
Thirty-four years ago on November 10th, 1975 an event took place on Lake Superior that is still being talked about and debated today. A violent storm, of hurricane proportions, moved across the lake and trapped two ships in it's path.
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The Arthur M. Anderson and the Edmund Fitzgerald were both ore freighters on the Great Lakes. Iron ore is mined in the Mesaba Range in northern Minnesota and then shipped to Duluth where it is turned into Taconite Pellets, (basically marble-sized pieces of iron ore). The Taconite is loaded onto ore freighters in Duluth and shipped to steel mills throughout the lakes, but especially to mills in Michigan, Ohio and Ontario. The Edmund Fitzgerald was loaded with 26,000 tons of Taconite, (about 900 tractor-trailer loads).
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The weather on Lake Superior can equal any of that at sea, and the waves that evening were 30 feet (high as a three story building) and the winds had gusts over 90mph. The Arthur M Anderson was trailing the Fitzgerald by a few miles and was tracking it on surface radar when the Fitzgerald notified them that they had begun to take on water and were listing. A white patch appeared on the Anderson's radar which they knew to be a white-out, a severe area of weather within the storm. The white-out moved over the Fitzgerald and when it passed, the radar was blank.
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The Arthur M. Anderson at Huron, Ohio in 2008.
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It's estimated that the Edmund Fitzgerald sank in as few as 15 seconds. None of the 29 crew members were ever recovered. For years the entire loss was a mystery, as know one could believe that something of that size could disappear that quickly and with no trace to be found.
The answer lies in a number of factors.
The main reason is that the ore freighters were expensive and time consuming to build and so throughout the 1960's the steel companies requested re-vised permits from the Coast Guard that allowed the existing ships to carry more and more iron-ore, which led to the ships riding lower in the water than they were designed for.
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The second is that there was a design flaw in this particular style of ship. Metal fatigue would begin to show around the center of the ship, especially after having been through a major storm. This metal fatigue had already split one ship in two and crippled another several years before.
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The third was a discrepancy between the Canadian version of the official Lake Superior chart and the American version. This discrepancy was in relation to where Six Fathom Shoal was actually located and how shallow it actually was. Over the years, ships captains had their choice as to which chart they believed to be correct. The night of December 10th, 1975 the captain of the Fitzgerald simply picked the wrong one. As they traveled through the area of Six Fathom Shoal, a massive wave apparently brought the bottom of the ship into contact with the shoal, cutting a gash in the hull. This accounted for the list and the taking on of water.
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Already riding low in the water, in the middle of a massive storm and experiencing metal fatigue, all that was needed was one last blast of wind and waves to break the 729 foot ship in two and send it to the bottom in over 500 feet of water.
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We live in a world that is fearfully and wonderfully made. Nothing that man can devise will ever equal or control the awesome nature of our created universe. This type of event drives that point home and reminds us of the short time span that we actually spend here on Earth. These 29 men had probably less than 15 seconds to either tremble in fear; call upon the name of Christ; or be glad that they already had.
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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.
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The ship was the pride of the American side, coming back from some mill in Wisconson.
As the big freighters go it was bigger than most with a crew and the 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 ships bell rang, could it be the North wind they'd been feeling?
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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.
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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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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 are the faces and the names of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
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Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings, in the rooms of her ice water mansions.
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.
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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.
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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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Lyrics by Gordon Lightfoot
© 1976 Moose Music, Inc.