Collapse of Downtown Derry

The Collapse of Downtown Derry was the catastrophic physical destruction of the city's central business district on May 31st, 1985, triggered by a freak storm and the final death throes of the ancient entity known as It. The event, which killed dozens and injured hundreds, saw the Canal backsurge, the Standpipe topple, and the entire downtown area sink into the earth, effectively marking the end of Derry's long, violent history as It's feeding ground.

Causes and Background

The collapse was the culmination of a series of violent phenomena that began in the early morning hours of May 31st. A sudden, extraordinarily disciplined low-pressure system had stalled over Derry, unleashing a torrential downpour that quickly overwhelmed the city's antiquated drainage system. The Kenduskeag Stream, which ran through the Barrens and was channeled into the Canal downtown, swelled to dangerous levels. At 5:00 A.M., the clock in the steeple of the Grace Baptist Church, which had chimed faithfully since 1898, failed to strike the hour for the first time since the Kitchener Ironworks explosion in 1906. Minutes later, a lightning strike destroyed the steeple itself. The storm's winds reached hurricane force, with gusts recorded at over eighty miles per hour before the courthouse anemometer was ripped away. Power transformers exploded, and the Tracker Brothers' Truck Depot caught fire, killing fireman Calvin Clark when he stepped on a live wire. The most ominous precursor was the sudden reversal of the sewer system in the Old Cape neighborhood at 6:05 A.M., which caused toilets to explode, killing two residents. This was a direct consequence of the death throes of It, the ancient entity that had lived beneath Derry for eons, whose final convulsions were tearing apart the underground infrastructure it had long inhabited.

What Happens

The collapse unfolded in a series of devastating stages. At approximately 10:00 A.M., the Standpipe, the massive white water tower in Memorial Park that had been a Derry landmark for decades, suddenly developed a pronounced lean. Andrew Keene, a local resident, watched in disbelief as the structure's shingles began to pop off and a great crinkle appeared in its side. With a sound like the world's largest guitar strings breaking, the Standpipe toppled, releasing one and three-quarters million gallons of water in a gray tidal wave that swept away the park's sundial and birdbath, knocked down a line of trees, and washed a dozen houses on Kansas Street off their foundations and into the Barrens. The water then rushed downhill toward the business district. At the same moment, the Canal, already swollen to the brim, began to backsurge as its underground supports, weakened by the flood and the subterranean convulsions, gave way. The vibration that had been running through the downtown streets increased to a rumbling roar. Windows shattered, plaster ceilings fell, and the marquee of the Aladdin Theater crashed down. The statue of Paul Bunyan in front of City Center exploded. At 10:02 A.M., downtown Derry simply collapsed. Buildings on both sides of Main Street leaned forward, their heads almost touching, before crashing into the street. The street itself sank, cracking and breaking up into bobbing chunks of asphalt as it fell into the Canal. The Northeast Bank, The Shoeboat, Bailley's Lunch, and dozens of other businesses were swallowed. The water then surged over the Canal's concrete walls, carrying away men and sandbags. Harold Gardener, a police officer, barely escaped by clawing his way up a steep embankment, watching as the Canal Mini-Mall and a bright red K-car were swept away by the roaring Kenduskeag.

Consequences and Aftermath

The immediate human toll was sixty-seven killed and over three hundred and twenty injured. The physical destruction was immense: the entire downtown core was now a crater filled with water and rubble. The Derry Mall, which had been built on the site of the old Kitchener Ironworks, was also destroyed by a series of explosions, scattering money and merchandise across the flooded parking lot. In the days and weeks that followed, the city struggled to comprehend the scale of the disaster. The Derry News ran the headline "WE WILL REBUILD," but the city's infrastructure continued to crumble. Four days after the storm, the Bangor Hydroelectric building collapsed into the hole. Three days after that, the Flying Doghouse, a popular hot dog stand, fell in. Drains backed up periodically throughout the city, and the Old Cape neighborhood began to empty as residents fled. The collapse had a profound psychological and economic impact. Major investors, like Tim Henley, who had planned to expand the city's auditorium, abruptly abandoned their projects. Raytheon, which had been scheduled to break ground on a new plant, decided to build in Waterville instead. The city's long, ghoulishly vital existence seemed to be ending. The collapse was not merely a natural disaster; it was the final, physical manifestation of the death of It. The entity's destruction had torn apart the very ground it had inhabited, and with its passing, the strange, violent cycle that had defined Derry for centuries was finally broken. The city, once a feeding place for an ancient evil, was now just a dying town, its heart literally torn out. The survivors, including the Losers' Club, emerged from the sewers into the wreckage, their long nightmare finally over, but the town they had known was gone forever.