For Rick and I, it was a good time to get out of the city. We duly visited our relatives in Grand Rapids, Michigan for the summer that year. Prior to departing for the mid-west, we had become aware of a recent shipping disaster that had occurred on the Great Lakes. A large ship named the "Edmund Fitzgerald" had foundered on November 10, 1975, with the loss of her entire complement of 29 men. There had been no distress call made. There were no survivors from that ship who could explain what had happened during a storm of historic violence.
We heard the song "Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" from Canadian baladeer Gordon Lightfoot the previous year, and were immediately smitten by the haunting re-telling of the demise of the ship nicknamed "The Mighty Fitz." We listened to the song over and over, and initiated a moment of silence during parts of the song in reverence to the crew lost.
As soon as we arrived in Michigan, we discussed the possibility of heading to the Upper Peninsula (called the "U.P." by locals) of the state in an effort to be near the place where the Fitzgerald went down. We were ecstatic to hear our Uncle Joe and Aunt Gitta agree a most excellent adventure; driving in their VW camper up to Whitefish Point on the shore of Lake Superior. We would be standing a mere 17 miles from the remains of the Fitz!
The Edmund Fitzgerald was launched from the Great Lakes Engineering works in River Rouge, Michigan on June 8, 1958, and at the time, was the largest lake freighter. At 729' in length, she had a deadweight cargo capacity of over 26,000 tons. She was operated by Columbia Transportation Corp., a division of Oglebay Norton, and named after the Chairman of the Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Co.
At the time of the christeneing, Mrs. Fitzgerald, the wife of the namesake, needed three swings to break the bottle of champagne on her bows. The yard workers then faced a long delay because the vessel was stuck on the ways. Finally, when she launched sideways into the river, she damaged an adjacent dock. These developments would have been considered ill omens for superstitious seamen.
Irregardless of her less-than-glorious launching, she served her owners well, regularly breaking cargo records for vessels transiting the locks on the Great Lakes by moving well over 1,000,000 tons per season.
During the evening hours of November 10, 1975, 33 years ago to this day, the Fitz was hauling a full load of taconite pellets from Superior, Wisconsin, and was bound for Zug Island, in Detroit. A major storm beset the vessel during the voyage. Winds out of the northwest were clocked at upwards of 75 miles per hour. Widespread damage was being reported throughout the region. The Mackinac Bridge, which connects the lower part of the state to the UP, was closed to traffic. The Fitzgerald steamed on through the evening, followed in her wake by the big self unloading laker "Arthur M. Anderson."
The Masters of the two vessels remained in radio contact during the early evening, as the ships diverted their course to seek shelter in the confines of Whitefish Bay, located on the eastern shore of Lake Superior. Due to the high winds, the Soo Locks had been closed to vessel traffic. It would be a perilous night for any vessel on the lakes, including the mamoth lakers Fitzgerald and Anderson.
The Anderson was struck by a wave that, according to her crew, must have been 35' in height. It passed the ship, and headed off into the direction of the Fitzgerald. Just earlier, the captain of the Fitzgerald, Captain Ernest M. McSorely, reported that the ship had lost two ventilators, and both her radars had been put out of comission. They were listing, and both bilge pumps were running continuously. They were now racing against time to make the shelter of Whitefish Bay.
The Arthur M. Anderson used her own radar to help the Fitz navigate past Caribou Island. At 7:10 PM, Captain McSorely radioed the Anderson to report that, despite her damages, the the vessel was "holding our own."
At approximately 7:20, the blip indicating the presence of the Fitzgerald disappeared from the radar screen on the Anderson, vanished. Nothing was ever heard from the ship again.
That evening the Anderson and several other vessels traversed the area to look for any signs of the vessel or survivors. The laker "William Clay Ford" arrived on scene at two oclock the following morning. Nothing. The flagship of the Columbia Transportation Co. was gone.
Over three years later, two boys from Brooklyn were riding over the Mackinac Bridge on the way to a campsite near Whitefish Point. As the trusty orange VW made the center of the bridge span, Rick and I were amazed at the sight below us. The Arthur M. Anderson was plowing over the slate grey water of the Mackinac Straits. The very same ship we had heard and read so much about on that fateful day. The last vessel to speak to the Fitz was going under the bridge we were on.
The trip was grew even more exciting. We visited the retired steam ship SS "Valley Camp", a 500' laker that was moored alongside the Soo Locks, and beheld the mangled remains of the Fitz's lifeboats. They had been recovered after the sinking, and were on display aboard the museum ship. How tortured they looked, the riveted plates split and buckled, as if the boat was made of tin foil. One of the boats had been torn completely in half! The faded name of the vessel was chilling to read on that sunny warm summer day.
Finally, we made the campsite, and we stood on the sandy shores of the bay, looking out past the pine-studded dunes into the distance. We looked out from Whitefish Point at what must have been a terrible, lonely demise for a hardy crew that was caught in one of the worst recorded storms of Lake Superior. I filled a paper bag with sand from the beach, and we departed.
The vessel was subsequently discovred by a U.S. Navy plane, its remains broken in two on the lake bottom. The forward half rests upright, driven to her loadlines in the mud, and her aft section is upside down. The ship's bell was removed from the ship and was restored, and is on display at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum in Michigan. It is rung 29 times to commemorate each lost crewman on the anniversary of the wreck.
It was rumored that it was to be Captain McSorley's final voyage, and he was looking forward to retiring to be with his ailing wife.
I believe that none of the crew have ever been found to this day. Legend has it that Lake Superior never releases her dead. Perhaps it is true.
Rest in peace men. Rest in peace.
The Crew:
Ernest M. McSorley, 63, Captain, Toledo Ohio John H. McCarthy, 62, Mate, Bay Village, Ohio James A. Pratt, 44, second mate, Lakewood, Ohio Michael E. Armagost, 37, third mate, Iron River, Wisconsin Thomas Bentsen, 23, oiler, St. Joseph, Michigan Thomas D. Borgeson, 4l, maintenance man, Duluth, Minnesota John D. Simmons, 60, wheelsman, Ashland, Wisconsin Eugene W. O'Brien, 50, wheelsman, Toledo, Ohio John J. Poviatch, 59, wheelsman, Bradenton, Florida Ranson E. Cundy, 53, watchman, Superior, Wisconsin William J. Spengler, 59, watchman, Toledo, Ohio Karl A. Peckol, 20, watchman, Ashtabula, Ohio Mark A. Thomas, 2l, deck hand, Richmond Heights, Ohio Paul M. Rippa, 22, deck hand, Ashtabula, Ohio Bruce L. Hudson, 22, deck hand, North Olmsted, Ohio David E. Weiss, 22, cadet, Agoura, California Robert C. Rafferty, 62, steward, Toledo, Ohio Allen G. Kalmon, 43, second cook, Washburn, Wisconsin Frederick J. Beetcher, 56, porter, Superior, Wisconsin Nolan F. Church, 55, porter, Silver Bay, Minnesota George Holl, 60, chief engineer, Cabot, Pennsylvania Edward F. Bindon, 47, first assistant engineer, Fairport Harbor, Ohio Thomas E. Edwards, 50, second assistant engineer, Oregon, Ohio Russell G. Haskell, 40, second assistant engineer, Millbury, Ohio Oliver J. Champeau, 4l, third assistant engineer, Milwaukee, Wisconsin Blaine H. Wilhelm, 52, oiler, Moguah, Wisconsin Ralph G. Walton, 58, oiler, Fremont, Ohio Joseph W. Mazes, 59, special maintenance man, Ashland, Wisconsin Gordon F. MacLellan, 30, wiper, Clearwater, Florida
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