Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald 34th anniversary

November 10, 2009

34 years ago today, on November 10, 1975, the SS Edmund Fitzgerald - aka "Mighty Fritz," - foundered and sank during a storm on Lake Superior. Launched on June 8, 1958, the Edmund Fitzgerald was the largest ship on the Great Lakes for the next 13 years (hence its nickname). The ship went down with all hands - 29 crew - just 17 miles from the entrance to Whitefish Bay. The Edmund Fitzgerald had a capacity of 24,100 tons and was 729 feet long. No communication was received from the ship. It's assumed that a rogue wave overcame her in that early November gale.

The Edmund Fitzgerald was the subject of Canadian singer/songwriter Gordon Lightfoot's tribute, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald." In honor of the ship and its crew, here is Lightfoot performing his signature song:

http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474977894350&grpId=3659174697244816

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RIP

the islands and bays are for sportsmen

In Memory of Nolan S. Church, Porter on the Fitz. A friend of mine's father. RIP

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
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.

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 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'?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
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.

When suppertime came the old cook came on deck sayin'.
"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.

Does any one 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 '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.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
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 a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
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!"

We therefore commit the earthly remains of
the Officers and Crew of the EDMUND FITZGERALD
to the deep,
looking for the general Resurrection in the last day,
and the life of the world to come,
through our Lord Jesus Christ;
at whose second coming in glorious majesty
to judge the world, the sea shall give up her dead;
and the corruptible bodies of those who sleep in him
shall be changed, and made like unto his glorious body;
according to the mighty working
whereby he is able to subdue all things unto himself.
Amen