Grand Haven Fitz Storm by Carl TerHaar
Most Michiganders of a certain age remember the furious storm of November 10, 1975 that sank the SS Edmund Fitzgerald, and 10-year-old me was no exception. I was having fun re-creating the scene in the Wizard of Oz where the Tin Woodman leans at impossible angles by holding out my coat & leaning into the wind. Then the wind started ripping 4 x 8 sheets of metal roofing of our barn & driving them into the ground, so I ended that experiment in a hurry.
The memory of the fury of that storm & the shock of people around me has stuck with me all my life. The one video I watch every year by Joseph Fulton perfectly captures that impact with fantastic footage & editing, so please enjoy.
Carl took this shot way back on November 10, 1975 in Grand Haven where the storm also washed several people off the pier, killing 2. See more in his Lighthouses gallery and view & purchase his work on his website.
Lots more about the Edmund Fitzgerald including these photos of the launch of the Fitz on Michigan in Pictures.
The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they called “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 twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that big ship and true was a bone to be chewed
when the Gales of November came early
The ship was the pride of the American side
coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
with a crew and good 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 ship’s bell rang,
could it be the north wind they’d been feelin’?
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
and a wave broke over the railing
And ev’ry man knew, as the captain did too
’twas the witch of November come stealin’
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
when the Gales of November came slashin’
When afternoon came it was freezin’ rain
in the face of a hurricane west wind
Does any one 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 ‘er
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
they may have broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
in the rooms of her ice-water mansion
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
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
in the Maritime Sailors’ Cathedral
The church bell chimed ’til it rang twenty-nine times
for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald
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
Yep, I’m one of those of a certain age. I watched a few videos tonight on “X” about that ill-fated journey, including a very young Gordon Lightfoot singing his famous song in a small venue, probably from the late 70s.