"Detroit was the heart of the world’s most robust economy, and Great Lakes shipping served as its circulatory system." Because of the Soo Locks, Great Lakes freighters are long, narrow, and shallow — and consequently, somewhat unwieldy in bad weather. The Edmund Fitzgerald was 729 feet long, 75 feet wide, and 39 feet tall. When fully loaded, two-thirds of its height was underwater.
It was built to be flexible, utilizing three modular sections riveted together. The Fitz was launched on June 7, 1958, and immediately began setting tonnage records — continually breaking its own. The ship sailed between Silver Bay, Minnesota, on Lake Superior, where it loaded taconite pellets essential for making steel. From there, it traveled due east more than 350 miles to the locks leading to Lake Huron, then downriver past Detroit to deliver its freight in Toledo or Cleveland. They sailed seven days a week, continuously, for eight months of the year.
Over the years the Fitz sailed, its owner and the Coast Guard gradually loosened freeboard regulations, allowing freighters to ride lower in the water — enabling them to carry more freight and earn more money. In the early 1970s, the locks were lengthened, larger ships were built, and the Fitz was no longer the biggest or best. But because it was captained by the esteemed Ernest McSorley and crewed by his hand-picked team, it remained the most harmonious ship in the fleet.
On November 9, 1975, it began its final run of the season — and the last of McSorley’s storied career. The weather was a perfect 78 degrees, but the Fitz was carrying a record 26,100 tons of taconite. For a trip this late in the season, an attempt to break a record was unwise, as the ship was slightly overloaded. The Coast Guard posted a gale warning at 5 p.m., forecasting 40 mph winds. As the storm picked up, McSorley opted for the safer northern route across the lake. The thirty-hour crossing would now take forty-eight.
Overnight, the National Weather Service upgraded the forecast again. As the Fitz plowed east through heavy waves, it was followed by a sister ship, the Arthur M. Anderson. Both captains kept in contact by radio. McSorley acknowledged the Fitz was “rolling some” in the face of the broadsides. The air temperature plummeted, and with the water unusually warm, the waves were twice their normal height. The Anderson slowed down, while the Fitz pressed on at full speed, just hours from safety, when an Alberta clipper and a storm from the south collided — making matters far worse.
McSorley radioed that they had suffered “topside damage” and were slowing down. The Coast Guard later concluded that the most likely cause of the sinking was a hatch on deck that was never completely closed, or was forced open by the storm. At 4:10 p.m., McSorley reported that their radar was out — and, at nearly the same time, the Whitefish Point Lighthouse went dark. The Fitz was now sailing blind in a raging snowstorm. His next message was that they had a “bad list” and were experiencing “the worst seas” he had ever seen — which proved true, as the storm is now considered the worst of the century. Later analysis shows that, 15 miles out, the Fitz hit the storm’s most violent point at the precise worst moment. McSorley’s final transmission came at 7:10 p.m. - “We are holding our own.”
The Anderson reached Whitefish Point at 9 p.m., just as the Coast Guard declared the Fitzgerald missing. The Coast Guard asked the Anderson to turn back and search — and it did. Nine other ships also went back out into the storm. The Anderson found one of the Fitzgerald’s battered lifeboats. The following morning, the bell at Detroit’s Mariners’ Cathedral rang 29 times — once for each life lost.
Two weeks later, Newsweek opened its story with, “According to the legend of the Chippewa tribe, the lake they once called Gitchee Gumee never gives up her dead.” Sonar confirmed the ship had broken in two. Although there are multiple well-informed theories, no one knows exactly why the ship went down. The consensus is that there were multiple contributing factors. The story of the Fitz became world-famous through Gordon Lightfoot’s haunting ballad. The Canadian singer, an avid sailor himself, composed a brilliant piece that reached number one a year later. It was so heartfelt that the families of the crew embraced it, and Lightfoot once performed it at the Mariners’ Cathedral.
Multiple safety reforms followed, including instantaneous weather transmission and enhanced electronic systems. These improvements have contributed to fifty years without a commercial sinking on the Great Lakes. Twenty years after the disaster, the ship’s bell was recovered and placed in the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum at Whitefish Point. In 1999, the Canadian government consecrated the wreck as a gravesite. Until his death, Gordon Lightfoot regularly attended the families’ annual reunion at the museum.
This is a tour de force — offering magnificent insights into the industrial history of the region, with an emphasis on all things maritime. There are vivid, incisive stories of the sailors — almost all of whom were from the region, had lived difficult lives, and were proud to serve aboard the king of the fleet. An incredible story, a magnificent song, and a great book.
No comments:
Post a Comment