I just stumbled across a Then and Now site about Richmond. For example, here are then & now pictures of the Wayne County Court House.
Also, Kemplog has a post about an upcoming documentary film 1:47 on the subject of the explosion in downtown Richmond at 1:47 p.m. April 6, 1968. Morrison-Reeves has posted page images of the book Death in a Sunny Street by Esther Kellner that documents the explosion. A gas leak coupled with the gun powder in the Marting Arms sporting goods store caused the blast. Vigran’s Department store and Holthouse Furniture were leveled. MacRaven recounts his near miss at being the 42nd person killed that day. Apparently the blast blew out my Dad’s office window (this was about 3 years before I was born). Luckily he’d taken a long lunch or something that day and was not at work. I asked my Dad (also a lawyer) about it a year or so ago. Mostly he just remembered who got the legal work that resulted.
Update: I edited the title to reflect what has become the main subject of the post. My Mom just e-mailed me with her recollections of that day, and I thought she gave a good description of what she had been doing:
I remember it well. It was a Saturday. Your dad and I had gone to Civic Theatre with Dick and Cathy Brantner the night before and then out for some beer. It was a beautiful warm Sat., the day before Palm Sunday. We had lived in Richmond for 8 days and your dad went into the office for a short time on Sat. morning and then came home for lunch. Since we had been out late the night before your dad, Cindy and I all took a nap. We were still unpacking and getting settled and had dinner at home still unaware of what had happened.
Bert Keller called around 9:30 that night and told us what had happened, we were stunned. I still can’t believe that we didn’t see smoke from the down town and didn’t hear the sirens, etc.
We did see the horrible result of the explosion the next day and lived with the reconstruction of the downtown as well as meeting many people whose lives were effected by this tragedy.
. . .
[T]he window in your dad’s office blew in and as I recall glass was on his desk where he had been sitting not too long before the explosion. He was fortunate that he came home when he did.
Seems to me that’s a big thing to have happen to a fairly small town.
Dad went to pick up a pair of boots at Marting Arms. He circled the block a couple of times, couldn’t find a parking spot, and decided to return later. I think he got just over the G Street bridge when it blew (don’t recall exactly). He’d be happy to tell you the long version next time you see him.
He also recalls this was in the immediate (one or two days, I think) aftermath of MLK being assassinated. That caused a bit of heightened anxiety above and beyond the downtown blowing up, at least initially.
I have absolutely no memories of that day. So thanks, T and Doug (and Doug’s mom) for sharing. My Dad says that a co-worker of his went to the Marting Arms on his lunch break and returned to work just before the explosion.
Thank you for these stories — we are trying to gather as many as we can for the film, 1:47. The title, “1:47,” refers to the time of the explosion, the moment when so many lives were changed forever. If you look at the film website, http://www.147film.com, there is a field to enter your email address for updates on the film. This is a temporary site; a more complete site will be up within the next several weeks, which will contain periodic updates, a trailer, a production blog, and more.
– Jean Harper — Writer/Director of 1:47
I WAS 5 AND WE WERE ON OUR WAY DOWNTOWN TO BUY SHOES AT THE SHOE STORE ON THE CORNER of main and ? (I REMEMBER WAITING EXCITEDLY because I got to ride the big rocking horse all to myself and did not have to share with my brother, because the owner of the shoe store only let 5 years old and younger ride and my brother was 6 and I turned 6 in a month. as you rode the horse the scenery on the wall was the old west, and a train rode around the top of the room, into the back store room, when it came back out the tunnel into the room you could race the train on the horse as it went around the room until it disappeared again through the wall at the other end of the back room.) we were delayed by a colliers encyclopedia salesman, in the front foyer, (which my mom was interested in buying) when the exslposion happened. I remember running to the side walk to see the smoke rising. and back inside as my mom tried to call her mom / grandma Davis, because she lived near downtown and it appeared to be where the smoke was comeing from.
Thanks for the info on the documentary. I was almost 16 and working at the library just one block down from Marting Arms. I remember the day well. I lost two classmates, another friend’s father died (the attorney next to Marting Arms, James Trimble), and another friend’s father was the Police Chief. I haven’t been to Richmond since my family moved in 1972, so it’s quite interesting to see the “then and now” photos.
I was 12 years old . On my way to the state theater to see stay away joe. My mom told us to turn around come back . She said something not right and it was just a matter of minutes. We saw a cloud of smoke. I’ll never forget that day. I’m now 60 and it will always be in my memories.
My grandfather and grandmother worked at the Richmond state hospital. We are actually from Southern Indiana. My Sister, her husband and their first little baby was visiting our grandparents in Richmond. Being hunters my brother in law and grandfather was going to Martin Arms but when they started to leave the baby was asleep and they elected to wait until she woke and the time was about 30 minutes prior to the explosion. Had she not been asleep, my family would have been in Marting Arms gun shop where the explosion occured. I believe God was watching out for my family that day.
My mother was driving me down to Richmond, south on 27 from Lynn that afternoon. I needed some school clothes. We could see a column of smoke from south of Fountain City, and as we approached Reid Hospital, there were numerous ambulances leaving the grounds onto 27South, with their red lights and sirens operating. Mom is a registered nurse, given to observation, and she commented that something bad must have happened, to see the ambulances leaving the hospital grounds like that.
We drove on downtown, where she spoke with a fireman and offered her assistance. By that time, the main part of the firefighting and trauma care was accomplished.
Coincidentally, I had a pellet gun being repaired at Marting Arms, with the claim ticket in my pocket. The store was on our list of places to go that Saturday.
Wow, that narrow miss has to make you feel lucky.
I lived on Richmond Ave., across from the License Bureau. We heard an explosion and thought it was the neighbors’ boat. The neighbors were working on it in their backyard. We found out quickly that wasn’t the case. As we went out the front door, we noticed the windows in the License Branch were broken. We looked toward downtown, over the bridge that was close to the Purina Dogchow building, we saw debris falling on the bridge. There were a pair of men’s pants, hats, paper, etc.
We turned on the radio and they were calling for anyone who had a pickup truck or station wagon to come downtown and help get the injured to the hospital-there were not enough ambulances. Everyone else was warned to stay away so they wouldn’t add to the congestion.
My dad had just turned 7 a couple months before the explosion, and approximately 45 minutes before the explosion happened he had been in Marting Arms with my great grandpa.
I’m doing a story for my school newspaper about the explosion and I came across this. It’s really crazy to see that so many people had family members that had a close call with the explosion.
My father, Larry Spring was lucky. He was getting his hair cut I believe and after the explosion, he couldn’t find his car. It had been moved 3 blocks away. I do know he was friends of the attorney that lost his life and I believe they never found his body.
ONE DEATH WAS TO MANY IN THAT DAY OF THE DOWN TOWN EXPLOSION.