Oregon officials wanted to solve a big, smelly problem with science. But thanks to a small miscalculation, they turned a peaceful beach into a Michael Bay disaster instead. The day was complete with whale guts, flying sand, and one very unlucky car.
In Nov. 1970, the small coastal town of Florence, Oregon, had a big problem. An eight-ton, 45-foot sperm whale had washed up on the shore, bloating in the cold air and threatening to explode on its own. The smell was unbearable, and local officials needed a quick solution. They found one very quick one, but unfortunately, not very sustainable.
The Oregon State Highway Division, whose “public works” included whale disposal at the city beaches, decided to clean up the carcass by bombing it. After consulting with demolition experts from the U.S. Navy, they landed on a neat, round number of 20 cases of dynamite. That amounts to about half a ton as a reference for the next time anyone wants to blow up a whale body.
The simple idea was to scatter the whale into bite-sized chunks for seagulls to eat, and the problem would take care of itself. So, on the fateful day of Nov. 12, crowds gathered on the dunes to watch the big event. Reporters and families gathered in equal numbers, almost making it a community event. Because, of course, no one in Oregon had ever seen a whale explode before. So, with a countdown and a crackle, the dynamite went off.
What followed was iconically less like a cleanup operation and more biblical judgment. The beach erupted in a 100-foot-high blast, felt by every neighborhood window. A red-gray mist filled the air, and seconds later, a rain of whale flesh began to fall. The huge, greasy chunks of the poor whale thud into the sand, smashing car roofs and sending bystanders running for cover. The seagulls, sadly, wanted nothing to do with it.
When the air cleared, an unlucky man found his car roof almost bent to a V-shape by the impact of one of the many pieces of the while. The officials had to replace his car on their account, and the cleanup of the beach probably cost more than the explosion itself. George Thornton, the assistant district highway engineer who planned the explosion, reportedly regretted the decision his whole life.
While the state quietly vowed never to try anything like it again, the legend of the day lived on. Locals now celebrate Exploding Whale Day every November, wearing whale costumes and taking the day off (via Oregon Live). The state’s minor-league baseball team, the Eugene Emeralds, rebranded as the Exploding Whales for a series of themed games, too, complete with custom jerseys and John Oliver shouting them out on Last Week Tonight.
