It is uncommon for Cincinnati saloons to explode, so when one does, we need to find the culprit. When Adolph Drach’s saloon exploded in 1896, the blame involved advertising and electricity.

Drach’s saloon was one of three in a row, located on the east side of Walnut Street, just south of Fifth. That corner today is occupied by the 1902 Traction Building. The three saloons would have been located just north of the alleyway separating this row of buildings from the Mercantile Library building. Three watering holes in chock-a-block proximity must have generated some competition and, indeed, that appears to have been the case.

If you were to alight from a passing street car on Government Square in 1896, and turn down Walnut from Fifth, you would first pass the Esplanade Building on the corner, then Louis Fey’s saloon, Drach’s and, finally, Theodore Foucar’s. The three buildings between the Esplanade and the alley were wooden frame, five stories tall, and around 50 years old. Retail occupied the ground floor, with apartments and storage upstairs.

Each of the saloonists had invested substantial sums to upgrade their facilities. Both Fey and Foucar had successfully developed effective advertising gimmicks and Adolph Drach had to compete.

To call Louis Fey’s place a “saloon” was somewhat slanderous. True, he sold beer, and lots of it. He had a nice bar and the traditionally empathetic barkeeps. Louis Fey, however, thought of himself as a wine merchant. Even though he specialized in the finer vintages, his beer was no afterthought. Fey was famous for selling something called “sharp beer.” Descriptions of this lager are confusing. It most certainly was a lager, but some reports claim it was sharp because of added carbonation. Others say it was something we might call a “light” beer while others suggest an acidic flavor. William C. Smith, in his excellent book, “Queen City Yesterdays,” describes Fey’s “sharp beer” like this:

“This came in quart bottles and was highly carbonated; being without any brewer’s name on the containers it was evidently bottled on the premises. Combined with the aged sharp cheddar on the lunch counter, it was a great attraction for the homeward bound clerks and business men who kept the place crowded from five to six in the evening.”

Theodore Foucar’s gimmick was elegance. His establishment on the east side of Walnut Street was not the legendary palace he later created across the street, but showed signs of the opulence to come. Foucar’s had a large skylight, an immense mirror behind the bar, distinctively stylish glassware and substantial furniture. Foucar’s had recently relocated uptown from the bottoms and displayed the impeccable flair that would create his legacy. He was already earning a reputation for his steaks.

In contrast, Drach’s bar, known as the “Black Cat,” was dowdy and old-fashioned. He inherited the place from his father and knew it had to be spruced up. What could Adolph Drach do to compete? He had invested in carbonation equipment for a fancy soda fountain, but needed a real kicker. The answer was electricity.

Both Fey and Foucar apparently lit their barrooms with gas. The light from gas fixtures was warm and inviting, but electricity would brighten Adolph’s saloon, providing a beacon to thirsty tipplers alighting from the Walnut Street cars.

Although electricity had arrived in Cincinnati, distribution was not yet a monopoly and a citywide power grid was off in the future. There was no single utility stringing wires from a central power plant. A dozen companies sold electrical systems – powered by generators – for the home and business. Adolph Drach contracted with the Triumph Electric Company to install a generator for his saloon.

The electrical plant Triumph Electric assembled in the basement of Drach’s saloon employed a gasoline-powered generator, supplied by a 60-gallon fuel tank that leaked fumes. To turn on the generator, an operator descended into the dark cellar, carrying a candle or lantern. Drach’s saloon was basically a large Molotov cocktail.

Adolph Drach’s saloon exploded at precisely 7:42:30 p.m. on Monday, 4 May 1896. Eleven people died and a dozen more suffered serious injuries.

The explosion completely flattened Drach’s and Fey’s buildings, punched holes through the walls shared with J.H. Bass’ barber shop to the north and Foucar’s saloon to the south. All the windows in the Gibson hotel across the street blew out, and two street cars got knocked off the tracks

The casualties included Adolph Drach himself and his four-year-old daughter, who was upstairs in the family apartment. Also dead was Drach’s maid, his bartender and a salesman who just happened to be walking by. Drach’s wife and son survived with horrible injuries. After weeks of agony, little Emil’s arm needed amputation. The Enquirer [5 May 1896] reported:

“So terrific was the explosion that it could be plainly heard for several miles beyond the city limits. In a trice all was excitement and confusion in the vicinity of the dreadful accident. The cries and moans of the imprisoned victims of the dreadful accident could be heard for almost a block, and in a short time thousands of people were drawn to the scene.”

Rescuers worked through the night under the glare of calcium lights. As they excavated survivors and corpses, remnants of the demolished structures threatened further collapse. Father Louis Tieman of Old St. Mary’s Church comforted the entrapped victims by conversing through a hole in one of the remaining walls. A loose brick knocked him to the ground and he ended up in the hospital.

Frantic relatives rushed to the morgue, anxiously examining every corpse in fear that a loved one was involved.

Narrowly escaping injury were several members of the Boston baseball team, gathered outside the Gibson hotel. They had dropped an 8-2 game to the Reds that afternoon and were likely on their way to recover at some nightspot.

Also watching was George “Boss” Cox, kingpin of Cincinnati’s political machine. His office was across the street from the explosion and it had a telephone. He allowed reporters from Cincinnati’s dozen daily newspapers to phone in stories from his desk, and earned a few grateful squibs in return.