In the spring of 1913 Marion, Ohio lay in the grip of a severe drought.  It was early June and already the temperature had climbed into the nineties before noon.  Ben McDonald sweated under his straw hat and felt a trickle of moisture run down his back.  He had no intentions of working for the next few days.  It wasn't that he had anything against work, he just thought there was no reason for it unless it was absolutely necessary.  He had four dollars and fifty cents so there was no need to work for a while.  Only nine o'clock and it was already hot.  He crossed the dusty street to Harley Samson's feed store in search of a cold drink.  The cool interior of the building would give some relief from the burning sun.

        "Morning Ben," Harley greeted him. "Looks like we are in for another hot one."

        "Morning Harley. You got a cold Coca Cola in that drink box?"

        "Yep, Jim Sterling just brought me a fifty pound cake of ice, charged me ten cents for it too"

        Ben drank half his coke in one gulp.  "If we don't get some rain soon a lot of folks'll be hurting.  I was plowing corn for Mr. Pepper but we quit.  It's just too dry."

        "Folks are getting desperate," Harley agreed.  "There's a man over in Middletown who's building a rain making machine."

        "Now you know that ain't gonna work."

        "Some folks think it will."

        "Most people will believe anything.  The Widow Thompson is wearing black because she thinks she is going to die."

        "What makes her think that?"

        "A bird sat on her windowsill last Sunday.  She says that if a bird sits on a windowsill on the Sabbath there will be a death in the house and since she lives alone it's going to he her."

        "Well," Harley disagreed.  "Most folks ain't that gullible."

        "I don't know about that. I'll bet you I could keep half the town standing in the hot sun for an hour just for such a ridiculous reason."

        "Half the town?"

        "Well not that many.   Let's say twenty-five people."

        "How much you want to put on it."

        "Ten dollars."

        "You ain't never had that much money at one time in your life."

        "If I can do it you pay me.  If I can't then I'll work for you for ten days for nothing."

        "I don't know if your worth a dollar a day, make it fourteen days and you on."

        "Okay, but you buy my dinner."

        "Okay, I'll buy lunch."

        Ben went to work.  By the end of the day he had built a large box which he placed atop four fence posts in the lot behind the feed store.  He wrapped his creation in canvas so no one could see what he was doing.  It wasn't long until Ted Elton the town's busy bodies took the bait.

        "What is it you're a doing?" he asked Ben.

        "I'm building a rain making machine."

        "Your doing what?"

        "This is going to make it rain.  I got the plans out of Popular Mechanics.  There's a guy over in Middletown making one, but I'm going to get mine going first."

        The word spread like bad news.  Half the people said he could do it.  The other half said no way. The discussion went on while Ben worked all day every day on his contraption, and Harley watched with interest.

        Saturday night the crowd at Todd's general store had one subject, Ben's rain making machine. When Ben joined them he became the center of attention. 

        "Do you really think you can make it rain?"  Jim Sterling asked.

        "I'll tell you what I'll do.  All you farmers need rain.  If it rains will you pay me ten dollars each?"

        "What if we don't agree to pay you?" asked Mr. Pepper.

        "Then there will just be a little shower that won't help."

        "That's what I mean," Pepper continued. "Not just a little dust settler, but a real gully washer."

        "That's what I intend to bring a real frog drowner."

        "If you can save my crop it's worth ten dollars to me," came a voice in the back of the crowd.

        "Yeah me too," another voice agreed.

        "Hold everything let's get it in writing," Mr. Todd said.  Entering the store he returned with a yellow tablet, and the deal was struck.

        "When you going to do it," asked Ted

        "Monday afternoon at two o'clock."  That night Ben collected seventeen signatures and the next day he picked up eight more.

        "What did you get all them names for?  Harley asked.  You can't make it rain." 

        "No but if they have money involved they'll stay longer."

        Monday dawned hot and clear--the air so heavy that by two o'clock it was almost unbearable. The crowd started gathering right after lunch.  At ten minutes before two the place was packed.   Harley had sold out all his soft drinks and sent for more, when Ben arrived and removed the canvas. There sat a box half the size of a coffin on four posts with pendulum hanging from it and two pipes pointing to the sky.  Everyone watched as Ben waited until exactly two O'clock to start the pendulum swinging.  Silence fell over the crowd as the great pendulum swung back and forth.  At ten after, the crowd showed signs of getting restless.  Ben explained that he had to make an adjustment. Climbing a ladder he opened a small door in the back of the box and put his head inside.  No one could see what he did.  When he closed the door and climbed down smoke began to emerge from the pipes.  A murmur of satisfaction swept through the crowd.

        At two fifteen there was a cool breeze, and the murmur increased.  At twenty minutes after the hour a cloud showed up in the west.  By half past the wind picked up, and the cloud grew larger.   It covered the sun and darkened the sky.  At two fifty-nine the first drops of rain fell.  By three fifteen it was pouring, and everyone ran for cover.  In the feed store Harley confronted Ben.

        "What happened?" he asked.

        "I don't know it just started raining.  I had nothing to do with it."

        Mr. Pepper entered and handed Ben ten dollars.  Twenty-four other men dutifully did the same. The rain fell all night and all the next day.  They had what they wanted; a real cloudburst.   The ground soaked up the life giving liquid--the crops were saved.  Wednesday it was still raining and by Friday the streets were flooded.  On Saturday several men came to the feed store looking for Ben.

        "Ben McDonald you have got to stop this rain," declared Abe Wolf, who owned a small spread on the outskirts of town.  "My fields are flooded and I'm about to lose my whole crop."

        "I can't make it stop raining."

        "You started it now you stop it," someone said.

        "If you don't we're going to have a necktie party," said Ted Eaton.

        "Now just hold on.   We ain't going to have no lynching," came the deep voice that belonged to Sheriff Ed Cox, "Ben, did you make it rain?"

        "No sir."

        "Then what is all this I been hearing about a rain making machine?"

        "That ain't nothing but the works out of an old clock and a smudge pot to make the smoke.  I bet Harley ten dollars I could keep half the town standing in the hot sun for an hour."

        "Is that true?" the Sheriff asked Harley.

        "Yes, sir.  That's all there is to it."

        "All right," the sheriff said turning to the crowd.  "Now you all go home and leave Ben alone.   He didn't make it rain and he can't make it stop."

        "Well if he didn't make it rain then how about giving us our money back?"  asked Abe.

        What're you talking about?"  Ed asked.

        "We each paid him ten dollars if he could make it rain Monday," Mr. Pepper explained.

        "Have you got anything in writing." Ed asked.  Ben produced the document that Jake had drawn up Saturday night.  Ed looked it over carefully then said,  "All it says is that if it rains Monday the tenth of June you would each pay him ten dollars, and the Lord knows it rained Monday.  Now you all go on home and I don't want to hear any more about it."

        No one knew it, but that was the start of the great 1913 flood.  The Miami River overran its banks.  So did the Kentucky River, the Kanawha, and the Little Miami, sending the The Ohio River over its levees, wiping out part of Cincinnati and most of Louisville.  Thousands were left homeless and property damage was counted in the millions of dollars.

        The rain-making machine sat in the lot behind the feed store.  No one went near it; because the preacher said it was possessed by the devil, and he wasn't at all sure that Ben wasn't in league with the same guy.  When the machine started falling apart Harley had it hauled away to the dump.

        Ben used the money to buy into the feed store, and a few years later when Harley retired he bought him out.   When the great depression hit a lot of people owed a great deal to Ben, who carried them on the books until things got better.  That didn't make any difference to some folks.  There were still those who believed with out a doubt that the great flood of 1913 was all Ben McDonald's fault.