The midway at Riverside’s Crescent Park echoed with laughter. The song of the carousel spinning beneath the moonlight and the scent of crispy clam-cakes being carried on the salt air contributed to a perfect teenage summer.

It was June 2, 1903, and over 100 young members of a local Catholic society were enjoying an evening they had looked forward to. For some of them, it would be the last evening of their lives.

A trolley car from the Rhode Island Company’s suburban line had been chartered by the society to transport the group to and from the fun-filled outing. It was almost 1 o’clock in the morning before they were all back on the car and headed toward their homes. Without a care in the world, they sang together in harmony as the trolley made its way down the tracks through East Providence.

The motorman had several years of experience but was not familiar with that specific route. It was very dark, the air thick with fog as the car neared the sharp curve at the crossing of Warren and Pawtucket avenues, better known as Moore’s Corner.

Suddenly, the car lurched violently as a thunderous grinding sound broke through the song and the lights inside the car went out. Unable to see the curve, the motorman had derailed, sending the passenger-filled trolley 20 feet off the track where it landed on its side.

From deep within the dense fog came the sound of screams. Those who were still inside the car quickly climbed out and attempted to rescue those trapped beneath it, crying desperately for help.

Searching around in the darkness for materials, several passengers fashioned a joist and were able to jack the trolley up enough for two of those beneath it to be freed. Before the others could be pulled out, the joist broke and the car crashed down upon them once more.

The car was jacked up again and stones piled beneath the edge of it so that it would not fall a second time. The dead and injured were pulled out while a thick congregation of bruised and bloodied figures stumbled about in the darkness, tripping over the fatalities and screaming for help.

The list of the dead included seven Johnston residents. Nineteen-year-old George Achison suffered from broken ribs which likely perforated internal organs, causing a fatal hemorrhage.

Fifteen-year-old Alice Ely Franklin, a mill operative who lived on School Street with her parents, Benjamin and Elizabeth (Abbott), died of a brain hemorrhage.

Enrico Gamboni, somewhat older than the others at 27, had relocated to America with his parents from Perugia, Italy.

Nineteen-year-old Angelo Geremia, the son of Giuseppe and Maria, was also a native of Italy. At the age of 9, he had made the voyage to America with his mother and brother to join his father, who had arrived the previous year.

Bertha Margaret Kelly was the 18-year-old daughter of Adelbert and Margaret (McAvoy). Gustave Guertin was 17. John Schneider was 19. And John Gottlieb Jr. was the 19-year-old son of John and Lina (Otto).

The bodies of the dead were taken to the undertaking rooms of J.H. Williams on Walnut Street in East Providence. By that afternoon, every victim had been identified by a shocked and grieving family member.

It was indeed an evening the members of the Catholic society would never forget. But it wasn’t the song of the carousel or the salty summer breezes that would replay in their minds for years to come. The scream-filled fog at Moore’s Corner would haunt them instead.

Kelly Sullivan is a Rhode Island columnist, lecturer and author.