I was a teenager in 1976 when Gordon Lightfoot's ballad became a hit song. I still choke up every time I hear it, as I did so many years ago. Being, perhaps, a typical, self absorbed teenager, I didn't understand the song, I just really liked it, but was ignorant of two important facts. First, living in Boston, I had heard of the Great Lakes (H.O.M.E.S was the only way I could remember them), but growing up along side the Atlantic Ocean, it never occurred to me that a lake could possibly compare to the ocean, and so I didn't see the magnitude or significance of these lakes. Secondly, although I loved the words to the song, I hate to admit that I thought it was written about a shipwreck that took place a hundred years or so ago. I had no idea that the shipwreck took place on November 10,
1975. That fact hit me pretty hard when I discovered it months later and I listened with even more interest and sadness to the words.
Being in the U.P. (Upper Peninsula) of Michigan for the first time, the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum was one of the first places I wanted to go. There have been over 300 boating accidents in the Whitefish Point area, resulting in the nickname "Graveyard of the Great Lakes." This area is a heavily traveled shipping lane and with a 200 mile fetch, during a storm the waves can reach 20-30 feet high, as they did on the night of November 10th, 1975.
The Edmund Fitzgerald was being followed by the Arthur Anderson, and the two captains were in contact with each other regarding the weather and the safety of both vessels. The captain of "The Fitz" radioed that his ship seemed to be listing and taking on water but he wasn't sure why. He thought it was possibly a stress crack, or that it had bottomed out. He had both pumps working and thought he would be OK. He had already lost both Radars and was relying to an extent on the Anderson for help determining his position. The seas were at 30 feet, with winds gusting to 96 mph. At 7:10 pm, during his last radio contact with the Anderson, Captain McSorley said that he thought they were "holding their own". Soon after, the captain of the Anderson realized that he could no longer see the Fitzgerald's lights, and they were no long showing on his radar.
All 29 men on board that night died. The Edmund Fitzgerald was the last freighter to sink on Lake Superior.
In 1995 divers retrieved the ship's bell and replaced it with a new one that lists the names of all the men lost that night. The original bell is on display in the Great Lakes Shipwrecks Museum.
Coming to this area, seeing the "Gitche Gumee" and Whitefish Point and the sheer size of this lake has given me an even better understanding of the song and the tragedy.
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Lake Superior/Gitche Gumee
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The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call 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 - 26,000 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.
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go it was bigger than most
With a crew and the Captain well seasoned.
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| Freighter on Lake Superior |
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ships bell rang
Could it be the North Wind they'd been feeling.
The wind in the wires made a tattletale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the Captain did, too,
T'was the witch of November come stealing.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashing.
When afternoon came it was freezing rain
In the face of a hurricane West Wind
When supper time came the old cook came on deck
Saying fellows it's too rough to feed ya
At 7PM a main hatchway caved in
He said fellas it's been good to know ya.
The Captain wired in he had water coming in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went out of sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
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| The original Bell |
Does anyone know where the love of God goes
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 her.
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.
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the ruins 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 a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral
The church bell chimed, 'til it rang 29 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 say, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early.
The crew of each vessel gives one long and two short blasts of their massive horn, as a courtesy salute to the bridge tender. The bridge tender then blasts his horn in response, tooting the same message. Paul grinned as he said that as impressive as they were, he didn't have horn envy (well, actually, we both thought the freighter horn sounded really cool!).
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