Posted on 10/28/2005 6:52:39 AM PDT by Calpernia
(1010 WINS) (NEW YORK) The calls and emails started coming into the 1010 WINS newsroom late last night and they all wanted to know the same thing - what is that odor hanging over the city?
Most described it as smelling like maple syrup, although at least one person thought it was more like peanuts.
So, what is it? The official answer at this hour is we don't know and neither apparently does anyone else. There's speculation that whatever it is drifted over from New Jersey.
The NYPD, the City Office of Emergency Management, the City Department of Environmental Protection, even the Coast Guard investigated. The air was tested, but nothing sinster was found and the search for the source continues.
One listener who emailed from Cliffside Park, NJ said he's been smelling the same aroma in his neighborhood for the past 14 years, but it seems more pervasive lately. He did not know the source.
Keep it locked in to 1010 WINS for the latest.
Maybe I've been reading this site for too long...but I just went outside and it smells like there is a bakery on every corner here. And I'm in Memphis, TN and there are no bakeries in this neighborhood. Is freerepublic sending me subliminal(?sp) messages??? hehe
Now.. this reminds me of something:
Forty minutes past noon on 15 January 1919, a giant wave of molasses raced through Boston. The unseasonably warm temperature (46 degrees) was the final stress needed to cause a gigantic, filled-to-capacity tank to burst. 2,320,000 gallons (14,000 tons) of molasses swept through the streets, causing death and destruction.
Eyewitness reports tell of a "30-foot wall of goo" that smashed buildings and tossed horses, wagons and pool tables about as if they were nothing. Twenty-one people were killed by the brown tidal wave, and 150 more were injured. The chaos and destruction were amplified -- and rescue efforts were hampered -- by the stickiness of the molasses. Those persons attempting to aid others all too often found themselves mired fast in the goo.
The day after the disaster, The New York Times reported:
A dull, muffled roar gave but an instant's warning before the top of the tank was blown into the air. The circular wall broke into two great segments of sheet iron which were pulled in opposite directions. Two million gallons of molasses rushed over the streets and converted into a sticky mass the wreckage of several small buildings which had been smashed by the force of the explosion. The greatest mortality apparently occurred in one of the city buildings where a score of municipal employees were eating their lunch. The building was demolished and the wreckage was hurled fifty yards. The other city building, which had an office on the ground floor and a tenement above, was similarly torn from its foundations.
One of the sections of the tank wall fell on the firehouse which was nearby. The building was crushed and three firemen were buried in the ruins.
Boston is not a city that forgets anything easily. There are those who claim that on a hot summer day in the North End, you can still smell the molasses.
It smells like sweaty boots.
Obvious. New Hampshire invades. All your turnpikes are belong to us.
It's a strange story. Few will believe you if you repeat it, which means it's worth repeating.
The Purity Distilling Company of Boston, Massachusetts had a huge metal tank, twenty feet tall, which held over two million gallons of molasses which was used in making rum. It was an unseasonably warm day, so people were outside enjoying the weather at lunchtime.
All of a sudden this molasses tank explodes. People reported hearing a "low rumble" just before a wall of molasses twenty feet high roars down the street. A sticky tsunami. It happened so fast there was no getting out of the way. The molasses's journey ended in the harbor at the end of the street. The damage it left in it's wake was pretty incredible. Twenty one people died of drowning or suffocation; another 150 were injured. Buildings were plowed flat; an elevated train track was destroyed. Countless horses, which had been strapped to wagons and carts, were killed. Others were so trapped in the molasses tar pit that they had to be shot. Over the next few weeks, the hundreds of people who came to see what had happened tracked the molasses all over the rest of Boston. The whole city smelled of it for a week, and the harbor stayed brown, soaked with molasses, for the rest of the summer. I have read in a few places that on very hot days this area still can smell of molasses today, but it might be one of those neat urban myths.
What you say?
I say the situation is developing. Even at this moment, scores of people dressed in plaid flannel shirts are moving toward Princeton. New Hampshire takes New Jersey.
All your plaid are belong to us.
That would be it!
LOL. I should say it's working quite well. Thank you!!
New Jersey has plaid?
What exit?
Calpernia's back yard.
did you rig the Bay Cam's for a reverse view?
Exit SB1
Even the ocean smells like maple syrup today. That's it, I'm moving to Hershey.
ML/NJ
Well, you might be right, but from my experience, New Jersey smells bad on any given day. Additionally, I once smelled something so vile while driving by Perth Amboy...well, I just can't go there....
I'm thinking it may have been those evil guys from Vermont with the Maple Syrup. Darryl and his other brother, Darryl.
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