1865—THE GREAT MAGAZINE EXPLOSION

AS IF the shock of war and defeat were not enough, Fate dealt Mobile a terrific blow on May 26, 1865. It was the “great magazine explosion” which snuffed out the lives of hundreds of persons, wrecked countless business buildings and dwellings, and demolished merchandise and other property with a loss authoritatively estimated at $728,892.

The death-dealing blast took place in the main Ordnance Depot—located at Commerce and Lipscomb Streets—of the United States Army force who were charged with enforcement of martial law under which Mobile was placed immediately after the close of The War Between the States. Ranking as a major holocaust, it was featured as the leading news of the day in Northern newspapers, which declared that the explosion was deliberately set by certain exConfederate officers — “unreconstructed Rebels”—bent on revenge. It is hardly believable, however, that ex-Confederates, no matter how “unreconstructed” or vengeful they were, would have visited such a rain of death on their own people. The generally accepted version of the cause in Mobile and elsewhere in the South was that the explosion was caused by some laborers who were careless in handling explosives at the dump.

Whatever the cause, it was a terrible catastrophe for Mobile. So terrific was the explosion that it destroyed or damaged all buildings in the area bounded on the north by Bloodgood Street, on the west by Conception Street, on the south by St. Anthony Street and on the east by the river. Windows in the Battle House, which suffered an estimated $15,000 damage, and in buildings as far south as Conti Street, were shattered. Force of the blast was so great that it caused carriages to capsize on Royal Street, and horses to collapse as if shot to death. A man was blown off the wharf into the river at the foot of Church Street, and a steamer and schooner were wrecked at their moorings in the river.

Accompanying illustrations show a newspaper artist’s conception of the disaster as it was pictured for northern readers. A reporter for the Mobile Morning News who rushed to the scene of destruction described the explosion as “a writhing giant—gaunt and grim—poised in midair. . . bursting shells, flying timbers, bales of cotton, horses, men, women and children co-mingled and mangled into one immense mass. The heart stood still, and the stoutest cheek paled as this rain of death fell from the sky and crash after crash foretold a more fearful fate yet impending; the lurid flames began to leap farther from the wreckage. Old and young, soldier and citizen vied with each other in deeds of daring to rescue the crumbled and imprisoned. . .“.

The detonation was heard as far distant as Fort Morgan, where soldiers, frightened by the sound, rushed to their parapets, thinking a monitor had set off its magazine. And after a thorough study of records, army officials estimated that 200 tons of munitions had gone up in the explosion.

Highlights of 75 years in Mobile, Mobile, Ala.: First National Bank of Mobile, 1940, pages 6 and 7