It was a bright January day in 1919 as young Anthony di Stasio hurried along a crowded sidewalk in Boston’s North End. As usual, the streets were jammed with honking motorcars and clattering horse-drawn wagons. After weeks of freezing cold, the temperature had risen to 40 degrees. Anthony’s tattered wool coat flapped open as he hurried toward the tiny apartment where he lived with his parents and four sisters.
Like most of the people who lived in this Boston neighborhood, Anthony’s family had come from southern Italy, eager to start a new and better life in America. What they found was hardship. Anthony’s father worked long hours on the waterfront. Anthony’s mother struggled to transform their small apartment into a comfortable home—to chase away the cockroaches and cover up the stink of garbage and horse manure that wafted up from the streets.
Indeed, life was tough for the people of the North End, and the previous two years had been especially challenging—not only for them, but for most Americans. World War I had been raging in Europe. Nearly 5 million Americans had joined the fight to defeat Germany. And during the final months of the war, another horror hit the world: the influenza pandemic of 1918. The virus killed 50 million people, including more than 600,000 Americans.
Now, though, the war and the worst of the pandemic were over. Anthony might have sensed a mood of hopefulness on that sunny January day—the residents of Boston’s North End had every reason to believe that better times were just ahead.
But something terrible was about to strike Anthony’s neighborhood. In fact, a deadly threat had been looming over the North End for years. It was not a German bomb or a deadly disease.
It was a giant steel tank filled with molasses.
It was a bright January day in 1919 as young Anthony di Stasio hurried along a crowded sidewalk in Boston’s North End. As usual, the streets were jammed with honking motorcars and clattering horse-drawn wagons. After weeks of freezing cold, the temperature had risen to 40 degrees. Anthony’s tattered wool coat flapped open. He was heading toward the tiny apartment where he lived with his parents and four sisters.
Like most of the people who lived in this Boston neighborhood, Anthony’s family had come from southern Italy. They had been eager to start a new and better life in America, but what they found was hardship. Anthony’s father worked long hours on the waterfront. Anthony’s mother struggled to make their small apartment a comfortable home. She tried to chase away the cockroaches and cover up the stink of garbage and horse manure that wafted up from the streets.
Indeed, life was tough for the people of the North End. The previous two years had been especially challenging—not only for them, but for most Americans. World War I had been raging in Europe. Nearly 5 million Americans had joined the fight to defeat Germany. And during the final months of the war, another horror hit the world: the influenza pandemic of 1918. The virus killed 50 million people, including more than 600,000 Americans.
Now, though, the war was over. And so was the worst of the pandemic. Anthony might have sensed a mood of hopefulness on that sunny January day. The residents of Boston’s North End had every reason to believe that better times were just ahead.
But something terrible was about to strike Anthony’s neighborhood. In fact, a deadly threat had been looming over the North End for years. But it was not a German bomb or a deadly disease. It was a giant steel tank filled with molasses.