The anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald is almost here. The Edmund Fitzgerald sank on November 10, 1975, and her crew of twenty-nine went to their death in freezing water when the Fitzgerald went under during that stormy evening.
I have some guilt that comes out around this time of year because of three of the men that died working on the Fitzgerald. Their names are Bruce L. Hudson, Paul M. Riipa, and Mark A. Thomas, good men all.
I am not sure how I feel now knowing their names. I haven’t looked at their profiles, although I imagine I may some day. In 1975 I was living in California, when in mid summer I left and made my way to the lower Iron Range area of Minnesota. There was a family friend at the time who sailed on the Great Lakes for United States Steel Corp. He heard I needed a job, and made it possible for me to get my card so I could sail too.
I worked on the John Hulst in the fall of 1975. She was an old coal burner, one of the last of her kind to still ply the Great Lakes. The John Hulst would take on a load of Taconite pellets from around the Duluth area, and unload them in the Chicago, Gary, or similar area. It was hard work, and demanding as you spent little time anywhere other than steaming around from dock to dock. The thrill went a way about the beginning of October for me, but I stayed until the John Hulst docked for the winter.
The family friend who helped with my merchant marine card asked me if I was interested in winter sailing? Lake Superior freezes over in the brutal cold that drops down on her, but a few ore boats would continue to work for most if not all of the winter. It was dangerous work naturally, but the pay was increased and it was a lucrative offering. I asked if he would be sailing too, and he said yes he would. So I said sure, why not, I thought it would be more fun if there was someone on board I knew. My friend set it up and we had our report date to sail on the Edmund Fitzgerald as she made her transition from summer to winter sailing.
One night about five days before we were to report, my friend said he was not feeling that well, and he was not going to report for winter sailing. I replied, well if you are are not going, I am not going either, and it was settled just like that. I do not think I spent five seconds thinking about what I said. I knew I did not especially care for that life, so it did not take much to keep me off the boats in the winter weather.
The rest is history, except I remember this time of year, that a snap decision over a bottle of beer caused a man to die in my place. He may of been married, had a family, or wanted to earn money to buy a house, or any other number of wants that drive a man to do dangerous work. Of all the things a man should die for, I hope the man that took my place, had more noble reasons for winter sailing than I did for staying home.
Wow! What a story. Thank you so much for sharing it. As difficult as it may be for you, though, you should not feel guilt over something that you did not know about and had no control over. God bless you. Are there other places on the net that you are aware of where there are other personal stories such as yours?
I’m glad you got something out of my story. I am not aware of any other places on the net that have such personal stories. Thank you.
I was sailing the night the Fitsgearld went down on the Joe S. Morrow with Don Kolaz was the Captain, I was a Wheelsman. as the Morrow was only 430 ft long Don stayed to the south shore and as the storm worstened we headed for the Keewana Waterway we had a tough time getting in as the winds were 100 miles and hour comming off the shore but we got in and tied up on a old peer and rode out the storm it was later we heard the Fits went down a friend Tommy Newgren Sailed on her three year earlier.