Dark clouds brooded above us as we waited for the bus, squeezing into the little porch of the Methodist church to avoid a strangely slashing wind punctuated with random spittle from the sky. The walk had only been one block, but each gust smacked the hood of my raincoat with whatever was flying through the air, a little startling each time. I hummed Jesus choruses under my breath, too low for the other kids to hear; as a second-grader, and a new kid, I knew better than to let my nervousness show. I wasn’t the youngest, but I sure didn’t want to get the wrong kind of attention from the middle- and high-schoolers surrounding me.
Instead, I focused on my brother’s birthday: it was November 10th, and Mick was turning five. If I made it through the day successfully, I’d be coming home to spaghetti (his favorite meal, in spite of an incriminating photo of him in his highchair joyously eating the stuff with his fingers) and birthday cake with candles. When the bus came, I was already in a better mood, Archie’s lunchbox in hand, seven-year-old spirits on the rise.
During homeroom, there was barely any sun, but splotches of leaves and sprinklings of pine needles kept peppering the window behind Ms. H’s desk. I switched classes for reading, to Mrs. B’s room; Mrs. B. required my full attention because she had eyes in the back of her head, and didn’t like it when I hid a Hardy Boys book inside the workbook. Fortunately, we switched back to homeroom before morning recess, and since today we were held indoors, I got to read the whole time.
“Since the weather seems to be getting worse, the busses will be lining up out front to take you home early. Instead of going out the classroom doors, you will be dismissed through the front, so it is very important that you listen to your teachers, and be quiet in the halls. Thank you,” said the voice on the loudspeakers.
It wasn’t even lunchtime, which was fine with me. I didn’t like math very much, and the social studies book was boring. I carefully wrapped my books in the breadbag I kept to protect them from rain, put on my raincoat, took my lunchbox from my cubby, and joined my class in line.
Usually, between classes, everybody talked in the hall, but today, they were quiet, which was okay with me. I never had anything to say anyway, so for a change, I fit right in. Each class was dismissed from the front door to their busses one at a time, which was very weird, at least as weird as getting out of school before lunch time and it wasn’t even snowing. When it was our class’ turn, I started to walk the Bus 8, but ran when I felt the wind on my face, blowing warm/wet down my neck under my plastic shell.
That’s what was weird. It was November, but it was warmer than usual. And wet. It felt like a tornado was coming, and the clouds were so dark and low. Oh well. I buried myself in the Hardy Boys for the half-hour ride home, and ran to the house from the bus stop like an Indian brave.
The power outage had good timing; the lights went out while the birthday candles were lit, so Mick didn’t even get scared. And they came on again, so it wasn’t too bad. Full of spaghetti and cake, I read myself to sleep, listening to the banshee coming over the Lake Michigan, rattling my windows and spitting wrath.
The next morning, I awoke to the clicking numbers of my clock-radio, snug under layers of quilts. The news was all about a ship in Lake Superior, a freighter. As far as anyone could tell, it vanished. The waves were 30 feet high, like three basketball hoops stacked on top of each other, and the announcer said that maybe the two ends of the freighter had been picked up at the same time, and the middle just broke, or that maybe it had “submarined.” The coast guard couldn’t find any wreckage.
And 29 men were presumed lost at sea.
1976, Gordon Lightfoot
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
when the "Gales of November" came early.
coming back from some mill in Wisconsin.
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
with a crew and good captain well seasoned,
concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
when they left fully loaded for Cleveland.
And later that night when the ship's bell rang,
could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?
and a wave broke over the railing.
And ev'ry man knew, as the captain did too
'twas the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
when the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
in the face of a hurricane west wind.
"Fellas, it's too rough t'feed ya."
At seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in; he said,
"Fellas, it's bin good t'know ya!"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
and the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when 'is lights went outta sight
came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
in the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
the islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
with the Gales of November remembered.
in the "Maritime Sailors' Cathedral."
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
for each man on 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!"
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Comments
TBL4 - Thanks, it was a little moment with a big impact.
And you both make me feel so young!
A great recollection. I knew of The Edmund Fitzgerald by song until I saw a documentary on the recovery of its bell. Well written and a solemn, great song. ~R~
Well done, Owl.
Thanks for the link; we'll do.
Rated.
Rated.
Fred - Mother Nature wins, every time.
Harry - Thank you, sir! Your post is such an excellent complement to this little story.
Chuck - It was the first serious storm I experienced so close to the coast, and one of the worst I ever saw in my time there.
Thoth - That song is perhaps one of the best contemporary ballads I've heard, and of course, it means a lot to those of us who remember the event.
Polly - If you haven't yet read Harry's post, many of the comments there are from people who lived in the Great Lakes region - additional dimensions to the event.
Torman - Anyone who followed the events of that night can't help but love that song, I think.
UmbrellaK - Wow, how amazing! (and a little spooky) Did he ever get the photo published? I wonder if it would be meaningful to the families of those lost in the wreck.
WalkAway - That song really, really captures how we all felt.
Steve - Thanks. The Wikipedia entry has a lot of good information, and some good photos, too.
Philip - I suspect that's true for a lot of people, and thanks for coming by tonight!
Interesting that you were just an Owlet then. ;-)
I grew up where the shipping lanes of the Detroit River dumped into Lake Erie and the Fitzgerald, like so many other great lakes freighters, was a common sight. Great memory (much better than mine) and a great story.
The way you presented it was stunningly original. Well done!
You write! "...a strangely slashing wind punctuated with random spittle from the sky."
Zumapick.
"'twas the witch of November come stealin'."
Noreaster hitting my island tomorrow. November 11. My birthday. Will give a moment to the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Michael - Wow, I bet you remember it - fascinating! I wonder if the retrofit was when they switched it from coal to oil fueled engines?
librarienne - Sounds like the same area, alright - that little zoo was the destination of many class trips!
Betty - Yeah, you never think about the freighters - they seem invincible. Twenty-nine bells tonight, though.
ChiGuy - I loved that about the song, too. In fact, the Fitzgerald and the song got me interested in Great Lakes shipwrecks for several years - some amazing and tragic stories in those lakes.
UmbrellaK - Who knows . . . as the wheel turns, the photos may yet come to light. What a wild, small, world we live in!
Zuma - It's not just the SIZE of the waves - the Great Lakes can produce waves in excess of 50 feet - it's the frequency. Many, many experienced captains and crew who have never had a sea-sick moment in their saltwater days have found themselves heaving when they're in the Great Lakes. And the ship designs for ocean going vessals aren't always up to the different stresses produced by frequent large waves.
Robin - Thank you, my friend.
Beth - Helluva way to spend a birthday, girl! But there is something very wild and primitive about storms . . .
trig - ? :~)
Micheal - I thought you might be a bit young, once I did the math.
T. Michael - I totally agree. You almost have to experience it to believe the devilment the Great Lakes are capable of. I was telling Zuma that a lot of sea captains find themselves heaving on the Great Lakes because they're a totally different animal.
sweetfeet - I do hope you get a chance to read Harry's post, too . . . between his writing, and the contributions of commenters, there's a whole lot to the story.
My husband's family is from that area of Michigan (actually Indian River, if you're familiar with that little town).
And yes, you are making me feel old. I was with Kathy and Barking in college at that time.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Later this week is the 32nd anniversary of the sinking of a great lakes freighter known as the Edmund Fitzgerald. The "Fitz" as she was called. 29 men lost their lives in that storm that night. Later this week the bells of the Mariner's Cathedral in Detroit will ring out again in honor of those men who lost their lives.
I was a whopping 11 years old when it happened but I remember that storm like it was yesterday. I remember being sent home from school because the weather 100 miles inland was deteriorating fast and it was safer to send us all home early than it was to keep us at school. I remember getting home and the first thing that we did was run the lines from the house to the barns so that nobody got lost if it got really bad. I remember the power going out early on and being thankful for kerosene lanterns and wood heat and the knowledge that nobody would starve because we could still cook...on the wood stove.
I remember that it started out as freezing rain and in what seemed like no time at all it was blowing and drifting snow so heavily that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face outside. I remember crying for the families of the men who died when they announced on the radio that the Fitz had disappeared. I remember the silence at the dinner table (which is REALLY hard to find when you have 21 people in the house!) when they announced that the Fitz had sunk and that there were no survivors.
Many years later and 1600 miles away from Michigan I was talking to a friend who is a meteorologist for a TV station in Galveston about that storm. That storm hit his first week on the air and he remembered looking at the radar of it and thinking "My God, if that was over warm water they would call it a hurricane!".
Lake Superior doesn't EVER get what anyone in their right mind would consider "warm". I have been in it about 9 months out of 12 and I have to tell ya that it's a pretty "constant" 40 to 45 degrees. In other words it's fuq'n COLD.
The US Coast Guard logs of communications with the Fitz are online. You can read them. You can read the AAR (After Action Report) that was filed where witnesses were interviewed. You can get some sense of what those men went through in that storm.
I cannot imagine the thoughts going through the minds of those men that night. I cannot imagine the thoughts going through the minds of the people who loved them. I can however mourn their loss.
In 1995, the families of the men who were lost that night gave the bell from the Fitz to the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum near a place called Paradise on the tip of Whitefish Point as a memorial to those 29 men.
Kris - As a matter of fact, yes. I think I went to basketball camp over there by Indiana River. I hated raingear; it was so loud, and I couldn't hear the things I wanted to hear.
MrsRaptor - Thank you so much for telling your story and bringing more information to this! It is truly unimaginable, and very, very frightening.
mamoore - That storm in 1975 was the first serious storm I experienced so close to the coast. Even a few miles inland, it feels so different.
Karin - I'm not completely clear on the community aspect of it, except to say that within that industry, I think it's a pretty small world. In Michigan, and perhaps in all the Great Lakes states, we identified very, very heavily with the history of the lakes, and the industries which thrived because of them - all the more so on the coasts, where watching freighters and sailboats was kind of an event. We learned early to respect the elements - wind, water, cold - because any of them could be deadly. And the Edmund Fitzgerald, well, it was an enormous tragedy. We all felt like it could have been someone we knew, even if we didn't.
But a beautifully written post. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for sharing your memories...btw..I remember reading the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew!
xoxoxo,
aim - When I think back on that day, and that night, I still feel shivery, too.
Linda - That's exactly it, the fragility of life, especially in the face of Nature's fury. And Gordon Lightfoot - brilliant.
Kirsty - When it comes to detail, I should probably always just say it may have been "owlaphrased."
AHP - That's really how it felt, like something was just . . . off . . . with the weather.
Coyote - I can't explain exactly why or how, or what effect it had, but it was a formative experience. Perhaps because it made me really appreciate Nature's unyielding power.
spotted_mind - I always really like the Hardy Boys, but I could never get into Nancy Drew. It doesn't make any sense, I know . . . maybe I should give Nancy Drew another try.
Brand new to Open Salon. Just did my first post, been reading blogs for awhile and thought I would give it a try after having a small blog. This is an incredible introduction. You are my first comment. Sorry to write more about me, just excited.
Gosh, between this post and T. Michael Stone's (http://open.salon.com/blog/t_michael_stone/2009/11/10/the_seas_mysterious_power), I feel absolutely water-logged.
patrick - That makes me wonder if I may have seen it, without realizing it. A lot of ships passed through, but I was just a little kid. There are a lot of things we don't notice until they're gone.
Maria - So true. When it happened, we even talked about it on the playground. I've not seen the museum either, but you could be thinking of the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum in Whitefish Point near Paradise.
Rated for a very good story.
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
This was always one of the most memorable songs he wrote (for me, anyway). I could just imagine what the crew must have gone through. I was a freshman in high school when EF disappeared. I don't remember hearing much about it back then, but I remember the song coming out. I can't imagine a finer tribute than that song.
Except maybe this post. Off to read Harry's, with thanks.
Rated.
Bill - I think in certain areas of the country, it was huge news, and this was before the 24 hour national news feed. Anywhere else, it was probably a blip on the screen. But the song made it a part of everyone's consciousness, even without knowing the rest of the story. Thanks for reading!
I saw a show on PBS about one of the huge damns built, several people died making it and it was considered normal
this is well done, the era of your classroom comes flooding back as if we are there
Rated.
Hawley - Thank you. I've been enjoying such remembrances for many events.
bikepsychobabble - So true. I've seen many big storms, many sitting in the dunes, but being on the water is a completely different experience. Lightfoot made the Edmund Fitzgerald immortal.
Edmund Fitzgerald Memorial Service in River Rouge
S. S. Edmund Fitzgerald 5th Service in River Rouge, Michigan
6:00 pm to 8:00 pm Wednesday November 10, 2010
35th Edmund Fitzgerald Memorial Service
RIVER ROUGE, MICHIGAN — A memorial service is planned for Wednesday November 10, 2010 to remember the 29 men who died when the SS Edmund Fitzgerald sank in Lake Superior on Nov. 10, 1975.
The ceremony is set for 6 to 8 p.m. near the Mariners Memorial Lighthouse at Belanger Park, off Belanger Park Drive and Marion.
The event is held in River Rouge because that’s the city where the vessel was built in 1957 and ’58.
Several speakers will give their memories of the ship, including people who helped construct it and relatives of some of the deceased crewmen.
Artifacts and photographs also will be on display.
At 7:10 p.m. — the time the ship sank — a wreath will be tossed into the Detroit River. A bell will be rung 29 times in memory of each person who died.
A plaque presentation and lantern lighting is planned. Refreshments will be provided at the end.
Event organizer Roscoe Clark has a Web site devoted to the vessel, which contains several video clips, photos and new information about the ship, at www.ssEdmundFitzgerald.com
Earlier in the day, an Edmund Fitzgerald open house will be held from 3 to 5 p.m. at the River Rouge Historical Museum, 10750 W. Jefferson Ave.
www.RiverRougeMuseum.com
For more information on either event, visit the Web site or call Clark at 1-810-519-2148 or Dolores Swekel at 1-313-842-7822.
November 10, 2011
RIVER ROUGE — A memorial service is planned for Thursday November 10, 2011 to remember the 29 men who died when the SS Edmund Fitzgerald sank in Lake Superior on Nov. 10, 1975.
The ceremony is set for 6 to 8 p.m. and the heated tent open at 4:30 p.m. for viewing Edmund Fitzgerald artifacts, near the Mariners Memorial Lighthouse at Belanger Park, off Belanger Park Drive and Marion.
The event is held in River Rouge because that’s the city where the vessel was built in 1957 and ’58.
Several speakers will give their memories of the ship, including people who helped construct it and relatives of some of the deceased crewmen.
Artifacts, photographs and videos also will be on display and you can talk to the Fitz Ship Builders, past Crew Members and Fitz Family Members.
At 7:10 p.m. — the time the ship sank — a wreath will be tossed into the Detroit River. A bell will be rung 29 times in memory of each person who died.
A plaque presentation and lantern lighting is planned. Food and Refreshments will be provided free of charge.
Event organizer Roscoe Clark has a Web site devoted to the vessel, which contains several video clips and photos of the ship, at www.ssedmundfitzgerald.com.
Earlier in the day, an Edmund Fitzgerald open house will be held from 4 to 5 p.m. at the River Rouge Historical Museum, 10750 W. Jefferson Ave.
This year, the service will be web cast free of charge for those viewers all across the US and Canada. Go to the official web site www.ssedmundfitzgerald.com.
For more information and location call Roscoe Clark at (810) 519-2148.
This is a special program held each year and is free of charge.