As told to Terry by Ben Ludenberger, January 1972.
Wick Ludenberger worked on his dad’s canal boat, the BOILVAR, from the time he was able to drive a team or handle the lock gates until his dad quit boating after the season of 1905 or ‘06. I was able to get Wick and his younger brother Ben to let me interview them both on audio tape at Ben’s home in Bolivar Ohio one Saturday afternoon in January of 1972. Since Christmas is rapidly approaching one of the short tales Wick related that afternoon seems to be quite appropriate. He remembers being four or five at the time this story took place. Wick was born in 1892, so that would mean that it was in 1896 or 97 that little “Wick” Ludenberger first saw Santa Claus.
“ We got froze in one winter just this side of Canal Dover. We had about a half load of coal on board so we decided to stay right where we were instead of trying to make it to the farm at Bolivar to winter at Grandma’s as we usually did.
“Christmas Eve came. There was snow on the ground and everything was froze up. A fellow named Jim Steiner was there that winter too. He had a daughter about 15 or 16 years old. Dad and Jim had been to Canal Dover on the team. I don’t know if they got that Santy Claus suit while they was there or not, but the Steiner girl, maybe somebody put her up to it, decided she was going to play Santy Claus for us kids in all those boats – there was six or seven boats froze up there with us then. I must have been about four or five, because I don’t think Ralph was born yet, but Ben was.
“We was all sitten in the aft cabin of our boat with Mom and Mrs. Steiner. I don’t know where Dad and Jim were. There was a hatch on top of the cabin, the stern deck was up there, with a step-ladder kind of arrangement leading down from the hatch into the cabin. I remember I was sitten on the bottom step. I suppose we were all playen some kind of game or something – when all of a sudden – that hatch flew open, AND THERE WAS SANTY CLAUS. He throwed a bunch of candy and nuts down through the hatch onto the floor. Us kids like to be scared to death. Back under the bunks we all scurried. And that’s the first time I saw Santy Claus.
“The reason I know it was the Steiner girl playen Santy Claus was that, to top things all off – – I don’t know whatever made her try to go around on the gunnel, on the outside of the boat. She could have gone along the catwalk from the stern cabin over the cargo holds and then onto the bank from the bow deck, but she tried to swing down to the gunnel from the stern deck and walk around on it along the outside of the boat to the bank, instead. She must have missed her footing when she swung down, because she fell right into the canal. The ice there along the bank wasn’t that thick and she went right through it into the water. There must have been six or seven feet of water there where she went in.
“We all ran up on deck and Mom and Mrs Snyder, and some of the other folks from the nearby boats, helped fish her out. With that Santy Claus suit on, and how cold it was, and the ice and everything, they had the devil of a time getting her back on board. It’s a wonder she didn’t drown. I don’t think she ever played Santy Claus again, and I know that I’ll never forget that Christmas.”
There have been a number of statements over the years in the press and media about the “end” of the Ohio Canal. Through traffic ran on it, these statements say, until 1913 when the flood destroyed the canal and the State abandoned it. Well, there are true statements in that and some, eh, not so true. I set about writing a column to set the record straight. I’m not at all sure I have done that.
My first effort was to use two newspaper articles about the last days of the canal in their entirety and correct the wrong parts. Well, that didn’t work well at all. Then I decided to use an excerpt from the Board of Public Works Report for 1911 describing how the canal was in bad shape. But I couldn’t find one of the two statements from that report I wanted to use verbatim.
I knew, however, that I had quoted that bit in my 2008 GRAND CANAL, so I went to it, and sort of changed my mind, again, about the column. Today’s final column will be a slightly rewritten and shortened version of pages 64 to 71 of my GRAND CANAL.
It is basically about the results of the State pulling the plug on the early 1900s rebuild of the northern division of the Ohio Canal and then nature taking a hand in the final decision of keeping the canal open with her devastating 1913 Flood.
I hope you find today’s column informative and, at least a bit, interesting. It is a long one, and, “Yes Mary, no pictures.” And if you have read my book, this is all old news. Still, I think, in order to understand the history of Ohio’s Canal Era completely, it is important to look closely at that period between the ending of the 1909 construction season and the Spring of 1913.
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LAST DAYS OF THE OHIO CANAL
From the end of the 1909 construction season until the devastating March 1913 flood, the Ohio Canal lay, with its attempted northern rebuid stalled, manymiles from the coal fields of Tuscarawas County. Charles E. Perkins’s ninth consecutive term as Chief Engineer of Ohio’s Public Works expired in May of 1910. He was not reappointed; nor was he immediately replaced. There was no Chief Engineer’s Report to the State Legislature for 1910, and for over a year the Ohio Canal existed in a state of limbo.
Finally on July 3rd, 1911 John I. Miller was appointed to the position of Chief Engineer. In his annual report to the State Legislature presented on November 11, 1911, he stated that, “the canals of Ohio are in such a state of physical disability as to make it possible for navigation only in a very few instances.”
During the enforced hiatus of long distance canal traffic during the attempted rebuild, the few mills, mines, and industries that had regularly shipped and received by canal either shifted their business elsewhere or were forced out of business. The boatmen too, drifted away and into other jobs and lives. Only those few boats that had been dragged up on shore or sunk for the duration into the convenient basins and widewaters that still survived.
Mixed signals came from the Legislature and Board of Public Works regarding the future of the Ohio Canal. Major physical flood damages in the northern division during the fall of 1911 were rebuilt in 1912. However, the spoil from dredging the canal south of Clinton in the last days of the rebuild had been left in heaps. The towpath south of Clinton into Canal Fulton was not plowed smooth and leveled until 1912. Also, it appears that portions of the canal through Stark County to the Zoar Feeder in Tuscarawas County was never refilled with water after the rebuild and relocation of New lock 5-A and the new Cemetery Run Culvert south of Massillon in 1909.
Meanwhile, the State Legislature busied itself disposing of the lower portion of the Ohio Canal. Most of the canal line between the Dresden Sidecut in Muskingum County and Portsmouth was officially abandoned in 1911. Only that section between the Licking Summit Reservoir and a few industries in Newark remained and that was only for hydraulic power.
The remainder of the Ohio Canal was allowed to ‘just exist’. Then, on December, 31, 1912 the State Legislature abolished the Board of Public Works and replaced it with a one-man “Supervisor of Public Works”. But since John Miller was appointed to that position, perhaps the State Legislature wasn’t entirely ready to give up on its canal system. As it turned out, that question was soon taken out of the Legislature’s hands.
The snows were heavy in northern Ohio in January and February, 1913.(1) Then a rare thaw occurred in mid-March, and on March 23, Easter Sunday, it began to rain. A heavy downpour continued all over the State. By the wee hours of Tuesday morning the creeks and rivers throughout Ohio were at a high flood stage. Though western Ohio was hardest hit the rivers in eastern Ohio, including the Cuyahoga, Tuscarawas, Muskingum, Licking and Scioto, – rivers whose valleys carried the channel of the Ohio Canal – all were at a record flood stage.
Dayton Ohio during the 1913 flood. Library of Congress.
Rain had begun falling in northeastern Ohio around noon on Easter. More than eight inches fell during the next four days. Families in the river valleys were forced to leave their homes. Cities in those valleys were without power, shelter, food, and water. Firemen and police found it difficult to reach any emergency.
The Tuscarawas River bottom including the canal near Clinton and Warrick, were covered by water for a width of 12 miles. All that water had to be funneled through a valley that contained Canal Fulton, Massillon, and Navarre. The Tuscarawas River overflowed its banks at Canal Fulton and, together with the canal, raced through town, destroying much within its path.
Easter Sunday had seen the residents of Massillon going to special musical services through a diving rain. It continued all day and night and again through Monday. At 8:45 Tuesday morning the Tuscarawas River passed the previous high-water mark set in 1904 and continued rising at the rate of two feet per hour. Only the roofs of homes along the canal were above water.
At 11:00 am that day the only two schools in Massillon that had managed to open were closed. The raging Tuscarawas waters, reaching halfway up the sides of a house on Tremont, battered and pushed until the house rose from its foundation and floated off only to crash against a railroad trestle and disintegrate.
The rising waters covered the Ohio Drilling Company, the Massillon Foundry, and Shuster Brewery to a depth of three to four feet. A portion of the Sippo Creek Culvert under South Erie Street collapsed and the creek flooded the main business section of Massillon.
The three villages that made up Navarre were on higher ground and didn’t suffer as greatly as Canal Fulton or Massillon, but the canal through Navarre was utterly destroyed. Every bridge across the Tuscarawas in Stark County except one in Navarre was swept away.
Floodwaters in Bolivar exceeded the previous record by four feet, though damage to the actual town was minimized as much of the town had been built upon higher ground.
The Sad Iron Works, a plant of the Dover Manufacturing Company, and the Wagner Brothers Machine Shop, all located along the canal’s towpath just below the Factory Street Bridge in Canal Dover, collapsed due to flood waters. Every bridge across the Tuscarawas and Muskingum Rivers in Tuscarawas, Coshocton and Muskingum Counties was destroyed by the rapidly flowing flood waters which undermined the abutments.
Damage in Zanesville after the 1913 flood. Library of Congress.
Residents in Lockport, on the southeast side of New Philadelphia at Lock 13 were completely cut off from the surrounding countryside for days. Provisions had to be boated in. The residents of Port Washington and Newcomerstown were also isolated for several days and the canal channel through those towns was nearly obliterated.
Damage in Chillocothe from the 1913 flood. Library of Congress.
In Coshocton, floodwaters spread across 30 city blocks – 8 feet deep in some areas. In Zanesville, near the head of the main Muskingum Improvement, the river crested at 51.8 feet, the highest stage ever recorded up to that time, putting nearly 3,500 buildings under water.
The northern part of the canal above the Portage Summit wasn’t hit quite as hard as other areas, but its citizens reacted more violently. Over the years, a number of fine homes and vacation sites had sprung up along the shores of the Portage Lakes Canal Reservoir. Nervous home and land owners demanded that floodwaters be sent down the canal, away from their properties. Somehow, the banks of the reservoir were breached, sending thousands of tons of water cascading down the Tuscarawas and Muskingum Valleys.
Rumors quickly began circulating that Summit County residents, fearing for the safety of their homes and property, had dynamited the reservoir embankments to relieve local flooding. The Massillon City Council later investigated the alleged dynamiting of the Cottage Grove Dam near Paddy Ryan’s Inn on a feeder from Turkeyfoot Lake to the canal and river. Summit County Officials denied that there was any dynamiting of dams or retaining embankments to save Portage Lakes property. The blame was placed upon excessive pressure of floodwaters on the earthen embankments of the Reservoir.
Whatever the cause, the embankment was breached around Midnight on Sunday. The level of Turkeyfoot Lake dropped some six feet quickly, with a subsequent rise in the Tuscarawas River to the south and the Ohio Canal through Akron to the north.
The closed gates on each of the 15 locks within the city of Akron became small dams, building up a head of water as high as eight feet above the lock. There were bypass channels around each lock, but the sudden increase in the volume of water from the Portage Lakes was too much. The crowds of people panicked and demanded the lock gates be dynamited. The gates of several locks within the city were blown open with dynamite, beginning with Lock 1 at Exchange Street on Monday night and including Locks 8 and 9 , just south of Market Street around noon on Tuesday. This uncoordinated destruction probably did little more than destroy the lock gates, damage some nearby buildings, and hastened the flood of water down the valley.
Bridge swept away in Cleveland. Library of Congress.
Local papers questioned who had authorized the destruction of State Property. Years later, stories were told about the flood and John Henry Vance, an engineer at the B F. Goodrich plant, who took credit for supervising the destruction of Lock 1, a Mr. Madden for Lock 8 plus the nearby Alexander Building, and the City Police for Lock 9.
When the pent up water from the reservoir feeders and the pools behind the Akron locks were unleashed, it tore through the valley, shoving buildings from their foundations and destroyed the canal channel from Akron to Peninsula. At Boston, local residents used 200 pounds of dynamite to blow up the mill dam in the Cuyahoga, hoping to relieve flooding in their town and sending torrents of water down the valley, destroying property and life along its banks. Along the Cleveland Flats, at the junction of the Cuyahoga River and Lake Erie, devastation was tremendous, with docks, lumberyards, and businesses all swept away.
The Statewide extent of death and destruction due to the Flood of 1913 exceeds all other weather-related events in Ohio’s history. Rainfall over the State totaled 6 to 11 inches, and no part of the State was unaffected. The total death count was 467 and more than 40,000 homes were damaged or destroyed. The total property damage totaled more than $100 million dollars (in 1913 money). Homes, businesses and institutions across the State were destroyed by the flood and the State’s transportation system was severely damaged. With nearly every river bridge destroyed, trains swept off tracks, railroad yards destroyed, and railroad tracks torn up by the rampaging waters, it was months before the railways and highways were back to any semblance of their former efficiency.
Much of the northern section of the canal, that portion where the recent rebuilding had taken place, was in shambles, but there was never more than local efforts to repair it, and then only for hydraulic purposes. Through boating on the Ohio Canal had ceased during the height of the rebuild about 1905 or 06. The Flood of 1913, by washing away many of the canal’s feeder dams and seriously damaging it banks all along the line, put an end to the Ohio Canal as a viable, through transportation system.
(1) Editors note- The Flood of 1913 was a multi-state event caused by a winter storm. In addition to the damages to the Ohio Canals, it also great impacted work on New York’s new Barge Canal, which was being constructed at that time.
As the Ohio Canal neared completion from Lake Erie to the Ohio River, many in the small village of Cleveland, Ohio began to believe that their village was strategically placed on the shore of the Great Lake between the junction of the Erie and Ohio Canals that it was destined to become an important world trade center. One man who had that belief, and attempted to make it a reality, was James S. Clarke, a former Sheriff of Cuyahoga County and, in the decade of the 1830s, one of the biggest real estate speculators in the area. In 1831, James Clarke, Richard Hilliard (a wealthy dry goods merchant), and Edmond Clark (a prominent banker) formed a partnership and purchased 50 acres of land just south of Cleveland’s village limits.
The acreage constituted the southern portion of a peninsula bordered on three sides by the Cuyahoga River and located just south of the river’s first great bend. This land was then known as Case’s Point, but is currently that part of the Cleveland Flats known as Ox Bow Bend. The three-man-partnership platted a development on their acreage and called it CLEVELAND CENTRE.i This paper village featured streets named after foreign countries – Britain, France, Germany, China, and Russia, all radiating from a hub called Gravity Place. This, the promoters decided, was an appropriate name for a future center of world trade and business. Cleveland Centre was ideally located just south of the new Ohio Canal basin (Merwin’s) where canal boats and lake vessels interchanged cargo.
Land lots in the new development initially sold well, and soon a small village had sprouted there. Commission houses, warehouses, and docks were built along the western side of the village primarily on Merwin Street. A residential neighborhood formed on the eastern side of the village along Columbus Street (now Columbus Avenue), the main thoroughfare running north and south through the Centre. Clark gave the area a boost in 1835 when he financed the construction of the first bridge across the Cuyahoga River in the Cleveland area – the Columbus Street Bridge
In 1836 the area received another boost. Clarke and others sponsored an additional new development named Wileyville. This new village was on land directly across the river from Cleveland Centre. The two villages were connected by the new Columbus Street bridge. The initial prosperity of the area was so great that it attracted Cleveland’s attention and that city annexed Cleveland Centre in 1835.
Then the nationwide Financial Panic of 1837 struck and all early chances of the Cleveland Centre district becoming a center of world trade collapsed along with the nation’s economy.
During the nation’s economic doldrums that lasted for more than seven years, many working class immigrants moved from building the canals to being out of work from Cleveland’s industry. Also during this period (1838) the first Roman Catholic Church in the Cleveland area, St. Marys, was constructed in the Centre to cater to the many them Irish-Catholic local residents. Incidentally, it was also during this period that James S. Clarke found himself financially ruined.
The nation’s economy finally righted itself in the mid-to-late 1840s and the canal trade began booming again, however, severe flooding of the Cuyahoga in 1847 slowed the Centre’s rebirth. Then with the beginning of the 1850s another specter loomed over the horizon of Cleveland Centre.
Attracted to this area of Cleveland by the industry and commercial district built near the canal/lake interconnection, railroads began entering the area in a big way during the mid-1850s.
The Cleveland, Columbus & Cincinnati Railroad entered the Centre first. In 1851 the railroad purchased 12 acres on the south side of the Centre – taking up almost one quarter of the original development. The C. C. & C. RR constructed an engine roundhouse and other service and yard facilities on that land.
In the immediate years that followed, many of the area’s new industries and manufacturing facilities were constructed to be near the railroad. Often the construction of these industrial complexes necessitated that portions of the streets that radiated from Gravity Place be vacated. Over the years much of the beauty and symmetry of the Centre was lost. The residential neighborhood on the east side of the development also suffered disruption from the invasion of the railroads and industry.
The canal’s terminus, including the commodious Merwin’s Basin was transferred from state to city control and leased to the Connoton Valley Railroad during the mid 1870s. A new canal terminus, weigh lock, and outlet lock into the Cuyahoga River were built some three miles south. Those facilities were operational by the beginning of the 1878 boating season and the original terminus closed.
The old Cleveland Centre drifted toward no longer being a desirable place for a residential area and many moved away. With the loss of the majority of its parishioners, the Catholic Church, now known locally as St. Mary’s of the Flats, closed its doors in 1880. Even the name of Cleveland Centre faded from the memory of Clevelanders and by the late nineteenth Century, the area was known, city wide, only as The Flats.
When Cleveland and the entire area of northeastern Ohio experienced a devastating loss of industry in the mid-Twentieth Century, that Cleveland area known as The Flats and the remains of Cleveland Centre languished, too. That entire area became known nationally only for its closed factories, and businesses and empty warehouses.
That area of Cleveland experienced a brief rebirth as an entertainment and recreational center during the late 1970s and through the ‘80s, but most of the portion that once contained the Centre was too far south to reap much of the economic benefit. And even that small upbeat in the local economy soon faded.
Recently however, with the dawning of the twenty-first century, a number of acres in the southern part of The Flats, that area that contained the Centre, and was formerly owned by the C., C. & C . RR and its successors, was obtained by the City and re-purposed for recreational purposes. Parts of the old Cleveland Centre development are now home to facilities as the Commodore’s Club Marina, and the Cleveland Rowing Foundation. Then Cleveland Metro-Parks initiated their Rivergate Park which featured a riverside restaurant called Merwin’s.
With the Cleveland Centre area becoming a trendy destination once again, proposals (we hesitate to call them plans) have been made to have historical markers placed in the area commemorating the historical existence of Cleveland Centre, and that the original radial streets and hub at Gravity Place be marked and lighted so that people, both on the ground and in the air could see, remember, and commemorate this early attempt to build an international trade center on Ohio’s north shore. Along with James C. Clarke’s spirit, we can do little more than hope.
(Note that this article was first written a few years back and as the links show, much development has taken place in this area.)
