Great Flood of 1913

The Great Flood of 1913: The Disaster That Changed Columbus Forever

Meta description: In March 1913, the Scioto River overwhelmed Columbus, killing more than 90 people and devastating Franklinton. Discover how the Great Flood unfolded, why the levees failed and how it permanently changed the city.

Columbus, Ohio, is a city shaped by its rivers. The Scioto and Olentangy helped determine where people settled, where businesses developed and how the city expanded.

But in March 1913, those rivers became instruments of destruction.

After days of relentless rain, the Scioto River overwhelmed Columbus’ flood defenses. Levees failed, bridges collapsed and a wall of water poured into Franklinton. Houses were torn from their foundations while residents climbed onto roofs, into trees and through attic windows to escape.

By the time the water receded, more than 90 people were dead, approximately 20,000 were homeless and an entire section of Columbus had been physically and economically shattered.

The Great Flood of 1913 was not simply a terrible weather event. It altered the geography, infrastructure and social development of Columbus for generations.

The Bottom Line

The Great Flood struck Columbus between March 24 and March 27, 1913, as nearly seven inches of rain fell across Central Ohio. On the morning of March 25, the Scioto River overtopped and broke through the levees protecting the city’s West Side.

Franklinton—then widely known as “the Bottoms”—suffered the greatest destruction.

According to the Midwestern Regional Climate Center’s historical reconstruction:

• The official storm rainfall total in Columbus was 6.97 inches.
• At least 92 deaths were reported.
• Approximately 20,000 people were left homeless.
• Nearly 500 buildings were destroyed.
• Another 4,071 buildings were damaged.
• Parts of the West Side were covered by 15 to 20 feet of water.

Some historical accounts place the death toll at 93 or describe isolated water levels reaching approximately 22 feet. Differences like these are common in records compiled during a chaotic early-20th-century disaster. What is not disputed is the scale: this was the deadliest natural disaster in Columbus history.

Franklinton Was Vulnerable From the Beginning

To understand why the flood was so destructive, it helps to understand Franklinton.

Franklinton predates Columbus itself. Surveyor Lucas Sullivant established the settlement along the Scioto River in 1797. Flooding struck almost immediately, forcing Sullivant to move parts of the community to slightly higher ground.

The warning was clear, but the location was too valuable to abandon.

The river supplied water, transportation and access to fertile land. Franklinton continued growing on the low western side of the Scioto. Its geography eventually earned it the nickname “the Bottoms.”

Flooding became a recurring part of life. A particularly serious flood struck in 1898, prompting Columbus to strengthen its protective levees. By 1913, the western bank of the Scioto had a levee system extending for roughly seven miles.

Engineers believed it provided a comfortable margin of protection. Portions had been constructed about six feet above the previous record flood.

That sense of security would prove tragically misplaced.

The Perfect Weather Disaster

The Great Flood was part of a massive weather emergency that affected communities across Ohio, Indiana and other portions of the Midwest.

On March 23, 1913, a low-pressure system moved into the Ohio Valley. Instead of continuing east, the weather pattern stalled. Another system brought additional moisture from the south, producing repeated rounds of rain over the same region.

The ground was already poorly equipped to absorb it. Central Ohio had endured a cold winter, leaving portions of the soil frozen or saturated. Snowmelt added more water to the developing crisis.

More than five inches of rain fell in Columbus during a critical 24-hour period beginning March 24. The total for the storm eventually reached 6.97 inches.

Water rushed into creeks, drainage channels and tributaries. The Olentangy and Scioto rivers rose rapidly. Runoff from across the watershed converged on Columbus.

The Weather Bureau later estimated that the Scioto River basin above the city produced more than 235 billion gallons of water during the event.

No local levee system could safely contain that volume.

March 25: The Levees Fail

On Monday morning, March 24, the Scioto River stood at approximately 6.2 feet. It continued rising throughout the day and crossed flood stage that evening.

By daybreak on Tuesday, March 25, the river had already surpassed the record established in 1898. Water reportedly surged about 10 feet over the storage dam near the confluence of the Scioto and Olentangy.

At approximately 9:25 that morning, water began overtopping the West Side levee.

The embankment started to crumble. Six major openings developed, and approximately 2.75 miles of the seven-mile levee system were destroyed.

This was no longer a river gradually spilling over its banks. Water was pouring through breaches in the city’s primary defense.

Franklinton stood directly in its path.

The neighborhood quickly became an enormous, fast-moving lake. In some areas, water rose to the first-floor ceilings of homes. Elsewhere, entire houses floated away.

Glenwood and Central avenues suffered catastrophic destruction. One displaced house was reportedly discovered four miles south of Columbus after the water subsided.

The flood did not distinguish between homes, businesses, railroad equipment or public infrastructure. Streetcars were overturned. Utility poles fell. Railroad tracks twisted and washed away. Lumber, furniture, sections of buildings and household possessions became dangerous debris carried through the neighborhood.

A surviving photograph in the Columbus Metropolitan Library collection documents flood damage at West Rich Street and Dakota Avenue—right in the portion of Franklinton that visitors still travel through today.

A Terrifying Night in the Attics

Residents had little time to react.

Police officers and firefighters traveled through the streets, warning families to leave for the higher ground of the Hilltop. Some escaped before the levees completely failed. Others underestimated the danger or found their routes blocked by water.

Families retreated to second floors and attics. When the water continued rising, some broke through roofs. Others climbed into trees or held onto floating wreckage.

Rescue became increasingly difficult as daylight faded. Water moved unpredictably between buildings and carried debris capable of overturning small boats. Fires also broke out during the disaster, creating the almost unimaginable situation of buildings burning within a flooded neighborhood.

Then the temperature dropped.

People trapped above the water faced cold, wind, hunger and exhaustion. Some remained stranded for many hours without food or safe drinking water. The worst destruction occurred Tuesday night, when darkness made it difficult for rescuers to identify survivors or navigate streets that had effectively disappeared.

The following day, a false report spread that a large upstream dam had broken. Panic traveled through an already traumatized city, even though the rumored new surge never arrived.

The Buckeye Lake Rescue Boats

One of the most remarkable rescue efforts began with newspaper publisher Robert F. Wolfe of The Columbus Evening Dispatch.

Wolfe knew that boats were stored at Buckeye Lake for the winter. Recognizing that Columbus desperately needed watercraft, he helped arrange for an interurban train to travel to the lake and return with motorboats, rowboats and volunteers.

The boats entered the flooded district from the area near Rich and Scioto streets. They joined firefighters, police, National Guard units and private citizens already attempting rescues.

Crews traveled from house to house, collecting people from roofs, windows and trees. Local volunteers risked their own lives in water filled with wreckage and contaminated by sewage, fuel and debris.

These rescues demonstrate an important part of the story: in 1913, the modern federal disaster-response system did not exist. There was no FEMA, no coordinated emergency communications network and no fleet of specialized rescue vehicles waiting nearby.

Local government, the National Guard, charitable organizations, businesses and ordinary residents carried much of the burden.

A City Cut Apart

The Scioto River separated Franklinton from downtown Columbus, but the bridges connected the two communities. The flood demolished or severely damaged nearly all of them.

The Town, State and Broad Street bridges were destroyed. Photographs preserved by the Columbus Metropolitan Library and Ohio History Connection show broken bridge spans surrounded by rushing water and wreckage.

The condemned Rich Street Bridge reportedly survived when newer bridges around it failed—one of the disaster’s bitter historical ironies.

Railroad service was also disrupted. Tracks and bridges were washed out, cutting transportation and delaying outside assistance. Telephone and electrical systems failed in parts of the city.

Columbus was effectively shut down for several days. Portions of the West Side remained disrupted for weeks.

Franklinton was not merely flooded. It was isolated.

Counting the Human Cost

The official historical reconstruction lists 92 known fatalities, although other accounts commonly use 93.

The exact number may never be certain. Some bodies were never recovered, while deaths occurring later from injuries, exposure or illness were not always included in the immediate count.

Property losses were staggering. Nearly 500 buildings were destroyed and more than 4,000 damaged. Approximately 4,474 families—around 20,000 people—were left homeless from a West Side population of roughly 30,000.

Those numbers reveal the true scale of the catastrophe. About two-thirds of the affected district’s population suddenly needed shelter, food, clothing or some form of emergency assistance.

For working families in Franklinton, the loss of a modest house represented more than structural damage. It could mean the destruction of a family’s entire accumulated wealth: furniture, clothing, documents, tools and everything required to earn a living.

Recovery was therefore profoundly unequal. Families with savings, insurance or relatives elsewhere had options. Poorer residents often did not.

The Migration to the Hilltop

Many flood survivors decided not to rebuild in the Bottoms.

They moved west toward the higher elevation of the Hilltop, which had become a refuge during the disaster. Businesses and institutions followed portions of that population.

This movement helped accelerate a long period of decline in Franklinton. The neighborhood lost residents, investment and economic momentum. Its reputation as a dangerous floodplain discouraged future construction.

The flood did not single-handedly cause every later challenge Franklinton faced. Industrial changes, highway construction, disinvestment and lending practices would also influence the neighborhood.

But the disaster created a critical turning point. It physically destroyed housing and businesses while reinforcing the belief that major investment west of the Scioto carried unacceptable risk.

The floodwaters disappeared. The economic consequences remained.

Rebuilding the River and Reinventing Downtown

Columbus responded with a fundamental redesign of its relationship with the Scioto River.

In 1916, voters approved a multimillion-dollar flood-control plan. The river channel through downtown was widened and deepened. New retaining walls, levees and bridges were constructed. Bridge spans were enlarged to allow floodwater and debris to pass more safely.

The city also created a more formal civic landscape along the eastern riverbank. Government buildings, public spaces and redesigned roads helped transform the downtown riverfront.

Many features that now appear to be ordinary parts of central Columbus—the broad river channel, stone retaining walls, bridges and civic buildings facing the water—are connected to decisions made after 1913.

The flood changed not only how Columbus controlled its river but also how the city presented itself.

Why the Danger Did Not End in 1913

The reconstruction projects reduced the risk, but they did not eliminate it.

Another major flood struck in January 1959 after heavy rain and melting snow. A West Side levee failed again, flooding parts of Franklinton and reminding residents that the neighborhood remained vulnerable.

Later floodplain maps imposed serious development restrictions. By the 1980s, much of Franklinton was officially classified as being within a flood-risk area. That made new construction, financing and insurance more difficult.

A modern solution finally emerged through cooperation between Columbus and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.

Construction on the Franklinton Floodwall began in the 1990s. The completed West Columbus Local Protection Project stretches approximately 7.25 miles along the western side of the Scioto. It includes floodwalls, reinforced levees, gates, pump stations and drainage systems.

The system was completed and dedicated in 2004.

Removing much of Franklinton from the most restrictive floodplain designation opened land to redevelopment. The floodwall helped make newer projects on the Scioto Peninsula and elsewhere in Franklinton possible.

In that sense, the Great Flood continued shaping Columbus more than 90 years after the water receded.

Walking Through the Flood Zone Today

Visitors can travel through Franklinton without immediately realizing they are moving through the site of Columbus’ greatest natural disaster.

West Rich Street, Broad Street, Town Street, Glenwood Avenue and the surrounding blocks were all part of the devastated district. The modern bridges, elevated barriers and reinforced riverbanks are descendants of the city’s long effort to prevent another catastrophe.

Along the Scioto Mile, markers and design elements reference historic water levels. Archival photographs from the Columbus Metropolitan Library make it possible to compare present-day streets with scenes recorded immediately after the flood.

The contrast is striking.

A polished riverfront, recreational trails and new development now occupy a landscape once filled with collapsed houses, overturned streetcars and rescue boats.

Yet the history is not entirely buried. The flood survives in Franklinton’s physical layout, its floodwall, its uneven development and its relationship with the Hilltop.

Why the Great Flood Still Matters

The Great Flood of 1913 is often reduced to a collection of dramatic black-and-white photographs. But its deeper story is about the long consequences of a disaster.

It demonstrates how infrastructure can create confidence without eliminating risk. Columbus had levees designed to exceed the previous record flood, but the 1913 storm exceeded the assumptions behind those defenses.

It shows that natural disasters are also social disasters. The water struck a low-lying working-class neighborhood whose residents had fewer resources available for recovery.

It illustrates how one event can redirect a city’s population and investment. Franklinton’s losses contributed to growth on the Hilltop while leaving the Bottoms with challenges that lasted for generations.

Finally, it reminds us that modern cities are built partly from lessons learned through failure. Columbus’ wider river channel, flood-control structures, bridges and modern Franklinton Floodwall are all pieces of a story that began during three terrifying days in March 1913.

Final Thoughts

The Great Flood of 1913 did more than overflow the Scioto River.

It destroyed neighborhoods, displaced thousands of people and redrew the social map of Columbus. It pushed families toward the Hilltop, forced engineers to reconsider the river and left Franklinton carrying both the physical and economic scars of disaster.

Today, Franklinton is again experiencing major investment and redevelopment. New buildings rise near the same streets where homes once floated away. Cyclists and pedestrians follow the river beside flood-control structures built from more than a century of hard-earned knowledge.

That transformation makes the history even more powerful.

The next time you cross the Scioto into Franklinton, look beyond the skyline and the new construction. Imagine the bridges gone, the streets hidden and the water reaching toward second-floor windows.

Modern Columbus stands on the other side of that disaster—but it has never completely left 1913 behind.

Sources and Further Exploration

• Midwestern Regional Climate Center: Columbus and the Great Flood of 1913
• Ohio History Connection: Photographs of the Columbus Flood
• Columbus Metropolitan Library: West Rich Street and Dakota Avenue Flood Damage
• Columbus Metropolitan Library: The West Broad Street Bridge
• Columbus Metropolitan Library: Franklinton After the Flood
• Ohio History Connection: Teaching the Great Flood of 1913