55 pages • 1-hour read
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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of illness and death.
Tarshis explains that the idea for I Survived the Great Molasses Flood, 1919, came from one of her readers. She admits that she had not previously heard of the disaster and initially expected it to be a lighthearted story. However, her research revealed the event’s true nature as a tragedy that resulted from corporate negligence. Tarshis emphasizes that the disaster was preventable—“caused by people who made bad decisions” (69)—and holds the company that owned the tank responsible for failing to protect the nearby community.
Tarshis describes the book as historical fiction, defining the genre by noting that “all the facts are true […] The ‘fiction’ part is the characters who are from my imagination” (69). She clarifies that while Carmen, Tony, and other characters are fictional, they were inspired by real people who lived in Boston’s North End. Many residents of the neighborhood at the time were immigrants, particularly from Italy, who had arrived during a major wave of immigration to the United States in the early 20th century.
The author reflects on the theme of immigration, acknowledging that some readers may be immigrants themselves or have family histories that connect them to that experience. She encourages readers to learn about how their own families came to America and shares her personal connection: her great-grandmother, Elizabeth Yasnitz Rosen, immigrated alone from Russia in 1909 after facing threats because she was Jewish. Elizabeth lived with her sister in the United States under circumstances like those faced by Carmen and her father. Tarshis concludes the note by expressing gratitude to her readers for engaging with the story.
Tarshis provides historical details about the Great Molasses Flood that did not appear in the main story. She begins with the aftermath of the disaster. First responders arrived within minutes, but cleanup efforts soon became difficult as the molasses hardened. Workers used seawater sprayed from a fireboat to loosen the syrup, and it took about six months for the area to be fully cleaned and for daily life to resume in Boston’s North End.
Tarshis then describes how the United States Industrial Alcohol Company (USIA) tried to avoid responsibility for the disaster. The company had not properly built or tested the tank, ignoring persistent leaks and safety warnings. One employee, Isaac Gonzalez, even reported having nightmares about the tank’s potential collapse, but his concerns were dismissed. After the explosion, USIA attempted to blame the disaster on sabotage, claiming someone had planted a bomb. Investigations disproved the claim: An engineer determined that the tank was structurally weak, lacked enough rivets, and had never been properly tested with water before being filled. Three weeks after the explosion, a judge ruled the company liable. Following a six-year court case, USIA was ordered to pay $693,000 in damages—marking the first time a corporation in the United States was held financially responsible for such a disaster. The case also led to stronger industrial safety regulations.
Scientists have continued to study the tank’s collapse. In addition to design flaws, they note that molasses itself contributed to the explosion. Syrup ferments over time, producing gases that can “build up—and cause explosions” (80). This process likely explains the gurgling noises witnesses heard before the tank burst.
Tarshis also provides background on molasses and its historical uses. Derived from sugarcane and produced as a by-product of sugar making, molasses was once more common than refined sugar, which was much more expensive. By 1919, however, most molasses was processed for industrial alcohol, which was used in weapons manufacturing during World War I.
She situates the molasses flood within a broader period of social and industrial transformation in the United States, as the nation became more industrialized and women continued to fight for equality. Tarshis also summarizes key facts about World War I, originally called the Great War, which began in 1914. While historians debate the causes, most attribute the conflict to the militaristic ambitions of German leaders. The war was fought primarily in France and Belgium and was characterized by trench warfare and extreme suffering. The United States entered the conflict in 1917, sending nearly 4 million soldiers, more than 115,000 of whom died. Many survivors were left with severe injuries—“legs and arms lost to bombs and bullets, lungs scarred by gas, dreams haunted by gruesome memories” (88). The war ended on November 11, 1918, a date later commemorated as Armistice Day and, eventually, Veterans Day. Tarshis notes that 20 years later, Adolf Hitler initiated World War II, which caused an estimated 73 million deaths.
She turns to the Spanish flu pandemic, which began in 1918 and earned its name after it killed the king of Spain. Unlike typical influenza strains, it spread rapidly and affected healthy people as well as the vulnerable, claiming countless lives “like Papa.” The first US outbreak occurred near Boston, and experts estimate that the virus killed roughly one-third of the global population.
Tarshis concludes the section by including a gingerbread recipe—a traditional dessert made with molasses—and a list of additional books for readers interested in learning more about the historical events and topics explored in I Survived the Great Molasses Flood, 1919.
The two Addenda that conclude I Survived the Great Molasses Flood, 1919, mark a shift in genre and tone, moving from fictional narrative to factual reflection. Tarshis steps out of Carmen’s world and speaks to her audience through direct address. This change reinforces the I Survived series’ dual purpose to engage readers emotionally through story and to inform them intellectually through history. In these nonfiction sections, Tarshis clarifies what is true, explains what is imagined, and situates the Boston disaster within a broader moral and historical context. The same themes remain present but are expressed through direct commentary rather than narrative symbol.
Tarshis opens with a conversational greeting that transforms the tone from storytelling to dialogue, inviting readers to become collaborators in the process of historical discovery. Breaking the fourth wall, Tarshis writes: “It was one of you—an I Survived reader—who suggested that I write about the Boston Molasses Flood. (You readers give me so many great ideas!)” (69). By addressing her young audience directly, Tarshis emphasizes intimacy between herself and the reader and the text itself as a tool of empowerment. The friendly aside in parentheses mirrors her classroom voice, maintaining accessibility while reinforcing the idea that curiosity drives learning. This rhetorical shift marks the reader’s transition from emotional witness to active learner.
Once this connection is established, Tarshis turns to the book’s ethical focus: accountability. She writes, “What made this event even more tragic was that it could have been prevented” (69). The line condenses the moral essence of the story—tragedy born of negligence—and sets the stage for explicit historical explanation. Tarshis explicitly places the blame on the United States Industrial Alcohol Company, emphasizing Industrial Negligence and the Human Cost of Progress: “It wasn’t the tank’s fault that it leaked. It was the fault of the company that owned the tank… And really, they are what this book is about” (69). Through repetition of “fault,” Tarshis underscores human responsibility. The plain diction, free of figurative language, contrasts sharply with the earlier dramatic imagery of the flood, demonstrating how nonfiction can clarify what fiction dramatizes. Her statement transforms narrative empathy into civic understanding, teaching readers that disasters aren’t always inevitable. Later, she frames the victims’ eventual legal victory—“never before in America had a corporation been forced to pay victims when it caused a deadly disaster” (79)—as a landmark in social justice, reinforcing that progress requires accountability, not blind faith in industry.
Tarshis pauses to teach genre awareness and define historical non-fiction. She writes, “This book is a work of historical fiction. That means all the facts are true… The ‘fiction’ part is the characters” (69). By defining her genre and method, she models transparency and media literacy for young readers, explaining how imagination can serve truth rather than distort it. The explanation bridges emotion and fact, illustrating that empathy and evidence coexist in responsible storytelling. This clarification reinforces the educational purpose of the I Survived series, reminding readers that history is a text continually interpreted and reinterpreted in the present.
In the second Addendum, Tarshis widens the historical lens, connecting the local disaster to global history. Her description of trench warfare—“Soldiers fought in trenches—long pits that protected them from some bullets, but also trapped them […] They had to live in them, for weeks or even months” (85)—shows her characteristic restraint. The concrete imagery aims to avoid sensationalizing violence, maintaining dignity for the soldiers and mirroring the same realism she applied to the flood’s victims. She situates the molasses flood within a broader narrative of early-20th-century transformation involving industrialization, global war, and the 1919 flu epidemic. By writing that “From the start, it was obvious who caused this disaster: the company that owned the tank, United States Industrial Alcohol” (78), she reasserts factual clarity and moral conviction. These concise statements teach readers how to draw connections between local and global histories as manifestations of both progress and peril.
Tarshis personalizes these lessons through her own family history, highlighting the ongoing impact of Immigrant Resilience and Community Solidarity on future generations. She writes, “If my great-grandmother hadn’t found the courage to leave Russia and come to America… I would not be alive today (and I would not be writing these words for you!)” (73). By intertwining autobiography with history, she demonstrates that every reader’s story is part of a larger human narrative. The exclamation-laden aside softens the didactic tone, attempting to keep the reader engaged through warmth and humor.
The Addendum closes with symbolism, bringing the narrative full circle. Tarshis writes, “The molasses flood was such a sad story. But I wanted to end this book with some sweetness” (89). The gingerbread recipe that follows transforms the symbol of molasses—the substance of tragedy—into nourishment, embodying Recovery and Remembrance After Tragedy. The domestic act of baking becomes a metaphor for historical reflection; by reworking the material of destruction into creation, people find healing.



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