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#Post#: 114--------------------------------------------------
1956 MCKEE REFINERY FIRE
By: wolfie Date: February 11, 2011, 10:42 am
---------------------------------------------------------
The McKee refinery fire on Sunday, 29 July, 1956 was a severe
fire-related mass casualty event, killing 19 firefighters.[1][2]
The fire is considered to have the fourth (911 being first)
most causulties of fire fighters in the United states for a
single fire event[3]. Their names are engraved at the
firefighter's memorial on the grounds of the Texas state
capitol. Another memorial is on the grounds of the Moore Country
courthouse.
The refinery, located seven miles from Sunray, Texas, included a
spherical tank containing half a million gallons of pentane and
hexane. Fumes escaped from the tank and migrated downhill toward
other installations. The fumes ignited, probably near an asphalt
plant and travelled back toward the tank. There the flames
consumed the escaping fumes, forcing firefighters to use water
to cool nearby tanks to prevent further spread.
The volunteer fire crews from nearby Sunray and Dumas were
fighting the fire in a conventional manner while the decision
was made to reduce the amount of liquid in the burning tank.
This increased the volume of the tank filled with explosive
fumes. A few minutes before seven in the morning, an hour after
the blaze began, the tank ruptured as the remaining fluid in the
tank boiled, increasing the gas pressure past the bursting
point.[4]
Sixteen firefighters died at the scene, three more perished
later succumbing to burns. An additional thirty-two people,
firefighters and sight-seers were injured.[5] The blast ignited
three additional storage tanks. The fire overwhelmed the
resources available and was allowed to burn itself out
overnight...
#Post#: 185--------------------------------------------------
Re: 1956 MCKEE REFINERY FIRE
By: Diable Fire Date: February 21, 2011, 12:27 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
A Small Texas Town Honors Those Lost
Vol 21 No 6
December 2006
Anton Riecher
Station 19, the newest fire station at Valero Energy’s McKee
refinery, is only the second of two stations on site. The number
19 signifies the number of firefighters who died 50 years ago in
a tragedy at this Texas panhandle refinery that ranks in
American history only three places behind 9/11 in total
firefighter deaths.
A 15,000-barrel pumpkin-shaped spheroid tank containing about
500,000 gallons of mixed pentane and hexane caught fire that
fatal Sunday morning in July 1956. The plant fire brigade and
volunteers from nearby Sunray and Dumas responded to what
evolved into a combination ground and vent fire.
“Obviously, there wasn’t much or certainly not enough known
about BLEVEs (boiling liquid expanding vapor explosion) back
then,” said McKee Fire Chief Mike Roberts. “While these
gentlemen were actively fighting the ground fire and trying to
control flame impingement, the spheroid BLEVEed.”
Paying tribute did not end with the station’s name. In April,
Valero opened its doors to the public to dedicate the new
station and commemorate the 50th anniversary of the disaster.
Nearly 600 people attended the ceremonies, including four
surviving spouses and other relatives of the firefighters
killed.
The experience was more joyous than tearful, Roberts said.
“I felt like it probably was going to be hard on the widows but
I’ve never seen more smiles or gotten more hugs and thanks in my
life,” Roberts said. “I think it actually gave them some kind of
closure.”
What came to be known as the Sunray disaster remains relatively
unheard of today. Before the Valero ceremonies, the outstanding
memorial to the event was a monument to volunteer firefighters
on the grounds of the state capitol in Austin that lists the 11
Sunray and Dumas firefighter fatalities beside those from a more
famous Texas fire disaster — Texas City in 1947. However, that
memorial does not list the members of the refinery fire brigade
who were lost.
July 29, 1956
What we know for certain about that day is that terrain and
design proved to be the critical factors. First, flammable
hexane and pentane vapors escaped from the spheroid designated
as No. 199. An article in the Oil and Gas Journal speculated
about a line break, pump leak or even the popoff vents at the
top of the tank.
“The first part is pretty unclear,” Roberts said. “Back then,
all spheroids vented to the atmosphere. Anyway, the relief valve
released and when it did it turned pentane loose to the ground.”
In 1956, McKee was only a 20,000-bbl refinery, situated 11 miles
from Dumas, population 8,000, and seven miles from Sunray,
population 1,500. The NFPA Quarterly reports that the tank farm
was well spaced, with individual dikes for the various floating
roof, cone roof, spheroid and noded spheroid tanks. Contents
ranged from crude oil to finished products. A highway bordered
the tank farm on the south side while nearly 500 feet separated
it from the refinery process area.
Unfortunately, that 500 feet was on a slight downhill grade.
“The vapors of both pentane and hexane are considerably heavier
than air,” the NFPA article states. “With air equaling one, the
vapor density of pentane is 2.49 and for hexane, 2.975.”
Helping the vapors along was a light southwest wind, unusually
mild for this windy region. The wind was blowing toward the
process area, specifically an asphalt tank about 350 feet away
under which a small fire was kept. At about 5:45 a.m. vapors
ignited, then flashed back to No. 199.
For the next hour firefighters would be occupied with both a
ground fire involving a liquid spill from a possible line leak
in the vicinity of the tank’s pump inside the dike and a fire at
the gauging device and vents, the NFPA article states.
Eventually, flames from the dike fire rose 40-feet high,
enveloping the spheroid.
No. 199 was one of two identical tanks designed for 15
pounds-per-square-inch working pressure built in 1940, the
article said. Each of these spheroids was equipped with two
6-inch pressure-vacuum vents set at 15 psi connected to an
8-inch vent and tee connection. Both vents were equipped with
return bend weather hoods which effectively acted as U-joints,
directing anything escaping from the vents downward.
“In case of vapor ignition at the vents, as occurred in this
case, there would result a direct flame impingement onto the top
of the tank in the vapor space,” the article said.
Tank gauging records show that there were 28 feet, seven inches
of product in the 46-foot-high spheroid, or approximately 12,000
barrels. A decision was made to begin pumping out No. 199,
increasing that vulnerable vapor space, Roberts said. Slowly,
the potential for a BLEVE increased.
“The plant fire brigade was severely limited in manpower since
the fire occurred early in the morning when the number of
available men for fire fighting was at the minimum,” the NFPA
Quarterly states. “For this reason assistance from the volunteer
fire departments of Dumas and Sun Ray (sic) was requested.
#Post#: 186--------------------------------------------------
Re: 1956 MCKEE REFINERY FIRE
By: Diable Fire Date: February 21, 2011, 12:29 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Bob Hamilton, a reporter for the Moore County News, entered the
refinery against advice from the sheriff and plant guard. He
reported that two groups of firefighters were attempting to
approach the spheroid from opposite sides while a third group
cooled nearby exposures. Three fire trucks were present.
“I was standing about 200 yards from the tank and took pictures
but it was too hot to talk to people,” Hamilton said. “It felt
like my face was up against an open oven.”
According to the NFPA Quarterly, the refinery brigade laid in a
hose line from a fire hydrant in the process area to their foam
truck.
“They attempted to use foam to extinguish the ground fire but
experienced considerable difficulty due to the intense radiated
heat,” NFPA Quarterly states. “It was reported that they were
attempting to lay in longer foam lines prior to the rupture of
the spheroid. The Sun Ray (sic) Fire Department laid in a water
line on the downhill side of the tank farm and the Dumas Fire
Department laid in a line from the upper side. All hose lines
were approximately 900 feet in length.”
Dumas and Sunray firefighters used the water available to them
to keep adjacent tanks cool. Observers noted that hose streams
were placed on a cone roof tank about 150 feet away from the
burning spheroid. Another hose line was seen being used to
protect a floating roof tank containing gasoline also about 150
feet away from the fire. It was also reported that a water line
was used at least once on No. 199. Seal fires on adjacent
floating roof tanks were promptly extinguished.
Hamilton wrote that a loud, roaring flame about 50 feet high
spouted from a vent atop the burning spheroid. Flames from a
ground fire were also intense. Firefighters were preparing to
move closer with additional equipment when the alarm was sounded
to evacuate. The rising heat had become too much, forcing
firefighters to even abandon cooling the other tanks.
“At 6:53 a.m., or slightly over an hour after the original fire
was reported, the top of the spheroid ruptured violently,”
states NFPA Quarterly. That the spheroid lasted an hour
surprised some since LPG vessels exposed in a similar manner had
ruptured in as little as 15 minutes.
BLEVE is a phenomenon often misunderstood, even by experienced
firefighters. The textbook definition refers to a condition in
which a chemical stored as liquid develops a gaseous vapor above
it. Any rupture releases an overpressure of vapor inside. A
sudden drop in pressure causes violent boiling of the liquid,
refilling the vacant space with a terrific new overpressure of
vapor. Such a significant overpressure of flammable vapor
destroys the vessel containing it.
However, in this case flames somehow impinged on the pressurized
vapor space above the spheroid’s liquid contents. Since metal
loses its tensile strength when heated, a bulge likely developed
in the spheroid caused by the pressure inside. Any impingement
below the vapor space would have been sufficiently cooled by the
liquid contents. Emptying the spheroid of product merely
increased the vulnerable vapor space. Even with the relief valve
open, the pressure inside would have been sufficient to cause a
rupture or BLEVE at the point of impingement.
“The flame impingement on the exterior tank surface from the
burning vapors issuing from the vent discharge points and
possibly from the ground fire caused the metal shell of the
spheroid to stretch and eventually fail due to the internal
pressure in the tank,” NFPA Quarterly states. “The metal thinned
out near the weld on the top (head-plate) over a distance of
about one-third the circumference of the spheroid at this
point.”
The top of No. 199 was sheared by the force of the internal
pressure release but landed within the tank dike.
“The remaining sections of the spheroid were also completely
destroyed but likewise remained within the diked tank area,”
NFPA Quarterly states. “The entire venting assembly landed
outside the dike.” Investigators found the 8-foot-high gauging
device about 700 feet away.
Hamilton’s boss, news editor Bill Lask told the AP he heard
multiple explosions that were not sharp, but more like the big
thud of a fireworks rocket. This was soon followed by an
ear-numbing concussion of the BLEVE.
“I watched in disbelief as a bright orange mushroom of flame
boiled up, floating in heavy black smoke, and I prayed that the
fire fighters would get out alive,” Lask said.
Out of the billowing smoke, people were racing in all
directions, Lask wrote. Some were human torches. Others did not
get the chance to run. They simply crumpled where they stood,
their lives snuffed out by the initial blast. All of the
immediate dead were found within 400 feet of the spheroid.
Sixteen firefighters died at the scene with another three dying
later from burns. Thirty-two others not so close, including many
of the spectators on the highway nearly a quarter-mile away,
escaped with injuries.
Many of the dead and injured were personal friends, Lask said.
FIREBALL
The fireball from the ruptured spheroid raised havoc throughout
the tank farm. It ignited a 20,000 barrel diesel oil tank 200
feet away which contained 6,500 gallons at the time. Also
ignited were two 10,000 barrel tanks of crude oil, containing
6,000 to 8,000 barrels in one and 2,000 barrels in the other.
These tanks were 450 and 550 feet from No. 199. All three tanks
were cone roofed with flame arresters on the vents, NFPA
Quarterly reports. Yet other tanks that were closer did not
ignite and suffered relatively little damage. The Oil and Gas
Journal identified these tanks as having floating roofs.
“The coned roof tanks had a vapor space above the product that
presented a danger,” said IFW publisher David White. “By
contrast, the floating roof tanks allow no vapor space.”
An 80,000 barrel floating roof containing gasoline located about
225 feet away had two seal fires that were extinguished. A sixth
tank smoldered but was also extinguished. The heat blistered the
paint on company houses 3,000 feet away. A workman protected in
a shack 300 yards from the first explosion was scorched. Two
bulldozers were destroyed by fire almost 1,200 feet away. The
blast also ignited a railroad trestle 1,250 feet away and small
piles of lumber along the railroad tracks in the refinery area.
Leaves on trees a mile away showed damage.
The heat was like someone trying to burn your face off with a
blow torch, Hamilton said. Flames were everywhere. He started
running and did not stop to take another photograph until he
reached the highway. For others, that wasn’t far enough.
“Everyone around me was running into a plowed field to get
farther away from that inferno,” Hamilton said. “One was a boy
about 11 (actually 13). He didn’t have a shirt on and his back
was burning. He was in terrific pain and was almost hysterical.”
Another man’s hair was smoldering, Hamilton said. Then the
reporter realized his own hair was on fire. He filed his story
with the AP from the hospital.
One source estimated that the contents of the spheroid was
dispersed to such a degree that it burned out within 10 minutes.
Trying to reach the scene, Lask pushed to within an eighth of a
mile of the explosion before the heat forced him back. He met
survivors stumbling in the opposite direction.
“Some were sobbing with the pain of burns,” Lask reported. “I
remember two men, moaning in smoldering shreds. They crawled
into the bed of a pickup truck and were taken to a hospital.”
While the written record is spotty, an excellent photographic
record of the disaster exists, said Roberts.
“A gentleman from Sunray who was a photo buff drove out that
morning and sat on the highway taking pictures,” Roberts said.
“His son gave me the originals. Among them is a sequence of
three shots — one of the fire before the explosion, then a
perfect picture of the explosion itself followed by a shot about
10 or 12 seconds after the blast. The fireball is the biggest
I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Judging from aerial photographs of the disaster an area almost
three-quarters of a mile had burned inside the refinery, Roberts
said.
Neither Dumas nor tiny Sunray were geared for the aftermath of a
disaster this size, the Dallas Morning News reported.
“But (Dumas) is a country town, and everybody helps everybody
else,” the newspaper said, “and by 11 a.m. — less than four
hours after the disaster, all of the 32 burned had been taken
care of in the previously quiet and calm 40-bed red brick Moore
County Memorial Hospital.”
Later that day outside assistance began pouring into the area.
National Guard personnel carriers and ambulances arrived on the
scene. An airport crash truck responding from Amarillo Air Force
Base was used to protect the floating roof tanks, extinguishing
at least one seal fire. Emergency responders arrived from
Amarillo and Dalhart. There was little that could be done save
for protecting remaining exposures.
“They controlled the ground fire as best they could but
basically they let the fire burn itself out,” Roberts said.
“That was about the only option they had at that point.”
In the early evening, a high wind from the south was blowing
flames from two large tanks still burning away from the tank
farm. Amarillo Fire Chief Roy Hill, quoted in the Dallas Morning
News, noted that a wind shift to the north could create a
dangerous situation. Fortunately, the remaining tanks burned out
the next day with no further incidents. The refinery was back in
operation that same day.
#Post#: 187--------------------------------------------------
Re: 1956 MCKEE REFINERY FIRE
By: Diable Fire Date: February 21, 2011, 12:33 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Then came the funerals.
“I have a neighbor who was alive at the time,” Roberts said.
“She talks about how groups like the women’s auxiliaries would
set up at the local churches and spent nearly two weeks doing
nothing but getting the families to the funerals and cooking
them three meals a day.”
The NFPA Quarterly article published several months later cited
the Sunray disaster as “another case which condemns the widely
accepted practice of locating tank vents on pressure tanks in
such a manner as to permit flame impingement on a tank’s vapor
space. It also made note of the following:
• Installation of a fixed water spray system on all pressure
storage tanks would eliminate most of the hazard of a tank
rupture by keeping the metal cool.
• If for any reason it is impossible to apply cooling water, all
personnel should be removed at least 1,000 feet from the fire
and, even at that distance, should wear protective clothing.
• Locating direct-fired heaters downhill from a volatile
flammable liquid storage tank places an ignition source within
the possible path of vapor travel.
• Cast iron should not be permitted in any flammable liquid
piping, valves or connections.
• Pumps should be placed outside of a diked area to avoid
exposure to fire.
• Installation of adequate fire mains in tank farms is necessary
for fire fighting operations.
With the dead buried, life goes on. With each passing year the
memory of the price paid at the McKee refinery faded into
history a bit more. Then, half a century later, somebody asked
Mike Roberts what he was going to name his new fire station.
NEW OWNERS, OLD BUSINESS
Today, McKee refinery has a throughput capacity of 170,000
barrels a day. McKee produces conventional gasoline, RFG, CBG
gasoline and low-sulfur diesel that meets government
specifications for on-road use. The refinery has access to crude
oil from northern Texas, Oklahoma, southwestern Kansas and
eastern Colorado via a 1,083 mile network of crude oil
pipelines.
Expanding along with the refinery is the fire brigade. The new
station is 175 feet by 150 feet with room for three
drive-through fire truck bays. McKee’s brigade of 63
firefighters — all volunteers — operate with a fleet that
includes a 5,000 gpm Pierce industrial foam pumper, a Mack 1,250
gpm pumper and a Mack 1,250 gpm foam tender.
When it came time to name the station, Roberts consulted some of
his fellow fire chiefs as to any guidelines or protocol
involved.
“One of them replied in a way that got my wheels turning,”
Roberts said. “I went to my plant manager and told him what I
wanted to do and why. I didn’t want to give the company a black
eye but history is history. I told him that I wasn’t doing this
for the company or for me, but for the survivors of the
firefighters who died.”
The manager, Bill Wuensche, supported the idea. He contacted
corporate headquarters who gave him and Roberts permission to
run with it. Station 19 was born. But the idea didn’t end there.
Entering Station 19, the first impression is that it is a
museum. The entrance opens into a small area reserved as a
memorial to the Sunray disaster. Nineteen plaques, each bearing
the name of a fallen firefighter, adorn the wall. Inside a glass
case are photographs of the fire and explosion, together with
faded newspaper accounts. Also added is a group photo of the 21
relatives who attended the dedication ceremony in April.
Addressing the crowd, Wuensche gave a broad summary of the
events that occurred fifty years earlier. History had been
slipping away, he said, so Valero believed it was only fitting
that there be a permanent memorial at the refinery.
A duplicate of the individual plaques honoring the firefighters
was presented to the appropriate family. Atop each was the
Maltese Cross, a firefighter’s badge of honor. Roberts read
aloud a history of the cross and then closed the ceremony with
the Fireman’s Prayer.
“After that there wasn’t a dry eye in the house,” Roberts said.
Following that, Valero treated the visitors to dinner. Gifts
honoring the relatives did not end there. Each family received
an 8-inch by 10-inch copy of the group photograph and an album
with 50 other shots taken during the ceremonies. A copy of the
album is included with the permanent memorial.
Working together, Gov. Rick Perry, State Rep. David Swinford and
State Sen. Kel Seliger added the crowning touch to the
ceremonies. A resolution honoring the 50th anniversary of the
Sunray disaster and the dedication of the new fire station was
introduced and passed by the Texas Legislature. Accompanying the
resolution was a Texas flag flown over the state capitol
building on April 19, and sent by airplane to McKee for the
ceremonies that same day.
The original plan was to place the flag directly into the glass
enclosed memorial at the fire station. But one of the widows
made a special request.
“She asked if I planned to ever fly the flag over the new
station,” Roberts said. “I made a deal with her. On July 29, the
official 50th anniversary of the disaster, I will run the flag
up to full staff, then lower it to half staff for the rest of
the day. Then it goes straight into the glass box on the wall.”
Station 19, the newest fire station at Valero Energy’s McKee
refinery, is only the second of two stations on site. The number
19 signifies the number of firefighters who died 50 years ago in
a tragedy at this Texas panhandle refinery that ranks in
American history only three places behind 9/11 in total
firefighter deaths.
A 15,000-barrel pumpkin-shaped spheroid tank containing about
500,000 gallons of mixed pentane and hexane caught fire that
fatal Sunday morning in July 1956. The plant fire brigade and
volunteers from nearby Sunray and Dumas responded to what
evolved into a combination ground and vent fire.
“Obviously, there wasn’t much or certainly not enough known
about BLEVEs (boiling liquid expanding vapor explosion) back
then,” said McKee Fire Chief Mike Roberts. “While these
gentlemen were actively fighting the ground fire and trying to
control flame impingement, the spheroid BLEVEed.”
Paying tribute did not end with the station’s name. In April,
Valero opened its doors to the public to dedicate the new
station and commemorate the 50th anniversary of the disaster.
Nearly 600 people attended the ceremonies, including four
surviving spouses and other relatives of the firefighters
killed.
The experience was more joyous than tearful, Roberts said.
“I felt like it probably was going to be hard on the widows but
I’ve never seen more smiles or gotten more hugs and thanks in my
life,” Roberts said. “I think it actually gave them some kind of
closure.”
What came to be known as the Sunray disaster remains relatively
unheard of today. Before the Valero ceremonies, the outstanding
memorial to the event was a monument to volunteer firefighters
on the grounds of the state capitol in Austin that lists the 11
Sunray and Dumas firefighter fatalities beside those from a more
famous Texas fire disaster — Texas City in 1947. However, that
memorial does not list the members of the refinery fire brigade
who were lost.
July 29, 1956
What we know for certain about that day is that terrain and
design proved to be the critical factors. First, flammable
hexane and pentane vapors escaped from the spheroid designated
as No. 199. An article in the Oil and Gas Journal speculated
about a line break, pump leak or even the popoff vents at the
top of the tank.
“The first part is pretty unclear,” Roberts said. “Back then,
all spheroids vented to the atmosphere. Anyway, the relief valve
released and when it did it turned pentane loose to the ground.”
In 1956, McKee was only a 20,000-bbl refinery, situated 11 miles
from Dumas, population 8,000, and seven miles from Sunray,
population 1,500. The NFPA Quarterly reports that the tank farm
was well spaced, with individual dikes for the various floating
roof, cone roof, spheroid and noded spheroid tanks. Contents
ranged from crude oil to finished products. A highway bordered
the tank farm on the south side while nearly 500 feet separated
it from the refinery process area.
Unfortunately, that 500 feet was on a slight downhill grade.
“The vapors of both pentane and hexane are considerably heavier
than air,” the NFPA article states. “With air equaling one, the
vapor density of pentane is 2.49 and for hexane, 2.975.”
Helping the vapors along was a light southwest wind, unusually
mild for this windy region. The wind was blowing toward the
process area, specifically an asphalt tank about 350 feet away
under which a small fire was kept. At about 5:45 a.m. vapors
ignited, then flashed back to No. 199.
For the next hour firefighters would be occupied with both a
ground fire involving a liquid spill from a possible line leak
in the vicinity of the tank’s pump inside the dike and a fire at
the gauging device and vents, the NFPA article states.
Eventually, flames from the dike fire rose 40-feet high,
enveloping the spheroid.
No. 199 was one of two identical tanks designed for 15
pounds-per-square-inch working pressure built in 1940, the
article said. Each of these spheroids was equipped with two
6-inch pressure-vacuum vents set at 15 psi connected to an
8-inch vent and tee connection. Both vents were equipped with
return bend weather hoods which effectively acted as U-joints,
directing anything escaping from the vents downward.
“In case of vapor ignition at the vents, as occurred in this
case, there would result a direct flame impingement onto the top
of the tank in the vapor space,” the article said.
Tank gauging records show that there were 28 feet, seven inches
of product in the 46-foot-high spheroid, or approximately 12,000
barrels. A decision was made to begin pumping out No. 199,
increasing that vulnerable vapor space, Roberts said. Slowly,
the potential for a BLEVE increased.
“The plant fire brigade was severely limited in manpower since
the fire occurred early in the morning when the number of
available men for fire fighting was at the minimum,” the NFPA
Quarterly states. “For this reason assistance from the volunteer
fire departments of Dumas and Sun Ray (sic) was requested.”
Bob Hamilton, a reporter for the Moore County News, entered the
refinery against advice from the sheriff and plant guard. He
reported that two groups of firefighters were attempting to
approach the spheroid from opposite sides while a third group
cooled nearby exposures. Three fire trucks were present.
“I was standing about 200 yards from the tank and took pictures
but it was too hot to talk to people,” Hamilton said. “It felt
like my face was up against an open oven.”
According to the NFPA Quarterly, the refinery brigade laid in a
hose line from a fire hydrant in the process area to their foam
truck.
“They attempted to use foam to extinguish the ground fire but
experienced considerable difficulty due to the intense radiated
heat,” NFPA Quarterly states. “It was reported that they were
attempting to lay in longer foam lines prior to the rupture of
the spheroid. The Sun Ray (sic) Fire Department laid in a water
line on the downhill side of the tank farm and the Dumas Fire
Department laid in a line from the upper side. All hose lines
were approximately 900 feet in length.”
Dumas and Sunray firefighters used the water available to them
to keep adjacent tanks cool. Observers noted that hose streams
were placed on a cone roof tank about 150 feet away from the
burning spheroid. Another hose line was seen being used to
protect a floating roof tank containing gasoline also about 150
feet away from the fire. It was also reported that a water line
was used at least once on No. 199. Seal fires on adjacent
floating roof tanks were promptly extinguished.
Hamilton wrote that a loud, roaring flame about 50 feet high
spouted from a vent atop the burning spheroid. Flames from a
ground fire were also intense. Firefighters were preparing to
move closer with additional equipment when the alarm was sounded
to evacuate. The rising heat had become too much, forcing
firefighters to even abandon cooling the other tanks.
“At 6:53 a.m., or slightly over an hour after the original fire
was reported, the top of the spheroid ruptured violently,”
states NFPA Quarterly. That the spheroid lasted an hour
surprised some since LPG vessels exposed in a similar manner had
ruptured in as little as 15 minutes.
BLEVE is a phenomenon often misunderstood, even by experienced
firefighters. The textbook definition refers to a condition in
which a chemical stored as liquid develops a gaseous vapor above
it. Any rupture releases an overpressure of vapor inside. A
sudden drop in pressure causes violent boiling of the liquid,
refilling the vacant space with a terrific new overpressure of
vapor. Such a significant overpressure of flammable vapor
destroys the vessel containing it.
However, in this case flames somehow impinged on the pressurized
vapor space above the spheroid’s liquid contents. Since metal
loses its tensile strength when heated, a bulge likely developed
in the spheroid caused by the pressure inside. Any impingement
below the vapor space would have been sufficiently cooled by the
liquid contents. Emptying the spheroid of product merely
increased the vulnerable vapor space. Even with the relief valve
open, the pressure inside would have been sufficient to cause a
rupture or BLEVE at the point of impingement.
“The flame impingement on the exterior tank surface from the
burning vapors issuing from the vent discharge points and
possibly from the ground fire caused the metal shell of the
spheroid to stretch and eventually fail due to the internal
pressure in the tank,” NFPA Quarterly states. “The metal thinned
out near the weld on the top (head-plate) over a distance of
about one-third the circumference of the spheroid at this
point.”
The top of No. 199 was sheared by the force of the internal
pressure release but landed within the tank dike.
“The remaining sections of the spheroid were also completely
destroyed but likewise remained within the diked tank area,”
NFPA Quarterly states. “The entire venting assembly landed
outside the dike.” Investigators found the 8-foot-high gauging
device about 700 feet away.
Hamilton’s boss, news editor Bill Lask told the AP he heard
multiple explosions that were not sharp, but more like the big
thud of a fireworks rocket. This was soon followed by an
ear-numbing concussion of the BLEVE.
“I watched in disbelief as a bright orange mushroom of flame
boiled up, floating in heavy black smoke, and I prayed that the
fire fighters would get out alive,” Lask said.
Out of the billowing smoke, people were racing in all
directions, Lask wrote. Some were human torches. Others did not
get the chance to run. They simply crumpled where they stood,
their lives snuffed out by the initial blast. All of the
immediate dead were found within 400 feet of the spheroid.
Sixteen firefighters died at the scene with another three dying
later from burns. Thirty-two others not so close, including many
of the spectators on the highway nearly a quarter-mile away,
escaped with injuries.
Many of the dead and injured were personal friends, Lask said.
FIREBALL
The fireball from the ruptured spheroid raised havoc throughout
the tank farm. It ignited a 20,000 barrel diesel oil tank 200
feet away which contained 6,500 gallons at the time. Also
ignited were two 10,000 barrel tanks of crude oil, containing
6,000 to 8,000 barrels in one and 2,000 barrels in the other.
These tanks were 450 and 550 feet from No. 199. All three tanks
were cone roofed with flame arresters on the vents, NFPA
Quarterly reports. Yet other tanks that were closer did not
ignite and suffered relatively little damage. The Oil and Gas
Journal identified these tanks as having floating roofs.
“The coned roof tanks had a vapor space above the product that
presented a danger,” said IFW publisher David White. “By
contrast, the floating roof tanks allow no vapor space.”
An 80,000 barrel floating roof containing gasoline located about
225 feet away had two seal fires that were extinguished. A sixth
tank smoldered but was also extinguished. The heat blistered the
paint on company houses 3,000 feet away. A workman protected in
a shack 300 yards from the first explosion was scorched. Two
bulldozers were destroyed by fire almost 1,200 feet away. The
blast also ignited a railroad trestle 1,250 feet away and small
piles of lumber along the railroad tracks in the refinery area.
Leaves on trees a mile away showed damage.
The heat was like someone trying to burn your face off with a
blow torch, Hamilton said. Flames were everywhere. He started
running and did not stop to take another photograph until he
reached the highway. For others, that wasn’t far enough.
“Everyone around me was running into a plowed field to get
farther away from that inferno,” Hamilton said. “One was a boy
about 11 (actually 13). He didn’t have a shirt on and his back
was burning. He was in terrific pain and was almost hysterical.”
Another man’s hair was smoldering, Hamilton said. Then the
reporter realized his own hair was on fire. He filed his story
with the AP from the hospital.
#Post#: 188--------------------------------------------------
Re: 1956 MCKEE REFINERY FIRE
By: Diable Fire Date: February 21, 2011, 12:34 pm
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One source estimated that the contents of the spheroid was
dispersed to such a degree that it burned out within 10 minutes.
Trying to reach the scene, Lask pushed to within an eighth of a
mile of the explosion before the heat forced him back. He met
survivors stumbling in the opposite direction.
“Some were sobbing with the pain of burns,” Lask reported. “I
remember two men, moaning in smoldering shreds. They crawled
into the bed of a pickup truck and were taken to a hospital.”
While the written record is spotty, an excellent photographic
record of the disaster exists, said Roberts.
“A gentleman from Sunray who was a photo buff drove out that
morning and sat on the highway taking pictures,” Roberts said.
“His son gave me the originals. Among them is a sequence of
three shots — one of the fire before the explosion, then a
perfect picture of the explosion itself followed by a shot about
10 or 12 seconds after the blast. The fireball is the biggest
I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Judging from aerial photographs of the disaster an area almost
three-quarters of a mile had burned inside the refinery, Roberts
said.
Neither Dumas nor tiny Sunray were geared for the aftermath of a
disaster this size, the Dallas Morning News reported.
“But (Dumas) is a country town, and everybody helps everybody
else,” the newspaper said, “and by 11 a.m. — less than four
hours after the disaster, all of the 32 burned had been taken
care of in the previously quiet and calm 40-bed red brick Moore
County Memorial Hospital.”
Later that day outside assistance began pouring into the area.
National Guard personnel carriers and ambulances arrived on the
scene. An airport crash truck responding from Amarillo Air Force
Base was used to protect the floating roof tanks, extinguishing
at least one seal fire. Emergency responders arrived from
Amarillo and Dalhart. There was little that could be done save
for protecting remaining exposures.
“They controlled the ground fire as best they could but
basically they let the fire burn itself out,” Roberts said.
“That was about the only option they had at that point.”
In the early evening, a high wind from the south was blowing
flames from two large tanks still burning away from the tank
farm. Amarillo Fire Chief Roy Hill, quoted in the Dallas Morning
News, noted that a wind shift to the north could create a
dangerous situation. Fortunately, the remaining tanks burned out
the next day with no further incidents. The refinery was back in
operation that same day.
Then came the funerals.
“I have a neighbor who was alive at the time,” Roberts said.
“She talks about how groups like the women’s auxiliaries would
set up at the local churches and spent nearly two weeks doing
nothing but getting the families to the funerals and cooking
them three meals a day.”
The NFPA Quarterly article published several months later cited
the Sunray disaster as “another case which condemns the widely
accepted practice of locating tank vents on pressure tanks in
such a manner as to permit flame impingement on a tank’s vapor
space. It also made note of the following:
• Installation of a fixed water spray system on all pressure
storage tanks would eliminate most of the hazard of a tank
rupture by keeping the metal cool.
• If for any reason it is impossible to apply cooling water, all
personnel should be removed at least 1,000 feet from the fire
and, even at that distance, should wear protective clothing.
• Locating direct-fired heaters downhill from a volatile
flammable liquid storage tank places an ignition source within
the possible path of vapor travel.
• Cast iron should not be permitted in any flammable liquid
piping, valves or connections.
• Pumps should be placed outside of a diked area to avoid
exposure to fire.
• Installation of adequate fire mains in tank farms is necessary
for fire fighting operations.
With the dead buried, life goes on. With each passing year the
memory of the price paid at the McKee refinery faded into
history a bit more. Then, half a century later, somebody asked
Mike Roberts what he was going to name his new fire station.
NEW OWNERS, OLD BUSINESS
Today, McKee refinery has a throughput capacity of 170,000
barrels a day. McKee produces conventional gasoline, RFG, CBG
gasoline and low-sulfur diesel that meets government
specifications for on-road use. The refinery has access to crude
oil from northern Texas, Oklahoma, southwestern Kansas and
eastern Colorado via a 1,083 mile network of crude oil
pipelines.
Expanding along with the refinery is the fire brigade. The new
station is 175 feet by 150 feet with room for three
drive-through fire truck bays. McKee’s brigade of 63
firefighters — all volunteers — operate with a fleet that
includes a 5,000 gpm Pierce industrial foam pumper, a Mack 1,250
gpm pumper and a Mack 1,250 gpm foam tender.
When it came time to name the station, Roberts consulted some of
his fellow fire chiefs as to any guidelines or protocol
involved.
“One of them replied in a way that got my wheels turning,”
Roberts said. “I went to my plant manager and told him what I
wanted to do and why. I didn’t want to give the company a black
eye but history is history. I told him that I wasn’t doing this
for the company or for me, but for the survivors of the
firefighters who died.”
The manager, Bill Wuensche, supported the idea. He contacted
corporate headquarters who gave him and Roberts permission to
run with it. Station 19 was born. But the idea didn’t end there.
Entering Station 19, the first impression is that it is a
museum. The entrance opens into a small area reserved as a
memorial to the Sunray disaster. Nineteen plaques, each bearing
the name of a fallen firefighter, adorn the wall. Inside a glass
case are photographs of the fire and explosion, together with
faded newspaper accounts. Also added is a group photo of the 21
relatives who attended the dedication ceremony in April.
Addressing the crowd, Wuensche gave a broad summary of the
events that occurred fifty years earlier. History had been
slipping away, he said, so Valero believed it was only fitting
that there be a permanent memorial at the refinery.
A duplicate of the individual plaques honoring the firefighters
was presented to the appropriate family. Atop each was the
Maltese Cross, a firefighter’s badge of honor. Roberts read
aloud a history of the cross and then closed the ceremony with
the Fireman’s Prayer.
“After that there wasn’t a dry eye in the house,” Roberts said.
Following that, Valero treated the visitors to dinner. Gifts
honoring the relatives did not end there. Each family received
an 8-inch by 10-inch copy of the group photograph and an album
with 50 other shots taken during the ceremonies. A copy of the
album is included with the permanent memorial.
Working together, Gov. Rick Perry, State Rep. David Swinford and
State Sen. Kel Seliger added the crowning touch to the
ceremonies. A resolution honoring the 50th anniversary of the
Sunray disaster and the dedication of the new fire station was
introduced and passed by the Texas Legislature. Accompanying the
resolution was a Texas flag flown over the state capitol
building on April 19, and sent by airplane to McKee for the
ceremonies that same day.
The original plan was to place the flag directly into the glass
enclosed memorial at the fire station. But one of the widows
made a special request.
“She asked if I planned to ever fly the flag over the new
station,” Roberts said. “I made a deal with her. On July 29, the
official 50th anniversary of the disaster, I will run the flag
up to full staff, then lower it to half staff for the rest of
the day. Then it goes straight into the glass box on the wall.”
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