The Great Storm of 1912
“The storm that struck this shore Saturday afternoon [November 23, 1912]
proved one of the nastiest on the lake that boatmen have experienced in
a long time. It came up almost without warning and lashed the lake into
a fury before small crafts had time to get to safe harbor.”
Ludington Chronicle
November 27, 1912
“Captain Hans Hermanson says it was the worst storm he has experienced in twenty years of service on the Great Lakes and that for the first time in his life he put on a life preserver.”
Saginaw Courier Herald
November 28, 1912
The year was 1912. The month, November. Autumn had fallen asleep in northern Michigan, and winter was rising. It would rise first on land, and then move to the waters, freezing them solid.
There
was still time for Captain Herman Schuenemann to make his last sail of
the season, but he needed to hurry if he didn’t want to meet Old Man
Winter, face-to-face, in the worst possible place – on the open lake.
A
storm was poised and ready to strike. Ominous clouds hung low on the
horizon. Yet Captain Schuenemann believed that if he hurried, he could
get his ship ahead of the storm.
On November 22, 1912, he gave the order to sail. It was a fatal decision, and the lives of everyone on board were hinged to it.
Old Man Winter was challenging Captain Schuenemann to a race down the lake. One of them would reach Chicago by the following day, and the other not at all.
Captain
Schuenemann knew the dangers of sailing in November - the most
treacherous month of the year - as well as anyone could have. After
all, he had been delivering his Christmas trees across these stormy
waters for nearly a quarter of a century by this time. Most captains
refused to sail in this feared month, and saw to it that their vessels
were off the Great Lakes by the end of October. However, this was not an option a Christmas tree merchant had the luxury of exercising.
Late afternoon on November 22, 1912, the aging schooner Rouse Simmons, fully loaded with evergreens, departed Thompson, Michigan,
for its final voyage. The barometer was falling and the winds were
rising - a deadly combination. If Captain Schuenemann had any question
about his ability to navigate his vessel safely to Chicago, his question would be answered before the sun set on a single day more.
The “Big Storm” of 1912 hit in full force sometime during the late evening hours of November 22nd
and the very early morning hours of November 23, 1912. Temperatures
plummeted. Heavy rains turned to swirling snow. Winds intensified. The
heartbeat of the storm pounded faster and louder.
It
wasn’t long before the hypnotic rhythm of the waves was broken, and the
convulsing waters were heaving like an earthquake. Great walls of water
were being thrown at the Simmons. The storm seemed to
be closing in on Captain Schuenemann from every direction of the
compass, and he and his crew were in serious trouble.
Captain
Schuenemann was no stranger to bad weather. He had fought his way
through more than one severe storm in his day. According to the Milwaukee Journal of December 8, 1992,
Schuenemann was “an experienced sailor who had come through a fierce
season of gales unscathed” during one particularly rough autumn “when
dozens of other vessels had been destroyed.”
Captain
Schuenemann knew the risks of being in the middle of the lake when the
mood of the waters turned ugly. But did he know he would soon suffer
the same fate as the brother he once loved?
Captain
August Schuenemann, Captain Herman’s oldest brother, had lost both his
ship and his life during a violent November storm in 1898, fourteen
years earlier. Ironically, August, too, was hauling a load of Christmas
trees to Chicago when his ship, the S. Thal, went down just north of the city on November 9, 1898. Everyone on board perished.
The January 1935 issue of The Chicagoan included an article regarding the tragedy of the S. Thal. It was written by an eyewitness journalist who was on the scene shortly after the S. Thal
was lost. The journalist referred to the sinking as “the pitiful tale
of a little schooner laden with Christmas trees from the north woods,
foundering with all on board when fairly within sight of its holiday
market.” The article continued: “The lake gave up its dead, tardily,
but for many days the tragedy of the skipper and his little ship left
its impress upon the Chicago public. Chests, doors, pieces of rail, broken timbers showing rot where bolts had gone through, and the sternpiece bearing ‘S. Thal of Sturgeon Bay,’ with the young evergreens ashore, indicated the utter breaking up of the craft.”
The
deadly storm of 1898 in which Captain August lost his life was, in many
respects, as severe as the storm of 1912 that claimed the life of
August’s younger brother, Herman...
…The losses suffered on the Great Lakes
in the 1800’s and early 1900’s during November were hard to swallow. It
was a month that claimed more lives than its fair share, despite the
fact that there were so few ships left on the open waters…
…The
dangers of shipping were well understood. Whole families living along
shorelines were involved in trades linked to the waters. Shipping was
the backbone of life during this time, and, thus, every father, husband
or son who plied the waters could be the next victim claimed. For this
reason, the marine community was as close knit as any other. Persons
living along the shores of the Great Lakes looked at any loss as everyone’s loss, a warning of the dangers, a reminder of life’s fragileness…
…On November 23, 1912, another reminder was on its way. The Rouse Simmons was fighting to free itself from the grip of a terrible storm. It was a struggle the doomed ship was destined to lose.
Winds were howling. Gale force gusts hit 60-80 m.p.h. Ice was freezing to beards and brows, numbing sailors to the bone. And towering seas were now climbing aboard the Simmons, invading it, penetrating every nook and cranny.
All
around the lake, similar battles were being fought by other vessels
trying to stay afloat in the brutal storm. Directly across the lake
from the Simmons, near Pentwater, Michigan, the ship Two Brothers sunk, and its entire crew was drowned.
To the north of the Simmons’ struggle, the men aboard the Three Sisters
were taking their final breaths. By the following morning, their ship,
too, would succumb to the waters, and three more men would lay dead.
Lake Superior did not escape the fury unleashed on Lake Michigan that dreadful day, nor the crippling effects the storm left in its wake. The passenger ferry, South Shore, was taken to Superior’s bottom during the same storm of November 22-24, 1912.
On November 25, 1912, the Muskegon News Chronicle, Muskegon, Michigan,
released the following report concerning the ferociousness of the storm
that struck Lake Superior: “Harrowing stories of the fury of the gale
which swept the eastern end of Lake Superior Saturday night [November 23] were told this morning by Captain Massay of the steamer Sullivan…. ‘When we left Duluth,’
he said, ‘the wind was northeast, but in the worst part of the lake it
shifted to northwest. The vessel became almost unmanageable as the sea
came from all directions. Several of the hatch covers were carried away
and heavy plate glass windows in the pilot house were smashed by
mountains of sea.’”
Other reports began to surface almost immediately of damage done and lives lost. Terrifying details made headlines. The Ludington Chronicle said the storm was “one of the nastiest on the lake that boatmen have experienced in a long time,” and the Saginaw Courier Herald, another Michigan newspaper, reported the storm was “the worst snow storm this city has experienced at this time of year in many seasons.” The Sheboygan Press in Wisconsin reported the storm to be “one of the worst on Lake Michigan in three years.”
Captains also weighed in with comments. Captain Lofesberg of Racine, Wisconsin,
was quoted as saying the storm was “the worst experienced in this
section for the last two years,” while Captain Hans Hermanson said the
storm was the worst he experienced in twenty years of service on the Great Lakes. Captain Martin Kjelson from Sheboygan, Wisconsin, reported that he and his crew thought it was probably the worst storm they had ever experienced…
…Although several ships were lost in the same storm responsible for the Simmons’ tragedy, only the Rouse Simmons went to the bottom without an eye-witness to its demise. The South Shore shipwreck, as well as the Two Brothers shipwreck, occurred within sight of life saving crews. And although the Three Sisters
tragedy took place before a life saving crew arrived, civilians were
gathered on shore, attempting to give whatever aid they could to the
drowning sailors.
According to the Kewaunee Enterprise of November 29, 1912, the Three Sisters “was sighted at daylight” around 7:00 a.m. on Sunday, November 24, 1912, and the shore was “soon alive with men, women and children.”
The
article continued: “Several boats were procured, but every effort the
men made to reach the unfortunate sailors was resisted by the heavy
sea, and they were forced to turn back to shore. All hope to save the
unfortunate sailors was about given up when Reverend Father Melchoir
descended to the shore from his church, determined to rescue his
drowning fellow men.”
Unfortunately,
Reverend Father Melchoir’s brave attempts could not bring life to these
dying men, despite a remarkable display of heroism and self-sacrifice
which included diving into the icy waters toward one of the sailors who
had jumped from the ship.
Reverend
Melchoir was not alone in his courageous willingness to risk his own
life to save another. He was joined by several men on shore who also
displayed admirable valor. Each was later nominated for a Carnegie Heroism Medal, as was reported by the Kewaunee Enterprise of December 13, 1912. The article stated that these men saw the schooner “pounding to pieces and the sailors helpless.” The
men then took boats and “in the face of almost certain death endeavored
to reach the drowning men. The seas were rolling high, the weather was
biting cold, and still these men ventured in open yawls, at the risk of
their lives, to extend a helping hand to the drowning sailors. The fact
that several lives were lost was not due to a lack of heroism on the
part of Reverend Melchoir, George Debaker, Gould Poutier and F.
Delfosse…”
…Several clues emerged in the weeks following the storm to support the theory that the Simmons
was in dire need of help in its final hours, as indicated by its
distress flags. First, bundles of Christmas trees floated ashore. This
meant one of two things: Either the relentless pounding of the waves
had washed the trees off the deck, or the trees were intentionally
thrown off the ship by the crew when the vessel started taking on water
from the waves.
The Milwaukee Sentinel of December 4, 1912, reported: “It is believed that the captain threw the trees overboard to lighten the vessel.”
One
week after this statement was published, a bottle was found with a note
inside written by Captain Schuenemann. The note, in part, stated:
“leaking bad.” This statement would support the theory that the trees
were thrown overboard by the crew in an urgent effort to lighten the
load. The Simmons was an old ship. If the sea was
pounding on it, there is every reason to suppose it was leaking, as the
captain said, sinking it lower into the waters.
But the note also included the sentence, “Sea washed over our deckload Thursday.” If
this was the case, then the trees on deck may have gone overboard with
the waves. Although we cannot know precisely what happened, what can be
known for sure is this: the storm was wreaking havoc on the ship.
In
addition to trees going overboard, the Schuenemann note further stated
a small boat had been “washed over” along with two crew members. If two
men, indeed, were washed over, they would have fallen to an almost
certain death.
A second note, found approximately six months later on a beach north of the Simmons’
sinking, seemed to support the idea that one or more of the men aboard
the ship may have been lost in raging seas. The note, signed by Captain
Charles Nelson, Captain Schuenemann’s partner, was dated November 23, 1912. Captain Nelson wrote: “Schooner Rouse Simmons
ready to go down…all hands lashed to one line.” If the accuracy of this
letter is relied upon, Captain Nelson tells us an important detail
regarding the storm’s severity.
“All
hands lashed to one line” meant that every man on board was tied to the
other men with a rope linked around each sailor’s waist. The end of the
rope would then have been tied to the ship’s mast to prevent the waves
from washing crew members overboard. Sailors
“lashed” themselves together only in the most severe storms when the
danger of someone being washed overboard was close at hand. If two crew
members had already been washed off the ship, as indicated by the
Schuenemann note, the remaining men were attempting to make sure this
didn’t happen again.
“God
help us,” were the words Captain Schuenemann chose to end his note. He
was a man of deep faith, and was praying a final, desperate prayer
before the end came. Perhaps the others on board were asking God for
help also, or perhaps they were simply asking a question that had never
been answered: “Where does the love of God go when the gales of
November blow?”
Although the bottled notes have been a point of much debate, there is no debate regarding the intensity of the storm that hit November 22-24, 1912. It was remembered as “one of the most terrific storms that ever thrashed Lake Michigan (Manistique Pioneer-Tribune, Manistique, MI, April 17, 1924).” Old Man Winter came calling in November of 1912, but instead of knocking, he kicked in the door.
His fury continued throughout the next couple of weeks, bringing additional treacherous weather to the Great Lakes while search efforts were underway for the missing Rouse Simmons.
Despite diligent search through storm-tossed waters, all hope for the
ship was finally abandoned shortly before Christmas of 1912.
The Rouse Simmons
ended its once-proud days in a hard fought battle against wind and
wave, but eventually it became powerless against the storm. Finally,
the moment of surrender arrived, and the sea prevailed….
“The
list of ships lost in November grows ever longer, but of all of them
the questions of why and how are most intriguing with the Rouse Simmons, the Christmas Tree Ship.”
Green Bay Press-Gazette
November 23, 1974