If I had a time machine, my sixteenth priority would be traveling back to the turn of the twentieth century to warn East-Central Indiana’s boosters about one thing: stop trying to build resorts around manmade lakes. They make great fodder for history nerds today, but mostly because they almost never worked out. Gas Lake near Yorktown failed. Knightstown Lake near Raysville failed. Then there was Morton Lake near Richmond. It failed too, but there’s some intriguing infrastructure left over.
Back around 1912, Richmond’s Commercial Club -a group of businessmen who, as I understand it, made up a predecessor of the Chamber of Commerce- believed that an area along the East Fork of the Whitewater River northeast of town would be the perfect place for vacation homes around the shores of a narrow new lake1. Officers of the Commercial Club began planning a “Lake and Park Day” in 1912. Regular people like you or me could visit the site of the proposed development and become hyped up to buy a lot there2.
Little, if any, construction had actually occurred by Lake and Park Day3. Nevertheless, the dam and a bridge directly west of it were completed by September 1913 except for the mechanism to raise and lower its sluice gates4. The machinery was finally installed, and Morton Lake -probably named after Indiana’s Civil War-era governor Oliver P. Morton- began to fill.
Opening day’s headlining attraction was J.O. Gill, an aeronaut from Mount Sterling, Ohio. Gill planned to ascend high above Morton Lake in a hot-air balloon before making a spectacular parachute jump back to earth. Almost immediately, though, spectators could tell that something was wrong with his lifesaving equipment. The problem only became more apparent as he climbed.
Despite the trouble, Gill jumped from about three hundred feet and desperately tried to correct his descent as the unmanned balloon drifted away. His parachutes never opened. Gill slammed into the ground with such force that the fall “broke his neck and crushed every bone in the upper part of his body5.” What was supposed to be Morton Lake’s grand debut had turned into a catastrophe. The Richmond Palladium-Item summed it up with a brutal headline: the new resort had been “Dedicated in Human Blood6.”
Despite its horrific opening, Morton Lake’s boosters vouched for its status as the largest within a hundred miles of Richmond- although Lake St. Mary’s in Celina might have wanted a word. Still, five thousand fish were used to stock Morton Lake! In addition, four acres nearby were set aside to be used as a public park, with another six acres dedicated for the same use further east. Boathouses, landings, and a beach were also planned7. Eventually, the area even featured a Ferris wheel, carousel, and dance pavilion8.
Lake Morton’s most famous attraction was the Wild Rover, a flat-bottomed steamboat operated by Henry Rogers. Rogers was a mysterious character who popped up in Richmond from nowhere one day, and his boat was said to be sixty-five feet long by fifteen wide. Built of scrap white pine from the old Nixon Paper Mill9, the flat-bottomed paddlewheeler was launched on October 11, 191310. According to legend, the craft could take as many as a hundred passengers11 on trips as far upstream as the Gaar Road shallows thanks to its draught of only eight inches.
I’m sad to say that the Wild Rover didn’t last long. Legend holds that Captain Rogers deliberately sunk the boat after the Commercial Club bought the vessel out from under him12, but other stories say it’d been taken on a joyride by a group of kids who inadvertently sank it13. The boat’s whereabouts remained a mystery for years.
I gather that enthusiasm about Morton Lake declined soon after it was established. “If only they would have opened the flood gates in the spring,” one old-timer who helped build the Wild Rover reminisced, “at plowing time and during the rainy season, it would have have filled up with Ohio top soil14.” Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened. Morton Lake quickly filled with silt and was bought back by the bank in 192015.
By 1933, only a thin channel remained through all the built-up sediment, which extended back a mile upstream. The area was prone to flooding, and a request was made to destroy the dam16. Water was diverted around the sides of the old dam17, but no real action was taken until 1952, when the middle of the dam was blasted away18. The rush of water eroded the silt around and revealed the remains of the Wild Rover for the first time in nearly forty years19!
The old 17th Street Bridge just west of the Morton Lake Dam continued as a roadway for years after the dam was blown up, bearing northeast just above the old lakebed and connecting with New Paris Pike20. Some of the roadway is still visible, but it’s no longer accessible to vehicles: guardrails block the bridge from the south. Unfortunately, the bridge has seen better days: its railings were crumbling as early as the sixties21, and the rest of it is covered in graffiti.
The old Morton Lake Bridge and much of the surrounding area are owned by SPUR -the Society for the Preservation and Use of Resources- today, while the dam itself and much of the old lakebed are owned by the city of Richmond22. In 2021, the Riverside Heritage Trail opened above the south bank of the Whitewater River23. It offers a closer look at the site of Morton Lake.
Morton Lake never became the vacation paradise Richmond’s boosters envisioned. Its grand opening ended in tragedy, its steamboat wound up beneath the mud, and the lake itself gradually filled with enough Ohio topsoil to erase nearly the entire enterprise. In that respect, it joined Gas Lake and Knightstown Lake in East-Central Indiana’s surprisingly crowded graveyard of failed manmade resorts.
Morton Lake has one advantage us history geeks, though: it didn’t disappear completely. Follow the Riverside Heritage Trail today or hop over the guardrails on the bridge and find the battered remains of the dam. It’s a century-old monument to an ambitious idea that silted away.
Sources Cited
1 Kaeuper, E. (1985, March 10). Morton Lake venture went down the drain. The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 11.
2 Park and Lake Day (1912, June 15). The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 2.
3 (See footnote 2).
4 Filling of Lake Not Started Yet (1913, September 12). The Richmond Item. p. 3.
5 Park is Dedicated In Human Blood (1914, June 12). The Richmond Palladium. p. 1.
6 (See footnote 5).
7 How Morton Lake Dam Appears at Present Time; Let Water in During the Next Big Rain Storm (1913, August 9). The Richmond Palladium. p. 1.
8 Kaeuper, E. (1985, March 24). Closed gates pulled the plug on Morton Lake. The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 11.
9 Warfel, A. (1996, June 25). Remembering ‘Wild Rover.’ The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 12.
10 Kaeuper, E. (1985, March 17). Captain’s Wild Rober was hit of Morton Lake. The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 13.
11 (See footnote 7).
12 Warfel, A. (1996, June 25). Remembering ‘Wild Rover.’ The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 12.
13 Emslie, W.R. (1952, February 22). Blasting Of Dam May Have Result In Uncovering City’s Only Steamship. The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 3.
14 Feeger, L.M. (1969, April 12). Morton Lake’s “Wild Rover” Could Carry 100 Passengers. The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 24.
15 Morton Lake Park Bought By Bank To Protect Its Loan (1920, July 21). The Richmond Palladium. p. 1.
16 Report on Dam is Withheld By State Engineer (1933, May 7). The Richmond Item. p. 16.
17 Rethmeyer, J.R. (1936, April 8). Morton Lake, Now Only a Stream, Beautiful and Popular Spot Years Ago. The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 8.
18 Emslie, W.R. (1952, February 22). Blasting Of Dam May Have Result In Uncovering City’s Only Steamship. The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 3.
19 Old Chain Of City’s Only Steamboat Appears As Morton Lake Recedes (1952, February 24). The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 12.
20 Kaeuper, E. (1985, March 10). Morton Lake venture went down the drain. The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 11.
21 Relative Says Captain Rogers, Not Boys, Sand “Wild Rover.” (1969, April 18). The Richmond Palladium-Item. p. 11.
22 Parcel 89-16-33-220-137.000-030 (2026). Office of the Assessor. Wayne County [Richmond]. Web. Retrieved September 20, 2026.
23 Emery, M. (2021, August 11). New Riverside Heritage Trail: ‘I think it’s beautiful.’ The RIchmond Palladium-Item. p. E1.
Fascinating that 100 years later the infrastructure still leaves a mark on the city. I love that the guardrails are still by the bridge!