Michigan and Ohio mobilized thousands of troops, passed laws imprisoning each other's citizens, and nearly went to war — over a city neither really wanted.
In 1835, Michigan Territory and the state of Ohio both claimed a 468-square-mile strip of land along their border containing the mouth of the Maumee River and the small city of Toledo. The dispute had simmered for decades thanks to inaccurate maps and contradictory boundary laws from the 1780s.
Both sides escalated fast. Ohio named a new county in the disputed strip after its own governor. Michigan responded with the Pains and Penalties Act, making it a crime — punishable by up to five years in prison — for anyone to exercise Ohio governmental authority in the region. Fines could reach $1,000.
Governor Stevens T. Mason of Michigan mobilized 1,000 militia. Ohio Governor Robert Lucas arrived at the border with 600 armed men. President Andrew Jackson was consulted; his Attorney General ruled Michigan was legally correct. Jackson ignored the ruling because Ohio was a crucial swing state.
The only actual bloodshed in the entire 'war': a man named Two Stickney (his father had named his sons One and Two) stabbed an Ohio deputy sheriff in the leg with a penknife during an arrest. The deputy survived. Two Stickney fled to Michigan.
Congress resolved the standoff by offering Michigan a deal: give up the Toledo Strip and receive the entire western Upper Peninsula instead. Michigan's first convention angrily rejected this, calling the UP a worthless frozen wilderness. A second, poorly-attended 'Frostbitten Convention' (so named for the cold weather) reluctantly accepted.
Michigan got the last laugh. The Upper Peninsula turned out to contain some of the richest copper and iron deposits in North America, fueling a mining boom that lasted well into the 20th century. Michigan traded 468 square miles of farmland for 9,000 square miles of ore. The Ohio–Michigan football rivalry traces its origins to this absurd near-war.