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| Scioto Disaster Sketch - Leslie Newspaper 1882 |
On Saturday evening, July 4th, 1882, the side-wheel steamer Scioto collided with another steamship and sank on the Ohio River, leaving over 70 people dead and many more injured. The disaster made national headlines and devastated the communities of East Liverpool and Wellsville, Ohio, which suffered the greatest loss of life.
Among those who narrowly avoided boarding the doomed vessel that day were my grandfather, Jack Curry, age 22, and his best friend, Atwood Thomas. This story of their involvement in the infamous sinking of the Scioto and the tragic drowning of Jack’s brother-in-law, Wilson Paul, came to light when I discovered a 1931 newspaper interview of my grandfather. What follows is a paraphrase of that article*.
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| Atwood Thomas |
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| Jack Curry |
Jack Curry and Atwood Thomas were constant companions as teenagers, being near-neighbors on West Seventh Street in East Liverpool, Ohio. They even worked together in Atwood’s father’s pottery, which produced porcelain doorknobs. The pair typically visited the plant nightly, even after their social engagements, to attend to the knobs so that they would be in condition for their further processing the following morning when they reached their benches.
Jack and Atwood arrived at the riverfront at dawn on July 4th, 1882, just as the steamboat Scioto pulled into dock. It was a sunny Saturday morning. The excitement was palpable, as many happy young people gathered to embark on an Independence Day picnic excursion down river to Moundsville, West Virginia and back. The young men watched as the Wellsville Coronet Band onboard the Scioto came down the gangplank to shore and then marched up-town and about some of the streets, playing loudly to attract more customers. On its return to the dock, the passengers followed the band onto the deck.
On the spur of the moment, Atwood suggested that they make the trip to Moundsville but Jack demurred on the grounds that the boat looked overloaded and he couldn’t swim. As the two stood arguing, Atwood saw Wilson Paul in the crowd about to board. “There goes your brother-in-law, Wils” he said as an additional inducement to board the steamboat. “But he’s a good swimmer,” Jack said, “I’m just not up for it.”
So, the trip was vetoed. The pair noted, however, that the Scioto listed smartly toward the Ohio shore when it pushed off as many of those on it rushed to the north side rails so they could better see the outline of the town that many of them unknowingly were looking at for the last time. The ship then cast off at 6:30 AM and swung down stream on its ill-fated journey.
Jack was indeed prescient about the boat being over capacity. The Scioto normally carried no more than 60 passengers but had secured a permit for 300 day trippers that day. The inquiry following the disaster revealed that more than 500 people were aboard.**
In any event, it was the Fourth of July and the two young men turned to the next best thing available-- the First Presbyterian Church picnic which was held at the Gaston grounds just to the west of the present Patterson Field. There was an orchard there with a fine well of water. And there was also the old Jethro spring to slake one’s thirst not many steps away from the spot.
In those days, swings, hung by ropes from tall trees, were a major attraction. The young swains pushed the fair damsels they had escorted to the place high into the air. The pastime carried considerable thrills and some were quite expert in the operation of the swings. Another hotly contested game was quoits.
Toward evening the young men returned to town and saw the sizable stern-wheel steamer, Emma Graham, approaching the town wharf and bound for Pittsburgh. “Now, I wouldn’t hesitate about riding that boat,” observed Jack. “Then let's take it,” replied Atwood. They boarded to find that the fare to the Smokey city was still $1, which included a berth for the night and dinner upon the craft. They purchased their tickets and remained on board.
On the upper deck under a darkening sky, they viewed the beautiful scenery passing by and later enjoyed a fine meal in the dining room. My grandfather remembered tasting pineapple ice cream for the first time, and he described the experience with a sense of wonder and nostalgia.
Forty miles downriver from the Emma Graham, as dusk descended just south of Mingo Junction, Ohio, the Scioto was abruptly gutted by its violent collision with the descending steamboat John Lomas. It sank near instantly in 15 feet of water some 200 yards from shore. Terror, confusion and death ruled the coming night on that part of the river.
The next morning, in Pittsburgh, Jack and Atwood ran into two East Liverpool men, Len Dobbins and R.W. Taylor, who asked if they had seen the morning papers. They had not, and were stunned to learn of the disaster. Fearing for his brother-in-law’s safety, Jack and his friend boarded the next Panhandle train heading down river to Steubenville.
At Steubenville, they met Brad Louthan, who showed them a list of those who were still missing from the boat. My grandfather saw that Wilson Paul’s name was on the list, and they continued on to Mingo Junction where they saw search parties removing victims from the sunken craft.
Jack hurried on downriver to Wheeling when he heard that a number of bodies had been picked up there. Atwood returned to East Liverpool. While sitting on the wharf at Wheeling, Jack watched as some of the floating bodies were brought to shore. One of them he sadly identified as his brother-in-law's corpse.
After arranging to have Wils’ body wrapped in a sheet and placed in a plain wooden box, he accompanied the remains back to East Liverpool by train. Once there, Jack walked to his sister Annie’s home and broke the shattering news that the father of her four children was gone.
I find one aspect of this tragic story especially confounding. Anna Belle “Annie” nee Curry Paul had delivered their fourth child on June 30th, 1882, a mere four days before Wils, a 29-year-old plasterer, decided to board the Scioto for the pleasure trip downriver. A possible explanation might have been to meet up on board with some chums to let off steam and celebrate the successful birth of his child.
One troubling notion about the unattached men on board appears in the inquiry report following the disaster which noted that alcohol was not served on board at all but...
Once in Moundsville, many passengers took a pre-arranged tour of the West Virginia Penitentiary while others headed for the nearest saloon. The return trip to Wellsville and East Liverpool began at 3:30 p.m. Much of the huge crowd on board settled down for the trip. Some continued to enjoy the dancing and music from the coronet band and others, who had imbibed freely at the Moundsville saloons and who had probably brought bottles back on board, stretched out on the deck to sleep. According to one account about twelve to fifteen men were dead drunk.
I feel confident that Wils wasn’t among the latter because Annie’s parents were prominent prohibitionists and would not have tolerated an imbibing son-in-law. My preferred story is that Wils, “the good swimmer,” died a hero’s death trying to save others. Atwood Thomas observed at the time, in reference to Wills that “The best swimmers on the boat were in many instances those who lost their lives. They aided many to safety before they themselves were lost.” There is, however, no doubt that Wils was deeply loved and missed…the new baby girl was named Wilsetta.
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| The only extant photo of Annie Curry Paul, Circa 1887 |
The loss of Wilson Paul had a profound impact on his family. Annie and the kids were forced to move in with her parents, William E. and Letitia Curry. Money to keep the clan afloat was extremely tight thereafter. To alleviate their financial woes Jack and his brother Frank started the Curry Cigar Store business while Jack also worked at the Thomas pottery and a bit later he founded the Old Roman Wall Plaster Company.
While Annie later remarried to Samuel Johnson, a streetcar motorman, and had one more child, she sustained additional tragedies with the early deaths of two daughters, Blanche, age 18, in 1895 from typhoid and Fannie May, age 20, on Christmas Eve 1900 by brain hemorrhage. It was more than one person could bear and all too much for Annie who died young at age 45 in 1902.
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| Annie's stone in Riverview Cemetery |
My grandfather always maintained that his lack of swimming ability saved his life that day. Had Jack Curry gone on the Scioto, there’s a high probability he may not have survived, and all of his progeny…my Dad, myself, my children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews all included, might never have seen the light of day!
The sinking of the Scioto was a tragic event that left a lasting wound on the communities of East Liverpool and Wellsville, Ohio. My grandfather's story is just one of many sad tales from that day but, for our family, it's an especially dramatic reminder of the fragility of life and the role that chance plays in determining our fate. It's also a tribute to Jack Curry's unusual perception in avoiding a dangerous situation.
* East Liverpool Review, “The Reviewing Stand” column by Tom T. Jones, July 9, 1931
** From The Scioto Disaster By
Kenneth R. Bailey, Ph. D., p. 2.
References to further information on the Scioto Disaster:
• https://www.ohiocountylibrary.org/history/2964 [in four parts]
