Nature

July 24, 1915 was supposed to be Chicago's social event of a lifetime, but turned into a tragedy unlike any other.

More than 7,000 people living in the Chicago area and Michigan City, Indiana, eagerly anticipated Saturday morning, July 24, 1915. This particular Saturday was going to be anything but a routine summer day. Plans had been carefully made for it to be the social and entertainment event of the year, and for some, a lifetime. The fifth annual midsummer excursion and picnic had been organized by the employees of the Western Electric Company's Hawthorne Works. Thousands of carefree merrymakers would enjoy a festive day including a lovely cruise across Lake Michigan to an awaiting parade and day-long picnic. The day would conclude with an evening cruise back to Chicago. For thousands of hard-working immigrant laborers and their families and friends, it was going to be a day to remember.

Instead, the day's scheduled event turned into a tragedy never before seen. The SS Eastland, while still tied to the wharf, rolled into the Chicago River with more than 2,500 passengers on board. Nearly 850 people lost their lives, including 22 entire families. The ensuing struggle for survival, and the resulting death, heroism, cowardice, greed, and scandal gripped the city of Chicago.

What really happened on the circus train in 1918? Read the story of this tragedy for the entertainment industry of the time.

In the cool, pre-dawn hours on a June night in 1918, a train engineer closed his cab window as he chugged toward Hammond, Indiana. He drifted to sleep, and his train bore down on the idle Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus Train. Soon after, the sleeping engineer's locomotive plowed into the circus train. In the subsequent wreckage and blaze, more than two hundred circus performers were injured and eighty-six were killed, most of whom were interred in a mass grave in the Showmen's Rest section of Chicago's Woodlawn Cemetery. Join local historian Richard Lytle as he recounts, in the fullest retelling to date, the details of this tragedy and its role in the overall evolution and demise of a unique entertainment industry.

Author Janis Thornton reveals the stories of a day in Indiana like no other.

Palm Sunday 1965 started as the nicest day of the year, the kind of weather that encouraged Hoosiers to get out in the sun, fire up the grill, hit the golf course, or roll down their car windows and take a leisurely drive. That evening, however, throughout northern and central Indiana, the sky turned an ominous black, and storms moved in, quickly manifesting as Indiana's worst tornado outbreak. Within three hours, twisters, some a half-mile wide, ripped through seventeen counties, devastating communities and leaving death and destruction in their wake. When the tornadoes were finished with Indiana, 137 people were dead, hundreds were injured, and thousands more were forever changed.

In 1948-49, Nebraska experienced a winter like never before. Brutal cold, unbearable winds and record snowfall made roads impassable and life difficult for locals. Farmers and ranchers struggled with hunger due to a dwindling supply of coal and food. The governor requested federal aid, and the U.S. Air Force dropped bales of hay into pastures for animals. Many locals perished in the weather, and icy roads forced the state to redesign and rebuild highways. Author Barry Seegebarth details the tragedy and courage of the Nebraska winter of 1948.

In the summer of 2014, a strange thing happened to one of the largest freshwater bodies on the planet: Lake Erie’s western shore turned bright green with toxic algae that could have killed 400,000 Ohioans. Stranger still, it was kind of Patrick Wensink’s fault. Okay, partially his fault, but also to blame was industrial corn farming, greenhouse gasses, the Worst Road In America, his attraction to toxic relationships, Richard Nixon, Charles Dickens, cyanobacteria, high school bullies, and, most importantly, the untold history of the Great Black Swamp: a large swatch of what is now Ohio and Indiana that was once a dangerous, malaria-ridden wetland.

Toxic green algae has become a global problem. While the scientific community scrambles to find a solution, Wensink discovers that the answer might be hiding in his former home, a million acres of table-flat farmland so desolate that even other Ohioans look down upon it.

Great Black Swamp: Toxic Algae, Toxic Relationships, and the Most Interesting Place in America that Nobody’s Ever Heard Of mixes ecological reporting, Midwestern history, and memoir. As Wensink travels through Northwest Ohio, he tells us about his childhood there, his failing marriage, American history, Lake Erie, and the hopeful ecological interventions scientists are performing in the former Great Black Swamp. 

Southeast Minnesota has regularly felt the wrath of nature.

In 1890, a driving straight-line wind on Lake Pepin overturned the Sea Wing, killing ninety-eight people within minutes in the worst marine tragedy in Minnesota history. In 1940, a raging blizzard trapped duck hunters on islands in the Mississippi River and left motorists stranded across the region, leaving dozens injured or dead. Then, in 1965, flood waters of the Mississippi River and its vast network of tributaries kept area residents in fear for two months, shattering records for high water marks and destroying buildings and farmlands before receding and leaving behind damage that took years to rebuild.

Local author Steve Gardiner examines these powerful natural disasters and their ramifications on the people of Southeast Minnesota.

The Deadliest Twister in U.S. History

The weather forecast for much of the Midwest on March 18, 1925, predicted “Wind and rain.” This prediction was right, but lethally inadequate. Around 1 p.m., a tornado touched down near Ellington, Missouri, and charged relentlessly for three and a half hours across Missouri, Illinois, and Indiana. The destructive storm left schools and workplaces leveled, over 600 dead and 1,600 injured in its two-hundred-nineteen-mile wake—earning it the name, the Great American Tornado. A nation united, doctors and nurses rushed aboard express trains. The Red Cross orchestrated an enduring six-month relief campaign, and people contributed funds and condolences from around the world. Amidst the staggering ruin, volunteers, the Red Cross, and ordinary heroes like Isaac Levy spearheaded awe-inspiring recovery efforts that rivaled the powerful storm.

Over 50 years have passed since the Black Hills flood swept through western South Dakota in 1972, leaving tragedy in its wake.  This book explores the extent of the damage through images that highlight Rapid City, Keystone, and the surrounding Black Hills. Dignitaries, including Sen. George McGovern, visited the Black Hills in the aftermath; these visitors, along with the actions taken for recovery, make an appearance in the story. Today, the Black Hills are a tourist destination, with Mount Rushmore National Memorial, Crazy Horse Memorial, and Custer State Park being the most well-known attractions. /Corey Christianson has spent years researching the 1972 Black Hills flood. She was a part of the 50th commemoration of the flood, for which she, along with a team of talented individuals, created an award-winning exhibit about the flood and the recovery of the Black Hills. The images in this book are from the Rapid City Public Library, US Air Force, Keystone Area Historical Society, and other organizations that strive to remember, honor, and commemorate the flood. / 

Circle City Catastrophes/

Disaster was a fact of everyday life in 1800s and early 1900s Indianapolis. During the 1860s, more than 1,700 people died in what is now the Herron-Morton Place neighborhood. In 1882, ten people drowned under the Union Railroad Depot. Ropes were considered an adequate fire escape in the 1890s, but when the National Surgical Institute caught fire, they proved unequal to the task. The owners of the Prest-O-Lite Company created the world-famous Indianapolis Motor Speedway, but their company also had four major incidents that caused eleven deaths and destruction in the city. In 1917, Hollywood was responsible for the deaths of six people in an Indianapolis apartment building. Join Jack Finney as he explores these and other Indianapolis fires and disasters./ 

Join Jack Finney as he explores these and other Indianapolis fires and disasters./ 

Sodaro's book reveals the deadly 1967 tornado that struck towns of Belvidere and Oak Lawn in northern Illinois and left a 16 mile long path of destruction.

The morning of April 21, 1967, was crisp and clear, marking the arrival of spring. As the day progressed, dark clouds covered the skies over Oak Lawn, and a deadly tornado touched down in the village just before 5:30 p.m. Cutting through the intersection of 95th Street and Southwest Highway and striking elsewhere, the storm left mountains of debris and over 30 people dead in its wake. Oak Lawn Community High School, St. Gerald Catholic Church, and the Fairway Super Mart were among the structures damaged or destroyed by the high winds. After the disaster, rescue workers and volunteers poured into Oak Lawn to search for survivors, while Christ Community Hospital and other institutions treated more than 400 injured people. The immense cleanup, which took weeks to complete, saw debris hauled out or disposed of in controlled fires. Despite the scope of the devastation, many of the affected structures were repaired or rebuilt within 12 months.

The opening of the Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Garden sounds like a goofy family comedy, but it quickly became one of the most popular attractions in Ohio.

Opening day, September 18, 1875, was overcast and chilly, a shaky start for the second zoological garden in the United States. Exhibits were unfinished, and animals remained crated. The polar bear had not arrived, and the collection on display included a feeble tiger, a blind hyena, an elephant rescued from a bankrupt circus, a talking crow, eight small monkeys, and 400 birds. Despite the rough start, the venture by bird-lover Andrew Erkenbrecher and friends blossomed into a top-tier zoo inspiring a passion for nature-a champion of endangered species with its own college-preparatory high school and an unrivaled commitment to education, research, and innovative breeding programs. It has survived Damocles' sword of economic cuts as stubborn Cincinnatians came to its rescue time after time, charmed by the animals and events found here: chimps Mr. and Mrs. Rooney, Susie the Gorilla who took tea and smoked Chesterfields, Rodney the boxing kangaroo, Martha the last passenger pigeon on earth, outdoor operas, and dancing under the stars.

Claiming the lives of seven adults and seventeen children, the Belvidere tornado struck the most vulnerable at the worst possible time: just as school let out. More than five hundred people suffered injuries.

New interviews and fascinating archival history underscore the horrific drama, as well as the split-second decisions of victims and survivors that saved their families and neighbors. Since the tragedy, three more devastating tornadoes have further defined Boone County's resilience: Poplar Grove in 2008, Caledonia in 2010 and Fairdale in 2015.

Human action made one of the worst natural disasters in Indiana history even worse. Indiana and the Great Flood of 1913 reveals how this happened and how to avoid a similar fate in the future.

Indiana suffered enormous losses in the Great Flood of 1913, yet this disaster is largely forgotten. The combined tornado and flood barreled through Terre Haute, killing more than twenty. One hundred fourteen miles away in Peru, the circus lost most of its animals in the storm. At the southwestern corner of the state, a "sea of water,'? as local papers put it, washed over Evansville turning streets into canals. In the capital, levee failures left hundreds homeless and vulnerable to disease and famine. Pulling from archival photographs, newspapers, and local accounts, Dr. Nancy M. Germano shares stories from across the state to reveal how Indiana's history of settlement and development contributed to one of the state's worst disasters.

Door County is the home to numerous shipwrecks of pleasure craft and steamers, on a photographic journey of the treacherous waters and those they have claimed.

Door County is the final resting place of many shipwrecks, from the first Euro American ship to sail the western Great Lakes, LaSalle's fabled Griffin that left Washington Island in 1679 never to be heard of again, to modern-day pleasure crafts that find the shallow inlets and bays hard to navigate. Door Peninsula Shipwrecks takes the reader on a photographic journey around the peninsula and back to a time of wooden ships and iron men. From Sturgeon Bay to the east coast of the peninsula to the northern islands and Green Bay, the journey encompasses early wooden sail craft to steel steamers, the brave sailors who sailed the treacherous waters, and the heroic lifesavers who rescued them.

Find out how Detroit's Belle Isle withstood the test of time and became a haven where cultures came together to relax, celebrate and play.

One of the most unique urban parks in the world, Belle Isle has long been a source of civic pride in Detroit. In 1879, just as its population, land area, and industry were flourishing, the city of Detroit purchased this 700-acre island for use as a park. Famed landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted was soon commissioned to transform the island into an idyllic retreat from the industrial city. This book uses remarkable images drawn from the Walter P. Reuther Library to document Belle Isle's distinctive history throughout the city's periods of accomplishment, economic flux, and social turmoil.

These untold stories and never-before-seen images explore the human drama of the 1913 Flood as it unfolded in Tippecanoe County, Indiana.

Heralding the coming spring, the weather forecast promised a warm and sunny Easter in 1913. Little did the citizens of Tippecanoe County realize that a furious deluge would cause the Wabash River to swell to an ungovernable and lethal height. Bridges collapsed, whole buildings came unmoored from their foundations and washed away, and heroic rescue attempts saved lives and cost others.

Authors and retired Purdue professors Pete Bill and Arnold Sweet describe the travails of communities suddenly cut off from the rest of the world and facing a natural disaster that gripped twenty states.

Logging in Wisconsin explores the 70 years when logging ruled the state, covering the characters who worked in forests and on rivers, the tools they used, and the places where they lived and worked.

Wisconsin was the perfect setting for the lumber industry: acres of white pine forests (acquired through treaties with American Indians) and rivers to transport logs to sawmills. From 1840 to 1910, logging literally reshaped the landscape of Wisconsin, providing employment to thousands of workers. The lumber industry attracted businessmen, mills, hotels, and eventually the railroad. This led to the development of many Wisconsin cities, including Eau Claire, Oshkosh, Stevens Point, and Wausau. Rep. Ben Eastman told Congress in 1852 that the Wisconsin forests had enough lumber to supply the United States for all time to come. Sadly, this was a grossly overestimated belief, and by 1910, the Wisconsin forests had been decimated.

Thousands of young men embarked on the adventure of a lifetime when they joined the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Great Depression.

Service at Wisconsin's popular state park offered notoriety absent at most camp assignments. While most of the CCC work around the country was in remote forests and farmlands, at Devil's Lake tourists could view CCC project activity each day, forging that labor into an essential part of the park experience. Historian Robert J. Moore interviews veterans and mines the archives to preserve this legacy so that the gasps of wonder at nature's marvels remain mixed with respect for the men who helped bring them forth.

Named for the network of lakes and waterways stretching along the city’s western edge, the Lake District helps define Minneapolis as a place of great natural beauty.   With stately homes lining the parkways surrounding these bodies of water, the district may convey an image of affluence and prestige, but the district is not an exclusive preserve of the well-to-do. People from all walks of life flock to the area’s parks and lakes that serve as public playgrounds for the entire region. The Lake District was not always the public amenity that it is today. During the late 19th century, much of the area consisted of marshy swamps that had little recreational or economic value. It took a group of forward-looking civic leaders to recognize the undeveloped area’s potential. In the 1880s, they came together to form the Minneapolis Park Board, the public agency that would acquire and improve the lakes, preserving them for future generations. /Iric Nathanson tells the story of this appealing urban district using archival images from the Hennepin County Library Special Collections and the Minnesota Historical Society. Nathanson’s most recent work, University Avenue of the Twin Cities, was published in 2023 as part of Arcadia’s Images of America series.

Now known as the Richfield Heritage Preserve, discover how a farm owned by the Oviatt family in the early 19th century evolved into the former beloved Girl Scout camp, Crowell Hilaka.

The Oviatt family, who farmed the land for three generations sold the land to inventor James B. Kirby in 1919. With the fortune he made from vacuum cleaners and washing machines, Kirby built a home above his patented lake, powered it with electricity from his experimental mill, and invited friends to dance on his spring-loaded dance floor. Cleveland Girl Scouts turned the property into Camp Julia Crowell in 1937. In 1957, the Scouts purchased the adjoining remnant of the Neal estate, named the new addition Hilaka, and upgraded for the possibility of making Crowell Hilaka an international destination. The people of Richfield reclaimed the green space and the history when they voted to buy the former camp in 2014. The property is now a public park.

Author Lynn Scholle Richardson is the historian for Friends of Crowell Hilaka, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting Richfield Heritage Preserve. She has drawn from the archives of the Richfield Historical Society; Girl Scouts of North East Ohio; Cleveland State University; the Oviatt, Neal, and Kirby families; and scores of camp alumni to tell the story of this beloved place.

Beginning on Easter Sunday, March 23, 1913, torrential rains across the Midwest dropped a record three months of rainfall in four days.

Floodwaters funneled down Ohio's Miami Valley into the heart of the vibrant industrial city of Dayton. Levees burst, houses were swept away, and downtown was gutted by fires blazing from broken gas mains. At the end of Easter week, nearly 100 Daytonians had perished, and tens of thousands more were left homeless and destitute—a tragedy that made banner headlines in newspapers nationwide. Out of Dayton's ashes and mud rose fierce public resolve never again to suffer such destruction. The Great Dayton Flood of 1913 reproduces some 200 astounding photographs from the collections of the Dayton Metro Library and the Miami Conservancy District and the archives of the National Cash Register Company at Dayton History. They portray the terrifying flood, monumental destruction, heroic rescues, and compassionate leadership that occurred during the disaster and its immediate aftermath, as well as the pioneering flood-control engineering that has kept Dayton safe ever since.

Like many large American cities in the early 1900s, Chicago's industrialization and waves of immigration spawned crowded, unhealthy urban conditions. The Prairie Club turned to nature for relief from these societal ills. From its first outing on Saturday, April 18, 1908, around Mount Forest District near Willow Springs, members sponsored hikes and outdoor activities from Palos and Tinley, through Hinsdale and Downers Grove, and up to the North Shore. With each of these walks, public support grew for what ultimately became victorious efforts to establish the forest preserves, Indiana Dunes, and other nature spots around the burgeoning cityscape.

The Rock River Valley is best known for its beautiful scenery and recreational opportunities. But like the Rock River itself, there is a darkness that lies just under the surface.

This region’s history is filled with eerie tales of ghostly encounters that suggest that the line between the living and dead is thinner here. The river starts near Waupun, Wisconsin, where the nearby Wisconsin State Prison Cemetery contains a dark entity that haunts the grave of the man that killed her. It travels southward through towns with veiled stories of things that go bump in the night. Towns like Beloit, Wisconsin, where the students at the local college have shared stories of the entities that linger in the halls.

Crossing the state line, the city of Rockford, Illinois, has its own claims of ghostly encounters. The river finally joins the Mississippi in Rock Island, Illinois. Ghosts of the gangsters that once called this area home still reign at the Rock Island Roadhouse.

Author Kathi Kresol weaves together the legends, history, and personal encounters with the spirits of the dead all along the route of this historic river.