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| Volume XV |
June 1934 |
No. 6 |
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Copyright 1934 by the State Historical Society of Iowa
(Transcribed by Debbie Clough Gerischer)
THE FLOOD OF 1851
The deluge began in May. For more than forty days the rain fell,
not continuously but at very frequent intervals. Farmers in the valleys
despaired of getting their corn planted, Crops of small grain were washed out or
ruined. Not until July did the skies clear and the floods subside. A newspaper
reported that neither the "memory of the oldest inhabitant" nor "any traditional
accounts from the Indians" furnished any evidence of such an inundation.
There was no need of so much rain in Iowa. During the previous
year of 1850 the rainfall was estimated at forty-nine inches which, according to
modern records, was about eighteen inches above normal. The ground-water level
must have been high in the spring of 1851. After the first downpour, the earth
became saturated and the surplus ran off to swell the creeks and send the rivers
surging out of their banks, even above the second terraces.
Everywhere the same conditions prevailed, even on the narrow
watershed of the Missouri slope. But the damage was greatest in southeastern
Iowa, for there the water in the Cedar, Iowa, Skunk, and Des Moines rivers,
drained from two-thirds of the State, reached the highest mark. Moreover, that
region was the most densely populated portion of Iowa. The settlers, clinging to
the valleys, had not penetrated to the upload prairies of the central and
northern sections. When the floods came, they discovered that their lowland
farms were unfavorably situated. Most of the towns, being located on the rivers,
were under water, but the inland communities were comparatively unharmed.
The heavy rains reached the first climax toward the end of May
culminating in a veritable cloudburst that lasted more than an hour. When the
downpour finally abated the whole country presented "the appearance of one vast
lake of rushing waters." Hundreds of acres of tilled land were overflowed;
horses, cattle, hogs, sheep, and chickens were drowned; fences and buildings
were swept away. Huge trees, washed out by the roots, came floating down or
caught at the bends to form temporary dams. Water flowed in at the second-story
windows of mills and warehouses built close to the river.
At Fort Des Moines the river was twenty-three feet above the
low-water mark. Buildings on the east side were swept away or destroyed by the
swift current that extended to the foot of capitol hill. The present site of the
North Western depot was submerged. Boarders at the Marvin House near Third and
Walnut streets made their entrances and exits by means of a raft. Business was
completely paralyzed.
While their ordinary occupations were suspended, several
citizens spent the time catching trees that came down with the flood. When the
water receded they were trimmed into saw logs. Much valuable timber was secured
in this way. This hazardous employment, however, cost of life of Conrad
Youngerman at Fort Des Moines. In some unaccountable manner his boat capsized
and he was drowned before help could reach him. His two companions were saved
after a hard struggle.
Several other deaths were attributed to the flood of 1851. Two
small boys were drowned at Red Rock Sandert De Jong fell from a bridge at Union
Mills and was gone before bystanders could help him. An elderly couple named
Alloway living beside the Maquoketa River were overtaken by the rising water
while seeking a place of safety. Mrs. Alloway was carried away by the swift
current and her husband escaped only by clinging to a bush until he was rescued
in the morning. Perhaps there were other casualties which were not recorded, for
the newspapers of that day had little space for anything but politics. No doubt
the loss of life would have been more thickly populated.
Though newspaper descriptions of the flood were exasperatingly
meager, general conditions were incidentally revealed by casual local items. All
of the streams from the Maquoketa to the De Moines were out of their banks.
Muscatine Island was almost completely overflowed by the Mississippi. At
Rochester on the Cedar River a monument was placed to mark the limit of the
"High-water of 1851". Some railroad surveyors who wanted to determine the
high-water mark of the Iowa River near Columbus Junction took the elevation of a
muddy streak on the plaster of the ferry house "about three feet from the floor,
where the water had evidently stood." The Skunk too, spread itself in every
direction. "Judging from appearances one would suppose it determined to declare
itself navigable (without any act of legislature) by removing, without the aid
of civil law, everything calculated to hinder small craft from taking an
uninterrupted voyage to the Father of Waters."
The towns in the Des Moines Valley, however, seem to have
suffered most. This stream drains nearly a third of the State, and the
cloudburst on May 21st seems to have been centered between Fort Dodge and Fort
Des Moines. Further augmented by steady rainfall, the river took full possession
of its former dominion, attaining a width of four miles in some places and
leaving its "mark" on the land "so that settlers may hereafter know how much is
claimed by it, Nor was the monster any respecter of places, Timber land,
cultivated fields, and towns were treated precisely according to their altitude
without regard for human safety or property rights. Red Rock, Eddyville,
Ottumwa, Iowaville, Keosauqua, and Farmington were all ravaged by the flood, Not
once but three times the angry Des Moines reached out of its normal channel to
invade streets and dwelling places, leaving behind a smear of mud,
Roads, which were not good at best, were utterly impassable.
Many of the bridges were useless. Under these circumstances the settlers in the
interior were isolated. In a few weeks the supplies of food and other
merchandise, depleted during the winter, were in danger of being exhausted, Most
of the mills could not grind because of the high water. Moreover, gardens had
been destroyed and crops ruined by the flood.
In this emergency, four men at Fort Des Moines determined to go
to St. Louis for a steam boat load of supplies. If the flood closed the normal
routes of transportation it also provided a navigable waterway. Though the trip
was hazardous, the enterprise promised big profits.
It was a cloudy morning in June when J. M. Griffith, a general
merchant, W T. Marvin, proprietor of the leading Des Moines hotel. Peter Myers,
a speculator, and Hoyt Sherman, the postmaster and county clerk, "started on
their perilous journey of 170 miles on to the Mississippi, without chart or
guide, on a river running out at a higher stage of water than ever before
known". Their means of navigation, in the words of Mr. Sherman, "was a rough
board skiff made by unskilled hands out of native lumber, with a flat bottom,
and not at all constructed to resist the bumps from violent contact with stones
or piles of heavy drift". The space was so limited that each one "had to remain
seated in the same place between starting and stopping" places.
In all probability these four men still hold the rowboat record
from Des Moines to Keokuk - a little less than four days. Carried along by the
swift current, their principal task was to keep in the main channel and avoid
snags. About noon on the second day they reached Eddyville. Rowing up to the
hotel, they tied their boat to the banister of the outside stairway, climbed to
the second story, and ate a hearty dinner. They reported that a "three foot
rise" was due soon, but their prophecy was not taken seriously by business men
who already had to reach their stores by boats. By the next morning, however,
the river had risen so high that hundreds of bushels of corn which had been
drying in a warehouse had floated out of the open doors and were "bobbing up and
down in the swift current or circling in golden eddies near the shore."
From Eddyville the voyagers "floated out over the overflowed
bottom, following as closely as possible the submerged stage road for a large
part of the distance to Ottumwa." At that town "every store, warehouse and
residence on the low ground was partially submerged." Having obtained a good map
of the river, they had "no further trouble in guiding the boat through the
proper channels."
At Iowaville, then a village of "thirty houses, some stores, a
blacksmith shop and hotel", the flood spread across the bottom land to the
bluffs about a mile away. Most of the inhabitants had retreated to Joel Avery's
farm on high ground where they camped for more than a month on a kind of
compulsory picnic, but a few simply went upstairs and lived in the second story
of their houses until the water subsided. Guests at the Iowa Hotel were made as
comfortable as possible on the upper floor.
On down the river went the boatmen from Fort Des Moines impelled
by business motives but making a sort of holiday lark of their trip. At
Keosauqua, Bonaparte, Farmington, and Croton they found typical flood conditions
- families homeless, streets changed to canals, merchants selling groceries and
gingham from the top shelves. On the afternoon of the fourth day they "floated
into the great Mississippi, and their boat was soon safely moored to the wharf
at Keokuk."
Having proceeded to Saint Louis by packet, they chartered the
steamboat Kentucky, bought a load of flour and other provisions, took on
some passengers for Des Moines, and set out for home. At Keokuk additional goods
were taken aboard and the voyage up the flooded Des Moines began.
Obstructions to navigation at Croton and Farmington were passed
without difficulty. At Bonaparte, however, Meek's dam was a more formidable
barrier. "The steamboat was pointed directly at the breast of the dam" and had
nearly passed the obstruction when the paddle wheel at the stern reached the
deep trough in the water just in front of the dam. Out of the water it "flew
around with great velocity," threatening to break the machinery, until the
engine was stopped. Then the steamer drifted back in the swift current. Again
and again the boat was brought up to the dam, only to repeat the failure of
former trials. At last the owners decided to abandon further efforts, stored the
cargo in a warehouse, and returned to Saint Louis for another steamer,
Captain Joseph Price was induced to attempt the voyage to Fort
Des Moines with his Caleb Cope. After reloading at Bonaparte, he boldly
approached the Waterloo of his predecessor. Confidently and steadily he piloted
his boat "through and over the surging flood of the dam to the still water
beyond." The worst of the trip was over, and the remainder of the journey was
made without delay or danger.
All along the way the Caleb Cope was welcomed by the
settlers in the Des Moines Valley. Supplies of flour, sugar, and coffee were
sold at every town. The arrival of the steamer at Iowaville on the Fourth of
July made memorable the celebration of the national holiday that year. On the
following day the steamboat reached Fort Des Moines and delivered the
much-needed provisions. By that time the river had returned to its normal
course, but the water was still high enough to enable Captain Price to make the
return trip without serious difficulty.
John Ely Briggs |
