Superstitious Warnings & Ghost Ships

     “The Rouse Simmons has now been missing for fifteen days. Its disappearance, if it remains as inexplicable as it is now, bids fair to become one of the great mysteries of the Great Lakes.”
      
                                                                                        Menominee Herald Leader
                                                                                        December 5, 1912           
    
     Throughout history, superstition has played a major role in shaping the beliefs and actions of people from all walks of life. These beliefs may have been held dearest by those brave enough to fair the open seas.
     There are more than a handful of details concerning the sailing of the Christmas Tree Ship that sound more like a Halloween story than they do a Yuletide tale. Erie omens, superstitious warnings, and ghost ship sightings are hidden in every corner of this story like phantoms in the shadows. A person can begin to feel uncomfortable reading through the century-old accounts of that fateful day in 1912 when the Christmas Tree Ship disappeared, especially if you are doing so at night, in a creaky, old house, as I was, half expecting someone from behind to whisper, “Boo.”
     The days and hours leading up to the ship’s final voyage have become legend, and for good reason. It’s one thing for a disaster at sea to include a bit of coincidence that would cause an old sailor to shake his head, but it’s quite another for a single tragedy to embody enough ominous details of things that “go bump in the night” to make the same sailor’s head swim (pardon the pun.)  
     Such was the case with the Rouse Simmons.  There are so many superstitious warnings layered in this story that one can’t help but wonder at the words “the fate of the Rouse Simmons was fixed before the vessel left Chicago (Chicago Daily Journal, December 4, 1912).” Those back in Chicago who believed the Simmons should not have sailed were dead-on in the accuracy of their prediction. 
     It would be easy to scoff at the superstitions held by sailors, easy to raise one’s eyebrows in amusement when hearing of the omens sailors were convinced would determine their fate while sailing on the open waters, to pass each off with a laugh.  But to the men who devoted their lives to shipping, who grasped with white-knuckled hands as their boat was tossed like a bathtub toy during a tumultuous storm, these beliefs were more than mere folklore. They were a matter of life and death. Superstitions were not passed off lightly, but were deeply held beliefs. 
     A pupil of superstition must sit up straight and take note.  Blink an eye for a moment too long and chance missing an omen that could determine the fate of the vessel you are about to climb aboard.  Overlooking a single sign could mean the demise of the entire crew. 
     For sailors of the Great Lakes, as well as sea-faring and ocean sailors, these superstitions were handed down from generation to generation, passed along by “old salts” who could read the world around them like a book, who could hear its voice, silent to most, but not to all.  Taking note of the happenings on and around a ship was nearly a religious practice. Everything was watched with a trained and careful eye – the sky, the wind, the waves.
     “Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning; red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” believed old sailors, as do sailors to this very day. It is interesting to note that even the Bible makes mention of these words, acknowledging them in the Gospel of Matthew 16:2-3. Here, we find Jesus affirming this belief with his words, “When evening comes, you say, ‘It will be fair weather, for the sky is red,’ and in the morning, ‘Today it will be stormy, for the sky is red and overcast.’”  He then adds: “You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky.”
     On November 22, 1912, trouble was brewing in the morning skies above Thompson, Michigan, where the Rouse Simmons was moored below, and everyone knew it. The mood on the docks was tense and foreboding.  Tempers flared. Three sailors quit on the spot. Call it what you will – “the willies” “the jumpies” “the heebie jeebies” – but something had taken hold of the hearts of those gathered along the docks, both sailors and locals alike. One of the men who abandoned ship and rode the train back to his home in Chicago called it “lurking terror.” 
     Even Captain Schuenemann’s partner, Captain Charles Nelson, was concerned about sailing. Something just wasn’t sitting right in Nelson’s gut. He had been on edge since before the Simmons left Chicago. Captain Nelson’s daughter, Alvida Verner, interviewed by the Chicago Record-Herald on December 6, 1912, said, “My father had a premonition that something was going to happen before he returned.”  Although Nelson’s daughter did her best to talk her father out of sailing, he told her he had promised Schuenemann he would sail with him, and added, “A sailor’s word is his bond. I can’t go back on my word.”
     Captain Nelson was not a man to spook easily. At 68 years of age, it was said that Nelson was one of “the oldest lake captains, a man who had sailed the lakes for about fifty years.” So, what was it that so unnerved him? Was it his premonition? Was it the ominous sky? Or was it the wisdom of his experience screaming to him that things were not as they should be?  
     Perhaps it was because November 22, 1912, just so happened to be a Friday. Legend warned against setting sail on a Friday. Saturday departures were viewed with high favor, assuring those aboard that their voyage would be both swift and secure.  The only day on which a ship was never to set sail – never, ever - was Friday.  Doing so was regarded as a very bad omen.  If an urgent cargo was loaded on a Friday, captains would regularly delay sailing until midnight. Sometimes entire fleets were seen departing ports at the stroke of twelve in the Friday evening darkness. Beyond midnight it was safe to sail, but not a moment before.
     There are those who would scoff at the “Murphy Friday” belief as it was called (based on the Murphy Law stating “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”) According to The Ocean Almanac by Robert Henrickson, the British Navy tried to dispel the Friday superstition in the 1800’s when they intentionally laid the keel of a new ship on a Friday, launched it on a Friday, set it to sail on a Friday, and then went so far as to name the ship Friday.  What happened next came as little surprise to most. Neither the ship nor her crew was ever heard from again. They vanished into thin air. 
     So, is the Friday superstition utter nonsense, or is it noteworthy?  Many believed their very lives depended upon it. Was Captain Nelson among them? Did he try to convince Captain Schuenemann not to sail? Some say yes. But the Rouse Simmons, ignoring the superstition, readied itself to depart on Friday, November 22, 1912.  This decision proved yet another fateful mistake for the Christmas Tree Ship…
 
     …Several theories exist as to why Captain Schuenemann made his decision to sail when he did. Some believe he was trying to get ahead of the storm in order to outrun it. Others felt Schuenemann risked the possibility of becoming iced into the harbor if he delayed sailing, and he worried about this. Some believe Schuenemann was concerned about gale force winds dashing his fully loaded ship against the docks if he stayed moored when the storm hit. Still others are of the opinion Captain Schuenemann was trying to get to Chicago as quickly as possible because his tree market would be most profitable if he arrived sooner rather than later. It is reasonable to assume any one of these theories may be correct, or all of them combined. Whatever Schuenemann’s reasoning may or may not have been, we can only guess at the answers to our question, for the only person who knows for sure lies at the bottom of Lake Michigan…

     …One of the last things Captain Schuenemann did before setting sail that November was to give treats to the children at Thompson, Michigan. One of the last things he said was, “The people in Chicago have to have their trees for Christmas.” And one of the last things he saw before departing from the harbor were rats fleeing his ship.
     The significance of this event cannot be overstated. Upon boarding any vessel, sailors would take careful notice of the rats. Rats aboard a ship were considered to be a good omen.  However, if rodents were sighted deserting a ship, this was considered an evil omen, the worst omen, the omen of omens, a warning that a dark and dreary fate awaited the ship…and soon.  In the case of the Rouse Simmons, the rats were said to be leaving “in droves” just before the ship lifted its anchor in Michigan. (There were also reports of rats deserting the eve before the Simmons sailed, as well as in Chicago before the journey began.) Rodents, believed by many to be “the wisest of mariners,” foresaw the shadow cast upon the Simmons before its sails had even begun to blow. There could be no mistaking this sign in the minds of those who lived their lives on the seas. 
     At least three terrified sailors (exact number varies) refused to set sail with Captain Schuenemann for the return trip back to Chicago when the rats were sighted. Their decision cost them dearly. Each sailor had his wage forfeited because those aboard were only entitled to their pay if they completed the voyage to Chicago as they had agreed to.
     Those who chose to sail, failing to heed the rats’ legitimate warnings, made a decision that cost them even more: their very lives. They were sailing into the storm-tossed waters just beyond the harbor’s safety where Death was waiting for them there…
  
     …The clock was ticking, a storm was brewing, and a horseshoe mounted to the side of the Rouse Simmons for good luck would soon be hanging by only one nail, swinging wildly in wicked winds, its luck “running out.”
     Sailors and horseshoes. They were inseparable in days past. Many sailors refused to sail on a vessel without a resident horseshoe nailed upright in the shape of the letter “U” (to “hold” the luck in.) A horseshoe was never to be nailed upside down or it was believed its luck would run out. 
     According to Great Lakes historian Bill Wangemann, sailors were even cautious about sailing in the shape of an inverted “U”.  One such sailing pattern was around the mitten-shaped state of Michigan. Sailors were hesitant to sail on ships making regular routes between Toledo, Ohio, and Chicago, Illinois – an exact inverted “U”.  (Detroit to Milwaukee was another inverted “U” sailing route.) Sailors were warned to “beware of ships that sail the Michigan mitten too often because their luck will eventually run out,” said Wangemann. Sailors did not want to be aboard when it did.
     Fact or fancy? It depends upon who you ask.  Divers to the wreckage site of the Christmas Tree Ship are of the opinion that the horseshoe hanging by a single nail, tipped, is significant, and they will tell you so. It is yet another mystifying detail to the intrigue of the story.
     One can’t help but wonder if the horseshoe’s nail was loosened and lost when the waves started beating mercilessly at the ship, or if the nail was already gone before the ship set sail from Thompson, Michigan. If so, did this critical detail go unnoticed? 
     We can’t know for sure, but it certainly is a possibility. Perhaps those aboard were too busy watching the rats. Perhaps they were too busy watching the skies. Or perhaps they were too busy trying to determine exactly how many men were going to be on board the ship when it set sail. Were they leery about sailing with the number 13 again?
     This was said to have happened when the ship sailed from Chicago to Thompson. According to the Chicago Inter Ocean newspaper of December 5, 1912, it was reported: “When the Simmons left Chicago the attention of Captain Schuenemann was called to the fact that the boat carried thirteen.” Captain Schuenemann responded:  “Well, I’m not afraid.”
     If Captain Schuenemann wasn’t afraid, there are those who believed he should have been. No one was foolish enough to sail with the dreadful number thirteen – either captain or crew. Most sailors would have refused to sail on such a ship, taking the “13 jinx” seriously, an omen important enough to find its way into the newspapers of the day…

     …Was Captain Schuenemann on edge like his partner, Captain Nelson?  Maybe. Both Schuenemann and Nelson, just prior to setting sail, had given fateful promises to their families that this would be their last voyage with Christmas trees.
     The Chicago Daily Journal of December 5, 1912, reported Nelson’s daughter saying her father “told me on the day that he left Chicago that it would be his last trip, and I fear that his prediction came true.”
     Captain Schuenemann’s niece, Mrs. Elizabeth Barerlin, interviewed by the Milwaukee Sentinel in 1977 at the age of 91, and who was living in Chicago in 1912 near “Uncle Herman and Aunt Barbara” when the ship went missing, remembered: “Aunt Barbara made him promise it would be his last trip. Of course, when he told us it would be his last trip, none of us knew that it really would.” Mrs. Barerlin was 27 years old when the ship went missing and remembered the events well.
     Additionally, the Milwaukee Sentinel of May 2, 1984, reported: “Before he set sail on November 22, 1912, Schuenemann told relatives in Thompson, Michigan, near Escanaba, that his 1912 trip would be his last with Christmas trees…”
  

     …Omens, omens everywhere. Premonitions and hunches. Gut feelings and eerie promises. The deeper one digs, the more one finds. There is a mind-boggling chain of events linked to this disaster.
     Sailors lived by their gut and died by it. Theirs was a world intuitive and ever on guard, aware of lurking darkness. Sailors believed “coming events would cast their shadows.” And in the case of the Christmas Tree Ship, the shadow cast over the ship and its crew was large enough to darken this story from one end of Lake Michigan to the other…

     …Old sailors paid attention to absolutely everything – going so far as to inquire about a ship’s launching ceremony – even if the launching had occurred years earlier. (In the case of the Simmons, these records of launching, unfortunately, no longer exist, but if they did, a possible missing link to the story could be hidden there.)
     Launching ceremonies were critical. Superstitious sailors believed a ship was cursed if anything went wrong during a launch. A ship could be stricken doomed before the vessel even had a chance to feel the wind in its sails. When the Edmund Fitzgerald was launched, Lake Superior’s most famous and mysterious shipwreck, waves splashing on shore were so cold they caused one man who was hit by them to die instantly of a heart attack. Any deaths that occurred at a ship’s launch were considered to be bad, bad news, a prediction of the coming death of the ship. 
     The year 1912 saw the demise of the Rouse Simmons as well as the demise of the Titanic earlier in the same year. Unbelievable to many, the Titanic was launched without a ceremony. No bottle of wine was broken over her bow, no words of blessing were offered for the ship and crew, and no fanfare surrounded the presentation of the ship’s name.  Did this have something to do with the Titanic’s sinking? Again, it depends upon who you ask. Many old sailors viewed such a snubbing as simply asking for trouble. It would only be a matter of time before it caught up with you…

     …A ship's launching ceremony (or "christening ceremony" as it was commonly called) was compared to an infant's baptism because ships were believed to have souls. Vessels were not viewed as innate objects, but were considered "alive" in a sense. Thus, launchings were sacred events of much significance.
       Parallel ceremonies commenced the births of humans as well as ships. Likewise, bells tolled at their ends. It was believed “phantom bells” would ring out over the waters when a ship met with death. It was further believed a vessel would literally “cry out” when its soul arose from the depths below. 
     Phantom bells were said to have been heard in the days following the Simmons’ disappearance, and phantom cries were carried into the winds. Rationally, phantom cries can be explained by the fact that air makes sounds as it is released from a vessel which has been sunk into the pressured waters of the deep.  The Rouse Simmons’ cabin, as would be expected, was completely crushed in when the vessel was located.  According to divers, this was not unusual. Cabins typically are “all broken up” on submerged vessels because of the pressure.
     And speaking of phantoms, who among us believes in ghosts? Sailors did. They believed ghosts existed as surely as they themselves did. Just check the shelves of any marine library for yourself and you will find endless accounts of hauntings…

     …In addition to Columbus, the writings of Shakespeare also make mention of the bizarre lights, as do the journals of Ferdinand Magellan and even Charles Darwin...

     ...Sailors believed in things that would make the hairs on the back of a landlubber’s neck stand on end. This included monsters.
     Are there really such things? Is it possible they exist? Maybe. Sea serpents, dragons and multi-headed monsters are all mentioned in the Bible. One such watery beast lurking in the darkened depths was referred to as the “leviathan”:
     Isaiah 27:1 KJV:  “In that day the Lord with his sore and great and strong sword shall punish leviathan the piercing serpent, even leviathan that crooked serpent; and he shall slay the dragon that is in the sea.” 
     Psalm 104:25-26 NIV:  “There is the sea, vast and spacious, teeming with creatures beyond number – living things both large and small. There the ships go to and fro, and the leviathan.”
     Psalm 74:12-13 NIV: “But you, O God, are my king from of old; you bring salvation upon the earth. It was you who split open the sea by your power; you broke the heads of the monster in the waters.”
     Job 41:1-2, 7-10, 13-34 NIV:  “Can you pull in the leviathan with a fishhook or tie down his tongue with a rope? Can you put a cord through his nose or pierce his jaw with a hook? Can you fill his hide with harpoons or his head with fishing spears? If you lay a hand on him, you will remember the struggle and never do it again! Any hope of subduing him is false; the mere sight of him is overpowering. No one is fierce enough to rouse him. Who can strip off his outer coat? Who would approach him with a bridle? Who dares open the doors of his mouth, ringed about with his fearsome teeth? His back has rows of shields tightly sealed together (other versions of text say “scales”); each is so close to the next that no air can pass between. They are joined fast to one another; they cling together and cannot be parted. His snorting throws out flashes of light; his eyes are like the rays of dawn. Firebrands stream from his mouth; sparks of fire shoot out. Smoke pours from his nostrils as from a boiling pot over a fire of reeds. His breath sets coals ablaze, and flames dart from his mouth. Strength resides in his neck; dismay goes before him. The folds of his flesh are tightly joined; they are firm and immovable. His chest is hard as rock, hard as a lower millstone. When he rises up, the mighty are terrified; they retreat before his thrashing. The sword that reaches him has no effect, nor does the spear or the dart or the javelin. Iron he treats like straw, and bronze like rotten wood. Arrows do not make him flee; slingstones are like chaff to him. A club seems to him but a piece of straw; he laughs at the rattling of the lance. His undersides are jagged potsherds, leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge. He makes the depths churn like a boiling cauldron and stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment. Behind him he leaves a glistening wake; one would think the deep had white hair. Nothing on earth is his equal – a creature without fear. He looks down on all that are haughty; he is king over all that are proud.”
     I don’t know about you, but I, for one, am not too anxious to find out if this leviathan creature exists – not if I have to cross paths with it to do so. (I’ll just stay right here with the blankets pulled over my head.)
     Study Bibles will give readers an explanation of the leviathan as being “possibly a crocodile.” Well, I’ve seen a fair number of crocodiles in my day and have yet to see one blowing fire out of its mouth or smoke from its nostrils, much less being undaunted by swords, harps, spears and javelins. A crocodile? I’m thinking no.
     Sea monsters, dragons, ghosts. Do they exist? What is a person to believe about such things when the same book that makes mention of them is a book many hold dear, as do I. 
     So, what’s my point? My point is this: Maybe it’s possible that there are simply some things in our midst that reason cannot explain. Maybe it’s possible that not every question gets answered nor every mystery solved…
  

     …There is no shortage of mystery connected to the Rouse Simmons story. Nor is there a shortage of ghost sightings. Just ask around. There are even specific times said to be best for spotting the phantom ship. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are both supposed to be good, as well as the anniversary date of its loss on November 23. Some say the ship appears most often on misty horizons at dusk, while others will tell you to look for the ship in the twilight mists of dawn. 
     But most often, it is said, the ship will return in the same way she left that fateful day nearly a hundred winters past: fighting her way through a violent gale.
     Recently I attended a Christmastime gathering in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, very near to the Simmons’ watery grave. I had been invited to speak to an audience about the legendary ship. During the presentation I shared information about various ghost ship sightings and read from several old newspaper clippings. 
     Following the program, one of those in attendance came forward, leaned in ever so close to me, and whispered, “I’ve seen that ship.”
     Nonsense? Hardly. The program I just finished took place at a prestigious yacht club, and the audience in attendance was the Retired Teachers Association of Sheboygan County. This was no prankster making a claim, but rather was someone who had served her community long and well, a pillar of the city. Her name was Mrs. Joyce Phippen.
     I wanted to hear more.
     The following January I accepted Mrs. Phippen’s invitation to join her for the day. Visitors fall in love with her stone cottage set on Lake Michigan’s shoreline even before they reach the end of the driveway.
     She has been here, in this place where she knows she belongs, since 1958, nearly half a century. She pointed out to me a pine tree planted shortly before her family moved in. It now reached into the forever skies, towering over her home…..

     …In front of her favorite window, as I sat in her favorite chair, she told me of seeing the ghost ship twice… 

     …Dusk fell that January afternoon and it was time for me to go, time to leave Mrs. Phippen, the very nice lady who just so happens to believe in ghosts. 
     It would be easy to dismiss such claims as nonsense until you’ve heard these stories firsthand from one of the many persons who have experienced them, until you’ve looked into the eyes of the person who chose to share his or her encounter, sometimes with hesitation and a bit of reluctance, and heard the truth of their words.
     Yes, Mrs. Phippen believes in ghosts, and I believe in Mrs. Phippen, a woman who can explain a sunrise and a moonlit night like no one I have ever heard.
     Ghosts. Is it possible they exist? Is it possible there are things in our midst that reason cannot explain? I think yes…