Whenever the early days of November roll around – especially on those days when the sun is still shining and the skies are bright blue – my thoughts run to the day the Edmund Fitzgerald headed out of Duluth bound for one last run of the season to Lake Erie.
It turned out to be the last voyage of “The Fitz” – as she was known – because she was hit by a ferocious storm that broke her in two and sent her to the bottom of Lake Superior with 29 sailors aboard.
Now, fifty years after the sinking, John U. Bacon has brought the story of the Fitz to life again with a compelling book, The Gales of November: The Untold Story of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
In Bacon’s retelling, we learn much about the ship and her last sailing, but more about the men who captained and crewed her. It’s a rich story that illustrates the human side of those who make their living plying the Great Lakes as well as those who love them [Disclaimer: John U. Bacon is a friend.]
The sinking
David Schwab, a retired naval achitecture professor and oceanographer who researched weather on the fateful day of the sinking, said, “When the storm was at its worst, Edmund Fitzgerald got to the worst possible place, at the worst possible time.” That single line sums up the tragedy of the ship’s fateful passage across Lake Superior.
The weather was ferocious, with 100-mile-an-hour winds at times, churning up waves 30, 40, 50, and possibly 60 feet high that would rock and roll the ship, pitching her up and down and making forward progress treacherous.
Her captain, Ernest McSorley, was revered on the Great Lakes, a captain’s captain who knew how to handle a ship in rough weather. But as one man (who had once spent a summer on The Fitz) put it, “How ironic that at the very end of McSorley’s career, he gets the worst storm he’s ever seen.”
“We are holding our own,” were the last words McSorley radioed to the Arthur M. Anderson, a laker just behind the Fitz. And then she went silent. The Anderson did make safety but valiantly turned around – because there were no available Coast Guard ships – to search for survivors.
The Andersons’ rescue attempt must be deemed heroic because they could have been lost as well, and, as Bacon points out, it is one thing to head straight into rough seas; it is another to try to turn about in pitching waves. But the Anderson did.
The aftermath
The Fitz was spotted on sonar within two weeks, and the following spring was located at over 500 feet of water, where its sailors remain entombed. Its bell was raised and today chimes on the anniversary of the ship’s sinking. [And fifty years after its sinking, no freighters have been lost on the Great Lakes.
Yes, weather reports are far more accurate and timely, but as Bacon points out, the memory of the Fitz keeps captains and sailors more cautious and vigilant as fierce storms arise, as they do with greater frequency.]
The crew of the Fitz, the grandest laker of its era, was close-knit, looking out for one another on board the ship and sometimes off it. As Bacon notes, the crew’s families did not know one another, but over time they did, gathering once a year for memorials and other family milestones.
One woman, “Aunt Ruth” Hudson, whose son was lost in the sinking, lobbied Canadian authorities to declare the wreck (which lies in Canadian waters) a gravesite, keeping those who would seek to profit from exploiting the wreck away from its resting place.
The Ballad
Gordon Lightfoot turned the tragedy into legend with his haunting song, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Its melody is based on an Irish dirge that Lightfoot had remembered from childhood. Lightfoot, a Canadian who had grown up on the Great Lakes, knew the dangers rough seas could generate. He researched news reports and worked hard on the lyrics. Lightfoot was unsure whether he wanted to record the son; it was so personal, and he did not want to appear disrespectful to the families of the lost sailors.
He did record it, of course. The song’s lyrics dramatically underscore the drama of the ship’s final hours. Chilling, yes, and so reverential. In closing, here’s well-known verse of The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down/Of the big lake they call ‘Gitche Gumee’.
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead/When the gales of November come early!
And now, thanks to Bacon’s research, we can amend the line “Superior never gives up her dead,” because the author has brought the story of the Fitz and its crew to life again.