Reflections on 10 Nov 1975, 10 Nov 1976, and 10 Nov 2026
“Does anyone know where the love of God goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours?” – Gordon Lightfoot
I was a dutiful, studious 4/c cadet on the one-year anniversary of the wreck of SS Edmund Fitzgerald. Oblivious of that tragic event, on such a Wednesday at 1910 in my Chase Hall room, I might have been trying to master Fortran programming for my Introduction to Computing class. The song had been released but wasn’t blasting from our stereos yet. Not much later, it was on the charts.
She left Superior, WI on 9 Nov 1975, fully laden with iron ore, bound for a mill in Detroit. She had a seasoned captain and crew and had passed all Coast Guard inspections.
The Great Lakes often experience extreme weather events in November. Low atmospheric pressure pulls cold dry air in from Canada and warm wet air up from the Gulf, resulting in a massive release of energy where the front forms. Sailors call such a storm a November Witch. It appears without warning with monstrous waves and howling winds. The moans of the hull and shrieks in the rigging evoke tortures of the underworld. I had no idea of such things as I labored with if-then routines and punchcards.
But I do vaguely remember learning about the seiche phenomenon in Nautical Science class. In an enclosed body of water such as a lake, there can be a sudden localized change in water level due to an abrupt change in atmospheric pressure. Vessels in port can be swamped, and vessels underway can suddenly drop towards the bottom. The average mariner would probably see it as the invisible hand of God. Computer programs have since modeled the effect for better understanding.
Casting off at 1415 on 9 Nov 1975 from Duluth, Fitzgerald made her way past the Apostle Islands of Wisconsin before the first blast of a November gale hitting her port quarter, out of the northwest. With a weather eye, Captain McSorley chose not to follow the recommended route along the rocky southern lakeshore, but instead favored a route in the lee of the northern shore. Captain McSorley conferred with his counterpart on SS Arthur M. Anderson in this decision. The two masters knew each other well and kept in radio contact as they made way for the Soo Locks at Sault Sainte Marie, MI. Anderson trailed Fitzgerald by about 20 miles. Just after dusk, gale warnings were issued, then elevated to storm warnings after midnight. The storm was forecast to cross Lake Superior near its midpoint, intersecting the trackline of Fitzgerald.
At dawn, Fitzgerald radioed Soo locks to report a delayed arrival. By then the witchy winds had wheeled around to northeast at 42 knots, and there was snow. Seas began to build as Fitzgerald approached Caribou Island, west of which lies Six Fathom Shoal. The charts were wrong at the time; the shoal was closer to the surface than shown.
Decks were awash. At 1530, Fitzgerald reported a starboard list, a deck rail down, and two vents lost. By 1700, Fitzgerald reported both radars lost and requested navigational assistance from Anderson, who gladly obliged. At 1910, the Anderson mate asked, “How are you making out with your problem?” “We are holding our own,” McSorley replied. Shortly after, SS Edmund Fitzgerald disappeared from radar.
Anderson radioed USCG Station Sault Sainte Maire using Channel 16, the emergency channel. The watchstander said to switch to Channel 12, but when the captain did so, the watchstander didn’t follow. About that time, the weather started to clear, and the Fitzgerald lights were no longer visible. Alarmed, Anderson called again at 2035, and this time got through to the watchstander. At that point, SAR efforts were initiated but assets were few. The only cutter was the 1939-vintage Naugatuck (WYTM-992). She got underway in a few hours but broke down and returned to port. The first air asset, a helicopter, was on scene by 2253. More air assets followed but nothing was found, not even flotsam. The one boat, a forty-footer, started searching the following afternoon, also without success. Commercial vessels nearby were requested to assist, also to no avail. Active search was suspended at 2212 on 13 Nov. The next day, a USN aircraft located the hull, submerged in 90 fathoms of water, using magnetic anomaly detection. There were no survivors.
What happened? That question has been the source of much speculation and debate. As for me, I trust the insights of Paul Trimble, VADM USCG (ret), who was a Great Lakes native, a WW II sailor, a four-time cutter CO, and Vice Commandant. If the Link in the Chain program had been active in my day, I would have relished the chance to talk with him. He points to where Fitzgerald laid as the eye of the storm passed over. She was at Six Fathom Shoal. The nature of her damage points to hull rupture rather than taking on water from above. Fitzgerald may have bottomed out there. Taking on water from below, she labored on for another 3 1/2 hours with a worsening list until the hull suddenly sheared into three sections in heavy, following seas. The bow section dove to the bottom with all hands trapped inside. Divers later found collision damage on the bow that would seem to confirm VADM Trimble’s assessment.
As Coast Guard leaders, what are we to learn from this tragedy? First, I would say that Marine Safety matters. The M field tends to take a back seat to surface and air ops, but it has probably saved more lives than any other career specialty. Don’t shy away from it if you want to make a difference. Marine safety officers learn from every failure and make meaningful changes to prevent the next one. Improvements recommended after the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald included better training for marine inspectors, better lifeboat design, tighter load line regulations, better watertight integrity for Great Lakes cargo vessels, and greater use of emergency beacons (EPIRBs). The action letter recommending these changes was signed by ADM Owen Siler, USCG Commandant, on 26 Jul 1977. He is the same Commandant who signed the order admitting women to USCGA.
Secondly, I would urge CGA 2030 to take carry forward the task of advocating for adequate resources for the USCG. We are a small service with a diffuse mission, and at times we have suffered from an inferiority complex. “Do more with less” was the mantra in my day. So, it’s no surprise that the 1975 Coast Guard struggled to respond to Fitzgerald after she went down a mere 50 NM from one of our stations. Since then, we’ve had some very effective Commandants, but it’s incumbent on all of us to make the case for what we need. One of the ways we do that is by using all available resources with competency and to best effect. Another way is to document and describe what we do with the resources entrusted to us. Be an influencer for the Coast Guard.
Finally, I would say to trust God and to respect the power of the forces He put in place to regulate our planet, including its atmosphere and waters. His love did not vanish on 10 Nov 1975 when the waves turned minutes into hours. The Edmund Fitzgerald wrecked because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It is human nature to assume that we are the masters of our own fate and that what has worked for us in the past will work for us again. Wrong. Respect for a higher power that we cannot fully understand, let alone control, is the beginning of wisdom. If Fitzgerald had returned to port as the November Witch rolled in, all 29 would have lived to tell the tale.
May they rest in peace.
Your mentor,
Robert Aleph
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