Five simple words. Five words that gave a little, if not enough, comfort to the captain of the freighter SS Arthur M. Anderson, that her damaged Lake Superior companion was getting through the horrible storm that had caught them both just outside of Whitefish Point in Lake Superior.
Five simple words. Received at 7:10pm on November 10, 1975 from the Great Lakes freighter SS Edmund Fitzgerald, spoken by Capt. Ernest McSorley, an experienced Great Lakes captain looking forward to his retirement.
Five final words. The “Fitz” was never heard from again.
Since the settling of the Great Lakes region by European explorers 300 years before, the Great Lakes, and Lake Superior itself, have seen hundreds of shipwrecks. To this day, explorers and divers still find wrecks that have gone unseen and unnoted for over a hundred years. The last of those wrecks, fifty years ago today, was the SS Edmund Fitzgerald.
Launched in 1958, the Fitzgerald was the queen of the lakes when she left port for the first time. She was the newest and most modern steamship of the time. At 729′ long, she was also the longest freighter to ever grace the waters. There are 1,000’+ freighters today, but in 1958, 729′ was the largest.
Today, on this fiftieth anniversary, I am surely not the only person writing of this great ship and the loss of her crew of 29. Without a doubt, television news in the Great Lakes region will cover it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if even the national news touches on it briefly.
What is it about this wreck that stands out for so many people?
I suspect there are a few factors that play into its being solidified into American legend. The fact that in 1975, the Fitz was still considered one of the prize ships of the Great Lakes fleet plays a part.
The initial mystery around her disappearance was another. Capt. McSorley spoke those words, “We are holding our own,” to Capt. Cooper of the Anderson only moments before completely disappearing off the Anderson’s radar. Despite weather that involved gale force winds and thirty foot seas, Capt. Cooper turned his freighter around to go back and search, convinced something was wrong. He and his crew could not locate any trace of the Fitzgerald – no wreckage, no lifeboats, no crew.
Then. there was the lore that surrounds Lake Superior and its infamous November storms, reportedly a legend that dates back to the Anishinaabe (Chippewa) people.
Finally, the famous song of the time that invokes that very legend with the line, “the lake it is said, never gives up her dead, when the skies of November turn gloomy.” Released only 6 months or so after the loss of the ship, before there were any good answers from the Coast Guard as to what happened, Canadian singer Gordon Lightfoot presented a haunting song and story in his hit, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Now people who had no connection to the Great Lakes were drawn into the story.
So what is my interest, my “connection” to this story that makes me write about it on this somber anniversary? It is flimsy at best, but it is there and it is mine.
On November 10, 1975 I was a ten-year-old kid living in Southern California. A kid who lived where the sun shined, where you could go to the beach one day, and the mountains the next. A place where if you got a bicycle for Christmas, you could go out and ride it that very day. Not much of a connection there.
I was also a kid whose parents were recently back from the funeral of my grandmother. A trip that took them back to my mothers hometown – in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. In fact, only about 30 – 40 miles from Whitefish Bay. The proximity in time to the death of my grandmother, and the proximity in location to my mother’s (and my great-great grandparents, great-grandparents, and grandparents) hometown was the connection. I still have family there.
Later, when I was fifteen, my parents relocated back to Michigan’s lower peninsula. Once in Michigan, I embraced learning about the Great Lakes legends, lore, and the stories of the freighters. I love history and this provided a clean slate from which to work. It also helped occupy the mind of a young man who was in turmoil after leaving the only place he had ever lived.
Fifty years later, the Fitz has been located, dived upon, and explored. The ships bell has been removed and a memorial plaque put in it’s place. On one exploration of the wreck, they even saw the body of one of the crewmen trapped in the wreckage – the only sighting known of any crew member after the sinking. It is unknown which crew member it was, and he was left to spend his eternity in the same grave as his “brothers-in-fate.” For a list of the ill-fated crew, go to https://www.findagrave.com/virtual-cemetery/21705?page=1
I have stared out across the waters from Whitefish Point and thought about the men who didn’t quite make it into the safety of the bay. I have stood at the locks in Sault Ste. Marie and watched other steamships of the Columbia Transportation Company going down-bound to Lakes Huron or Michigan and wondered if the crews on those ships, most of whom weren’t even born, know the story or think about the Fitz. I am sure some must.
Today, November 10, 2015 is another interesting tie again to that young kid and the aging Rambler. On this fiftieth anniversary of the Fitzgerald sinking, I am headed back to California. I still have family there. I also have personal demons that can never be killed, but are best wrestled with there. I didn’t even realize the significance of the date until after I had made travel plans. Still, the timing seems fitting.
Ramble on, my friends!
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