What follows is a Halifax Explosion story about my great Uncle Joseph Burke based on information given by my great Aunt Anna Bella, along with research.*
Uncle Joseph Burke was married to Pauline Bouchard. They and five of their seven children, ranging in age from five to twenty-six, lived in a cottage on 19 Stairs Street in December of 1917.
On December 6, Joseph – a stevedore, was on Pier 8 helping load cargo onto a ship called Curaca. Pier 8 ran parallel to the Halifax shore. Pier 6 was just south of it and headed straight into the shore.
Not far away, two cargo ships – the Imo and the Mont Blanc, had collided in the harbor after heading straight at each other on the Dartmouth side of the harbor.* At the last minute they both took evasive maneuvers that resulted in the Imo striking and piercing the Mont Blanc’s hull. Under normal circumstances and with both ships still afloat, this wouldn’t have been a problem, but the Mont Blanc was loaded with 3000 tons of explosives. When the Imo pulled back, the metal scraping metal created sparks that set off a fire in the first hold, located just below the Mont Blanc’s deck. Quickly flames lept onto the deck, blocking the crew from getting to the fire hose. Fearing the ship would explode any second, the crew, captain, and harbor pilot got into life boats and rowed toward the Dartmouth shore.
Uncle Joseph was at ground zero as the Mont Blanc drifted into Pier 6 and ran aground. He and others stopped what they were doing as the ship passed in front of them. Smoke filled the air as flames traveled across its deck, ignited by fumes from barrels of Benzol (airplane fuel) stacked three and four high. Then about nine barrels – one after the other, catapulted high into the air trailing smoke, exploding into flames with a loud roar.
Joseph and those around him watched as the blasts continued and the heat of the ship intensified - then one final seismic explosion.
“ Of course, my Uncle Joe, they never found a bit of him. They never found one bit of him. That was my Aunt Pauline’s husband. And they never found him at all, he was blown to bits because he was right on the wharf when the thing went off and they didn’t find him.” – Anna Bella (Landry) Bradley
It saddens me to think of his passing and the loss of a husband, father, uncle, and friend.
Not only was Uncle Joe a stevedore, but he was a carpenter and overall handyman, according to Aunt Pauline in a statement to the Halifax Relief Commission - Case #393:
"She said she and her husband had both been born in Cape Breton. Had come to Halifax about 15 years ago. And ever since had lived in a cottage at 19 Stairs Street. They were only paying $5.00 a month rent there, as her husband was very good at carpentry and made all the repairs to the house himself. Kept it in good condition, so the landlord did not increase their rent." - info. recorded by M.A. Boss on May 8, 1918
Wow, what an attentive man my Uncle Joseph was and my Aunt Pauline seemed very proud of him. Are there many landlords that would keep the rent low for a well maintained house today?
Note: Along with conversations with my great Aunt Anna Bella, I've done research at
Nova Scotia Archives and the
Maritime Museum of the Atlantic both online and on site. Reading Resources: Ground Zero edited by Alan Ruffman and Colin D. Howell, Shattered City by Janet F. Kitz, The Great Halifax Explosion by John U. Bacon
*This wording has been changed following comments from a reader asking that I might reconsider that it wasn't a game of chicken. I've removed the words "after a game of chicken" and replaced them with the words "on the Dartmouth side of the harbor".
