutes for firefighters to get the fire under control. There were about 600 employees in the factory that day
About a mile and a half away more mistakes were happening. Each fire house had a watch man who scanned the neighborhood at night for flames and smoke at night. But because of there drought going on added patrols had been organized to put out small fire and turn in the alarm box for bigger one. On duty at the courthouse that night was Mathias Schaffer. When some vistors pointed out the smoke to him he dismissed the sighting a quickly assured them it was just the embers from the preivous nights fire. Several minutes passed when Schaffer looked up and saw leaping flames he was fooled because the new fire almost directly behind the still flickering remenents of the Saturday October 7th fire. Schaffer couldn't find the exact location of the new blaze because of the distance and tall buildings so he sent his assistant to strike box 342. which sent the fire engines a mile away from the actual fire not only did this send them on a wild chase but when Schaffer found the actual correct location and ordered the box 319 his assistant William j refused to send it out claiming he was afraid it would confuse the situation
The sight of women jumping out of a building, due to a lack of fire escapes and locked doors, resonated with the American public. Across the country reporters and every day citizens questioned the business practices in place, and waited to see who would be to blame for such a terrible incident. Headlines of leading newspapers such as William Hearst’s the American read, “City Officials Blamed For Fire Tragedy,” and he devoted several days of front-page stories to this event. (Von Drehle, 187). Angry citizens took notice, and reform subsequently began.
As a result, “half the workers in Manhattan toiled on the seventh floor or above—which was at least one floor higher than the city fire department could easily reach” (48). When the New York Fire Department was unable to save many of the trapped victims of the Triangle fire, blame was placed on the fire department “for failing to insist on adequate safety measures” (179). Though, the NYFD was known for being the one of the top fire departments of the time, and those victims would have had a greater chance of survival if there were more adequate means of evacuation or if evacuation had been practiced in the form of a fire
The cellphone rings breaking the tranquil morning at an apartment in New York City, half asleep, Robert picks up the phone only to hear, “Honey we are hit”. The line disconnected jolting him out of his sleep. He looked at his phone which displayed that the call was from his wife, tried to call back with no success, ‘What’s it all about’, he tried to sober up, having just returned home from the barracks he was just taking a long deserved rest. Another call broke his chain of thoughts, he picked up the call only to hear his sister sobbing on the other end urging him to watch the television. He switched the TV on just in time to see the clip of the collapse of the world trade center. He stood
July through October only had a few showers that did not contain much water, and even when it did rain, it flooded. They were going through a very long drought, and they had already had a fire the night before and the blaze destroyed four blocks. The wind wasn’t on their side either. The wind was rushing up from the south east, and the gust of wind spread the fire from building to building in a matter of seconds. The fire alarms were not helpful either, because many of them were very hard to get to. And of course back then, at that time, there were no phones! When William Lee raced to the fire alarm at Gull’s drug store the “ fire was only 15 minutes old. What followed was a series of fatal errors that set the fire free and doomed the city of Chicago to a fiery
On March 25, 1911, the deadliest industrial fire in Manhattan, New York City history occurred, forever changing the view Americans held regarding factory workers and safety. One-hundred and forty-six workers, primarily young women immigrants, perished when flames overtook the Triangle Shirtwaist factory in New York’s Greenwich Village. Especially on the seventh, eighth, and ninth floors of the Asch building, one would find overcrowded rooms with rows of sewing machines, workers, and their materials. As panicked workers scrambled to find safety from the rising flames, they would soon discover that only one exit door was unlocked; a fire escape apparatus reaching only to the sixth floor.
The smoke shop wasn’t the tandems only charade. Jones and Nordstrom waited only two weeks to kill again. June 13, 1996 was a scary night for four individuals at the Fire Fighters Union Hall, which is also located in Tucson. Carol Noel, one of four victims that night, was not only shot twice, b...
Through the sound of the thundering rain and howling wind, an ear-piercing scream slices through the air. Never in my life have I heard a sound quite like this one. It’s the type of scream that’s so desperate and horrific that its cuts right through your body and down to your soul and shakes the life out of it. Just on time, the well-known Virginian winds whipped open the door to the privy to let me out into the blasting wind. Through the rain and sleet assaulting my face, I heard the terrible scream rip through time and space again. Right away, my feet start taking off without me, trying to reach the main house, to my family. Through the raging storm, I can see the blue side door come into view, or the spot that used to be where the blue door was.
“There were flames all around in no time. Three girls, I think from the floor below, came rushing past me. Their clothes were on fire. I grabbed the fire pails and tried to pour the water on them, but they did not stop. They ran screaming toward the windows. I knew there was no hope there, so I stayed where I was, hoping the elevator would come up again,” Samuel Levine recalls from his memories of the time he was stuck in the burning building (“Stories”).
July 22, 1975, was a turning point in the career of Boston Herald photographer Stanley Foreman. Foreman was finishing up a usual day of city photography when he got a call about a fire. The fire was located in an older part of town. There was word that people may be trapped inside the building. Foreman followed fire trucks to the scene. On a hunch he went around to the back of the row houses. There he saw firefighter Bob O’Neil trying to save two people trapped on the fifth floor fire escape. A 2-year-old girl and her 19-year-old godmother were holding on the fire escape waiting to be rescued. Foreman set himself into a position to capture pictures of what he expected to be a routine rescue. But to his surprise there was a loud noise that changed all of that. The fire escape gave way before O’Neil could save the girl and her godmother. O’Neil was just a moment away from saving the two girls. Foreman caught this event through the lens of his 135 mm lens. He shot four photos of the two falling, than turned away before they hit the ground. The godmother, Diana Bryant, broke the fall of the young girl, Tiare Jones, but lost her own life a couple of hours later, Tiare survived. Forman learned that Bryant had died a few hours after developing and turning in his photos to the newspaper. With Bryant now dead he was unsure whether the newspaper would run the photos. But the next morning at 2:00am he saw the first morning edition with his photo almost covering the whole front page. And the rest of his photos were on Page 3. Foreman then went ahead and made a set of prints for the Associated Press by 4:00am. And his photos were seen worldwide by the very next day. The releases of the photos lead to many cities improving the inspection and ma...
A few blocks farther on, there was an opening through which we could see the true scope of the devastation. With dusk falling, bright lights illuminated a scene that was both profoundly unsettling and disturbingly sublime-like an otherworldly sculpture by some unknown artist. A s...
Have you ever been scared for the safety of a complete stranger? Have you changed somebody’s outlook on life just by being a Good Samaritan? Well, I have. It was a late Thursday night and I was in a bad part of town informally known as “The Knob.” I had been at a friend's house when we decided to leave to find somewhere to eat. On the way, my friend got a call from his mom telling him he had to be home. His house wasn’t really out of the way. As I pulled down Belle Avenue, towards his house, another friend of mine shouts out “Hey, pull over that guy just knocked that girl out” I instantly questioned this absurd accusation. “What? You’re joking.” As I turned around I noticed that he certainly wasn’t as I saw a middle-aged lady facedown on the pavement. Without hesitation I parked the car and we all ran over to see what was going on. You could see in the distance a man in an orange hooded jacket fleeing the scene. My friend attempted to wake this lady up. She was out cold. At this point each one of us had no idea what we should do. Obviously, the first thing we should have done was call the police, but let me remind you this was a bad part of town and didn’t know if we would be the next. Tommy, my friend, the nearest house and knocked on the door. A trashy looking man answered the door. After being informed that there was an unconscious lady in front of his house he scurried to her aid. The man then realized it was a good friend of his. Jane was her name. You could sense his anger and concern for this lady. He began to frantically ask questions. Who, what, when, where, why, how and every other sort of interrogation question was thrown our way. We described her assailant and which way he went. Evidently it was her boyfriend. At this ...