On this day in 1975, the Edmund Fitzgerald sunk in Lake Superior, due to a "November Gale", also known as the Witch of November, 29 med died as a result.
November Gales are massive storms which occur during early November, as winter sets in, Arctic cold fronts rolling off the praries clash with humid Gulf air masses coming up from the States, these two masses collide over the Great Lakes whose waters are still warm from the Summer, this warm water acts as fuel for these monsterous storms.
One of the greatest November gale occured in 1913, when 250 people were killed, 19 ships were lost, another 19 stranded, and countless damaged. The loss of so many merchant ships made prices for consumer goods to temporarily rise throughout North America
The Edmund Fitzgerald was the last commercial Laker to be lost due to a storm, since 1975, technological advances in weather prediction and communications have nearly made it impossible for a ship to be lost in a storm. Gordon Lightfoot wrote a song about the wreck, which has cemented the lost ship into history and the minds of people forever. Here are the Lyrics.
Quote:
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call 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 - 26,000 tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good 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 Wisconson
As the big freighters go it was bigger than most
With a crew and the 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 ships bell rang
Could it be the North Wind they'd been feeling.
The wind in the wires made a tattletale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the Captain did, too,
T'was the witch of November come stealing.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashing
When afternoon came it was freezing rain
In the face of a hurricane West Wind
When supper time came the old cook came on deck
Saying fellows it's too rough to feed ya
At 7PM a main hatchway caved in
He said fellas it's been good to know ya.
The Captain wired in he had water coming in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went out of sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When the words turn the minutes to hours
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd fifteen more miles behind her.
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 ruins 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 29 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 say, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early.
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