November 9th, 1975 -- 3:30 pm

The gale of freezing rain and snow tossed the cargo vessel on tumultuous waves reaching 35 feet caused by winds up to 55 miles per hour. The SS Edmund Fitzgerald was rolling to one side and had been taking on water. Radio transmissions from the night indicate a brave crew on the cusp of imminent danger as a Captain Ernest M. McSorley reached out to Captain Bernie Cooper and the crew of the SS Arthur M Anderson:

3:30 PM - Capt. McSorley radios for help: 

McSorley: "Anderson, this is the Fitzgerald. I have sustained some topside damage. I have a fence rail laid down, two vents lost or damaged, and a list. I'm checking down. Will you stay by me till I get to Whitefish?"

Cooper: "Charlie on that Fitzgerald. Do you have your pumps going?"

McSorley: "Yes, both of them.”

End communication.

4:10 PM - McSorley radios Cooper of the SS Arthur M. Anderson again:

McSorley: "Anderson, this is the Fitzgerald. I have lost both radars. Can you provide me with radar plots till we reach Whitefish Bay?"

Cooper: "Charlie on that, Fitzgerald. We'll keep you advised of our position."

End communication.

The icy waves and howling wind batter the Fitzgerald as it continued on course. A call was made for any vessel in the Whitefish Point area regarding information about the beacon and light at Whitefish Point. They receive an answer from Captain Cedric Woodard of the saltwater vessel Avafors. McSorley is informed that the beacon and the light are not operating.

5:30 PM - The Avafors radios the Fitzgerald:

Woodard: "Fitzgerald, this is the Avafors. I have the Whitefish light now but still am receiving no beacon. Over."

McSorley: "I'm very glad to hear it."

Woodard: "The wind is really howling down here. What are the conditions where you are?"

McSorley: (Unintelligible shouts heard by the Avafors.) "DON'T LET NOBODY ON DECK!"

Woodard: "What's that, Fitzgerald? Unclear. Over."

McSorley: "I have a bad list, lost both radars. And am taking heavy seas over the deck. One of the worst seas I've ever been in."

Woodard: "If I'm correct, you have two radars."

McSorley: "They're both gone."

End communication.

7:00 PM

The Anderson, on course to rescue the men on the Fitzgerald, is struck by two huge waves that put water on the ship, 35 feet above the water line. The waves hit with enough force to push the starboard lifeboat down, damaging the bottom.

7:10 PM - The Anderson regains communication in a desperate attempt to rescue the Fitzgerald.

Cooper: "Fitzgerald, this is the Anderson. Have you checked down?"

McSorley: "Yes, we have."

Cooper: "Fitzgerald, we are about 10 miles behind you, and gaining about 1 1/2 miles per hour. Fitzgerald, there is a target 19 miles ahead of us. So the target would be 9 miles on ahead of you."

McSorley: "Well, am I going to clear?"

Cooper: "Yes. He is going to pass to the west of you."

McSorley: "Well, fine."

Cooper: "By the way, Fitzgerald, how are you making out with your problem?"

McSorley: "We are holding our own."

Cooper: "Okay, fine. I'll be talking to you later."

End communication.

They never spoke again.

Both the SS Arthur M. Anderson and the SS Edmund Fitzgerald had but only one place to go for shelter: Whitefish Bay. 

It would be quite a while until they’d be able to reach this destination. After it had hit the shoal, the Anderson had difficulties keeping up communication with them. At one of the attempts to talk with Captain McSorley captured his last words: "We are holding our own."

The storm reached an extreme, therefore, creating problems for the Anderson to stay on the path and within view of the Fitzgerald. Captain Cooper was able to make it to Whitefish Bay. It was unclear what happened to the Fitzgerald.

Lake Superior: The Greatest of the Great Lakes

The Great Lakes are among the largest, deepest, and coldest freshwater lakes in the world. They were carved out of the land during the last ice age. When huge glacial shelves moved their way and left freshwater melt in the massive holes created. In the summer, the waves are often white-capped. In the winter, the water is dotted with ice. 

Lake Superior, the largest of the lakes, shares a shoreline with Wisconsin, Minnesota, Ontario, and Michigan. It encompasses an area of 20,287,963 acres consisting of voluminous territory of 2,903 cubic miles. In fact, Lake Superior is so vast that it could contain the total volume of the other four Great Lakes with room to spare. 

In short, the lake is as vast as it is deep.

Though shipping lanes have traversed the waters of Lake Superior for centuries, the trek has never been one without trouble or tension for crew. There have been over 350 reported wrecks on Lake Superior alone. The most infamous of which is the wreck of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald in 1975. 

Locals often describe the Lake Superior waters as feminine because, in the minds of sailors, the waters need to be treated with respect or else they may seek vengeance. Lake Superior has watched over 10,000 people die in her deadly waters. On average the Great Lakes waves of anger can reach up to twenty feet. Although, compared to her sister lakes the waves on Superior can climb up to thirty-five feet. 

A person, therefore, would rather test Superior's mood when she is calm and happy as she churns up things from her waters: like sea glass, old lumber, pull tabs from pop cans, and coal used from old factories. On poor-weathered days, however, she can easily take the lives of countless men.

Scouring the Shoals of Superior

Three days later on November 14, 1975, a U.S. Navy Lockheed P-3 Orion aircraft detected metal anomalies and located the SS Edmund Fitzgerald. She was found, in two pieces, deep underwater just seventeen miles away from Whitefish Bay - the safe zone.

When the weather warmed, in May of 1976, a team of scientists returned with a submersible robot to determine the cause of the wreck. Videotaping and photographing the bow and stern, the wreckage was located 530 feet below Superior’s surface and 17 miles from Whitefish Bay in Canadian waters. While the bow was resting upright, the nearby stern section was upside down. These two pieces were separated by a debris field that included the cargo, taconite (iron) pellets. 

And in July of 1977, the Coast Guard released its report on the sinking. Concluding that due to improperly closed hatches, the ship took on water. They also stated that its bow had dipped and was never able to recover. To explain the distress signal, or lack thereof, the Fitzgerald was affirmed to have sank suddenly most likely due to the previously mentioned improperly closed hatches.

Despite the evidence, many people have other theories about what happened to the ship. 

For example, some people simply believed that the ship was “unseaworthy” due to structural problems. Despite the ship encountering multiple other storms and passing through them just fine. Others however, believed that the ship was just carrying way too much cargo and was heavier than what it had been designed to carry causing the ship to break apart while still above the surface.

In 1994, an expedition led to the discovery of the body of a crewman. Which was located near the bow, and he had appeared to be wearing a lifejacket. While divers have gone to greater depths, no one has actually ever physically touched the Edmund Fitzgerald with a human hand. 

The first and only dive to the Edmund Fitzgerald was in 1995. Terrence Tysall, a veteran Florida diving instructor, and fellow diver, Mike Zee, from Chicago, are the only two to witness the vessel in its final resting place. As the hull came into view Tysall recalls his impression, "It reminded me of an ice breaker cutting through large blocks of mud and clay, I'm assuming she nosed in pretty hard." They bear firsthand witness to the ship as well as the bodies of its crew forever entombed at the bottom of Lake Superior. 

Questions about scuba diving on the Fitzgerald surfaced: Was it too deep?; Was there gear capable of the descent?; and What of the bodies of the men trapped inside? 

All legitimate questions.  

Tysall responded by admitting, "We wanted to prove it could be done respectfully." 

As he approached the ship, Tysall reached out and touched the vessel. It was the first time in twenty years a living hand had grasped the rail. 

"It was a connection," Tysall said, "it wasn't disrespect. Two people risked their lives to pay respects to those twenty-nine men." The connection and reverence Tysall and Zee shared during the dive offered hope for the families of the deceased.

The deep water expedition landed the two men in the technical diving history books, and in hot water with some of the crew members’ families who consider the wreck a gravesite. 

The Fitzgerald was not illegal to dive at that time. However, reportedly at the urging of the crewmen’s families, the Canadian government subsequently limited access to the wreckage. It is now illegal to dive to the wreckage unless you have been approved by the Canadian government.

It All Started on a Normal Day

On Nov. 9, 1975, the SS Edmund Fitzgerald, departed Superior, Wisconsin. Holding cargo full of iron pellets and the twenty-nine men on board. The Fitzgerald started its voyage at 2:15 pm, en route to Zug Island. Which is located near Detroit, Michigan. The next morning, Nov. 10, 1975, gale warnings were issued for southern Lake Superior.

The Fitzgerald had several collisions from previous journeys. It sustained external and internal damage from running aground, hitting lock walls, and colliding with another freighter. But none of these were considered unusual. 

Before they departed the weather had not been the best. Winds gusting up to 50 knots and the seas up to 12 to 16 feet. Although the ship is said to have been able to withstand outrageous storms, the vessel decided to change course, taking a more northern route - one that was commonly used during severe storms. 

However, a shift in the winds meant the Fitzgerald had unintentionally set course for the brunt of the storm. As the day went on, the storm worsened and the winds and waves picked up significantly. McSorley stated it was one of the  worst storms he has ever experienced. Nonetheless, McSorley decided to carry on. Taking into consideration that he had operated in similar conditions.

At the age of eleven, Ernest M. McSorley knew that he wanted to become a Captain of a ship. Years later he became the youngest Captain sailing on the Great Lakes. He had over 40 years of experience when he passed away. Before the tragedy, McSorley had planned on retiring after that shipping season. He had left behind his wife Nellie Pollock and, although he had no children of his own, his wife had three from a previous marriage.

Steward and cook, Robert Rafferty, was born in 1913 in Toledo, Ohio. He had a wife named Brooksie and a daughter named Pam along with several grandchildren. He began filling in for crew members after sailing for 30 years. He wasn’t supposed to be on the Fitzgerald that fateful day, but was called in to fill in for the regular steward. He was planning on retiring before he passed.

Special maintenance man, Joseph Mazes, was born in 1916 in Ashland, Wisconsin. For 30 years he sailed on the Great Lakes. Mazes had also saved another crewman's life once. Likewise to other crewmen, he planned on retiring after the 1975 season. He had siblings, nieces and nephews that all say they remember how kind and generous he was - they also say he was afraid of how Captain McSorley never pulled out of a storm. 

Though there are twenty-six other lives and stories that ended that day, these three men give a sense of the experience, calling, and duty each felt as a member of the Fitzgerald's crew.

It was a regular afternoon on the 9th of November. The waves rocked back and forth as the crewmates loaded the tons of taconite pellets onto the Fitzgerald. The winds were blowing hard, yet they left the docks of Superior, Wisconsin. Carrying onward through the lake towards Detroit, MI nonetheless. 

As the crew began the journey the keel split the surface of Lake Superior. Lights on the dock slowly faded and disappeared from the western horizon. Then imperceptibly, the wind started to make its presence known. 

A drop of water fell from the dark clouds, marking the iron of the ship with something terrible. More and more drops fell; increasing the weight of the cargo as the drops froze. A few droplets are seemingly nothing to a seasoned sailor, but could soon turn to be deadly. The waves lap the Fitzgerald while the men aboard are unable to predict the monstrous weather that was to come.