50 years after sinking, the legendary Edmund Fitzgerald still has stories to tell

A half century after the Great Lakes’ most famous shipwreck came to rest on the floor of Lake Superior, the SS Edmund Fitzgerald’s grip on the public imagination has waned little.

It sank on the second day of its final voyage of the season, in the early evening of Nov. 10, 1975, about 17 miles northwest of Whitefish Point, Michigan. All 29 crew members were lost. The storm that took it down packed near-hurricane-force winds, causing waves that reached 35 feet.

The Fitzgerald’s legacy endures for many reasons.

Launched in 1958, it was the largest ship on the Great Lakes for its first 13 years. When it passed through the Soo Locks, crowds gathered to watch and cheer.

The tragedy was etched into popular culture by Gordon Lightfoot’s haunting folk ballad, which spent 21 weeks on the Billboard charts.

The Fitzgerald was the last commercial ship to sink on the Great Lakes.

Much about the tragedy remains unknown, its story buried in the lakebed. The last words of Captain Earnest McSorley were, “We are holding our own.” Less than 15 minutes later, the ship sank. There was no distress signal.

While much has been written about the Fitzgerald — a half dozen books just this year — many lesser-known stories continue to surface, adding new layers to what happened when the gales of November came with deadly fury 50 years ago.

The Edmund Fitzgerald’s connection to Milwaukee is forever preserved

While the Edmund Fitzgerald came to Milwaukee only once, the city was its official home port.

The ship was built by Milwaukee-based Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Company, an investment to help pay out insurance claims. This was a common practice among large insurers, which often invested in industrial projects to diversify and generate steady returns, said Chris Winters, a longtime Fitzgerald researcher.

Iron ore production in the U.S. reached its peak in the 1950s, after the end of World War II, and much of it was coming from Minnesota’s Mesabi Iron Range. When the Fitzgerald launched in June 1958, it was 729 feet long, and while its capacity was 26,000 tons of iron ore pellets, it could handle 27,500 tons when fully topped off.

The massive iron ore carrier was named after the insurance company’s chairman at the time, Edmund Fitzgerald, but he reportedly never wanted his name on the ship. Though he came from a seafaring family — his father was even president of the Milwaukee Dry Dock Company — Fitzgerald was not a mariner himself, and felt uneasy about the honor.

During a board meeting, Fitzgerald briefly stepped out — allegedly to use the restroom — and the board voted to name the ship after him.

Northwestern Mutual signed a long-term charter with Cleveland-based Columbia Transportation Division of Oglebay Norton Company that tied the freighter to Silver Bay, Minnesota. From there, it made the bulk of its runs hauling taconite to Toledo, Ohio.

The $8 million iron ore carrier repeatedly broke hauling records, and in 1972 set a single-haul record carrying more than 30,000 tons of iron pellets.

Captain Peter Pulcer oversaw the crew from 1966 to 1972, a time when the ship broke many of its loading records. Pulcer was known for entertaining spectators at the Soo Locks by blasting classical music day or night over the vessel’s speakers, Winters said. He earned the nickname DJ Captain.

The only time the Fitzgerald made it to its homeport of Milwaukee was when the ship was laid up during the 1959 steel strike, from June to October.

But its connection to the city is forever preserved — the city’s name remains visible, upside down, just above the mud and taconite on the lake bottom.

“It’s the most famous ship that has Milwaukee painted on the bottom of the back of the ship,” said Ric Mixter, a shipwreck researcher and former journalist.

Secrets of ship’s final moments buried at bottom of lake

On its final voyage, the Fitzgerald left Superior, Wisconsin, on the afternoon of Nov. 9, 1975, bound for Zug Island, off Detroit. Despite decades of research and debate, the final moments the following day are still shrouded in mystery.

Part of it is the sheer scale and speed of the tragedy, a freighter the size of a skyscraper disappearing so quickly. Another part is that in the decades since, only a few expeditions have made the journey down to the wreck.

“All the expeditions that have gone, have left with more questions than answers,” said Bruce Lynn, executive director of the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum.

While expeditions in the early 1990s deciphered crucial insights into the ship’s final moments, one expedition drew sharp criticism after a crewman’s body was found.

At the request of victims’ families, who did not want any more bodies disturbed, the Canadian government imposed strict restrictions on diving to the Fitzgerald, designating it a protected grave site.

The wreck lies just over the Canadian border in Lake Superior, though Mixter noted that a sliver of the bow may cross into U.S. waters.

The last expedition was in 1995 to retrieve the ship’s bell.

“The story is kept alive because we may never know what happened,” Winters said. But enough clues from the expeditions have created wild speculation and debate, he said.

1994 expedition showed the Fitzgerald did not run aground

The descent into total darkness toward the shipwreck evoked an eerie feeling, Mixter said, as the lakebed looked like a barren moonscape and the submersible creaked under mounting pressure. Mixter is one of the few to have dived to the wreck.

He recalled the chilling sight of a weather tarp and a coffee cup bearing the Columbia logo. But the most sobering moment came on a dive the next day, in 1994, when the team came upon a sailor’s body still wearing a life jacket.

Despite early reports claiming the ship ran aground on a shoal, Mixter said divers found there were no scrapes on the bottom of the overturned stern. Most of the taconite haul was behind the ship, challenging the theory that it nosedived after a wave, with the weight of the enormous load shifted to the front.

In the future, Mixter hopes there may be more opportunities to investigate the site if researchers avoid the area where the bodies might be found.

“Today we have the sonar, we have the submersibles, we have the (remotely operated vehicles) that could easily do that,” he said. “I think it would unlock a lot of the mystery.”

Each crew member had a story, and some were especially heartbreaking

Most of the 29 crew members were from the Great Lakes region, many of them from Ohio. Captain Ernest McSorley, 63, from Toledo, Ohio, was the oldest crew member on board. Deckhand Mark Thomas and Cadet David “Cowboy” Weiss, both 21, were the youngest.

Eight of the Fitzgerald’s crew were from Wisconsin:

• Michael Armagost, 37, third mate, from Iron River,
• Frederick Beetcher, 56, porter, from Superior,
• Oliver “Buck” Champeau, 41, third assistant engineer, from Milwaukee,
• Ransom Cundy, 53, watchman, from Superior,
• Allen Kalmon, 43, second cook, from Washburn,
• John Mazes, 59, special maintenance man, from Ashland,
• John Simmons, 62, wheelsman, from Ashland,
• Blaine Wilhelm 52, oiler, from Moquah.

John Bacon was driven to learn more about the crew members and their stories in his new book “The Gales of November: The Untold Story of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”

“I didn’t know anything about those guys. I don’t know many who do, and they should be more than just a number,” Bacon said.

For instance, the Fitzgerald’s longtime cook George “Red” Burgner, worked on the ship for nearly a decade until late October 1975 when his doctor ordered he sit the rest of the season out due to health reasons, an order that ultimately saved his life.

Burgner was replaced by Robert “Bob” Rafferty, 62, who came back from retirement to finish out the season with his friends. In his book, Bacon describes how Rafferty sent a postcard to his family in Toledo, saying he may be home by Nov. 8, but nothing is ever sure.

“I was heartbroken to learn that about a half-dozen guys in the ship were about to retire after the end of the season, including Captain McSorley,” Bacon said.

One of the many heart-wrenching stories that stood out to Bacon was Eddie Bindon, a first assistant engineer, who bought his wife a 25th anniversary ring the day before the Fitzgerald ventured out. Bindon gave it to a friend to mail to his wife, Helen, in Toledo, Bacon said.

She received it a few days after the ship went down.

Freighters, buoy tender, Canadian fishing vessel searched for survivors

Many people are likely familiar with the two freighters that initially joined the search for survivors of the Edmund Fitzgerald — the SS Arthur M. Anderson and the SS William Clay Ford.

Severe weather conditions in the area hampered response efforts, but a few other vessels also pushed forward despite the danger.

One of them was the Woodrush, a U.S. Coast Guard buoy tender. It took 2½ hours to prepare for launch, and nearly a full day to reach the search area from Duluth, Minnesota.

Also joining the search the following morning was the James D., a small Canadian fishing vessel. Jim MacDonald, a commercial fisherman, had overheard radio transmissions between the Fitzgerald and the Anderson the night of the disaster. He and his crew set out from Mamainse Harbour, Ontario — 12 miles from the site where the ship went down.

MacDonald’s crew battled rough seas and eventually came across an oil slick on the water, which led them to upright but mangled lifeboats and scattered debris.

“They put their lives on the line to try to get to that wreck … those guys could have easily died,” Lynn said.

Questions have arisen about the ship’s seaworthiness

Often lost in the history of the sinking of the Fitzgerald are the years-long legal issues that involved lawsuits brought by the families, as well as conflicting investigations by the U.S. Coast Guard and shipping groups.

The Fitzgerald was not seaworthy in its final years as a result of corporate cost-cutting, lax safety regulations and outdated maritime policies, said Thomas Nelson, Outagamie County Executive and author of the book, “Wrecked: The Edmund Fitzgerald and the sinking of the American economy.”

Burgner, the longtime cook on the Fitz who knew it inside and out, became a major whistleblower, later testified in a deposition to a federal district court in Minnesota that the Fitzgerald wasn’t fit, according to the book. The ship was behind on maintenance and was run too hard, often carrying loads weighing 10% to 20% more than it was certified to carry, Nelson said.

The life of the ship mirrors the rise and fall of the U.S. iron and steel industry, Nelson contends.

“The Fitzgerald was a vehicle that literally and figuratively carried the U.S. economy in the 1960s and 1970s,” Nelson said.

The ship’s structural vulnerabilities and outdated safety protocols mirrored how the industry as a whole was running on old infrastructure without investment or oversight, he said.

The Edmund Fitzgerald’s bell is a symbol of remembrance 

The Edmund Fitzgerald’s bell became the most powerful symbol of remembrance for the ship and its crew.

On the day after the wreck, Reverend Richard Ingalls at Mariners’ Church of Detroit — referred to in Gordon Lightfoot’s original song as the “musty old hall” — rang the church bell 29 times, once for each man lost.

Years later, Richard Ingalls Jr., Reverend Ingalls’ son and an attorney, played a key role in helping persuade the Canadian government to allow the bell to be recovered, Lynn said.

The 200-pound bronze bell was recovered on July 4, 1995, as part of a mission conducted by the Great Lakes Shipwreck Historical Society, Royal Canadian Navy, National Geographic Society, Sony Corporation and Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians. It was replaced on the ship with a replica bell engraved with the 29 sailors’ names on it.

The recovered bell has been on display at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum in Whitefish Point ever since, and it has been rung during an annual memorial service since 1996.

Traditionally, the bell is rung 29 times, once for each crew member lost aboard the Edmund Fitzgerald and a 30th in honor of all lives lost in Great Lakes shipwrecks.

In 2023, it was rung 31 times to include Gordon Lightfoot, who passed away earlier that year.

The story was updated because an earlier version had an inaccuracy.

Caitlin Looby covers the Great Lakes and the environment for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. Reach her at [email protected] and find her on X @caitlooby.  All of her work and coverage decisions are overseen solely by Journal Sentinel editors.

Looby is an Outrider Fellow whose reporting also receives support from the Brico Fund, Fund for Lake Michigan, Barbara K. Frank, and individual contributions to the Journal Sentinel Community-Funded Journalism Project. The project is administered by Local Media Foundation, tax ID #36‐4427750, a Section 501(c)(3) charitable trust affiliated with Local Media Association.

Learn more about our community-funded journalism and how to make a tax-deductible gift at jsonline.com/support. Checks can be addressed to Local Media Foundation with “JS Community Journalism” in the memo, then mailed to: Local Media Foundation, P.O. Box 85015, Chicago, IL 60689.

This article originally appeared on Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: 50 years after sinking, the legendary Edmund Fitzgerald still has stories to tell

Reporting by Caitlin Looby, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel / Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

USA TODAY Network via Reuters Connect