Public Health and the Syracuse Gunpowder Explosion of 1841

Welcome to Poetry Friday! We are hosted today by Irene Latham HERE. Thank you for hosting, Irene! Be sure to stop by and see what she has in store for us. Also, I would like to announce the BOOK GIVEAWAY WINNER:

Carol Varsalona has won a copy of D-39: A ROBODOG’S JOURNEY, a new novel in verse by Irene Latham. Congratulations, Carol!

No, just a bit of Syracuse history and not a happy bit of history. I discovered an event that fascinated me not just because it was shocking, but that it has been so totally forgotten.

As parts of America became less rural and people crowded into cities, certain dangers cropped up that would be addressed with new laws to protect the public health. For instance, in 1841, gun powder usually stored in a lonely barn in the country, could be found stored in a crowded city neighborhood.

I had never heard of the Syracuse Gunpowder Explosion. It happened in the evening of August 20, 1841, and unless you are like me and visit the Onondaga County Historical Association, you wouldn’t have known about it.

This is NOT a picture of the 1841 fire, but it might have looked like this for a moment.

The stage was set when William Malcolm of Malcolm and Hudson Hardware, needed a place to store his 625 pounds (27 kegs) of gunpowder. Mr. Going, a man who owned a sawdust filled carpentry shop on the second floor of a two story wooden building on the busy Erie Canal, agreed. Bad idea, right? Due to the Canal, sleepy Syracuse had become a bustling town of 12,000 in 1841.

A week later at 9PM a man living nearby noticed a fire in the carpentry shop. He alerted the neighbors and the volunteer fire department. Crowds formed. Firefighters responded with usual horse drawn carriages and hand operated pumps to fight the flames. Few knew about the powder in the shop. But someone did, and yelled, “Powder! Powder! There is powder in the building!” The crowd didn’t pay attention.

Soon, an immense explosion burst upwards into the sky and shook the earth for about five seconds. All the wooden buildings nearby were burned to the ground. In the silence afterward, came moans and screams of injured people. This anonymous poem was written soon after.

     "The awful scene like lightening
gleam,
     And thunder, through the
place,
     With cries and groans and
piteous moans,
     Brought tears from every 
face . . . 
     Numerous procession for the
grave
     Now darken every street;
     O, death what havoc hast
thou made!
     How many hearts did weep!"

Twenty-six people, including children, and six fire fighters died and over 60 injured. Being a doctor, this shocked me as I imagined the mayhem. There were no hospitals in Syracuse. The burned and injured were simply taken home.

Since I read about them, I thought I would remember the killed and injured. We do have to move on, and we always do. As a people we forget. But I feel indebted to all of them for the federal laws today that would have made it against the law for Mr. Malcolm to store his gunpowder so carelessly in a busy city. Much of public health is common sense safety, as we have learned during the pandemic.

12 thoughts on “Public Health and the Syracuse Gunpowder Explosion of 1841”

  1. Oh, my goodness. What tragedy.

    I love history of the canal. That line in the poem, “O, death what havoc hast
    thou made!” is a refrain for…of the ages. I wonder sometimes if we, as a species, have advanced? I like to think so. But, carelessness is certainly a weak spot.

    Have you read Gunpowder Girls? Your post reminded me of that book and the tragedy it brings to light.

    1. I would love to read Gunpowder Girls. Thanks for letting me know about that.

  2. How terrible. And how awful – that there was no hospital. No relief for the injured or their families, during the days of suffering. Awful.

  3. Wow, what a heartbreaking story. And that poem! Thank you for sharing it. Also, YAY for Carol winning D-39! xo

    1. Yay is right, Irene. I was so excited when I read Janice’s email to me that I won the book giveaway.
      Janice, I love the Onondaga Historical Museum but have not visited in years. I never heard the gunpowder explosion story before. It is so sad that this horrific event happened, especially since it was a foolish mistake that caused such grief. Thanks for sharing the poem that captures the misery of a careless incident, “Numerous procession for the
      grave
      Now darken every street;”

  4. I just read a new picture book about the Oklahoma City bombing & now your own post about this less-known explosion. You’re right, thank goodness for laws that keep us safe. History museums are filled with stories we might never know. Thanks, Janice!

  5. Janice, the history lesson is really valuable. Thank you for sharing it as well as the poem that touches the darkness of the streets and “How many hearts did weep!” It is so sad.

  6. What a moment in history! Like Linda, I immediately thought of another historical tragedy recently brought to picture books: UNSPEAKABLE: THE TULSA RACE MASSACRE by Carole Boston Weatherford. “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.” –Mark Twain

    1. Perfect quote. I’d like to read Weatherford’s book. Thanks, Mary!

  7. This story is both fascinating and horrifying at the same time, Janice. And the poem encapsulates the moment of the tragedy perfectly. With three public health nurses in my and my husband’s families, I am forever grateful to public health providers and laws. 🙂

  8. What a tragic incident! It must have been one of those “Where were you when …” moments for the people of Syracuse. Thanks for this reminder that one way we can redeem the tragic and difficult experiences in life is to learn from them, and create laws that will prevent similar tragedies in the future. Hopefully looking back on this pandemic, the same will be said of us – that we learned from it and created guidelines and laws that ultimately protected future generations.

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