O.C. Marsh

Archenemy of E.D. Cope in the Great Bone Wars of the late 19th century, O.C. Marsh was born to humble origins. His mother died when he was just three, and his father was satisfied to see the boy grow up to be a farm hand. Lucky for Marsh, he had a millionaire uncle, George Peabody. Marsh enjoyed just about the best education money could buy and eventually became head of the Peabody Museum at Yale University.

When Marsh entered the field of paleontology, the science was done by amateur gentlemen scholars who observed unwritten rules of good manners. But he was businesslike, aggressive and, at times, ruthless. He gained a reputation for directing excursions from his home in New England rather than venturing into the field himself — a pity since he was said to be in his best temper while in the field, but a relief since he wasn't known to be particularly good at finding fossils. Many discoveries credited to Marsh were actually made by his field associates, such as Arthur Lakes and Benjamin Mudge. But, perhaps because he saw no need to share the glory, Marsh didn't often mention assistants' names in his papers.

Photograph
From Hunting Dinosaurs by Louie Psihoyos

Lucky enough to have a rich uncle who could buy him whatever position he wanted, Marsh is often maligned for having been a hack and just not a very nice guy, but he made admirable contributions to science. In the 1880s, British paleontologist H.G. Seeley classified dinosaurs as "lizard-hipped" and "bird-hipped" and even argued for separate origins of these lines, but Marsh found nearly 20 features among dinosaurs supporting common ancestry of the entire group. (Thanks to cladistics, science has ultimately sided with Marsh.)

Marsh named, among others, Apatosaurus (he also named the fossil Brontosaurus), Stegosaurus and Triceratops. He discovered pterosaur fossils and early bird fossils. The species Hesperornis, the first fragments of which he found in 1871, actually sported a beak full of teeth — early evidence for evolution from reptiles to birds. In short, the political battle he waged with Cope resulted in one of the greatest discovery booms in the history of paleontology, surpassed only by today's abundance of fossil finds. What's more, Marsh was among the first major proponents of evolution west of the Atlantic. And at times, he was surprisingly generous.

According to a treaty between the U.S. government and the Sioux Nation, the Sioux could claim all of western South Dakota, including the Black Hills, which the Native Americans considering sacred. Then someone found gold in the Black Hills, and the deal was more or less off. Military officers accompanied gold-diggers into the area. At an Interior Department's installation, Sioux warriors transformed the flagpole into slivers. It was into this uneasy situation that O.C. Marsh arrived to hunt fossils. Right away, he asked to meet with Sioux Chief Red Cloud.

Marsh convinced Red Cloud to let him prospect for old bones and, in return, he promised to get Sioux grievances addressed. The Bureau of Indian Affairs was expected to provide rations to the Sioux Nation, but the supplies, Marsh learned, included rotten food that no one could eat. Corruption in the agency apparently led to skimping on supplies. For all the assistant fossil hunters he mistreated, Marsh kept his word to the Red Cloud. Convincing Washington to clean up the Bureau was a slow and frustrating process, and Marsh even confronted then-president Ulysses S. Grant. When that didn't work, the fossil hunter took his story to the newspapers, eventually winning widespread sympathy and forcing reform.

Marsh is better remembered, however, for his no-holds-barred war with Cope. Early in the war, in 1868, Marsh surreptitiously paid quarrymen in Haddonfield, New Jersey, to send fossil finds to him after Cope had naively shown him around the digs. Late in the war, in 1889, Marsh arranged for an audit of Cope's fossil collection, with the aim of having the man's fossils confiscated and government funding cut off for good. The move had the intended effect; Cope was basically ruined financially. But Marsh singed himself with the furnace he lit for Cope. Cope had long been building a case against Marsh, and he turned the dirt over to The New York Herald. In the ensuing scandal, Congress eventually cut off funding for the U.S. Geological Survey and, consequently, for Marsh. He outlived Cope by two years, dying in 1899 at the age of 67, but he was a broken man. Marsh was born poor, and he died poor, with just $186 in his bank account when he took his last breath.

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