Mighty Fitz: The Sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald

Being originally from Michigan, I've always been touched by the story of the shipwreck of the Edmund Fitzerald. It happened when I was 10 years old, and I don't even remember the news reports, only how often my sister and I played the Gordon Lightfoot 45 over and over. Michael Schumacher has done justice to the story, and most importantly, the crew, by detailing not just what were thought to be the events surrounding the sinking, but giving insight into the investigations, and the lives of the crew and family. I highly recommend this for anyone interested in shipwreck and/or Great Lakes history, and anyone else who enjoys well-researched and well-written non-fiction.

As a kid growing up, I was one of probably thousands who heard Gordon Lightfoot's ballad "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" and assumed that he was singing of a ship lost long, long ago, and certainly not in my lifetime. I later learned the "Fitz" went down in 1975, and gave it little thought, then reconnected with the ship once again through Lightfoot's song and looking for something to read, came across Schumacher's account. Unlike those written in the aftermath of the Fitzgerald's sinking, Schumacher's story has the benefit of time, which does nothing to change the historical facts of the wreck, but everything to loosen the lips of then-stunned family members and officials involved in the investigation. Time has also served to make the tale seem even more like a story worthy of being told in song. And the through Schumacher's words and extensive research and interviews, the legend lives on...

Michael Schumacher is a gem. His writing style is economical, but hardly dry. His prodigous research of the S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald, a Great Lakes ore carrier that sank in a 1975 Lake Superior storm, shows in a detailed recitation of the ship, its building, crew, the dramatic power of lake storms, the sinking and its aftermath. Like many people, my interest in the Fitzgerald was minimal: faint recollections of the news stories of the time and Gordon Lightfoot's ballad. Yes, when I saw the title, I thought Schumacher's book would be worth the read. Schumacher, without ever appearing to do so, begins with dramatic flourish and keeps right on building through the very last page. He never engages in histrionic trickery. Never stoops to sensationalism of any kind. Never inserts his own opinions. He employs his skill as a writer to present the facts in a very spare way to heighten the drama. Schumacher is indeed brilliant: like the mason, he lays one unimposing brick of fact upon another until one at last sees not the individual bricks, but a stunning cathedral. "Mighty Fitz" is an education in and of itself about Great Lakes shipping, the giant ore carriers that routinely ply their way across the waters, the frightening stormse that can roil the lakes, the men who crew these vessels and much more, including the opportunists who take advantage of tragedy to make a buck. The list is much longer, a testament to Schumacher's research and writing skills. Really, quite an extraordinary work and one well worth reading. Jerry

I bought this book just after the 30th anniversary of the wreck, since the radio and television stations here in Minnesota spent a lot of time discussing the Fitzgerald and the theories about her sinking. Schumacher has written a wonderfully detailed narrative of the wreck, the controversy, and the aftermath. It's not overly technical, so someone without prior knowledge of the shipping industry will find it informative without being overbearing.

I was a teenager growing up in Northern Minnesota in November 1975 when the Edmund Fitzgerald sank in eastern Lake Superior. I remember the storm, the news story, and thought the Gordon Lightfoot song only added to the mystical element of why the storm claimed the "pride of the lakes." Schumacher's account is basically chronological, tracing the launching of the ship in 1958 and following its life until the boat last loaded taconite pellets in Superior, Wisconsin on the morning of November 9, 1975. Accounts and reflections of family members are interspersed throughout the narrative. Of particular interest to me are the various theories of how she sank so suddenly. There were no survivors, no visual witnesses. The best evidence of what happened were radio conversations with nearby ships. I had always favored the theory that the ship might have struck a shoal north of Caribou Island. With both radars down, the Fitzgerald had to thread a needle between two islands. Under most circumstances, this would be no problem. But in the early afternoon of November 10, 1975 in a blinding snowstorm, maybe she got too close to the more shallow shore on the north side of the island. With a hole in the bottom, that would account for the list the Captain reported. The ship gradually sank lower and lower in the water until a wave from behind lifted her and sent her nosediving to the bottom of the lake. This theory seems to best explain why there was no final distress call. However, after reading Schumacher's book, I am less certain. The Coast Guard's original explanation of taking on water from the topside hatches now has some merit to me. This theory has always been controversial because it then points to possible negligence of the crew in not manually securing dozens of clamps that hold the hatch covers in place. Schumacher also reported something that I never heard before in that the Coast Guard found some damage to the hatch covers just a couple of weeks prior the accident, but cleared the Fitzgerald for the remaining of the shipping season. Maybe both things happened. Who knows? What we do know from the radio transmission is that the Fitzgerald was taking on water from somewhere and it gradually weighed the ship down until it either just sank or nosedived to the bottom. Less convincing is the theory that she broke in two on the surface before sinking. How the Fitzgerald sits in two pieces at the bottom of the lake 530 feet down seems to support the theory that she nosedived with the bow hitting the bottom violently from the shifting weight of the iron ore. The bow is sitting battered but dignified facing southeast towards the safety of Whitefish Bay. The torque created in the middle of the ship upon impact twisted the stern so that it now rests upside down some few hundred feet away from the bow. No one will ever know with certainty. What has always fascinated me about the Fitzgerald is how violent and fickle Lake Superior can b