The Little Miami River was born in the meltwater of the retreating Wisconsin Glacier 15,000 years ago. It rises in Clark County and flows through the 80-foot deep Clifton Gorge and the John Bryan State Park before proceeding 105 miles to the south, emptying into the Ohio River upstream of Cincinnati. Because of its natural beauty and relatively undeveloped banks, The Little Miami River became Ohio's first stream to be designated a National Scenic River.
For thousands of years, the river has played an important role in the history of the area. Ancient nomads hunted and fished the waters. The Hopewell people planted their maize, beans, and squash in the river's rich bottoms, while constructing the fascinating earthen structure we call Fort Ancient in the highlands overlooking the river. Settlers harnessed the river to power mills along the stream's entire route. Civil War soldiers at Camp Dennison relied on water that was pumped to a reservoir on top of a hill and then delivered by lead pipes. Today, the river is known for the recreational opportunities it provides for paddlers, bikers, skaters, and walkers on the Little Miami Scenic Bike Trail.
For most of its 15,000 years, the river has been a valuable natural resource. Not so in 1913, when the river burst from its banks, bringing death and destruction to the Little Miami River Valley. As damaging as the flood was to the Little Miami River Valley, it was even worse along the Great Miami, especially at Dayton, Ohio. Both floods resulted from a series of freak weather events.
Easter 1913 was a holiday not to be forgotten by those who survived it. On March 21, it was 60 degrees in the Ohio Valley when a nasty storm blew in from Nebraska, carrying with it strong winds, torrential rains, and hail. The following day, the temperature dropped 40 degrees. freezing the rain-saturated ground. Then, on March 23, the clouds dropped 11 inches of rain. The frozen ground could not absorb the millions of gallons of rain that fell, and so it ran into local streams. The streams carried as much as they could before they too filled. With no place to go, the water backed up onto the land. (Hydrologists have estimated that the amount of water that flowed through Dayton during the flood was equal to one month's flow of Niagara Falls.)
Dayton was built in a floodplain and was susceptible to periodic and sometimes severe flooding. Nothing in the city's 100-year-old history was comparable to the catastrophe of 1913. At its peak, the water stood at 20 feet deep on Main Street. Gas lines exploded in several places, leading to the destruction by fire of an entire city block. Twenty thousand buildings were destroyed. Sixty-five thousand people were displaced from their homes. The city suffered approximately $100 million in damage (equal to $2 billion in 2024 dollars). The death toll was estimated at nearly 400. It clearly would have been much higher if it wasn't for the heroic efforts of National Cash Register's president, John Patterson, who used his own money and employees in the rescue and recovery efforts.
At Cincinnati, the Ohio River rose 21 feet in just twenty-four hours, sometimes as much as four inches per hour. The Little Miami River virtually leaped out of its bounds. At King's Mills, the water rose to 33 feet, nearly twice the posted flood stage. Downstream at Milford, it was a similar story. The river crested at 30.5 feet, 13 feet above flood stage.
In Milford, the "Island", a strip of land bordered by the Little Miami River on one side and the mill race on the other, was inundated. The three-story Eveland/Motsinger Funeral Home and livery was lifted from its foundation and swept downstream, where it collided with the Cincinnati & Columbus Traction Bridge. The middle span of the bridge was destroyed. Half of the Hickey Undertaker building collapsed. Allan Shumard reported that his family tied a stout rope around their building and attached it to a large sycamore tree. The tree still stands today.
The Frank Cosrove family was trapped in their home by the rapidly rising waters. It continued to rise, driving them into the attic. They survived the night, wet but safe.
The village was plunged into four days of darkness after the flooded river shut down Milford's power plant.
The Cincinnati Enquirer reported from Milford:
"At midnight, the Little Miami was rapidly rising at Milford. Every person in town able to help was up trying to rescue the unfortunates caught in the flood. The water was two feet higher than ever before. The town hall was open to refugees, and everything possible was done to relieve their distress."
The Here Am I Girls, an association of young Milford women, sprang into action feeding the hungry. The village issued $1,000 in bonds to aid its needy, and the Milford Orchestra held a special concert to assist victims.
There were no reported deaths in Milford. However, a woman, clutching the lifeless body of her baby, was found upstream from Camp Dennison. Property damage in Milford was put at $25,000.
The East Fork of the Little Miami flooded as well. Businesses in Batavia were destroyed. All roads, but one, into the county seat were shut down. An attempted murder trial case was rescheduled. Farm buildings were destroyed, and newly planted fields were washed away.
The 1913 flood was the worst natural disaster in state history.
Not all was bleak in the aftermath. Charles Hartmetz of Stonelick Township walked his farm when the water receded. He found a 14 1/2 pound German carp stranded in the shallows. Though the Leviathan was captured, it wasn't reported if the fish wound up on the dinner plate.
