Editor’s note: This is another column in Bill Boyd’s new series, “The Way It Was,” about growing up in Marysville. Bill continues to work with the Union County Historical Society to obtain information for his stories. With Marysville and Union County celebrating Bicentennial anniversaries in 2019 and 2020, respectively, these articles help depict what life was like in those early years.
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On a summer day in 1947, a heavily laden semi truck made its way southbound out of Marysville on State Route 38. I don’t know where it was coming from, and I don’t know where it was headed. But I do know that it was carrying something that must have been very heavy.
As the truck approached the old Reed covered bridge that crossed Big Darby Creek, it slowed to a crawl to navigate the sharp right turn that took it onto the bridge. It continued at a snail’s pace, and as it neared the center of the bridge its weight became too much for those old timbers. They let out a loud cracking sound as a final plea for help. Only seconds later a section of the bridge floor collapsed, and the semi truck plunged through a gaping hole into the water below.
News of the incident traveled fast, and within a couple hours or so I had talked my sister into driving me to the bridge. It was pretty exciting for a 15-year-old kid to look down through the large opening and see the truck in the creek. Someone told us that the driver had been rescued, so it could have been worse.
The bridge was built in 1884 by a Marysville bridge builder named Reuben Partridge. The accident shouldn’t have been surprising, as that wooden structure was designed to handle horse-drawn vehicles, not heavy semi trucks.
The bridge was repaired by the state of Ohio. Then a new concrete bridge was constructed a short distance upstream, and the old wood covered bridge was converted to an historic site, with no vehicle traffic allowed.
Now fast forward nearly half a century, to 1993. In the spring of that year, tremendous rainstorms flooded Big Darby Creek until its waters covered the deck of that old wooden bridge. When the water receded, considerable damage to the bridge structure was discovered. In fact, the floor of the bridge had broken loose from the wooden truss system that supported it.
Because of the bridge’s historic value, a grant of $100,000 was approved by the Ohio Historical Society to do the repair work. A 20 percent pledge, however, was required from Union County. The local historical society was asked to help raise the money required.
As part of that fundraising effort, Bob Parrott, president of the County Historical Society, contacted the Columbus “Dispatch” to arrange for some publicity. A few days later, Bob was contacted by a reporter who wanted to interview him for a story.
The reporter would meet him at the bridge and do the interview there. This would give the reporter an opportunity to see the bridge for herself as she gathered information. Bob could even take her into the covered bridge to show her the damage.
On the appointed day, they met at the bridge site, but before entering the bridge, the reporter wanted to take a minute or so to take photos for the newspaper. She had Bob stand near the bridge, as she snapped the pictures.
Then, in the middle of that photo session, without any warning at all, there was the sharp, sickening sound of twisting timbers, and the bridge collapsed into the creek. This time, it wasn’t just the floor that collapsed. It was the entire bridge. And that reporter got the whole thing on film.
Forty-six years earlier, in 1947, I thought that truck driver, whose semi truck plunged through the bridge floor into the creek, was a pretty lucky guy to walk away unscathed. But on that hot August day in 1993, I think Bob Parrott and the newspaper reporter were even luckier. What if they hadn’t stopped to take those photographs before entering that covered bridge?
Those wishing to contact Bill Boyd can e-mail him at bill@davidwboyd.com