The crew would not have benefitted from life jackets. Lake Superior water temps average in the 40s, and hypothermia would kill almost as quickly as drowning.

The crew never had a chance to get to the life boats. The ship went down in seconds - there was virtually no realization it was sinking until it was too late.
Also, it would have been almost impossible to launch lifeboats in the heavy seas that night. Even getting getting out on deck near the boats, would have been extremely dangerous.

What is really interesting is how the official government ruling on the cause of the sinking is not widely accepted by the maritime community.

There are a thousand books on the sinking, if you want to learn more.

I was 11.

I get emotional still when I hear that song.

Back in Cleveland I had started packing the trailer in dry/ temperate conditions, and by the time I drove away from my inner-city apartment it was a full-blown blizzard. Due to the conditions, I decided to stay one last night in the suburbs, and after a short 10-mile drive, backed the trailer into my parent’s driveway overnight to weather the worst of it, before starting out again in the morning. I still remember my mother saying that she was glad that I had the sense not to continue on in that storm.

I can’t remember whether I made the trip in one or two days, but I pulled into a parking lot in the darkness of evening on Lexington Ave in Shoreview, MN on November 10th, where I was to share an apartment with someone I had met from a local, church youth group on a previous trip. The cold and blustery wind whipped around the parking lot, and I remember that I thought it was strange to be North of downtown, as I’d be out in the middle of Lake Erie if I were still back in Cleveland!

Over 32 years later I still reside in the Twin Cities. I‘ve contemplated over the years, wouldn’t it have been great if my grandfather, Murdock, who emigrated from Scotland to Cleveland, via Canada in the 19-teens, were still alive to talk about the ships of the Great Lakes; and, share in the excitement of my move from Ohio to the iron ore producing state. You see, he had worked on the ore boats plying those waters in the 1930’s, sailing from the Cleveland steel mills to Duluth to pick up the precious ore. However, he passed away 5 years before my move to Minnesota; and, that fateful day for those seamen of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

After the Fitz incident Bill changed, becoming more quiet and introspective, rather than the rollicking sailor he used to be. In fact, a couple weeks after the Fitz sank, his ship arrived back in Duluth and he walked down the gangway with his last check, signed his Sailor’s Discharge papers – and never went back. He was thoroughly shaken by the events that November. I went on and stayed in the maritime trades and am now a Captain myself, mainly working locally in and around the Duluth-Superior harbor and Lake Superior running tugs and Pilot boats. Some of the Fitz crew were acquaintances and when she kicks up a storm and I’m rolling around out there looking at walls of water as high as a building, I often think of them.

We were on Lake Huron , heading up to the Soo . What a horrible night that was , I remember having to go to the Engine Room and help tie down any thing that could move. The boat was rolling and shaking violently.

On deck , all available hands were out tying down the unloading boom - the Canadian Progress was a Self Unloader . The violent rolling and pitching had broke some of the wire stays and turnbuckles.

But it was breakfast the next morning I will never forget . I was on the 8 to 12 watch so came into the Galley with most of the crew . First thing Cookie told us all was that the Edmund Fitzgerald had gone down the night before. 29 men gone.

Not one man ate anything . We sat with our coffees and teas , in stunned silence. Even writing this now is bringing it all back . We all knew the horror those men must have felt as they tried to save their ship , and the finality of their demise was so emotionally felt by all Great Lakes sailors that morning.

God keep those brave warm in their ice water grave

Now I don’t know who that little girl was, but I hope wherever she is, that she will remember the dog that she got while visiting the Fitzgerald Memorial at Whitefish Point, and that it was a gift from a Fitzgerald Family member. The Nephew of Oliver J. “Buck” Champeau, the 3rd engineer of the Edmund Fitzgerald. It was from the heart, and if she reads this, she will know why I did it.