When you think about riots, you probably picture political grievances or economic turmoil, but sometimes the tiniest objects can unleash massive unrest. Here are ten tiny things that sparked huge riots, proving that even the smallest triggers can send crowds into a frenzy.
How Tiny Things Can Ignite Chaos
10 Arguing Over Which Actor Was Better
On May 10, 1849, a mob of thousands surged through New York’s streets, hurling paving stones at a police force already outnumbered. The city called in the militia, but the cavalry was forced to retreat under a barrage of slabs. The infantry commander first ordered his troops to fire into the air; when that failed, a second volley was aimed directly at the crowd, killing twenty‑two people. Their sacrifice, however, was for a surprisingly petty cause: a heated debate over which actor was superior.
The feud began years earlier when Edwin Forrest, a rugged Philadelphian famed for his muscular Shakespearean performances, decided to tour Britain. His rival, the polished English thespian William Charles Macready, was constantly pitted against Forrest in newspaper columns. When Macready toured America, Forrest shadowed him, performing the same roles in rival houses. Macready, ever the snob, suggested Forrest should study in England to achieve greatness, a jab that infuriated Forrest’s working‑class admirers.
After Forrest’s British tour flopped, he blamed Macready and, upon tracking his rival to an Edinburgh theater, hissed loudly at a particularly flamboyant flourish. The incident scandalized polite society in Britain, but it only bolstered Forrest’s popularity back home, where his fans delighted in seeing the “stuffed Brit” knocked down a peg.
When Macready returned to America, his performances were met with eggs, rotten fruit, and bottles of foul‑smelling liquid. The climax came at the Astor Place Opera House, where a crowd of ten thousand attacked the venue, which was defended by most of the city’s police force. The noise was so deafening that the actors were forced to mime their parts. Macready eventually slipped away in disguise, never to return, while the riot cemented the notion that a seemingly trivial artistic rivalry could ignite a full‑blown urban melee.
9 Nylon Stockings
In 1935, chemist Wallace Carothers at DuPont stumbled upon a super‑polymer that, when combined with the right amount of water, yielded a strong, flexible fiber later christened “nylon.” The material’s first fashion claim to fame was the nylon stocking, a silk‑like alternative that was easier to maintain. The initial run of four million pairs vanished in under two days, and women across the United States clamored for the new wonder fabric.
World War II, however, redirected the nation’s entire nylon output toward parachutes and other military gear. The black‑market price for a single pair of stockings skyrocketed to $20. Women resorted to painting seams on their legs to simulate the look of nylons, and the shortage became a symbol of wartime austerity.
When the war ended, DuPont announced it would resume civilian nylon production. Anticipation ran high—“Nylons for Christmas” slogans appeared everywhere. Unfortunately, DuPont overestimated how quickly it could retool its factories. A limited release of stockings triggered riots across the country. In Pittsburgh, 40,000 women queued for nearly two miles to obtain only 13,000 pairs. Elsewhere, fashion‑obsessed crowds smashed department‑store windows and fought each other tooth‑and‑nail over the coveted hosiery. Accusations flew that DuPont was deliberately restricting supply for profit, prompting the company to work overtime to restore pre‑war production levels. As nylon became more available, the riots gradually subsided, but not before leaving a mark on 1940s American cities.
8 Chariot Racing
In the early sixth century, the Byzantine Empire was plagued by the same age‑old problem that haunts modern sports fans: hooliganism. The empire’s favorite pastime was chariot racing, and the two dominant factions—the Blues and the Greens—regularly clashed in the streets after races. Emperor Justinian I, who favored the Blues, alienated the hardcore supporters of both teams when he failed to grant them preferential treatment.
In 536, a group of fanatics was arrested and sentenced to hang for murder. The execution went awry, allowing a Blue and a Green prisoner to escape and seek refuge in a temple, which the authorities promptly besieged. Suddenly, the two rival camps found common cause. During a race presided over by Justinian, the crowd roared “Long life to the benevolent Blues and Greens!” before shifting to a single chant: “Nika!”—Greek for “conquer.” The emperor fled to his palace as the mob stormed prisons and set fire to government buildings throughout Constantinople.
Justinian considered fleeing the city, but his formidable wife, Empress Theodora, persuaded him to stay, famously declaring, “Never will I see the day when I am not saluted as empress.” The rioters even set up a makeshift camp in the racetrack, attempting to proclaim one of their own as emperor. Justinian’s agents slipped in, reminding the Blues that the would‑be ruler was a Green, sparking infighting among the mob. Imperial troops moved in, trapping the fighters in a dead‑end and slaughtering an estimated 30,000 participants. The Blues and Greens were cowed for a few years, though they eventually resumed their street battles.
7 Hats
In 1920s New York, wearing a straw hat after September 15 was deemed a fashion faux pas of the highest order. Teenage gangs took it upon themselves to police the streets, assaulting anyone caught sporting a straw boater. Newspapers even ran warnings urging readers to swap to felt hats before the dreaded date arrived.
The final straw came in 1922 when a particularly impatient gang began seizing hats two days early, on September 13. Their crusade ran into a group of dockworkers who defended their own boaters with ferocity. The violence quickly escalated: teenagers marched through the city brandishing clubs studded with nails, brutally beating anyone foolish enough to wear a straw hat. Although the “Straw Hat Riots” resulted in no fatalities, several people were hospitalized and a number of youths were jailed.
Even that episode seems tame compared to the mythic uproar surrounding the invention of the top hat. Legend claims that when the first top hat was worn publicly, riots broke out, women fainted, dogs whined, and a child’s arm was broken by the surging crowd. The hat’s inventor was reportedly hauled to court for wearing a headpiece “calculated to frighten timid people.”
6 A Grilled Cheese Sandwich
Earlier this year, Rikers Island’s evening staff faced a precarious situation: budget cuts had left the prison severely understaffed. The limited guard force could manage routine operations, but a full‑blown riot would overwhelm them. Everything seemed under control—until an inmate from the Dominican Trinitarians gang asked a rival Crip whether he could use a hot plate to make a grilled cheese sandwich.
The Crip refused, prompting a fight that quickly spiraled into a massive brawl between the two gangs. Roughly fifty inmates clashed, hurling chairs, swinging brooms, and even throwing a pan of boiling water. The outnumbered guards were unable to break up the melee, which raged for nearly an hour before the rival gangs finally called a truce and sought medical attention. Reports never confirmed whether the original perpetrator ever got his grilled cheese.
5 A Weather Vane
In 1844, the newly established American consulate in Canton (modern‑day Guangzhou) installed a large gilt arrow weather vane, a gift from the United States. To the local Chinese, the arrow symbolized war, disease, famine, and other misfortunes. Its constant swinging was viewed as an insult, and possibly an intentional disruption of feng shui.
Local officials protested, but their complaints fell on deaf ears. That summer, a poor rice harvest and a spreading sickness left the Canton populace restless. Rumors spread that the Americans would not remove the offending arrow, prompting the crowd to demand its destruction. When the consulate finally agreed to take down the vane, the crowd surged forward, attempting to seize the arrow. The Americans responded with gunfire; a contemporary letter bluntly noted, “I have no doubt some Chinese were killed.” Order was restored only after 200 Chinese soldiers intervened and the weather vane was melted down.
4 A Particularly Patriotic Opera
In the early 19th century, Belgium was under Dutch rule as part of the United Kingdom of the Netherlands, a situation that left many Belgians disgruntled. The Théâtre Royale in Brussels decided to celebrate the Dutch king’s birthday with a special command performance. The opera chosen was Daniel Auber’s La Muette de Portici, a tale of a Neapolitan fisherman leading an uprising against a tyrannical ruler.
The production’s stirring patriotic duet, “Amour Sacré de la Patrie,” sent the Belgian audience into a fevered nationalist frenzy. As the show concluded, crowds surged from the opera house, attacking government buildings and setting Dutch businesses ablaze. The rioters even fashioned their own flag and engaged in armed clashes with troops. Within months, the Dutch were forced to withdraw, and Belgium secured its independence.
3 Cheering Too Loudly
In 1066, William “the Conqueror” crossed the English Channel and defeated King Harold at the Battle of Hastings. After Harold’s death, William ordered his body cast into the sea. Yet his hold on England remained tenuous, as loyalists crowned Harold’s young heir, Edgar, king. To cement his claim, William scheduled his coronation for Christmas Day, assuming the festivities would keep the populace occupied.
During the ceremony at Westminster Abbey, the bishop asked the assembled crowd to cheer for the new monarch. The cheers were so deafening that the troops stationed outside believed the king was under attack from within the church. Panicked, the soldiers turned on the crowd, setting fire to nearby buildings and roaming the streets in a riotous frenzy. Despite the chaos and the smoke filling the abbey, William completed his coronation.
2 A Cricket Match
Cricket may be famed for its genteel reputation, but the sport’s early international fixtures could be anything but tranquil. When an English side captained by the aristocratic Lord Harris toured Australia, the Sydney crowd discovered that the umpire hailed from rival city Melbourne. The umpire’s bias in favor of the visitors, combined with a controversial dismissal of Sydney’s star batsman, ignited a full‑scale riot.
The enraged crowd stormed the field, assaulting the players. Lord Harris was struck with a cane, only to be rescued by an English teammate who, along with another, uprooted a pair of stumps to use as clubs. The incident sparked a diplomatic spat between England and Australia, with speculation that colonial gamblers wanted to halt the match after heavy betting on an English loss. One of the rioters was Banjo Paterson, who later penned the iconic “Waltzing Matilda.”
1 Running Out Of Beer And Pretzels
On May 30, 1896, Tsar Nicholas II was crowned Emperor of All the Russians. To celebrate, the Russian government organized a massive banquet on Khodynka Field outside Moscow, promising each guest a free cup of beer, a piece of sausage, a pretzel, and unlimited refreshments. In preparation, twenty new bars were erected to accommodate the expected crowds.
When the day arrived, an estimated half‑million Muscovites gathered, held back only by flimsy barricades and a few hundred Cossacks. A rumor soon spread that the organizers had miscalculated the supply of beer and pretzels. Panic erupted as the crowd surged forward, crushing and trampling thousands in the process. By the end of the chaos, 1,389 people lay dead and many more were injured.
Blame fell on Grand Duke Sergei, the Tsar’s uncle who oversaw the event and failed to implement proper safety measures. When an inquiry was called, Sergei threatened to boycott the court, leading to the investigation’s cancellation. The Tsar, perhaps obliviously, attended a gala at the French embassy that night, doing little to restore his waning popularity among Moscow’s working class.