Drainage

In 1859, John McGuffey, a hog farmer from Franklin County, Ohio, approached the Hardin County Commissioners with a novel proposition: he wanted to drain the Scioto Marsh. Before McGuffey, local residents long speculated that such a feat bordered on impossible. For them, the marsh’s murky waters and prodigious wildlife posed too many impediments to guarantee success. Yet, despite the warnings, McGuffey believed that with the right persistence, the area could be transformed into an agricultural haven. To sweeten the deal, he included the caveat that, if given a contractual agreement, the work could be done in just a few years time. Enthralled by the proposal, the Commissioners agreed. So, the terms were set. McGuffey would be awarded $2.50 per rod of acreage reclaimed—an antiquated measurement used in agriculture which was equivalent to sixteen feet. The work began immediately as, between 1859 and 1862, scores of hired hands dug seven miles of ditches that diverted the waters away from the soil and into the Scioto River. However, the campaign was plagued by disruptions, from bouts of malaria to the outbreak of the Civil War. When the work was completed, in November 1862, McGuffey’s men were able to open 4,500 acres of marshlands valued at more than $4,000. Unfortunately, the successes were short-lived as the very next spring, the river’s waters flooded the newly available land. To many, the setbacks proved, beyond a reasonable doubt, that such endeavors remained fanciful. The waters, they said, would always return. 

While these initial failures confirmed the local hypothesis, they by no means dissuaded continued interest in marsh reclamation. In fact, it only strengthened them and, in the early 1880s, Colonel C.H. Sage, representative with the Erie Railroad, hatched a more robust proposal. First introduced to the marsh when surveying western Hardin County for the installation of new railways, Sage, like McGuffey, became convinced that the marsh could be drained. Yet, unlike previous attempts, Sage took a more holistic approach: to drain the marsh, you needed to not only to divert the waters but eliminate them entirely. In a proposal once again before the Commissioners, Sage testified that more ditches must be created and the riverbed lowered. Only then, he said, could the land be officially opened. The officials were convinced, and a crew was hired to complete the arduous task. This time, the rate was comprehensive instead of dependent, with William E. Morris awarded $57,000 for completion. By 1884, the work was well underway, with residents noting that “the work of improving the river below the marsh will be completed in time to run off the next spring’s flood.” By 1887, almost the entirety of the marsh’s 16,000 acres had been made available for cultivation. Furthermore, it boasted incredible fertility based on its high organic density, the result of years of formation beneath the now-drained marsh. Growers scrambled to purchase plots. Soon, fields of corn, wheat, rye, potatoes, and onions scattered the landscape. The harvests were resounding with limited interference from returning waters, though heavy rains still elevated them enough to cause a disruption. That said, the results spoke for themselves. From Sage’s vision, the marsh had been successfully reclaimed, and productivity skyrocketed. 

Like before, the total defeat of destructive flooding was anything but absolute. While growers enjoyed limited disruptions throughout the 1880s and 1900s, a series of severe storms in 1913 and 1915 once again revealed the precarity associated with cultivation in the floodplain. In both instances, heavy rains, which lasted days instead of hours, overwhelmed the marsh’s drainage protections. As a result, hundreds of acres were flooded and homes destroyed. Frustrated, local growers and residents returned their gaze to the river as the source of agony. Something, they decided, must be done to fully bring Sage’s work to fruition, but how? At the state level, elected representatives crafted legislation that placed flood mitigation powers into the hands of local officials. Influenced by the immense damages wrought in 1913, the Conservancy Act of Ohio, passed in 1914, granted the ability for regional agencies to be created to mitigate flooding. In Hardin County, the Upper Scioto Valley Drainage and Conservancy District (USVDCD), formed in 1915, became the authority on all matters associated with flooding. 

Almost immediately, the newly established body went to work with the expressed purpose to eradicate the river’s tendency to flood. From surveys undertaken by the Morgan Engineering Company of Memphis, Tennessee, the Scioto would not only need to be lowered once again, but they also recommended that it should be straightened and widened by around 400%. Additionally, the estimated cost for the project totaled a mind-boggling $700,000 ($13.3 million in 2025). Convinced, levies were raised and passed by landowners with an estimated last payment slated for 1940. The work, supervised by Fred C. Morgan, began in 1920. In the end, the Scioto was widened to forty-eight feet and the bottom deepened to twelve. Importantly, this time, the project was a success. In 1940, local historian Carl Drumm noted that “since the dredging was completed, there have been no major floods on the marsh.” Growers, finally, were able to enjoy nature’s fabulous storehouse with limited interruptions.